#there’s a slick machine behind them that creates the image

[artemisia-black]

There is not a male celebrity alive, who I would defend against their victims.

No matter how much I love their art.

[izzieislandheart]

Multi-part reply it is! (So, if you actually want to have better functionality...perhaps start there, rather than with an algorithm.) Dear @staff: First, read all the reblogs on this post you made. All of them. Second, go over to @mostlysignssomeportents and read Let the Platforms Burn then The Enshittification of TikTok. Once you've read those, go to @atomicrobotlive and read Reddit is speedrunning enshittification. Read all of the contents of the links in all of those articles. Because of the passage of time and such, I can state with some confidence that you likely have members on your staff who were born in or near the year I first ventured into web forums, the "brand new" way to communicate online that wasn't Usenet or AOLs early iterations of what would explode into a range of chat apps, flooding almost-adult me with demands for a/s/l. (I ended up in ICQ for a long time, but that's another story for another day.) "Social media" professes to be ABOUT PEOPLE and FOR PEOPLE, yet almost every instance of it today is tied to MONEY and CORPORATIONS. And, regardless of what Congress or the Supreme Court might think, CORPORATIONS ARE NOT PEOPLE. We have to stop treating them like they are. An algorithm, a slick GUI with one-click interfaces, an endless scroll dashboard, or any other gimmick to try to lure and trap new users is not focused on the people. The fact that you have to even think about things like "user growth," "converting non-users into engaged logged-in users," or "posts per session," shows you're viewing people as objects - things to manipulate and use to meet a goal. Do you understand why one of the most frequently demands is to fully reinstate porn on this site? I'll give you a hint: it has an ancestral connection to "the world's oldest profession" (mythology regarding that aside), wherein people understood that they had value themselves, their very existence had value, and that they were desirable to others. That core trait went all kinds of fucked up directions since the earliest days of humankind, but it's key to understanding that WE WANT TO INTERACT WITH PEOPLE. We don't want art spit out by some machine that deconstructs and reconstructs images through code. We don't want a language learning program to search the Internet and regurgitate the most likely palatable response to a question. Those things have appeal to abusers who only care about multiplying money. Even the well-intentioned claims behind them - to make research faster, to help artists construct concept art faster, to bring down the cost of time for those tasks - boils down to turning people into products. Why do we need to do those things faster and why do they need to be cheaper? To put out more product to make more money at an even higher margin. Those Amazon Kindle book covers don't make themselves...but now someone can make one in about 30 seconds with Midjourney. To Hell with the artist who would have otherwise had at least a few hour if not several day turnaround and charged accordingly; it's not worth it, because the book was written by ChatGPT anyway. Amazon doesn't care how their percentage of the profit is created. (To be continued...)

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[yourstrulyaiko]

≡;- ꒰ °stream starting꒱

‘I could eat her pussy everyday.’

‘Her boyfriend is so lucky to have that soaking pussy to fuck everyday’

‘You guys are making me wet!’

“O-Oh fuck!” You mewled against the satin pillow, you were on your knees with your ass up in the air, only donning a waist garter circling your waist attached to a sheer fabric squeezing your thighs, drool pooling onto the pillowcase and trickling out of the corners. Slick gathering and soaking your nude stocking with the obvious damp patches from the overstimulation. Weakly tugging away from your boyfriend’s firm grasp on your wrist behind your back, hitachi vibrator letting out a rapid buzz, pressed on your sensitive bud sending the familiar jolts down your spine.

The once soft moans has turned into desperate pants, hips are jerking, barely holding yourself up. You wanted to take a breather from drowning all in this pleasure, it was too much but, you knew better, if you even try to tell the man you need a minute. He is just gonna tie you up with a vibrator to your clit and the fuck machine on, leave you like that for an hour.

Todoroki Touya who is known on the internet as Dabi has the brilliant idea that you should be streaming onto a well-known adult website called, .Hesitantly you agreed but your bad boy personified boyfriend has his way of convincing people, however, with that persona he had caught you a heap of audience. Hence, why the two of you have become one of the most popular cam couple on the website.

To live up with his image, he had asked you to dye his once fiery red hair to jet black, gotten himself tons of piercing: three cartridges on both of his ear, tongue and on his dick also known as ‘Jacob’s ladder’ or ‘frenum’. His is specifically made out of four straight bars on the underside of his dick. Occasionally though, he would wear all of his three nose studs whenever you asked him to.

