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ursbearhug · 2 years ago

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One of the main reason I no longer try to argue with the folk who purchase The Antisemitic Fear Mongering the game, is because it's bascially talking a wall.

Every possible argument you make they strawman like their life depends on it (which it really does because the moment they realise they did something wrong is the end of all, instead of - ya know - apologise and go on do better) and the argument they do understand, will unlogic out to you until you die from brain malfunction. Like in Sims 3 when you asked another sim to divide 0 and they just set ablaze and die.

Examples? "Hey by purchasing the Fear Mongerer the game you help a billionaire racist and xenophobic trans-exlusionist ruin lives of milion other people" and they hit you with "well, there is no ethical consumption under capitalism" (strawman; they are aware that your argument is unbeatable because it warrants 5 minutes long Google search to prove that, yes, JK Rowling is indeed that horrible of a shell of human being, therefore they take the "purchase" part and decide to fight this bit because you cannot refute them)

Or the new one I see a lot on Tumblr; "well, I donated 3x the cost of the game to "Poor organisation trying their best to shelter trans folk" so my purchase of the Racist and Anti-Semitic narrative the game is justified". No, it's not. Even if every buyer, somehowly, manages to donate triple the amount of games price, we're talking about what? 600 per buyer? To a lowly organisation scrambling for money because they fight against something that most people would rather look away from? Versus a millionaire author collecting royalties? This is also a moment where I really want everyone to step into academic field and try to write 1 (one) paper that would go through the Copy Right program without a single problem on their first try and maybe, just maybe, they'd realise how royalties, copyright and copyright theft works. Also I really, really want people to understand it's not The Witcher situation; where the author gives away the rights to the mark. Even if we ignore (which is pretty hard to do) JK Rowling's words about "folk who helps Harry Potter, help me" (or whatever the fuck) and treat that just as a "I don't want to feel horrible so I'm saying words", she still racks up obscene cash from people who's reading capabilities didn't evolve past 1st grader or are so hung up on their childhood and unable to let go. Bitches will make fun of people for buying and being invested in Pokemon and have "uwu I'm such a ravenclaw" in their profile bio and not a single spark between their last remaining braincells would be ignited in the spawn of this event. You're not ravenclaw, you're just an imbecile.

And even when you go neck deep into the issue of the game being antisemitic and not actually transphobic, they'll still manage to use their lack of common sense which can and will numb you into state of unconsciousness.

It would be easier, and better, if they just straight up admit they don't care and would rather play the poor (not really considering the price tag) man's version of Dark Souls but with wands and magic and Harry Potmaker veneer. I would have lesser beef with that because at least we're being transparent and honest, instead of making weird hills to die on that make zero sense and make all the logic roll in its grave. Like, really, just say you'd rather pay for this game and play it with 0 critical thinking involved and be done with it. It will not lesser the bullying some folks are willing to go with, but it will lessen the headache you're inflicting with your absolute lack of awareness and empathy.

#percy does things #will delete later

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quit-stressin · 4 years ago

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I’m a manager at an organic grocery store and I’ve had racist insults hurled at me, things thrown at me, and have been threatened to have attempted murder charges filed against me for asking people to either wear a mask or face shield, or to shop online.

If you are a person like myself who is tasked with enforcing your municipality’s mask mandate (often with zero help from law enforcement) remember these important points:

Lawsuits against businesses and municipalities challenging the legality of mask mandates have been dismissed across the country. The deadly viral pandemic is seen as a “direct threat” posed against the safety and health of employees and other customers.

Anti-Maskers, aware that utilizing the Americans with Disabilities Act is getting them no where in the court system, are now relying on the violation of “religious freedoms” as their reasoning to going Maskless. If your business provides reasonable accommodation (like online shopping/curbside pickup, delivery) than you are not denying services on any grounds as determined by the Civil Rights Act. They are willfully not accepting these accommodations. Their religious freedoms and their “right” to do in person shopping does not supersede the right of the public to be safe.

Utilize the following phrases when you find yourself trapped in conversation with an anti-masker. These specific phrases will protect you from accusations of discrimination:

“Our store policy clearly states all shoppers must wear a mask or face shield when inside, we have online pick-up options available if you’re unable to adhere to that for any reason.”

“This is a policy put forth in accordance with CDC suggestions (and in some cases) and in response to the statewide/city wide mandate.”

“Our legal team has advised us that offering online shopping is a reasonable accommodation for folks who are unable to adhere to the mask mandate.”

“I’m barring you from entry because you are unable to wear a mask while in store, and I have outlined the accommodations we have made to ensure you are able to purchase the items you need without entering. This does not amount to a refusal of service.”

“As an independently owned and operated business, we reserve the right to refuse IN STORE service ON THE GROUNDS OF NOT ADHERING TO THE MASK MANDATE. As you reserve the right to take your business elsewhere.”

If they refuse to leave, inform them they are being formally trespassed from the store and surrounding property. Call 9-1-1, and inform them you have a trespassed person on the property refusing to leave. Try your damndest not to mention that they refuse to wear a mask, as most times the police will make this a low priority call. If they keep getting close to you or are raising their voice inform the operator that this person is acting in a threatening manner.

DO NOT. SIGN. ANYTHING. THE ANTI-MASK DEMONSTRATOR HANDS YOU.

Here is just a small sample of the right-wing propaganda that’s been handed to me. It is specific to my state (WA) but notices like these are making their rounds on social media. Don’t let this stuff intimidate you, federal cases in New York, Alabama and elsewhere have determined this rhetoric holds no legal merit.

Take note that none of it is endorsed by an actual legal professional.

If you feel like your employers has not done enough in terms of reducing the risk these people pose to your immediate safety, reach out to a union rep if possible.

Document all incidents for your employer and insist on keeping a copy of said document for your personal records.

Hide identifying characteristics of your appearance to the best of your ability. This is in the event they decide to film you and encourage doxxing of you online.

Remove postings that indicate your workplace from your social media sites.

If you don’t already have one in place: create a coded phrase to say over the intercom that pertains to an anti-masker situation. Refrain from using things like “Code Red” or “Manager Assistance”

We call a non-existent employee over the intercom (Ex: “Harold to the Store Entrance”) to alert employees that some shit’s about to go down.

Reblog to help an essential worker.

#covidquarantine #masks #essential #essential workers #healthcare #united states #america #covidー19 #anti maskers #anti mask protest #science is real #anthony fauci

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ecccentrick · 4 years ago

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Jaskier Should Really Listen to Geralt

Pt. 1 if anyone wants more?

Tw: referenced child death, something that can be construed as becoming noncon, but nothing graphic.

The sun was just sinking when they came across a hamlet. It was so small that it didn’t have a proper name, but big enough to have a notice board that announced grievances and inquiries from all the surrounding civilization.

Geralt went directly towards the said notice board, leading Roach by her reins as the street was too small to safely ride through without trampling one of the villagers. At this point, Jaskier hadn’t a care whether villagers got squashed, his feet ached so. He glared half-hardheartedly at the back of Geralt’s big head, counting the horrid tangles in his hair to pass the time.

"Geralt! This hamlet hasn’t even a true tavern! How am I supposed to make coin if there isn’t even a place to drink?”

Without turning around, Geralt said, “So you admit it?”

Jaskier wrinkled his nose, something he only truly did in Geralt’s presence, since he didn’t want to develop fine lines, nor draw attention to the very few that were already there.

“Admit what?”

“That drink has to loosen pockets for you to get any coin.”

“Ah-wha- G-GERALT!” Jaskier sputtered. So distracted was he, that his boots found a puddle, splashing mud all up his new trousers.

He already hated this cursed town.

Turned out that the hamlet housed more people than previously thought; or at least it had, before the attacks.

“We just don’t know what to do,” cried one villager, her blonde hair coming free from her bun. She looked to be in middle years, despite having been the parent of a small child. But, then again, tragedy aged folks, Jaskier had found.

“Tell me all you can,” Geralt said, for what had to be the third time. The woman was in hysterics, not that anyone could blame her. She had just lost a child.

“Well, we’s find them -- the bodies, sir witcher, that is -- in the roads or the fields. They’s seem unharmed, but for a bite or two, barely any blood around. Like whatever’s come taken their life for sport. We’s almost feel better if they’s been taken for food, so as not much of a waste,” said the alderman, an arm around the grieving woman. It did nothing to console her, her body wracked with sobs. “Wish wha’ever this beast is, it’d spare the youngin’s and take us old folk.”

Jaskier felt a little awkward that he was still there, but they had accosted Geralt before he even had the chance to completely read the notices on the board. So, taking his chance, he sidled up a little closer, trying to hear all the details.

“What did the bodies look like? Have you buried them all?”

The woman wept even harder, but managed to say, “No, our girl was just found this mornin’. You can go -- go have a look. If...If you think it wise, sir witcher.”

Geralt nodded before looking to Jaskier. Well, that was his queue to leave. He didn’t want to see a child’s dead body, anyhow. The poor thing.

Jaskier made himself at home at the only inn in the hamlet. Calling it an inn was generous, as it had two rooms and a cot that could be used in the kitchen. At least it had a few stools and a table in the main room, and served watered down ale.

It felt too somber for him to play anything, so he sat down at the only table and ate dinner, sipping at the surprisingly good ale. He’d have to make sure Geralt had some before they left, which could take some time, apparently. The beast was eluding the witcher, of course, but for the first time that Jaskier can remember, Geralt didn’t know what it was, exactly. He had his suspicions, Jaskier could tell, but he wouldn’t speak of them.

The witcher looked grumpier than usual when he left, with a warning for Jaskier to, under no circumstances, to leave the inn during the night. The beast only attacked at night, and Jaskier was to have zero dalliances that night. Jaskier snorted. If only the witcher knew that there hadn’t been many dalliances of late. And may he never know the reason why.

It was getting late when Jaskier decided he needed to get some sleep, the full moon illuminating the inn so brightly that there was hardly any need for torches and lanterns, when a man sat across from him, two mugs of ale in his hands.

“Care for a drink?” the fellow asked.

Jaskier examined the man. He was around the bard’s age (which shall never be fully confirmed) with bright red hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He had a smirk on his face that didn’t quite sit well with Jaskier, but he was attractive enough for him to take the free drink.

“You come with the witcher?” the man asked, taking a sip from his cup.

“I did. I am his bard, the great Jaskier, top graduate of Oxenfurt Academy. Perhaps you’ve heard a few of my songs? A ballad or two?”

The man nodded. “Heard your song about coins and witchers. Mighty catchy. Say, is your witcher truly as noble as you claim?”

Jaskier’s leg began to bounce in excitement. Finally! Someone who wanted to hear his opinions, and about his favorite topic at that!

They talked for a long while, Jaskier catching and hitting all of his queues. The man soon reached across and sat his hand on the bard’s knee, slowly sliding up to his thigh. A zing of another type of excitement went through him, and any rules set upon him flew out the window. Besides, he wouldn't be leaving the inn, so no rules would be broken.