Touya leans over your back tossing away the vibrator, his hot breath fanning over your ears, then his voice dropping an octave whispering loud enough for your stream to pick it up,

“Go and tell them how much of a slut you are for me.” He sits back up, releasing his hold on you and swatting the soft mounds of flesh hearing the loud echo of his hands meeting your behind, making you flinch and jerk forward, your ass littered with bright red hand print from his non-stop abuse. At this point, you couldn’t even speak anymore instead you were mumbling some sort of incoherent barely formed sentences, toes curling in.

“I-I’m a s-slut f…” Your words trailed off as his fingers plunged into your cunt violently curling his fingers into your g spot, creating a loud squelching, a weak whimper escaped your lips. You glanced over your shoulder as a tear gathered along your waterline meeting his steel blue eyes. A little sadistic, boyish, cruel on his lips as he stared down at you writhing under his touch, your velvety walls hugging around his drench digits.

“Huh? I didn’t hear you, speak up and clearly.” He taunts, “You’re a filthy little slut. Go on, tell them.”

“I-I’m Dab… I-I’m Dabi’s f-filthy little slut…” Touya pinches your thighs when your body squirm away from his finger dipped in your entrance. The familiar pressure on your lower belly began to build up, you had the urge to push, your trembling hands reached out for his wrists trying to push his hand away from your abused cunt. You wanted a breather. Your muscles are screaming and numb from a prolonged time that you had to be in this position.

Your cunt tightened around his finger, a clear stream gushed all over his hand, splashing all over Touya’s forearm and trickling down your thigh, soaking your bedsheets and thigh-highs. He watched closely, enjoying the glorious sight of you squirting.

“Oh, you’re a fucking dirty bitch. Did I fucking tell you to make a mess, huh, doll?” His large smacking on your ass causing the skin to ripple under it,

“N-No, daddy.”

‘I would love to shower in her squirt’

‘Beautiful squirt’

‘No wonder, she can take shit like this… Fuckkk, she trains her so well.’

‘They’re both so hot.’

Touya reached over for your hair, threading his fingers through your unruly hair, tugging from the roots of your hair leaving a dull ache from where he harshly gripped on your locks and bringing you up to your knees against his bare chest, his free hand snaking around your form wrapping his hand around the base of your throat giving it a strong squeeze. Tears began to stream down your face as your cunt squeezed around nothing from the aftershocks of your intense 5th? 6th? Who knows how many orgasms you had.

“That’s I’m fucking talking about, you fucking dirty, dirty bitch. You did so well, doll.” Touya leaned over and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of your lips. He grabbed you chin and forced you to look at the camera.

“Why don’t you welcome our new viewers? Hm? And tell them, how much of a slut you are.”

[jageshemashftw]

Because SEGA dropped the ball and didn’t do it themselves, I’m gonna make up my own Yakuza: Like a Dragon summons for the playable Yakuza characters that didn’t get one.

Akiyama - Firebird Inferno

We open with Akiyama sauntering into the fight, a smug look on his face and hands in his pockets. He lifts one hand and snaps his fingers and, suddenly, it starts raining cash all around the fight area.

The enemies all start getting distracted grabbing as many yen notes that they can get their hands on before Akiyama zooms forward, wave-dashing to and fro each individual enemy before launching them into the air with an upward kick.

Once all enemies are airborne, Akiyama jumps up and aerial combos them over and over, progressively getting faster and faster until his legs literally catch on fire and he is a living tornado of flame.

Finally, Akiyama jumps off one of the enemy’s head to get above them when an ethereal image of a flaming red phoenix appears behind Akiyama in the air, shrieking like an eagle as Akiyama flying axe kicks one of the enemies, driving their body into the next enemy and the next before driving them down to the ground in a fiery explosion.

Does extreme fire damage to all enemies and increases the money you make at the end of the battle.

Tanimura - Black Shell Binding

It starts with the enemies still mad-dogging Kasuga and company before their attention is stolen by the sound of a gunshot. We cut to Tanimura holding his pistol up into the air, letting off a few more warning shots before calmly putting the gun away, knowing he won’t need it.

The enemies all start to charge at Tanimura, but the detective simply performs his Tortoise Shell Defense technique to counter the front most enemy in the group, getting in the middle of the mob.

Shaking off their surprise, two enemies deliver a punch and kick to Tanimura, who effortlessly grabs their wrist and ankle, twisting their limbs to make them flop helpless to the ground, knocking down the other enemies around Tanimura.

Tanimura whips out a pair of handcuffs and locks the two limbs together, leaving the two enemies to writhe helplessly on the floor. The other enemies get back to the feet, only to have their own limbs twisted and manipulated in a similar fashion before all the enemies have been handcuffed together in a writhing ball of limbs and pain.

Finally, Tanimura takes a step back before jumping into the air and delivering a flying kick to the ball of goons, an ethereal image of a black tortoise snarling behind him, before launching the goon ball into a giant pachinko machine that erupts out of the ground, the goons bouncing around over and over until hitting a hefty payday for Tanimura.

Deals extreme blunt damage to all enemies and has a high chance of stunning any survivors.

Shinada - My Big Comeback

It starts with a shot of Shinada’s feet, walking calmly towards the group of enemies while the tip of a baseball bat is dragged along the ground, creating sparks.

The enemies stop and stare at Shinada, some of them even laughing at how pitiful he looks, before Shinada tosses a baseball into the air, smacking it with the bat directly into one of the enemy’s mouth, embedding it in his teeth.

While the enemies are shocked by this, Shinada drops the bat and charges forward, grabbing the enemy with the baseball in his mouth by his midsection and Meteor Tackling him through the mob, knocking them all on their asses before Shinada throws baseball-mouth behind him.

While the enemies struggle to get back on their feet, Shinada whips out his iron club and charges forward again, baseball swinging the club into baseball-mouth’s head, knocking him ass over teakettle. As he does this, he drops the club and whips out his extendable bo staff, performing some slick bojutsu attacks on the next enemy in line, ending with Shinada driving the staff into his stomach and pole-vaulting off him into the air.

While in the air, Shinada pulls out his katana and slices the third enemy in line with a downward slash into a kneeling crouch, before getting up and spinning around in a slash at the enemy’s midsection.

At this point, the fourth and final enemy is scared shitless and tries to run away, only for Shinada to flip the katana into an underhanded grip and throw it at the remaining enemy, stunning them with a pommel strike at the back of the head.

Finally, Shinada flicks out his knife and delivers a series of lightning fast slashes across the last enemy, leaving flashes of blinding light following every slash.

Finally, the enemy stumbles backwards after Shinada finishes his onslaught, stands dazed for a few second before a fountain of blood suddenly erupts from dozens of cuts across his body, finally falling to the ground in pain.

Deals extreme damage to all enemies, half get blunt damage, half get blade damage, prioritizing enemy weaknesses.

[ayellowcurtain]

I can be your lover

part 2 

It’s stupid, Sander thinks, holding on to the hard bathroom counter, needing something to ground him, staring at the clippers right next to the sink. It’s just hair, this was never a problem for him but for a reason it is now. Robbe loves his bleached hair, and Sander knows in a weird way, this is the end of an era. He’s been bleaching his hair for almost two years, Robbe doesn’t know him any other way. And now they’re living hours away from each other, not even in a real relationship yet and here is Sander, about to throw away the only thing that he feels still connects him and the experience Robbe had with him.

It’s stupid, he repeats to himself as he grabs the machine, holding it firmly in his palm, turning it on and wrapping his fingers around it to not mess this up too badly, lifting it up, thinking it’ll be better to start from the sides where’s shorter. His hair is getting long, too long and it gives him enough room to not go completely bald. He looks at his phone on the counter and thinks about recording it, sending the video to Robbe as a joke but he knows Robbe will be a little upset so he decides against it, checking if he’s using the right one and he presses it gently against his scalp, feeling almost instantly his hair falling against his face, tingling his cheek.

He can’t really see it, but when he’s done with the right side, he puts the clippers down and touches the counter, feeling the fuzz instead of the slick texture from before, and he pushes everything to one spot until he can see a tiny pile forming, the bleached hair and some dark dots at the ends.

Sander goes back to the other side, the back and the top at last, trying to avoid actually looking at himself in the mirror unless it’s necessary to have a decent haircut. He takes his shirt off when he’s done and tries to clean his shoulder with it before looking forward.

It’s not that bad, but it’s still dark hair where it was white before. It’s a good length, not too short, definitely shorter on the sides. It feels weird even for him, he can’t imagine how Robbe will react. He’ll take care of the mess later. The tiny hair strands all over his shoulders, neck and back are quickly getting on his nerves, so he pushes his boxers down and jumps out of them, turning the shower on and getting inside the bathtub.

It feels a lot different washing his hair, Sander can’t remember the last time his hair was this short. He tries not to overthink it as he takes a quick shower. Hair grows back, and it’ll be back to normal in no time.