“Want to go upstairs?”

The stranger nodded. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Now. Jaskier is aware that, when it comes to men, he has a type. He can (mostly) admit it. They have to be big, and burly, and able to throw him over their shoulder, or perhaps toss him here and there, just a bit.

The red head didn’t quite fit this standard. He was more on the lithe side, and his hair was cut close to his head. But he smelt clean, was a little taller than Jaskier, and still on the broader side. Beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

Jaskier quickly rid himself of his doublet and chemise, neatly folding them on the provided chest. The other man followed his example, and was soon down to his smalls.

Sitting on the bed, Jaskier laid onto his back. “Hm, now how does the handsome man want me?”

The red head smirked, like he enjoyed looking down on the bard. A trickle of trepidation slithered up Jaskier’s spine.

“You sure I won’t be intruding on another man’s property?”

“I’m no one’s property,” Jaskier said, “Least of all Geralt’s. Are we going to get on with it, then, hm?”

The man complied, trailing his large hands down Jaskier’s chest, avoiding his nipples, before resting firmly on his stomach. He stood at the edge of the bed, over Jaskier, and went still. Inhumanly still. He stared straight into the bard’s eyes, eyes preternaturally hungry.

Jaskier fidgeted, making as though to get up. The red head’s hand now felt like steel as he pushed him down, pinning him in place.

Now, Jaskier was not one to kink shame, or shame others in general, but the look in the man’s eyes was not of lust, nor even depraved want. He was looking at Jaskier like he was a five course meal.

“Why is it that you smell so youthful?” the man finally said, breaking the silence.

Jaskier laughed awkwardly, trying not to be flattered in spite of the situation. “I’m forever young at heart, I suppose?”

The man hummed, leaning forward, nosing at Jaskier’s neck. He felt himself getting slightly aroused despite the fact that the way the man lingered was not erotic in the slightest, more akin to trying to find the best place to take the first blissful, sweet bite.

It was then that Jaskier realized that Geralt would not find the monster anywhere under the full moon. It was right there, in the room with him. And it’s next victim was going to be Jaskier.

#geraskier #gerlion #the witcher #the witcher netflix #twn #witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #geralt x jaskier #my first geraskier #can you tell im playing w3??

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shianhygge-imagines · 5 years ago

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FFVII: Dating Headcanons [Rufus Shinra]

AN: Oooohhh yeah! Let’s do this! My brothers and I have been on a cooking spree, my bedroom is a mess, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get grief for not cleaning up the move in boxes, but I really need to write something for Rufus TT^TT He needs some love, too!

edit 05/29/2020: So... this was posted before I was aware that the official age for Rufus in the remake is 30 :3 I love him so much 😍

This is so long >.< Somehow it’s just so easy to write for him...

|Masterlist Link|

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ First and foremost, yes, I know he’s a jerk. But he’s a jerk who almost died, and is now not as much of a jerk. He’s working on it! He’s so young! He has time to improve! I mean Sephiroth almost destroyed the Planet a few times, and Genesis kick started the mayhem, but we still love them!

~ Rufus has dated before the events of FFVII, so if you’re one of the poor unfortunate souls that tried to pursue him before his near death experience... (*sighs and pats your shoulder sympathetically)

~ Pre-FFVII Rufus learned all his relationship tricks from observing his father’s habits and behaviors from when he was young. Namely, pursue what you’re interested in without hesitation.

~ Pre-FFVII Rufus would never pursue anyone he considers lower than his station. In fact, ‘the help’ pretty much don’t exist in his eyes much like they don’t exist to many other rich folks. Any attempts to catch his sky blue eyes will be unnoticed.

~ He’s only learned to spoil the individual of his affections with materialistic things. Emotional vulnerability isn’t something that he knows how to express to someone that he should treat as an equal without it being related to business.

~ His near death experience humbles him an immense amount. It is around this time that he’ll take notice and respect those who weren’t born into affluence

~ It is very unlikely that any relationship Meteorfall would last. The world, and Rufus, had changed too much to continue with the old as if nothing happened.

~ But you must be wondering about how you’d fallen into this man’s life if he was so unavailable to the normal populace.

~ You were an AVALANCHE plant into Shinra, where you worked as one of the staff that attended to President Shinra and Rufus Shinra. Your cover story was that you were orphaned in recent years due to escalated conflict between AVALANCHE and Shinra. You were taken in by your mother’s sister, who was sickly and unable to work. As a result, you decided to get a part time job while you completed schooling. Normally, this wouldn’t fly, as you were two years younger than Rufus at the time, but Shinra was never bothered by child labor.

~ You had originally volunteered to spy on the Company executives as a Turk trainee, but Elfie, the leader of AVALANCHE at the time, didn’t wish for someone so young to be put in a place where you were at the mercy of Shinra.

~ Still, working as a maid was hardly dignified work when your employer had a habit of leering at the staff. You had more use as a chef due to having to cook for yourself from an early age.

~ While President Shinra has little problem bribing and seducing members of the work staff into his bed each night, you noticed that Rufus Shinra had not shared his father’s sentiments... at least, not to the same extent that his father did.

~ Rufus Shinra did not take random maids into his bed every night. No. If he ever took a woman into his bed, it was some social climber or heiress that he’d met during a company gala. He would strive to enjoy her company to the fullest of his ability, but rarely did the women he brought back last further than a month with the company heir.

~ You did your best to stay anonymous while feeding information back to AVALANCHE, barely even causing a need for concern when your talents as a chef were discovered and you were transferred to work the kitchens. Even when Rufus had been kidnapped by your fellow troops, and his plot to betray his father revealed, you remained dutiful and inconspicuous.

~ Eventually, you were sent with some of the Turks and part of the main staff with Rufus when he was placed under home arrest. President Shinra had attempted to pursue you during the years of your employment, but you’d remained steadfast and unwilling despite the loyalty that you’d demonstrated during your years of service. Which was why he decided that you were trustworthy enough to spy on his son for him. The humor in the situation was not lost on you.

~ Rufus, in turn, had the Turks under his command run background checks on all the staff that had followed him from the main Shinra estate.

~ Normally, Rufus would have taken zero interest in you. You were, after all, an average civilian by all means. But the one thing that he really took note of, was that you’d been part of the cleaning staff at first before somehow getting transferred into the kitchen staff. Rufus had been impressed by the quality of his food as of recently, so he was pleased to put a name and face to the work.

~ And then he noted that you were younger than him and fairly attractive. He wondered if you had ever slept with his father for money.

~ When Tseng reported that you had been one of the only members on staff that hadn’t slept with President Shinra, Rufus found himself intrigued. Most commoners only ever showed interest in pleasing the rich for their money. For you to turn down the excessive amount of money that his father normally offered in payment... well, you were rather strange.

~ He kept an eye on you after that. Just a notice of what you were doing every so often. Sending his compliments whenever you cooked a particularly delicious meal.

~ After the fiasco with Elfie and Veld, AVALANCHE needed people within Shinra more than ever, sending others into the company to spy. With your established presence in Shinra, you were tasked only to spy on the comings and goings of the executives that visited Rufus, or monitor any business dealings that the newly appointed Vice President was involved in.

~ For a while, you were content with your job cooking meals and occasionally sending out encrypted correspondences to your superiors. And then Rufus left the island for a business meeting that was supposed to be several days long... only to return within the same night because he simply refused to eat anything other than what you cooked.

~ It had been around midnight when Reno sheepishly roused you from your sleep, stating that the vice president was back and he hadn’t been able to eat a decent meal all day. In the back of your mind, you stressed and screamed how it would be possible to cook a full course meal in such little time alone.

~ Still, you hurried to wash your face and brush your teeth, not bothering to change out of your nightwear as you left the room, feeling that haste was more important than propriety. It’s not like Shinra ever comes into the kitchen anyways. I’m going to have to change out of these clothes when I finish cooking. You sulked, not wanting to go to sleep in pajamas that smelled like cooked food.

It is when you were in the middle of making the meal, with a black apron draped over your pajamas, that the door to the kitchen opens. Expecting Reno, who normally came in to snack on whatever you were making, you didn’t turn around. “Reno, for the last time, when I’m cooking for Mr. Shinra, you’re not allowed to mooch for scraps!”

“Does Reno often enter the kitchens to steal food?”

When you were asked by Elena and Reno what your reaction was, you denied being overly startled... even if you did drop the wooden stirring spoon into the large pot of broth.

Quickly fishing the utensil from falling further into the broth, you set the spoon aside and turned to face Rufus Shinra with wide startled eyes. “Mr. Shinra! I... um apologize for my lack of professionalism.” There’s an unasked question to your expression as your gaze darted back and forth between the stove top and your boss. What are you doing in here?

Rufus, for his part, only smirked and gestured to his own attire. Black button down and loose sweatpants, his normally brushed back blonde hair hung in his face. “I believe I’ve inconvenienced you enough by asking you to wake up to cook, Y/N.” His smirk widened, “Don’t mind me, continue as you would.”

The nervous smile on your lips betrayed your thoughts as you turned back to finish up the meal, trying and failing to ignoring the observant blue eyes directed at your back. After a time of silence, with just the vice president staring at you as you cooked, you spoke up with a stutter, “Um... Reno does occasionally come into the kitchen for a snack. B-but it’s not that much of a bother!” You didn’t want to get the friendly Turk in trouble.

“I can have him removed from the kitchen, if you’d like, Y/N.”

The way he said your name sent strange shivers up your spine, and you turned to peek at your boss. “Um... n-no. That’s really not necessary, Mr. Shinra. Reno’s like an annoying big brother. I can handle him.”

Silence settled over the kitchen once more, and you turned to continue stirring the soup, checking the oven for the roasting vegetables. “If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Shinra... why have you decided to come into the kitchen today? You normally wait in your office or the dining room for the waiting staff to serve you.”

After a beat without answer, you’d begun to think that you’d offended the vice president... and then, “To be honest, I wanted a change of pace from the usual propriety. Eating alone gets tedious and frustrating after a while.” His eyes took on a glint as he stared at you, “And I found myself curious as to who you were. I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Your shoulders were so tense that you were sure that you’d wake up the next day with an ache. “So, I take it that you’ll be eating in the kitchen?”

Rufus smirked, “That would be a correct assumption, Y/N.”

~ After that night, Rufus would often take his meals in the kitchen unless he was particularly weighed down by work. This caused quite the panic among the kitchen staff, and only served to annoy you when he laid off half the staff in favor of just having you as his private chef. Simply put, you went everywhere that Rufus did.

~ Despite the professionalism you exhibited, serving private meals to Rufus and his dates helped you learn more about the young man. There seemed to be two sides to him, Vice President Shinra, and Rufus.

~ Vice President Shinra was ruthless and fearsome. His business savvy rivaled only the harshest of businessmen, and he treated others with calculated cockiness and false generosity. He often acted in this manner.