Milan’s picture is on his phone when he jumps off the shower so Sander puts his phone down and accepts the call as he grabs his towel, drying his chest before wrapping around his waist, putting his phone back up, pushing it against the mirror on the wall before taking his hand off the camera.

Milan opens his mouth wide and laughs, clapping his hands, clearly enjoying seeing Sander shirtless too.

“Oh my god! Sander!” He sounds surprised, but happy and Sander uses it to calm himself.

“Do you think Robbe will like it?” Sander asks anxiously and Milan tilts his head like he just heard something very dumb.

“And why are you worried about what he’ll think?”

Sander snorts, grabbing his phone to leave the bathroom. Nobody really knows what’s going on between him and Robbe. How would they know? It’s complicated even for Sander to understand, but he knows they’re not the best at hiding their feelings either, no matter how much they don’t kiss in front of anyone and try as best as they can to act like normal friends.

“He’ll love it, I’m sure. Now you and Senne look like actual twins! The same black and white, edgy aesthetics. Too bad you live away now so you’ll have to make your own closet without sharing it with Senne...or Robbe.”

Sander nods his head, biting the inside of his cheek. He misses Robbe more than he’s willing to admit, he misses his smell, seeing Robbe stealing some of his clothes, wearing it around the house when they were alone.

“How is he?”

Milan sighs loudly, leaning against his chair, “I mean...he’s good at pretending.”

Sander sighs, sitting on his bed, going back again to the reasons why he should just stay here. He’s tired of living with his parents, no company is willing to pay him as well as he’s been paid right now, he has his dream job. He’s just one short flight away from home, he has his own space with nobody to share it with.

There are so many good, solid reasons to be here, to make the choice of moving away. And still, thinking about Robbe makes all of those reasons seem unnecessary and futile. But Robbe has a lot to figure out too, and they needed space and so Sander created the space between them. Doesn’t make him miss Robbe any less. Being the reasonable one is not a thing Sander likes to be, it doesn’t come naturally to him so it’s like his nature is constantly fighting him, wanting to go back home and drop everything else.

Milan gets easily distracted talking about Senne and Zoe and Sander hums agreeing or disagreeing whenever he feels it’ll fit the conversation while he opens his conversation with Robbe.

to Robbe: Can you talk now?

Robbe is online and the bubbles appear instantly on his screen.

to Sander: am with the boys

kinda drank a little

not sure if it’s safe for us to talk now

Sander smiles at his phone, thinking about a shy and drunk Robbe trying to talk to him while having his friends watching. The thought of Robbe not being able to hide how soft he goes for Sander makes him find any excuse to end his call with Milan and instantly call Robbe.

He looks around while he waits and grabs a clean shirt that’s on his bed, putting it on quickly, just then remembering about his hair, very sure Robbe will not be able to hide his feelings about it either. Sander can’t make himself be mad if the boys find out they’re together. He keeps biting the corner of his bottom lip until a shaky image finally appears and he sees Robbe a second later, the boys talking loudly off camera.

“What did you do?!” Robbe almost screams, frowning and coming closer to the camera like that’ll make him see better.

“You like it?” Sander is overwhelmed by how loud and fast his heart is beating but he notices how insecure and afraid he sounds and he hopes the boys are busy with something else not to notice it too.

“Sander...why did you do that?” He whines and pouts a little and Sander wants to kiss him so badly.

The boys end their little moment, jumping around Robbe to see whatever he’s seeing and complaining about.

“Wow, bro! Looks so nice!” Moyo is the first one to say anything and Sander tries to smile and look at him, whispering a thank you back, too worried about Robbe’s thoughts still.

“So edgy.” Aaron says like it’s an afterthought and Jens and Moyo laugh.

“Yeah, Sander, looks sick! I’m sure the ladies are climbing all over you with the new look.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that and he doesn’t have to because Robbe finally walks away from them, seeming to close the living room door behind him, walking by himself down the hall between the bedrooms.

“I miss you.” Sander fills the awkward silence for both of them.

“I miss you too.” Robbe whispers like he’s ashamed to say it and Sander knows he’s just saying because of the beers he probably already drank.

“Why don’t you just tell them?”

“What is there to tell? Especially now that you’re somewhere else, fucking whoever you like.” Robbe sounds really annoyed, throwing himself against a wall and Sander sighs, knowing the boys are probably gossiping a lot about him and whatever he’s doing with his free time here, by himself, filling Robbe’s brain with bullshit.

“You can’t imagine the line outside my place.” He tries not to sound too hard, smiling when Robbe rolls his eyes.

“I have an idea. I gave you a note, remember? When you left and it’s not like I got anything back...”

“What?” Sander gets up from his bed to walk around aimlessly like Robbe is doing again.

“You don’t know that I like you? Is that it?” Robbe blushes but doesn’t say sorry or explain why he hasn’t come to visit yet, “You’re the one with the plane ticket just getting old inside your drawer or something.”

It takes a long minute but Robbe finally wets his lips, searching for what to say.

“You know I like things to be very clear, right?”

“What is Jens filling your head with?”

“He’s not doing anything.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you jealous?” Robbe smiles expectantly, walking slower now, thankfully, wanting to give Sander his full attention for what he says next.

“What is there to be jealous about? Especially now that you’re somewhere else, fucking whoever you like.” Sander snorts, unable to think of anything other than how beautiful Robbe looks on his screen right now. “Yeah, I’m fucking jealous.”

“I just want you. Nobody else.”

“So come see me already, Robin. Please.” Robbe smiles and Sander doesn’t feel so self aware for whining, needing to see his boy soon.

They stay in silence for a long time, looking at each other, noticing the big or small differences.

“I like how long your hair is getting.” Sander says with a comfortable smile of his lips, lying back down on his bed, adjusting his pillow underneath his head.

“I don’t like when you call me Robin…” Robbe whispers, looking at Sander to get his reaction.

“You don’t?” Sander lifts his eyebrows, surprised, absently running his fingers through his scalp, feeling how fuzzy it is, wishing he could make Robbe feel it too, make some comment about how he likes it or not.

“Not like this...when you’re being serious.”

Sander nods his head, his smile growing bigger, “So you like it when I use it to annoy you.”

Robbe shrugs, and rests his head against the wall, “Can I go in two weeks?”

“Really?!” Sander pushes himself to sit up.

“Yeah.”

“Of course you can. Tell me the time you get here and I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 4

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn't and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/n

Warning: language maybe?

W/c: 3.5K (sorry not sorry)

A/n: Shuri is probably one of my favourite characters in the MCU so please enjoy her sass ❤️ Thank you again to @cutie1365 for editing and making this readable 💕

You sat in the cold steel lab, next to a pile of machines that whirled in the silent room. Small wires attached to your temples and hooked into the computers. You didn't know how you imagined Shuri, but a small 16 year old girl was definitely not it. This was who was going to be prying and prodding through your brain? I guess this is how S.H.I.E.L.D felt the first day you showed up. The thought made you stifle a laugh under your breath and wish you could only remember.

Every 10 minutes after scanning the hologram which hovered just above the desk she would stop, and ask if you were okay to continue. You would nod, unable to actually create coherent words. The process of regaining your memories was excruciating, to say the least. Shuri made it better though. She was bubbly and kind. Her voice was bright and reminded you of the wind chimes your mother used to hang on the porch.

Another blast of electricity surged through your brain, causing you to double over and yelp.

"Okay, okay, that's enough for today." She announced, crossing the room and placing a hand on your shoulder. You flinched her away desperately trying to focus away the pain.

"No. Keep going." You gasped, steadying your breath.

"Y/n, we have to take this in steps. If we dig too deep we can risk serious brain damage, or worse." She explained. You looked up at her concerned face, tears welled in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away.

"Dr. Shuri, please-”

"It's Shuri. Just Shuri. And no, I’m serious. I think we've retrieved some core memories, but there's no way to be sure." She spoke over you, turning her computer off and carefully removing the wires from your head. You winced as she pulled them out, but you were finally able to breathe right again. “We’ll just have to keep tabs on ya’.”

"How will we know what I remember?" You asked, watching her pack her equipment away.

"You won't," She stated, placing a small alcohol wipe in your hand. You blotted the small incisions the wires left behind. Gross.

"But, we'll keep doing bi-weekly checkups and monitor your behavior. There could be trigger words that Hydra has hidden in your brain. The last thing we need is you going all ‘Winter Soldier’ on our asses." Shuri giggled to herself and patted you on the back. You tried to hide the scream of pain that erupted from her contact. You suppressed a cry and smiled as best you could.

"Thank you Dr- um, Shuri. Seriously, I can't tell you what this means to me." You corrected, getting up and following him out of the room.

"Anytime. This is my new specialty I guess. I think I should consider updating my resume to super soldier fixer-upper."