~ The other side of him, Rufus, was quiet and reserved despite his business upbringing. This man rewarded loyalty and human gestures, he had a weak spot for desserts, and often made sarcastic comments. He was immensely lonely despite his power and renown, though he hid this part of him behind layers and layers of arrogance. If you were honest with yourself, you had become fond of Rufus Shinra.

~ It is the brief glimpse of humanity that was the reason you found yourself in Shinra Headquarters as Diamond Weapon approached the city.

~ You hadn’t been given orders from anyone in AVALANCHE in a long time, and took that to mean that the organization had shifted its focus elsewhere. This meant that you were free to do as you pleased. And with how close the Diamond Weapon was to Midgar, you found yourself racing to the President’s Office to get the stubborn man out of the building.

~ You reach the office at the same time that the Turks did. They shot you questioning looks as you shoved your way into the office. Out in the distance, a bright light lit up the metropolis, and you didn’t have much time to think before you’d jumped over a desk to pull Rufus to cover. Only a second later, the entire office was blown up.

~ After assisting the Turks in escorting Rufus out of the building and onto an evacuation helicopter, you revealed who you were to the Turks and Rufus. Although you were interrogated further on to what you’d been doing while in Shinra, the worst that you were punished with, was to be let go from your position.

~ Nearly a year later, after you’d used your savings (more than eight years worth of your salary) to open up a small cafe in Edge, you had moved on from your time with Shinra. While you still thought of Rufus and the Turks, you’d never allowed yourself to hope that they might stop by and visit.

~ And none of them showed up, until after you were afflicted with Geostigma.

~ It was a strange moment, when Reno and Rude both walked into your cafe, a cocky smirk on the red head’s face and Rude stoic professionalism. You’d been summoned by Rufus... well, the exact wording was that you were invited to join Rufus for lunch. And while you were slightly peeved at having to leave the cafe to your employees for the day, you went with the Turks regardless. You were just glad to have the opportunity to see them again.

~ Seeing Rufus in the wheelchair at the Healen Lodge, with cloth and bandages covering him... prompted you to reflexively clutch at your own bandaged arm, which was hidden from sight by the jacket you wore. Still, Rufus had always been an observant man.

~ He’d confessed to you his theory that Geostigma was caused by the lingering malicious will of Sephiroth in the Lifestream. And although you’d never blamed Shinra for the plague that was Geostigma, you could tell that Rufus didn’t want you to blame him for that state that you were in.

~ There was no cure, you were told. For you, and for Rufus, your time was short. And then a proposal, “Would you like to return to your previous position?” Somehow, you weren’t quite so sure that was what he meant to say.

~ It is later, when Rufus had retired for the day, that Elena pulled you aside and explained that while Rufus had missed your cooking, he’d missed the companionship that you’d provided. His words, “Would you like to return to your previous position?” was Rufus’ way of asking, “Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?” or perhaps more accurately, “Would you stay by my side as I die?”

~ And damn it, you were always a bleeding heart, weren’t you.

~ The next morning, when Rufus awoke, a grant breakfast awaited him, with you already sipping your coffee, apron still on.

~ The two of you eventually fell into a comfortable routine as you moved into the Healen Lodge, running your business from afar while remaining by Rufus’ side. At some point, Rufus had taken to holding your hand during meals or when you’d rest against him on the sofa. He’d started to walk around you without the bandages and sheet, only using the wheelchair when the Geostigma became too painful.

~ You didn’t even know that you were dating Rufus until Reno said that he’d get in trouble for flirting with his boss’ s/o. Rufus had been in the room at the time, and did not refute the sentiment, only reinforcing the fact by lacing his fingers with your own and stroking the back of your palm with his thumb.

~ It is so like Rufus to be absolutely certain that you returned his affections. Stupid stubborn fool.

~ Rufus is sweet when the two of you are left to your privacy. He’s as much a cuddler as you are willing to put up with, and he’ll put up with any amount of cuddling you desire.

~ He’s prone to spoiling you, though when you tell him that you would prefer more meaningful gifts, he starts to think about what is useful to you rather than simple showering you with designer clothing or jewelry. He learns to clean and cook just to make you happy.

~ He’s stubborn, refusing to acknowledge that he’s severely weakened even to himself. But it’s during these times where you need to support him the most. Because eventually, the disease will take its toll, and you have to be there to catch Rufus when he falls.

~ It’s almost like the two of you are living each day like your last, except for the fact that Rufus, ever stubborn and determined, has been using his resources to find a cure. Because he can’t accept that the two of you are going to die. Not when he’s only lived his life in a way that he now regrets.

~ At night, when he presses chaste kisses to your lips and pulls you close, Rufus often recounts the things that he regrets most. And letting you go after Meteorfall was his biggest.

~ “It’s my biggest regret. And now, when I have you here by my side, what I want more than anything is more time with you.”

~ The Geostigma doesn’t take either of your lives. Within the month, Elena and Tseng go missing when the remaining Turks are sent to retrieve JENOVA’s remains. Though you don’t wish to go, Rufus sends you away from the Healen Lodge. Some time later, a miraculous healing rain descends from the sky, healing you and Rufus of your Geostigma.

~ That same day, Rufus Shinra proposes to you. ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shianhygge #shian imagines #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii remake #ffvii #ffvii:remake #ffvii remake #rufus shinra #rufus shinra x reader #final fantasy vii headcanons #ffvii headcanons #reno #ffvii reno #final fantasy vii reno

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razorblade180 · 4 years ago

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interdimensional Dads 4

Jaune:Who’s Next?

Jaune:Pick a number from one to a thousand.

Jaune:Since you married Yang it’s either 69

Jaune:Or 420, but because it you I’m gonna with 7

Jaune:Purple gets to go.

Jaune:....Oh did you- oh I see. That’s stupid. I like how he got the answer but it’s stupid.

Jaune:Hate to break it to you all but I can already tell that I’m probably the least interesting here. My Remnant doesn’t have anything crazy going on.

Jaune: Lucky you. We just wanna relax.

Jaune:Hehe, anyways I started dating Blake when we were at Beacon. Well I guess technically we didn’t date but we went on a lot of dates because we liked similar things. Music, tea, some books.

Jaune:Filth!

Jaune:*red* It’s been called that, yes. It’s something nice to bond over.

Jaune:Bond over, or bind over?

Jaune:I’m surprised you didn’t say bondage over.

Jaune:So scandalous. How grown of you.

Jaune:What would your dear parents think? Oh the shock!

Jaune:Why am I the one getting picked on!? You guys would literally find a similar interest in it!

Jaune:We know, it’s just funny seeing you red. Please continue.

Jaune:I can’t imagine the trip around the world was dramatically different. Reuniting with Blake was super comforting. We finally started officially dating after she scared me half to death at Argus. After beating Salem I decided to go with her back home after visiting my folks. Her parents were stunned to see yet another blonde-

Jaune:Sun or Yang?

Jaune:Both...you see, they new Sun for obvious reasons. Yang was a little more....how to put it?

Jaune:....She was in love with her too, wasn’t she?

A strange feeling of guilt and sadness filled the air.

Jaune:Yang and Blake were always pretty close, more so than with me in certain aspects. They were partners so of course it would be like amd with all the stuff that happened between them since Beacon, Yang falling in love with her was so easy to see. It wasn’t like it was one sided either, but those aspects, the knitty gritty hardships they shared? Sometimes sharing all that history makes it hard to have a normal relationship. So Yang took it pretty rough when we officially got together.

Jaune:That must’ve been a rough pill to swallow.

Jaune:It definitely was awkward at first l and a little bit of animosity. But eventually overtime it got better, until it didn’t... Blake and I had a kid. Our quiet little Lucas. Yang never out right said anything but having him and seeing us, me have a life with Blake brought sadness along with whatever happiness she did have for us. So she barely visits; she’s still kind when does though but it’s hard not to see that she would rather be somewhere else.

Jaune:Damn that’s....that’s rough. I couldn’t imagine my life without Yang. She’s practically my best friend at this point; always there to pick me up.

Jaune:Yeah she’s been a real life saver for me too.

Jaune:She’s my wife so it goes without saying that a world where she doesn’t want to be around me or Blake for that matter is pretty crazy. Do you at least have Ruby, Weiss, Ren and Nora?

Jaune:Yeah they’re around doing their own thing and we take turns visiting. Ruby tried to act like a bridge between us and Yang and it works for the most part. It’s rough but not as rough as it sounds. But any who, I guess I should talk about Lucas now.

Jaune:Before that, I couldn’t help but notice that you sound a little more...proper than the rest of us.

Jaune:*red* I’m always running into some important faunus that meets with Blake about equal rights stuff. It’s very weird being the only human around sometimes so I try extra hard not to say anything dumb. Don’t you have to meet with wealthy people a bunch?

Jaune:Yeah. They no better than to give me a hard time, or Weiss will kill them. They are very aware of the name ice queen.

Jaune:Ah.....Weiss. *smiles*

Jaune:So joe is your kid? I bet he’s as driven as his mother!

Jaune:*puts head on table* That boy has zero motivation! If you don’t bother him then he’ll lay around all day and sleep like a....well like a cat!

Jaune:Yikes...

Jaune:To be fair, I understand why. His semblance shows him various glimpses of the future that he’s never been able to complete control. Sometimes it activates without warning so it’s not uncommon for him to know something coming up. Poor guy can’t even finish a book sometimes without seeing his future self reading the ending.

Jaune:No wonder he has not motivation. The spice of life is being spoiled for him!

Jaune:Lucas is such a bright kid, a little bit awkward at times but he’s kind too. It’s a real bummer to see him in this constant slump. It’s not small things that get spot either. There are times he’s seen accidents happen and could do nothing to stop it, or the vision was so vague he didn’t know what was going on until it was too late. The world becomes pretty anxiety inducing if all you see is potential accidents.

Jaune:Potential?

Jaune:Yeah, it’s possible to avoid his visions. They aren’t set in stone by any means. He’s seen me beat him up in sparring and then didn’t show up. He’s walked out into the ocean before out of nowhere and speared a barracuda that he says “would’ve been bothersome later.” A family went swimming later on in that area. Still wish he went outside just to smell the roses though.

Jaune:Sounds frustrating, I feel for him. I don’t think my mind could function.

Jaune: I don’t think his is if he’s becoming a shut in. Maybe therapy or something? What does Blake think about all of this?

Jaune:Blake can convince him more than I can to move around more consistently. She’s always checking in out of nowhere and making sure both of us are doing well. This girl video chatted one time just to see if anything done anything fun, then forced us to find something fun to do if we haven’t. She knows if we’re left alone then we start stewing in our own thoughts way too much.

Jaune:That’s actually really sweet.

Jaune:I know! I can’t believe that’s my wife! We call her to make sure she takes a break from work or else she’ll work through lunch. We are basically tripping and picking each other up, it’s such a weird mess hehehe. That’s family though. It gets a little tense but nothing we can’t handle. Especially Lucas, I got a feeling his slump is about to turn into a rollercoaster.