You walked through the compound slowly, still unsure where everything was. Steve had assigned you a bedroom on the top level, close to Agent Romanoff, or Nat as she had asked you to call her. She and a few other former Avengers occasionally stayed in Wakanda after everything went south in Nigeria.

You hadn't really been asked if you wanted to stay here, but Nat explained that Hydra was keeping close tabs on you. It would be safer for you here while you remembered what it is they needed.

As you continued through the hallways you happened upon a large floor to ceiling mirror. You tried to not look, but your curiosity got the better of you.

Your hair was a knotted mess yesterday morning, so you decided to braid it back. Now, long strands fell from it, curling around your face and neck adding to your dishevelment. Dark circles bloomed under your y/e/c and reminded you of the sleep you so desperately needed. The faded Stark Industries tee-shirt hung loosely on your frame over the black elastic biker shorts Nat had given you to borrow. She promised she'd take you back to your Brooklyn apartment at some point to collect your own clothes. You huffed, trying and failing to tuck the few strands that fell from your loose braid back, only having two more shake loose.

As you rounded the corner you noticed two large metal doors. Loud thuds and grunts were protruding out from behind them. The closer you got, the better you could see through the small window.

Nat was sending a graceful roundhouse kick to Bucky's neck. He stumbled taking a few steps back but ultimately gained his balance again. You swallowed a gasp. Bucky was close to twice Nats size. You watched in amazement as she ducked between his legs, sending a swift elbow to the crook of his knee. He immediately dropped.

Quietly you slipped through the gym door, careful not to disturb the two while they circled each other slowly.

You watched in awe as Bucky threw a punch with his metal arm at Nat, who skillfully dodged it, grabbing his wrist and twisting. With the added momentum she swung onto his shoulders, still grasping his arm and yanked him backwards onto the mat with a loud thud.

"Holy shit!" You gasped, and quickly regretted it as the two super heros looked up. You knew they were on your side, but damn. You didn't know how anyone picked a fight with either of them. They both looked so venomous. Nats face softened when she registered your wide eyed gaze.

"She lives!" The Black Widow announced, laughing as she grabbed a towel, patting her sweat slicked face. Bucky stood then slowly, watching you intently like he was waiting for something.

You grin sheepishly and nodded. "That she does. Damn, Mr. Rogers wasn't kidding around. I still feel like I'm vibrating." You chuckled.

"Remember anything?" Bucky spoke suddenly, watching you carefully. You shook your head.

"No, not really. Shuri said it'll take time. That she recovered something, but-" you huffed, a little frustrated and body still sore. "I got this wicked headache instead." You finished. Bucky chuckled and ran his metal hand through his dark hair.

"So," You began, approaching the sparring mat, "do you think you could show me how to do that?" You ask Nat, referring to her insane fighting skills. Her eyes sparkled and she laughed softly.

"I don't know Y/n," she motioned for you to step onto the mat, "think you got what it takes?"

Her dazzling grin dropped almost as fast as her fist flew through the air. You could tell instantly that the blow would miss you entirely, but in that moment something snapped. You closed your eyes and you felt your whole body burst into flames. Images flashed through your mind and when you opened your eyes, everything moved in slow motion.

You looked to your left, watching the assassin's fist fly closer and closer. You tried to take a step back, but your body seemed to switch into auto pilot. In one smooth motion you blocked her wrist, and almost as fast jabbed her side with a harsh blow.

Natasha stumbled back, stunned. You looked down at your hands, like it was the first time you were actually seeing them. Holy shit.

“Oh God, Nat. I didn't mean to!"

Another fist flew at you, to which you ducked, dropping into a squat position you kicked your right leg out. In the same motion you twisted your body, sweeping your foot across the mat and taking Nat down as she gasped. You looked up at her, eyes wide and panting. What the-

"Fuck." Bucky finished your thought. Natasha rubbed her hip in discomfort as she reached for Bucky's hand, pulling her up.

"What the hell was that?" She challenged. You stood, stumbling back a few paces and raising your hands in surrender. What the hell had just happened?

"I- I don't know..." You stuttered, "Nat, I'm so, so sorry I-'' she waved her hand stopping you.

"I'm fine, don’t ever apologise for kicking someone's ass... Maybe you remembered something after all?" She spoke, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow sarcastically.

"My turn." Bucky rumbled. You would have frozen at the darkness in his voice, but your instincts kicked in. The soldier leaned back on his right foot, sending his left rocketing through the air and towards your face. Fire erupted through your body again, startling you awake.

Gracefully you wrapped your arm around Bucky's impending kick, absorbing the blow. His sheer strength made you stumble back a little, but you quickly slid back into the routine.

"Попался” Gotcha’, you smirked. Bucky looked at you, mouth slightly agape.

“What did you just-” He didn't have a chance to finish as you twisted your body, bringing your elbow up delivering it down onto his shoulder with a loud crack. You finished him off with a swift kick through his legs, tackling him to the floor.

"Ow," he mumbled through jagged breaths. You gawked at him in disbelief, holding his hands above his head, straddling the super soldier's waist. Bucky shifted slightly, realising the compromising position you both were in.

"Gotta hand it to ya, punk. That one actually tickled." He chuckled, as you removed your hands from his wrists. He noticed your body was still unmoving, eyes almost glassy. Carefully he tapped your thigh, knocking you back into reality. You physically shook your head, trying to center yourself.

"What happened?" You asked, still straddling Bucky. He looked at you quizzically, trying to read your face for any answers, but came up short.

"Y/n, I think we need to talk to Shuri again." He offered, picking you up by the waist and helping you off the mat.

"Yeah, I think that's probably a good idea." You said, staring wide eyed at the two former assassins.

When you entered the lab, you noticed Shuri was still there. She paced around the room, picking up sheets of paper, scanning them quickly before she looked at the hologram.

"Not possible." She breathed, still unaware of your presence. Bucky cleared his throat, alerting the engineer to the three of you.

"Holy crap!" She jolted. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to sneak up on a girl with an endless arsonal of deadly weapons before?" Shuri clutched her heart, steadying her breath.

"No, actually." You voiced. Buck coughed trying to cover his laugh.

"Listen, babe. It's important," Nat started, entering the lab further and hoisting her petite figure onto an examining table. "Y/n just handed Bucky his tight ass without breaking a sweat, so we were just wondering... What the fuck?" She emphasized that last word with a raised brow and wide eyes. Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes as if to say 'she hit you too.' You thought it was probably the cutest thing in the world, watching the former assassin stuff his hands into his pockets and glare at her like he was a kid.

"Y/n, how do you feel?" Shuri spoke, ignoring Natasha, which didn't bother her as she swung her legs daintily off the table.

"Um, fine I think. I'm a little tired but besides that-"

"What's happening here?" Captain America suddenly boomed, storming into the lab. You flinched, startled by his loud voice. Both Nat and Bucky look totally unfazed while Shuri only rolled her eyes. I guess Captains mood swings were a normalcy around here.

Natasha explained the situation to him while he passed the room, arms crossed and a scowl permanently glued to his face.

"How could you let this happen?" Steve finally barked, pointing an accusatory finger at Shuri. You thought if he had spoken to you like that you would melt away, but the small teen only scoffed and brushed him off.

"Hold up, Boomer. I didn't let anything happen. You brought her to me." She started, looking at you almost apologetically. "You told me to find Y/n's memories. That's what I'm doing. Unless you think you could do a better job with your zero years of education and that dinner plate you call a 'shield?'" She scoffed and went back to looking at her computer.

“You made my shield” Steve huffed under his breath.

“Uh, no. How dare you? I would never, the thing is incredibly impractical. I did make it better though.” Shuri mocked the Captain. Jeesh, the girl truly had balls, that's for sure.

"How do you feel?" Steve questioned. It took you a solid five seconds to realise he was looking at you.

"Oh, I'm fine. Yeah, I'm fine. Just really confused." You mumbled, terrified you were going to set the Super Soldier off again.

“Well I can shed some light, would that be okay with you, old man?” Shuri spoke sarcastically to Steve. He only rolled his eyes and waved his hand motioning her to carry on.

“I ran your blood through a few tests. I don't know how I didn’t see this before. I mean it's right in front of us. You failed the drug test. By like, a lot. Which I thought was weird but to each their own ya know? Anyways, I looked into it and your body is literally emanating radiation, which got me thinking. The only people I know who literally sweat steroids are-”

“She’s a Super Soldier.” Steve interrupted. You stared at him wide eyes and back to Shuri. This wasn't possible. You didn't feel super. Actually you felt pretty crappy, to say the least.