Jaune:What makes you say that?

Jaune:Well....

xxxx

On a sunny day in menagerie a beautiful young girl looks up at the sky with complete serenity and wonder. It’s so blue, so simple, yet so fulfilling.

“You ever look at the sky and just wish you could touch it?” Her gaze drops to in front of her to see a very unamused Lucas.

“No, no I don’t.”

“That’s too bad. Are you more of a deep blue see guy or...”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to know my bodyguard.”

“Still not your bodyguard.” He groaned. “Can you focus on not moving. I have three shots at this.”

“I bet you’ll get it right first try, no pressure.”

Lucas’s eye twitched as the girl gave him a big smile in her frayed harness, fifty feet from the ground. The boy angled his feet on the unsecured steel beam just enough to distribute his weight evenly.

“You and I have very different viewpoints on tense situations...” He slowly leaned forward with his hands stretched out. “Grab my hands at the same time.”

“Is it bad I wanna know what happens if I don’t?”

Her question was meant with stressful silence and anxious looks that only made her smile. “Just kidding, I can’t grab your hands at the same time when they’re trembling. Lighten up a little.”

“You do know this is your life right now?”

“Yeah I know. Hey, you single?”

That came out of nowhere. He folded his ears, flustered and confused. “What does that have to do with-”

The girl suddenly grabbed his hands. “Boom, you stopped trembling. That’s what I call team-” the harness snapped. The feeling of complete weightlessness took her for a moment before gravity came to pull her down. It was in that second Lucas yanked her close, her body in his arms.

He slowly slid backwards onto sturdy ground and then felt a strong breeze that was more than enough to sever the beam from the rest. The girl gasped.

“The workers!”

“Don’t worry.” He looked over the edge to see all of them far away and the beam falling right into their massive pile of dirt he told them to put down. Lucas let out a long sigh before looking at the girl.

She raised her eyebrow. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

He groaned again. Go for a walk they said. It would do you some good they said. Now I’m dealing with this.

“I’m single.”

“Cool, I’m not.” She giggled.

“.....” He slowly nodded. “I should drop you.”

“But you won’t.”

“Sadly....”

Part 3

#rwby #the void #jaune arc #rwby au #rwby knightshade #rwby dragonslayer #rwby lancaster #rwby whiteknight #lucas belladonna

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crimeronan · 5 years ago

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no supernatural au concept i haven’t been able to stop thinking about since considering ronan and opal were once the same age

the lynch family has a reputation. partly it’s because they’re fucking weird, but let’s be real -- every rural town has its share of characters. weird farmers are par for the course. if the lynch family just kept to themselves at the barns, no one would know they existed. however niall lynch is a swaggering larger-than-life storybook hero who loves attention and scandal, so: the lynch family has a reputation

by and large, the household is made up of known entities. niall, the irishman who never shuts the fuck up. aurora, the quiet beautiful wife with the bizarrely gorgeous beadwork at craft fairs. declan, the eldest son who’s got one foot in DC and won’t ever look back when he gets there. matthew, the youngest boy with the enthusiasm and adoration and intellectual prowess of a golden retriever puppy

however. the lynch twins are largely folkloric

it’s not just that they never seem to appear in public. it’s that there are a dozen decade-old stories told by knitting folks on their porches that cannot POSSIBLY all be true, including:

the lynch twins set fire to the post office

the lynch twins stole four pallets of soda from the back of a truck unloading at the henrietta general store and drank all the evidence

the lynch twins lured a man into the woods and stabbed him in the leg

the lynch twins helped the local vet’s office coordinate 30 TNR procedures because they’ve befriended a colony of feral cats

the lynch twins trained a rotating cast of corvids to shit on the mayor when he leaves his office every evening

the lynch twins were banned from three local churches after incidents involving a statue of mary, stained glass worth several thousand dollars, and the preacher’s microphone respectively

adam doesn’t give much of a shit about local gossip but has gleaned quite a bit of it when being deferential and polite to middle-aged women at the dollar store. it takes him a month of attending aglionby to put together that ronan and declan are siblings (they look unbelievably alike, but their body language and speech are SO different) and another week after that to realize ronan’s one-half of the unidentified lynch family variables

“isn’t there another one of him?” adam blurts

declan looks up and blinks, nonplussed rather than smooth for once in his life. “excuse me?”

adam’s eating lunch and has ended up at a table with declan not because of friendliness, but because declan’s taking a break from his roving cast of intransient social interactions to work on college apps and adam’s getting a head start on homework. neither is here to make friends. adam nods across the room at ronan, who appears to be constructing a fully landscaped mountain sculpture out of french fries

declan says “god, i wish” as ronan upends a bottle of ketchup over the fries and causes a volcanic eruption that obliterates everything in the lunch table’s path

that tells adam absolutely nothing but also he doesn’t really care. later, when he and gansey are friends, and he’s no closer to understanding ronan but much more actively annoyed by him, he asks gansey the same thing

“oh, his sister!” gansey says, and beams. this at least explains why she doesn’t go to aglionby. “she’s great. she’s taught me a lot about what plants want to kill you”

adam can’t decide what to make of this. once upon a time he’d think that the affection of someone like gansey predisposed the mysterious lynch sister toward being like declan, but it turns out gansey reserves that ebullient expression for losers like him and ronan and noah alone, so. more data necessary

it’s important to note that this isn’t like, occupying a huge part of adam’s mind. it’s just idle querying because he likes knowing things. to that end, he asks ronan once if he’d ever met ronan’s sister when adam attended the public junior high. they’d be in the same grade, right??

ronan gets weird and evasive with some response about how she homeschools with his mom, and adam’s like okay, some religious cult thing with the women running the farm. whatever. not my issue

adam and ronan get slowly closer over time, etcetc, you know how it goes. eventually adam's invited to the barns. his first few visits are normal. suspiciously normal. aurora is loving and gentle in a way that makes adam skittish - probably more due to his own issues than any Actual malevolence, but who knows - and there is zero mention or sign of a girl living there

it doesn’t Really bother adam, but it kind of bothers him. less because he’s dying to meet her and more because equations that don’t add up make him nervous. his running list of theories include 1) she doesn’t exist 2) she’s dead 3) she’s at some elite boarding school for girls in connecticut 4) she’s an emancipated minor 5) she’s not an emancipated minor but has run away anyway 6) she’s a fugitive from justice 7) she’s in prison 8) she’s dead but, like, worse this time

adam carefully and subtly raises his concerns to ronan by asking, “so is your sister being tortured in your attic or what?”

ronan, reasonably, is like, “the fuck?”

adam’s like, “look, all i’m saying is that when a twin goes missing in a story and no one seems to care, something sinister’s afoot. that’s all i’m saying here.”

ronan’s like, “say the word ‘afoot’ again. you sound like gansey. come on”

he takes adam out for a walk in the woods, which seems like a pretty murdery way to respond. adam, uncomfortably aware of that rumor about luring people to the woods and stabbing them in the leg, is like okay i’m about to die here. i’ve uncovered a lifetime movie plot and now i’m gonna be buried in unmarked barrel #457. what a way to go

this is pretty much confirmed when he gets attacked

he hits the ground before he’s really registered anything beyond a surprise impact. it drives the breath out of his lungs. he flips onto his back right away. ronan’s got half a foot of height on him and stupidly long legs so a sprinting escape doesn’t seem viable. he’s gonna have to rely on the old-fashioned power of fingernails and kicking

he has time to see a pair of blown-pupil eyes WAY too close to his face before the weight disappears from him. the culprit is a girl, late teens, with hair that’s probably blonder when the matted dirt is washed out of it. “for fuck’s fucking sake,” ronan is saying, hauling her to her feet and blessedly away from adam’s vulnerable internal organs, “why. WHY.”

“holy shit.” adam sits up, clutching his chest. he can feel every bone in his body. “god. god. god”

the girl is almost as tall as ronan. she’s dressed in some kind of baggy coverall-ish getup that might once have been an army parachute. she is not wearing any shoes. there’s some blood on her face from a recently-opened scab, and also a black speck on one cheek that adam thinks is a smashed fly

“you didn’t jump gansey!” ronan is saying, extremely exasperated. “why!”

“i didn’t have my hammock yet when gansey first came,” she says. she does not sound remotely sorry

adam looks up and discovers that there is in fact a hammock stretched between the trees. it’s one of those heavy-duty camping numbers with thick canvas and a full insect net. it’s also thirty feet in the air. there are branches on the way down, but they are very precariously spaced. adam does not want to know how she parkoured to leap onto his shoulders

“when you snap someone’s neck,” ronan says, “i’m not helping you hide the body”

“who says i haven’t already?”

“the fuck? and you didn’t ask me to help hide the body?”

she darts a few feet away and pulls herself into a tree. adam watches with slight fascination as she shimmies out along a long branch until it dips under her weight. as he gets to his feet, trying to piece together his wilted dignity, she rides her makeshift nature elevator down until she’s staring into his eyes again. hugging the branch like a snake. absolutely no consideration for how normal human beings behave. it’s almost marvelous

“sufficiently free of my attic, parrish?” ronan asks

“uh, yeah. yep”

“so this is opal,” ronan says

opal flips over so she’s hanging from the branch like a sloth. then hooks her legs around it and reaches down until her palms are flat on the ground. cartwheels out of the tree like a particularly feral acrobat. adam jerks back to avoid being smacked by a faceful of twigs at the whipcrack slingshot of the branch bouncing back

opal pulls a pocketknife from one of the folds in the DIY parachute sewing machine tick protection onepiece from hell. adam eyes her warily

“opal, this is parrish. or adam. whichever. don’t stab him”

“god,” adam says again

opal beams. she opens the pocketknife, but all she does is start cleaning bits of plaque from between her teeth with the tip, which is somehow so much worse than stabbing. adam looks at ronan and finds him pinching the bridge of his nose. it occurs to adam that this is the only time he’s EVER seen ronan express any sense of embarrassment in any social situation. ronan has no sense of propriety. adam didn’t know he was capable of feeling embarrassed

he immediately likes opal just for that.

“yes,” opal says, unconcerned, answering a question no one’s actually asked. “ronan is the normal one”

#i spent nearly. 2 hours writing this stupid thing. this concept is so excellent #trc #pynch #opal lynch #my writing #this was SUPPOSED to be short enough i wouldn't have to readmore it but. shrug emoji #adam parrish #ronan lynch

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aflyingcontradiction · 3 years ago

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The Magnus Archives: Episode 123 - Web Development

First of all, let me just respond to the title of this episode with a long, drawn-out groan. Oh god, the punning of these people!

Jon: Coma, great! Let’s rearrange his office. Sleeping people don’t need – pens.

I can't explain why but 'Sleeping people don't need ... pens' is hilarious.

Melanie: Get away from me.

I love this entire Melanie scene just for how UNEXPECTED it was. So Jon comes back to work and yeah, things have changed, clearly, it's been six months, but Basira was basically the same aside from the fact that she's grieving and Georgie was also - basically the same, even though that means she has both absolutely no chill and way too much chill about the situation. And you think "Oh, he's going to talk to the others and he'll find out what has happened in his absence and it'll maybe be a shocking conversation but it'll be a conversation." Enter Melanie - who we last met already infected by the Slaughter and noticeably angry, but in a controlled manner - going COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY OFF ON JON WITH ABSOLUTELY ZERO WARNING! It's excellent.

Basira: Yeah, it was bad. We took them all out. Melanie did most of them. She was… she got a knife from somewhere and –

I know Basira probably means that Melanie found a knife somewhere but in context all I can imagine is Melanie straight-up materialising a knife out of sheer rage and thin air and going nuts on the Flesh avatars in the bloodiest sort of fashion.

Basira: He’s been restructuring. Separating out the departments a bit. Not a surprise, I guess, with his pedigree.

I mean, I'm terrified of the Lonely and this is obviously an isolation tactic but given that I've witnessed the suffering of friends under a regime of so-many-meetings-you-can't-get-your-work-done and even my exceptionally chill boss has recently instituted a "be logged into Teams at all times in case of spontaneous video calls" policy ... IS HAVING AN AVATAR OF THE LONELY FOR A BOSS REEEEEALLY SO BAD?? (I'm only half-joking here.)

Basira: Rumor is a couple of researchers up on the third floor decided to ignore some of his new directives, and… whoosh.

Okay, but this is genuinely terrifying.

But he’d intended the evening as purely platonic. Do you know how long we “dated,” before I realized what had happened and actually pressed him on the whole misunderstanding? Two months. Sometimes I think if I’d just been a little more oblivious, we’d be married by now. - Statement of Angie Santos

Greg or "a person who basically exists as an illustration of why it is a good idea to be aware of and openly express one's boundaries". He's not even a challenge for the Web, he's a snack (says a person who could absolutely imagine herself sticking to a loveless relationship for way-too-goddamn-long just because it's uncomfortable to break up. Like, I've done basically exactly this with friendships that had long run their course or were never anything but me being too-damn-awkward to openly admit that me and the other person have nothing in common. Greg is basically me but a few levels worse.)

Anyway, all of this is to try and explain why, when it started to get really weird, Greg didn’t just quit the job. I mean, it’s a freelance web project, and from what he said it doesn’t even pay very well. He wouldn’t be breaking any contract, and the client hardly ever even gets in touch. There is no reason he couldn’t just walk away, but I honestly don’t think he ever will.

Again, I could absolutely imagine myself doing a Greg! (Also again, the punning of these people. "Freelance web project" indeed.)

Chelicerae, which he made sure stood prominently at the top in a tasteful Sans Serif.

I just had to look up that word, apparently it's what the mouth parts of arachnids are called.

But still the emails came. “Bring them back.” “What is happening?” “I’m sorry I lied.”

I feel like a lot of the horror in this statement is happening off-screen, but in this case that's actually a good thing because it sends the imagination absolutely reeling.

Now, the last few years there had been a lot more homeless folk around Woking – I know, welcome to Tory Britain

I know this is on the nose, but I kinda love it when TMA takes political sideswipes so quick you might miss them if you fail to listen for half a second. It helps that I actually think this particular sideswipe is UTTERLY DESERVED AND ACCURATE.

It was definitely human once. At least, based on how it was screaming.

Honestly, I feel like the rest of the description isn't even necessary. These two sentences are more than enough to paint a picture.

I cannot help but note that there seem to be the names of several statement givers who found their way to the Institute, including noted arachnophobe Carlos Vittery. - Jon

This is the guy haunted by that one spider that really hated him.

Perhaps a coincidence, just people shopping their traumatic incidents around, but…but I have to wonder… how much their actions were their own.

That's a fair question. Is the Web specifically SENDING its victims to the Institute?

I wish I could talk it through with Martin. Or Tim. Or Sasha. But we never really did that, did we?

Oh god, that is a relatable feeling. "I have an overwhelming craving to do a thing and it's so strong that I practically forget it's not a thing I did much or at all before, but back then I had the option and now I don't."

My impression of this episode

I think this is the most unsetting statement we've had in quite a while. It helps that I find the character of Greg somewhat relatable and that he finds himself in the situation he's in because of character traits that I know I share to some degree and really need to work on. It hits close to home, I suppose. The surrounding conversations are also pretty riveting. As I said above, I really did not expect Melanie's outburst there at all. And Jon ... man, poor Jon.

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

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shanie-the-toyaddict · 4 years ago

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Shanie’s Action Figure Update

1/13/2021

Well, time for another edition of Shanie’s Action Figure Update! Pictures:

First Row: Sami Zayn Elite 40 (NXT) and Elite 51 Second Row: Stephanie McMahon “Milk-O-Mania" Elite and Elite 50 Third Row: Marvel Legends Toys R Us 2-Pack Scarlet Witch (without Vision), Thor Ragnarok 2-Pack Hela (without Skurge), and Thor Ragnarok 2-Pack Valkyrie (without Thor).

So, some exciting news for you folks today! These are all figures I have gotten within the last 3 weeks or so, with the Scarlet Witch just arriving yesterday. The NXT Sami came the day before that and the rest showed up at the end of December. All in all, a decent showing, if you ask me.

So, about the figures!

All these figures came loose in technically “Used” condition. I am very poor and, whenever possible, will take the cheapest option available on a figure to save a buck. (More on that later) This means frequently buying loose and sometimes getting figures with a bit of wear. Out of this batch, despite all the figures being listed as Used, the only ones that really show wear are the NXT Sami, who has some paint rub on his eyebrows, and Hela, who has some annoying marks on her face. Neither one were dealbreakers for me, especially considering the deals which I got on the figures. If anything, I’m really just grateful I could get the NXT Sami for so cheap WITH his belt! Now I can display him as both NXT and IC champion, although there is still no word on when or if they will release an updated Sami Zayn figure in green.

Oh, and why did I buy two additional Sami Zayn Elites when I already had one? Well, see, I’ve sorta got this thing for him and I’ve decided I need all his elites now. I have one left to get, and once I get my hands on that one, I’ll be good on Sami figures till they release an updated one.

As for the Stephanies... these are both figures which I am aware I bought in the past. However, that Milk-O-Mania Alliance Steph is the only way to get an Attitude Era (ish) Steph, so I bought her to make a WrestleMania X-Seven Stephanie figure. And the Elite 50, while I know I have one around here somewhere, my apartment ate the one I bought with my very first Ringside Collectibles order years back, so I bought a new one. Both are in great condition, despite being used.

Finally, the Marvel Legends figures. These I decided to bite the bullet on because frankly, they weren't getting any cheaper. For the record, all three of these figures come from 2-pack, but they were all bought individually, without their box-mates.For Valkyrie, I know you would think I’d want “Triumphant Warrior” Valkyrie over this one, but I honestly like the aesthetic look of the 2-pack one better. White is not usually a color I’m fond of with my figures, due to the black color of my shelf. The Hela came with zero accessories but was pretty cheap which made me happy because ML Hela figures are pretty pricey. I was fine just getting the base figure and I really just wanted the horned headsculpt on her anyway. Finally, Scarlet Witch... ok, she was the most expensive out of any of these, but someone had listed one for an ok price and that plus my eBay bucks meant I got her for practically a steal, considering how much she goes for and the fact she was mint-loose. So these three I’m glad to finally add to my collection. Now my ML women’s figures collecting isn’t just pegwarmers (outside Agent Carter).

All in all, some great additions. However, I have some unfortunate news as well.

I had mentioned earlier my plans to make Hardcore Champion Shane McMahon as a custom for his birthday this year. Back before Christmas, I had ordered a loose suited Shane to use as a base figure. Then, with the holidays, I didn’t pay much attention to it, figuring that it would get to me in plenty of time.

It didn’t and it won’t. The seller turned out to be horribly unreliable (serves me right for ordering from someone with 7 feedback) and didn’t even ship the figure until the 8th of this month, and that was only after I got mad demanding to know where my figure was. It’s currently stuck in the system and is listed as “Arriving Late”. I highly doubt it will get here in time. I’m pissed, but again, it serves me right for A. Not buying from a trusted seller, B. Being so cheap, C. Not paying attention to the auction after I paid and D. Not speaking up immediately when I did notice the figure hadn’t shipped. I know this is his fault, but there were steps I could have taken to possibly helped the situation. Regardless, I’m likely not going to be able to make the figure I intended for the 15th, which has me seriously pissed off. Fucknuggets.

So, that concludes another edition of Shanie’s Action Figure Update. Stay tuned for some time (who knows when) later this month when I hopefully get that custom figure done and post photos to share with all of you.

#Action Figures #wwe action figures #marvel legends #Shanie's Action Figure Update #Shanie's Action Figures #Action Figure Update

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lovelahela · 5 years ago

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❛ it lives in the woods ❜ ─ prologue

⇢ masterlist ; check masterlist for fancast!

⇢ pairing: noah marshall x f!mc (marisol reyes)

⇢ genre: horror

⇢ chapter: zero (prologue)

⇢ words: 2687

⇢ description: something old and powerful lives in the woods surrounding the small town of westchester... something that knows their names. tensions flare, old wounds are reopened, and lives hang in the balance of one, very important question: are you scared?

⇢ notes + warning: this story will include disturbing scenes, potentially dark/triggering subjects (including but not limited to underage substance/alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety) and strong language. reader discretion is advised.

Tonight, the moon is playing peek-a-boo, weaving in and out of ribbons of black clouds scudding across the sky. Accompanying the flickering radiance of lampposts scattered across the small town of Westchester, the light of the moon stretched across the vast cluster of trees that surrounded it and to a cosy, modern house far away from said lampposts that stood out significantly next to the worn-out, withering shack that stood meters away from it. The town was characteristically quiet, its folk invested in whatever dream of winning the lottery and marrying the most good-looking Hollywood actor they were having. It was almost peaceful.

The functioning word here being almost.

Inside that modern little house lay a young teenage girl, fast asleep in the comfort of her mattress and scented candles. Marisol Reyes tried very hard to be normal, thank you very much. She ran two clubs, maintained outstanding grades, and managed Westchester High's successful swimming team as an efficient captain. Some might even say she was one of the "popular kids," but she was no where near that (proven by the constant degradation courtesy of Britney and her posse), and preferred to keep it that way. All Marisol wanted was to blend, to be away from the spotlight - she had enough of it after being drowned in all the wrong kinds of attention when one of her best friends perished a decade ago. Being pointed at by judgemental kids and gossiping parents took a toll on her, and she swore to go out of her way to erase the devastating, untimely death of Jane Marshall from her life - she would never be the "best friend of that girl who died" ever again.

Although Marisol strongly refused her mother Soledad's advice to see a child psychologist and cope with the horrible trauma that cost her her childhood, she insisted that she was able to, get over it. She pushed aside the recurrent nightmares and the obsession with self-defense and martial arts classes, plastered on a smile, and said she was fine - every single time, all through the ten years of looking over shoulder and denying just how damaged she really was.

The sound of violent vibrations against a wooden surface startled Marisol Reyes out of her uncharacteristically peaceful slumber. She jumped out of her bed and grabbed the kitchen knife that always lied stoically on her bedside table like a war veteran, hair frazzled and muscles tense. The focus of her almond-shaped eyes darted around the room frantically, fingers tightening around the hilt of the knife as her heart beat wildly in her chest. Once she could not make out an outline of an intruder in the darkness that enveloped the area, she realized the vibrations were coming from her phone, buzzing enthusiastically with text notifications. She groaned at her overreaction to such a harmless event while rubbing the sleep from her eyes and picked up the small electronic device in her tense hands.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:12 AM

UNKNOWN NUMBER

marisol, you there?

it's dan.

i messed up. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry

Mark as spam?

Block number?

"Oh my God..." whispered Marisol, rereading that one text over and over again to make sure she didn't imagine it.

it's dan.

Those two words stole the breath and heat from her very skin. Suddenly her defenses are like paper, paper being soaked by rapidly falling rain drops. Dan Pierce. They hadn't spoken since the tragic incident a decade prior - after the funeral, the eight children went their separate ways, determined carry the truth behind that catastrophe with them to the grave no matter how deep they buried it inside of them. She debated replying - she hadn't so much as greeted him in so many years, and suddenly he bombards her phone with frantic messages in the middle of the night? Something seemed off. Marisol could practically feel danger creeping up slowly but surely behind her.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:15 AM

DAN PIERCE

marisol?

MARISOL

dan, hey.

it's been a while, u okay? what's up?

DAN PIERCE

i went into the woods.

i had to be sure, i had to prove to myself that he wasn't real.

that it was all in our heads.

but he is, mari. he's real. it was all real.

read 3:16 AM

Marisol's previously tense hands began shivering vigorously along with the rest of her limbs, all of them weakening by the second. She closed her eyes and drew in long, deep breaths, attempting to calm down and muster up whatever courage she had left. She wasn't sure if the texts she responded with were an attempt to convince Dan, or herself.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:17 AM

MARISOL

hey man, u sure ure not drunk?

DAN PIERCE

he was whispering, just like when we were kids.

MARISOL

dan, please stop.

we made all that stuff up, we were kids.

mr red was just a dumb game that spun out of control.

we made it all up.

DAN PIERCE

he does. he's with me right now.

MARISOL

for fuck's sake dan

if ure in the woods get out NOW

it's not safe in the dark

DAN PIERCE

i can hear him in the trees.

i can hear him whispering...

read 3:18 AM

Marisol hissed a long string of curse words, fumbling around in the dark for her jacket. It didn't matter that they lost touch with each other, she couldn't bear the thought of losing him - of losing someone else in the disbanded group that she once would have said she trusted with her life. Maybe, if you dug deep enough through the traumatic, emotional baggage she lugged around every waking moment, she still would.

Just as she snatched the keys to her mother's car (which she was only allowed to use in the case of an emergency, much to her dismay), someone rapped the window harshly, startling a shriek out of her. Her phone slipped out of her hands and landed on the wooden floorboard with an upsetting thud, just barely illuminating the room with a disturbing glow.

With the manner of a paranoid animal about to get preyed on viciously, Marisol snuck a peek at the window. Her blood ran cold when she made out the shape of what she was hoping was a human. Wasting no time, she jumped towards her lamp and turned it on. A yellow light filled just enough of the vicinity - enough to see that the man waiting outside her window was none other than Dan. She heaved out a relieved sigh and opened the window (reluctantly so), ushering him inside outside of the chilly embrace of the crisp night.

He climbed into his former friend's bedroom, hoodie dirtied by mud and hints of dead leaves. His long hair was unkempt, his eyes were accompanied by worrying and prominent bruises under them, and what used to be his beautifully tanned skin was then pale and sickly as though he was near death itself. Dan sat hunched over on the floor like a frail puppet being held up by a single fraying string. It was horribly peculiar to see him like this - he always held himself with confidence, tall and muscular frame towering over even those taller than him. To see him lying on her floor, so vulnerable and beaten down, it was heartbreaking to say the least.

"God, Dan, what happened to you?" asked Marisol, eyes softened with concern as she scanned his body for the injuries littered on his skin and mud staining his clothes. He looked up at her, expression shallow, striking a faint but growing fear inside of her. "How... how did you even get here? We're on the second floor."

"I climbed." His answer was curt and simple, no emotion to his voice at all. Nothing in his eyes or the tone of his voice supported the signs of terrifying struggle that blemished him. Marisol gulped.

"Oooookay, Spider-Man!" Nervous laughter cut through the uncomfortable silence choking them. She frowned and took small, careful steps forward as to not startle him. She crouched down to look him in the eyes as calmly as she should, slowly pulling down the zipper of his hoodie.

"Listen, bud, why don't you take a shower? I'll wash your clothes, give you some of my dad's, and you can tell me happened, yeah?" Her voice was low and soft, as though she was consoling a frightened child. Peeling the hoodie off his slouched shoulders, she avoided his eyes, which were - very creepily - trained on her paling face. She sighed, visibly relieved when he decided to focus on the string of Polaroid pictures and what looked like dozens of framed award certificates hung up on her wall, suddenly completely neglecting her physical existence next to his enfeebled body.

"I'm fine." His words resembled that of an accused, soulless criminal awaiting his punishment in court, perfectly trained to deny his guilt to his grave no matter what the situation was — it seemed to rehearsed. Then, abruptly, his head snapped in her direction and he grabbed her forearms tightly, staring at her with wide, crazed eyes. She could have sworn she felt all of her internal organs cease functioning for a split second and yelped pathetically. "Come on! We need to get the others!"

Her breath hitched in her throat. She searched and searched her brain for the proper response, hyper-aware of the growing madness that distorted his handsome face. When she spoke, the pitch of her voice was a bit too high for her liking. "What — What others?"

Dan's hold on her tightened noticeably, causing her to flinch and whimper involuntarily. A curt, mad laugh that sounded like one the Joker himself would utter left his lips. "Our friends, of course! Noah, Lily, Ava, Lucas, Andy, Stacy — the whole gang!" Another laugh that deepened the pit in her stomach, a laugh that would haunt her for days.

Suddenly, Marisol regretted turning away psychological help. The rate of her breathing quickened anxiously as she felt a gate in her mind burst open, letting unwanted memories flood it mercilessly at the mention of their names. She could not see Dan anymore, only flashing images of ruins, of an eerie forest, and of nine children irresponsibly skipping through the trees, on their way to revisit the entity that would then change their lives forever. Her eyes were coated with a glossy sheen of tears that were more than ready to flow down her cheeks against her weakening will. When she finally mustered the courage to speak again, she whispered: "I've barely spoken to them for years, Dan. Not since Jane — "

Before she could register what was happening, Dan stood up and pulled her with him with an unimaginable force that was sure to leave bruises. Their faces were uncomfortably close, so close she could smell the scent of blood and dirt that replaced his usual cologne. He stared at her like an enraged panther, tiny bubbles of froth forming at the corners of his mouth and face contorted with a venomous outburst. Fear was struck inside her that she felt in her very core — she almost thought he would kill her right then and there. "They have to come. Everyone has to be there. That's the rule."

She could feel the sweat trickle down her neck, the throbbing of her tear-filled eyes, the ringing screaming of a little girl in her ears, and the thumping of her horror-stricken heart against her chest. "Rule?"

The world stilled around them. Suddenly, she could not hear a single thing, not even her own breathing — only the awfully familiar words that the boy hissed: "Everyone plays together."

Marisol could not have been more thankful for the sound of her phone buzzing yet again against the floorboards. She took that as an excuse to gingerly wiggle out of his loosened grip and, with shaking legs, approached her cell and picked it up. A crack tarnished the previously pristine screen, but she decided to worry about that later when it was a more appropriate time to fret over a slightly broken phone.

But what she saw was her breaking point. Her free hand reached up to cover her mouth and stifle a sob threatening to spill out of her quivering lips and before she could control it a steady flow of salty tears coated her cheeks.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:26 AM

DAN PIERCE

are you still there?

i think i'm lost

marisol? my battery's almost dead, please help me!!

read 3:26 AM

The shock ricocheted up her skeleton; an enormous engulfing terror made her feel so, so sick in her mind and body. She's seen darkness before, the kind that makes an empty street look like an old-fashioned photograph, but this was different — this was the kin of darkness that robbed her of her common sense and replaced it with a paralyzing fear. By her genes, she is a predator with the intelligence and perceptive eyes to hunt, but in that moment, she felt like a helpless prey. Marisol slowly rose from the illuminating screen of her phone, her wide, suspicious eyes meeting his.

"Dan?" She sniffled weakly.

Although his eyes were cold an empty, right underneath them a grin stretched his lips impossibly from one ear to the other, radiating clear indications of raging madness.

"Marisol."

She lunged for the knife on her bedside table yet again, shrieking as he took large and quick steps towards her violently shaking form. She searched desperately for an escape route that wasn't blocked by the towering body of the intruder in front of her but to no avail. He grabbed her wrist with a bone-crushing hold, squeezing yet another helpless screech out of her. Her voice broke when she cried out: "Dan, please! Don't make me do this!"

And he did nothing but widen the frightening smile that would permanently etch itself into her retinas, haunting her every time she closed her eyes.

So Marisol did the only logical thing her frantic brain could come up with — with a heart-wrenching scream, pained by having to inflict pain on a friend who was once very dear to her, she drove the blade of the knife into his abdomen. Much to her increasing horror, he did not so much as flinch at the pain, only tightened the hold around her throbbing wrist. He merely growled like a feral animal, burning holes into her with his enraged gaze. "Wrong move."

Dan tackled her effortlessly to the floor, straddling her hips and forcing her into a cage that she would never break out of in her wildest dreams. He smashed her head against the rough surface underneath her, darkening her fading vision. "We all have to go back, remember?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE! GET — OFF — ME!" She thrashed in his hold, no longer attempting to swallow the sobs. Finally, after agonizing attempts to kick and thrash and flail, she was able to free one of her hands and in result scraped her previously perfectly manicured fingernails down the skin of his face.

A cry of disgust and disbelief bounced off the walls of the room when it peeled right off, revealing putrid flesh under it. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, leaving her to stare into milky whiteness while the stink of stale dirt burned the insides of her nostrils. His long, skinny fingers curled around her neck, pressing, closing with a lack of mercy or remorse, feeling like tendrils wound around her oxygen supply. Despite her lungs blazing with agony, Marisol continued to fight fruitlessly until her energy started to dissipate like water going down a drain. Her hands fell to her side and her body grew limp, using her last breath to scream for help that, somewhere in the back of her min, she knew would never come. The last thing she saw before she embraced the coming blackness of unconsciousness was the ghastly monster that rendered her powerless and savagely tore open her old wounds.

#it lives in the woods #it lives anthology #it lives choices #pb choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #ilitw #noah marshall #noah x mc #jane marshall #dan pierce #lily ortiz #ava cunningham #andy kang #stacy greene #connor greene #lucas thomas #choices fanfiction

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tumblhurgoyf · 4 years ago

Text

The Reports of My Death are Greatly Exaggerated

The king is dead; long live the king. Card advantage is king.

In this article, Sam Black skirts around an important idea regarding our application of card advantage theory but fails to provide meaningful definitions and vocabulary to discuss it in the detail and intricacy it deserves. Perhaps that stuff already exists and more enfranchised players, regular tournament-goers, are already aware of it. Maybe I’m a layman wandering into a discussion where “haymaker Magic” and small/large games have a sort of unstated but understood rigor that perfectly conveys meaning to those in the know while sounding vague-to-the-point-of-useless to a layman.

But I don’t think that’s the case here.

Rather, those terms are grasping in darkness at an understanding of a Magic that doesn’t quite function to how we are accustomed. There’s an awareness that Magic design is pushing new bounds and the results are averse to assessment within the context of some of our most fundamental ways of understanding Magic. Namely, card advantage/disadvantage.

Is that true?

Folks have been saying the concept of card advantage is dead for at least a decade now. That article also goes into what it names card utility--that is, what does a card actually do in a given situation and can it resolve the game into a won-state? What has been touched on as much as ten years ago then is just that the idea of card advantage is Magic 101 while Magic design and play has definitely graduated into 201, 301, and levels beyond.

Card advantage isn’t dead or even useless.

Rather we need more nuance and terms like card utility or, a favorite of mine, interaction advantage (published nearly two years before that above article titled Card Advantage is Dead, also getting into the flaws of card advantage thinking), to discuss applications of card advantage where the advantage is “virtual,” or where it’s less than a full card, or it plays into/against a particular strategy or along a different axis of advantage. In other words, card advantage is an attempt at conceptualizing material advantage much in the same way you can measure it in chess. Pieces are worth different point values and you can get a general idea for how well or poorly someone is doing by totaling the value of the pieces they have captured from their opponent compared to those their opponent has captured from them. Of course this doesn’t account for the board position of the remaining pieces.

In much the same way, card advantage is so zeroed in (or rather, in the most myopic and layman understanding of it, fixated on) the idea of drawing cards that it has difficulty accounting for non-card axes of interaction, almost especially so when they can also resolve the game into a won-state despite not generating card advantage in any traditional sense. On Arena I can hover over both libraries and based on how different the counts are roughly assess how I’m doing compared to my opponent (and as in chess this fails to account for board position, by which I also include cards in hand, available graveyard interactions, etc.). Mill decks jump out to me as working on a clear and simple axis that can win a game while card advantage is even then too blunt of a tool to really discuss what’s happening.

Interaction advantage or card utility gets at this nuance but requires us to look at not just cards by the numbers, but to understand what is this deck’s strategy (or even, in this specific situation, what strategy should be adopted in order to provide the best chance of winning) and how does a specific card or line of play allow that strategy to resolve the game in a won-state? That might sound kind of intimidating or overwhelming, but we do it all the damn time when playing Magic. It’s core to the game and essential to us playing it, even casually.

If I want thing X to happen, how do I go about making that happen with the cards available to me?

It starts in deck building and we consider it again when deciding to mull or keep and then for each and every turn and play of every game. The best part is that interaction advantage opens up to a broader idea of what goals are available to players. Most of this game theory stuff is applied to pro play by pro players, but that need not be the case. If I like having a ridiculous hoard of tokens numbering in the millions, how do I accomplish that? Never mind that they might be wrathed when I pass the turn to my opponent--I still get to say I made two-point-four-million squirrels that one time.

Simply put, interaction advantage asks us “what’s your goal?” and then assesses every card based on its ability to achieve that goal, as well as how your deck made up of those cards (each one its own little interaction-maker) functions to achieve that goal. Again, that’s just fundamentally what we do when playing Magic at any level.

What does it mean that we’re still talking and honestly struggling to adapt card advantage to the constantly in flux landscape of Magic play?

Well, there are a few possibilities here. One, we’ve yet to develop theory and language that functions easily and accurately enough to describe how we’re playing the game. Card advantage is a hammer of a tool for assessing the game, but it’s the one we’ve got and so we’re nailing everything with it. Two, the terms are sort of there, but either haven’t been developed enough to be useful or else are perhaps too nuanced to be useful in a game that changes every few months. I think if you gave a team of statisticians the funding and time they could more or less provide a mathematical formula to solve a standard and draft environment. Of course by the time this happened we’d probably be at least five years removed from when that would have been relevant.

Finally, and I think most importantly, Magic players are resistant to change. @markrosewater is aware of this sort of thing. The result here being that the ideas discussed above aren’t as easily consumable and applicable as card advantage so in large people won’t bother with them seriously. Every couple of years a pro will write an article about this sort of thing and then we’ll all pretty much forget about it and fall back on card advantage theory even as we wonder why Wizards R&D has developed a new environment that is resistant to classification in that outdated paradigm.

The talk doesn’t usually focus on that though. Instead it’s all about how they’ve broken and ruined the game. We fall back on tried and true understandings of the world and the game we play. But the reality is likely that we need to reassess what sort of interactions are going on, which ones are possible, and how their values have changed from the past.

Card advantage is king in a world that doesn’t want kings.

#mtg #theory #card advantage #interaction advantage #article

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thanksjro · 5 years ago

Text

Everyday Is Like Sunday: Everyone Hates Huffer

This is technically a Christmas story, modeled after A Christmas Carol, but I’m covering it now because time is an illusion, god has abandoned his creations to chaos, and I’m on the downswing of a depressive episode so nothing actually matters!

I’m kidding. It’s mainly because some of this stuff is very difficult to find, and trying to save this thing for a later date isn’t going to work with how the lineup’s currently looking. In that I don’t have anything prior to Roberts’ stint with IDW available to me at the moment that hasn’t already been gone over.

This isn’t even the only Christmassy story Roberts did back in the TMUK days- there’s a comic out there that he worked on with Jack Lawrence that’s meant to be another sort of holiday special starring Optimus Prime. He just really likes Christmas, I guess.

Anyway, let’s get into Everyday is Like Sunday!

Oof, that font. My inner graphic design nerd is screaming.

It’s the return of Matt Dallas! Dallas was the artist Roberts worked with for Liars, A-to-D, the prequel comic to Eugenesis. Having looked into the guy a bit since I covered that, I found that he was everywhere during the TMUK days, and even headed the Transtrip publications. His credits are impressive, to say the least.

Our story begins with Kup fighting Unicron.

Would you look at all that detail! Check out that six pack, dude’s ripped. It’s a good thing this is the only time we’ll see the Chaos Bringer, because that must have taken ages.

Yep, this Unicron is an illusion, and not even one that’s diegetic to the characters. Well, except Kup. Huffer, the resident stick-in-the-mud, glass-half-empty, complete-and-total grump, has taken it upon himself to mess around with Kup while he’s passed out in his easy chair after a few too many, because what the hell else his there to do on this starship? That cord in Huffer’s hand is plugged into the side of Sup’s head, so he’s just pouring this dream narrative straight into his brain. Hot Rod is, understandably, a little weirded out by this, and invites Huffer to instead enjoy the day, because it’s Christmas!

He does have a bit of a point- Christmas isn’t exactly a thing on Cybertron, and just because they have it on Earth, doesn’t mean it’s necessarily stuck with everyone as much as it has with you, Hot Rod. I doubt Huffer would care, even if it was a Cybertronian holiday.

If that last little line reads a bit oddly, that would be because it’s actually a song lyric that’s wormed its way into the dialogue. This comic is named after a song by Morrissey called- what else?- Everyday is Like Sunday. It’s a pretty good listen, I recommend you take a listen. It really matches the tone for Huffer’s whole situation.

The situation that is his personality.

Huffer’s in a mood. He’s always in a mood, but he’s particularly incensed now, because they’ve been scooting around in space for almost a year and haven’t actually done anything. Arcee listed off all the things they’ve accomplished, because she wants him to either lighten up or shut up, but he brushes all that off, because he can’t stand to be wrong, either. And then Bluestreak has to go and open his mouth, having the audacity to suggest that Huffer might actually have an emotion other than general displeasure and perhaps even- gasp!- MISS Earth.

This sets Huffer off, and he goes on a brief tirade on how he doesn’t give two hoots about the Earth. The only reason the tirade is brief is because Ebony decides that enough is enough and outright attacks him.

You probably don’t know Ebony, and that’s okay. From what I can gather, she’s someone’s OC. Not sure who, but she’s got to belong to someone. She looks like she turns either into a wolf or some sort of big cat, and she’s had enough of Huffer’s bad attitude. She says what everyone’s been thinking, and offers to kill him in a sort of roundabout way if life is really that fucking terrible.

Huffer decides he’s had enough, and asks where the escape pod is. This ship doesn’t have an escape pod, but Hot Rod offers to drop him off at the first planet they pass. Bumblebee suggests they just go ahead and let him off here. Everyone’s about had it with Huffer, and trust me when I say the feeling seems to be mutual. There’s literally an entire page devoted to him just insulting everyone and listing off all the reasons he can’t stand them.

Bluestreak looks genuinely offended, like he can’t believe Huffer would even go there.

Huffer fights dirty, too. He goes after things people have zero control over, like their age and how they’re built. Just flat-out rude. He attacks folks who aren’t even present, calling Prowl uptight and Nightbeat a lackey.

We cut over to the two of them having a discussion about the order of the shuttle they’re on, and how things are going to have to change, then it’s back to Huffer acting like a jackass.

You’re just saying that to be hurtful and ridiculous.

Huffer storms off into the darkened hallway, wishing a sarcastic Merry Christmas to everyone. The door shuts behind him, and then everything promptly explodes.

There’s a lot going on here, but let’s try to break this down a bit. We’ve got some full-stasis off in the corner, with Eric Cartman and He-Man’s Oracle featured as pieces, the vacuum from Teletubbies, what might be a porno mag in the lower right corner, and a TI-83 calculator. Damn, guess Huffer got what he wanted.

No, what’s really happened is that the shuttle’s been hit by an asteroid. Considering I haven’t seen anyone actually manning this rig, I suppose it was only a matter of time before they floated into something big enough to hurt. Prowl intercoms for everyone to head for the bridge and pull up the defense shielding.

Off in the hall, Huffer’s face down on the ground. He tries to get up, but the shuttle keeps hitting things, even with Bluestreak at the wheel now.

That’s what I want to know! Look at our detective, asking all the right questions! However, we don’t have time to answer that, because, unfortunately, Nightbeat isn’t our main character this go around.

Huffer is.

Our little bastard man is looking a bit crispy, but seems otherwise okay. He certainly isn’t feeling bad enough to not make a stink when someone has the utter gall to try and help him to his feet. His tune changes though, when he sees just who this kind samaritan is.

Fusion’s a dude who’s only claim to fame is biting it. I suppose that it’s fitting he be our Ghost of Christmas Time-Is-A-Perception-Based-Concept.

Fun little detail about Dallas’ work- he makes everyone outrageously shiny. These sons of guns have been at war for millions of years, and should probably be scuffed all to hell, but Dallas is just like “haha, nope! Break out the polish!” and everyone is glossy enough to apply lipstick with. It doesn’t even stop at characters; in Liars, A-to-D, Mirage fires a missile that you can see Sixshot’s reflection in as it flies towards him.

Fusion, when asked if he’s a hallucination, simply says that he’s as solid as Huffer, and when their hands touch, THIS happens:

Which I suppose means they’re embarking on a journey of the spiritual variety. That, or Huffer’s FINALLY proposing.

The pair materialize on Cybertron, 50,000 vorns in the past, which is well over 4 million years. A vorn is equal to 83 years, which is oddly specific if you ask me, but now you know! Huffer, of course, wants to know how all this nonsense is possible, and just what the hell Fusion’s deal is.

Huffer’s not one for mystical bullshit.

Being a bit short on time, Fusion has Huffer look through a window at a meeting with all the bigwigs. They’re discussing Huffer’s Ark designs, and just who exactly is going to man this thing once it’s ready. Emirate Xaaron suggests that Huffer come along, and strikes just the cutest little pose while he does.

Seriously, look at this, he’s precious, even with his funky grate mouth.

Nobody can mistake Huffer as being inexperienced or stupid, but the problem is nobody friggin’ likes him. Huffer, of course, takes issue with that, grumbling to himself and completely missing Fusion’s departure. When he finally takes notice, his new guide is already in place: Grimlock. The star wipe makes a return, and they’re off to the next scene.

Meanwhile, back on the shuttle, Bluestreak’s having some trouble with maneuvering around all these asteroids. Hopefully they’ll be okay until Huffer’s done with his Christmas special shenanigans.

Huffer and Grimlock arrive at Earthbase in the present day, in the middle of a rip-roaring good party.

Dammit, who let Cosmos into the booze? You know he can’t hold his liquor.

Everyone hates Huffer so fucking much, and I honestly can’t fault them for that. He’s kind of a festering wound of a person.

Grimlock disappears while Huffer’s busy watching everyone’s testament to their dislike for him. Huffer star-wipes out onto the next scene, interrupting him before he can say the fuck-word.

Back with Bluestreak, he’s nearly gotten them out of the asteroid field.

Huffer appears on what might be a moon, and meets his final guide.

Fuck, he’s become aware of the narrative! Shut the comic down, quick, before another Swearth happens!

Our ghost reveals himself to be Huffer, roughly 200 years in the future, and he’s looking ROUGH.

Oh no, he’s dehydrated.

Because he never learned to act like a decent person, the shuttle crew is going to dump him on a uninhabited moon in a couple weeks time, and then that’ll be it.

And then we get into the character study portion of the comic.

Huffer only bitches as much as he does because he’s self-conscious and doesn’t want to let people in, for fear that they’ll see what a useless hunk of junk he is.

Of course, current Huffer still can’t get over himself- even when it’s just he, himself, and him- and has to continue poking holes in this revelation, claiming it to be no more than a dream that’s presenting him with a fundamental personal truth in an easy-to-swallow pill.

These couple of panels are very dialogue-heavy, taking up a majority of the space available, but in the end, Huffer’s last little biting remark is that none of this is real and none of it matters, so just get it over with and send me back. Which Ghost-Huffer does.

Back at the shuttle, they’ve cleared the asteroid field, and it looks like it’ll be smooth sailing from here on. Huffer wakes up, in just a foul a mood as ever, as he stews over all the horrible things he heard about himself during his dreams. It looks like he’s about to return to status-quo, perhaps dooming himself to the fate of Ghost-Huffer, when he overhears Prowl chewing out the rest of the crew. Because no one had bothered to watch the radar, thus nearly killing everyone, he’s going to start tightening his belt and imposing some rules and regulations, as opposed to letting people do whatever they please. He names Nightbeat as his second-in-command, which everyone seems okay with (except Kup, for whatever reason).

Just something about this interaction Roberts really enjoys, I guess.

As part of this little crackdown, Prowl’s ordering a round-the-clock manning of the shuttle- half-day shifts. There’s quite a bit of groaning about this, but honestly? I’m not exactly sure how they’ve gotten away with not doing this for as long as they have.

Huffer, in a show of what I assume is the closest thing to kindness he’s performed in years, offers to take the first shift. Nobody fights him on that, and he takes a seat. In the background, Kup asks to have a word with Prowl.

Huffer decides that he ought to lighten up, just a touch, and maybe at least consider not being such a massive jerk.

That decision lasts roughly twenty seconds, and then he gets bored.

Personal growth is for suckers! IDW Whirl WISHES he was this disconnected from his own conscience.

As he runs off to go be a jackass elsewhere, the shuttle drifts back towards the asteroid field, surely dooming everyone aboard. The end!

This was a fun, somewhat bitter little story that tried its hand at picking apart a narrative that’s been run into the ground. Sorry, Roberts, but nobody’s gonna do it better than A Muppet’s Christmas Carol.

Up next, we’ll be looking at something a little different. Something not written by Roberts, but based on his work.

We’re going to read Eugenesis fanfiction.

#transformers #jro #everyday is like sunday #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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lyndaspearman · 4 years ago

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marvellouslymadmim · 4 years ago

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Neither Timid Nor Tame. Let’s talk about how you approached making good on all that TENSION and slow burn you set up. Did you feel the pressure? Did it come to as satisfying an end as you hoped? How do you approach writing smut? Anything you find particularly challenging when approaching it?

(*cue Salt-N-Pepa’s Let’s Talk About Sex in the background*)

Did you feel the pressure? The entire series was the first thing I’d written (or at least published) for about 2-3years. I had written longfics, slowburns, and smut before, but this was writing for a new fandom, a new set of readers, and an entirely new dynamic. So there was a lot of pressure, not just directed at this particular fic. I wanted to give the readers some emotional fulfillment (I honestly hadn’t expected anyone to get as invested in the series as they did, and that was a beautiful surprise), and I wanted to know, as a writer, that I could successfully and truthfully end such a long storyline without tripping at the finish.

There was also a bit of added pressure because I find writing first time sex to be more difficult. There’s the added layer of learning boundaries and each other’s bodies that becomes more of a second-hand language in longer, established relationships. And because I’m very big on upholding my responsibility as a writer to truthfully portray characters as close to their canon selves as possible, that means creating situations that will get them to react in the way that I want.

So yes, I definitely felt the pressure.

Did it come to as satisfying an end as you hoped? It did, I think. Looking back there are parts of the dynamic that I wrote that I don’t think hold as true for the idea of Hecate and Ada’s personalities that I hold now, but for the portrayals I gave of them in that particular series, it fits. I had originally planned to have the piece end much earlier, but the ending never felt quite...whole, so I followed them around for a bit longer, and found the ending we have now, which I truly love because it’s soft and a bit full circle. The series starts and ends with Dimity and Hecate, and starts and ends with Hecate having entirely different views of her relationship with Ada. And I think it ended where I generally like to end my long fics: with enough of a story “ended” to feel a sense of satisfaction, but with the sense that there’s still so much left ahead for the characters. How do you approach writing smut? I don’t think I have a set approach to writing anything, but if I really try to break it down, it starts with simply...sitting with the characters. Getting to truly know them and their personalities. Once you understand their pasts and their motivations, writing becomes extremely easy. So sometimes writing smut, you go “Oh, this would be nice”, but then you have to also go “ok, but would X actually do that? And if they did, how would that look from an emotional standpoint?” I always try not to get too technical, though I do have several books on sex positions which I consult when describing things, because mentally, I need to know where everyone’s hands are, at any given time. I think it’s safe to say that I often go deep-diving into character’s heads during sex, which honestly is why I love writing smut. I’m not too focused on the acts themselves, I’m much more obsessed with the motivations and emotions behind them. And I think that’s a great place to be. I don’t find gratuitous, disconnected smut to be appealing (gimme that history and connection, baby!). So when I write it, I make sure it’s true to the characters and their dynamic, that it’s also mirroring or addressing something else outside of the actual acts, and that it serves a narrative purpose. If in my writing, there’s a moment where a “saucy bit” kind of fades to black before the action, that’s generally a sign that, in my opinion, whatever happens next isn’t going to give us the kind of insight into this dynamic that fully serves the story I’m telling. I have zero clue if that actually answered your question, btw.

Anything you find particularly challenging when approaching it? Ooh, yes. Sometimes it’s not easy, finding a balance between mining the character’s thoughts/motivations and actually focusing on the action. Pacing is extremely important in smut scenes, more so than others, I’ve found. So finding that balance and keeping that pace is something I’m far more aware of during smut (and what contributes to longer write times, I feel like).

As mentioned before, first time sex is always more of a challenge. Because not only are you learning how the characters work together in this setting, they’re also learning that, too. And there’s the undercurrent of constant “oh, am I asking too much? am I giving enough?” that tends to lessen in longer term partnerships.

I also am really aware of...certain aspects of fandom culture which can turn a smut scene into an objectification of the actor’s body, and I really try to look at my work through a certain lens, in that regard. Because I don’t want that, I don’t want to even be tangentially related to that in the least. The appeal, for me, is the connection between two fictional characters--it’s the connection between them that makes the scene “hot”, not the mental image of two naked actors. So while I write from that standpoint, I also edit from the standpoint of “could this be...misused?” I don’t know if any of that makes sense, but I hope it does.

Also, there’s a bit of a challenge in deciding what shows up in smut, too, I think. I studied human sexuality and let me tell you, standing in front of a college classroom talking about these topics really put me in a place of having zero issues talking about them at any given point. I don’t have a lot of squicks and our home as a “No Kink-Shame” rule, which means anytime someone seems to be a bit judgmental about a (legitimate, consensual) kink, we shut it down, regardless of whether we “get” it or not. I believe human sexuality is amazingly vast and varied, and if something just does it for you, go for it (keep it safe, sane, and consensual, folks). But sometimes, you have to hesitate from bringing that into fiction, for various reasons. Fanfic is interesting because you really are writing for an extremely specific audience, and you have to honor that and be aware of it. Come at me, bro: inbox random-ass questions about my stories, itemized number lists be damned.

#thanks cass!#cassiopeiasara #writing questions!#fic writing #smut writing #neither timid nor tame #come at me bro

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