“Not exactly. At least, Y/n doesn't have the same chemical compound as you. Whatever serum she's drugged up on, it's not one I've ever seen before.” Shuri finished, holding a test tube of your blood up and analysing it. You felt like you were going to throw up. You didn't know if it was the chaos of the situation or the fun new information that past life Y/n was a steroid junky but it was enough to make you lightheaded. You stumbled back a few paces, uneasy on your feet. A strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, steading you before you could fall. You looked up at Bucky's warm smile suddenly feeling a little more at ease. Gotcha. He mouthed, and you took a deep breath. I am calm, I am okay… Just, breathe.

Ten minutes later and a bunch of arguing the room finally stilled. Shuri explained how she suspected Hydra had a weapon similar to the super-soldier serum, only more complex. The whole thing made very little sense to you.

"Why would Hydra inject me with the serum?" You argued, skeptically.

"Because, they physically couldn't make another drop. Y/n destroyed the lab with all their research. The one they gave to her was the first of its kind. It's flawed and unpredictable. Without her cooperating, recreating a serum was impossible. However, if they injected it into our friend here, they could monitor how it developed in a controlled environment." Shuri explained.

"So, you think the serum they gave me is their super secret weapon?" You asked, stunned. Shuri only nodded.

“You're the blueprint…” Bucky mumbled under his breath. You didn't know if he had meant for you to hear as no one else in the room seemed to notice he had even spoken.

"And you're sure it's in Y/n's system?" Nat asked, her eyes scanning over you.

"I mean, I guess there's only one way to know for sure. I have this…theory. I could be wrong, but I highly doubt it… Y/n, I think it's time you meet our resident teenage witch."

You followed the team into what looked they're common room. Plasma TVs hung on the walls and large floor length windows lined the room.

There sitting on the long couch was a girl. She looked to be about your age, maybe a little younger. You watched as red ribbons of electricity shot out of her hands and through the air like dangerous waves. The small tv remote hovered mid air as her red tendrils held it.

"Maximoff, front and center!" Steve announced loudly, startling the girl causing her to rocket the remote through the air. It flew past you, an inch from your face as it crumbled into the wall behind you.

"Holy shit!" You screamed, ducking as a delayed reaction and holding your hands over your head.

"Language..." Steve lectured under his breath. You mouthed a 'sorry' and stood up again.

"Didn't mean to startle you, I just have someone I'd like you to meet. He gestured towards you as her eyes followed.

"Hi." You spoke quietly. She smiled kindly and spoke apologetically, "Hi. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw electronics at you." She shrugged.

"Occupational hazard when you're around me. It's kinda' my thing." You chuckled at that.

"Perfect. Now that you've met... Wanda, will you please fight Y/n." Shuri spoke dryly. The girl, Wanda, looked from Shuri to you.

"Um, no?" You blurted looking at Shuri absolutely terrified. There was no way you were fighting this chick. She just fired a remote at your head with the ease and strength of a shotgun. Hell no.

"Please, you won't hurt her. It's for science." Shuri shrugged, but you weren't sold.

"Yeah, that's not happening. There's gotta be another way we can test your theory." You shook your head frantically. Wanda looked slightly intrigued, crawling across the couch and perching on the arm rest.

"What exactly would you have me do, Shuri?" She questioned, looking wickedly dangerous. The small engineer grinned, crossing her arms over each other.

"Do what we practiced." She cooed, dryly.

The team behind you took a few steps back. You hadn't realised they had deserted you until it was too late. Wanda created a small red blast of electricity in her palm. You watched as she shaped it like a snowball, carefully dropping it between her hands. You watched in awe as it sizzled and sparked between her fingers.

“I really, really don't like this idea.” You voiced, looking back at Steve and Shuri, who only watched in anticipation.

You turned back to face her as the energy surged towards your body. Before it could explode you crossed your arm over your face protecting yourself from its inevitable blow. But it never came.

Carefully you opened one eye, and then the other. More people now gathered in the common room. You looked around at their faces, landing on Bucky who, unlike his teammates looked horrified. You looked down at your hands then, and what you saw made you choke out a gasp.

Your whole body was glowing with the same red electricity Wanda has thrown at you. Your eyes darted up to her and she just stared at you in shock.

"What the hell is happening right now?" You yelled, terrified and feeling like your whole body was vibrating.

"Exactly what I thought would happen. You've absorbed Wanda's powers." Shuri spoke matter of fact, like this kind of thing happened every day. I guess with these people it did.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Bucky demanded. He felt powerless as he watched the Witch’s energy circled around you. You nodded, reassuringly. Though you didn't know if you believed it.

"Okay, what do I do. I don't want this-" you reached your arms out and with a bright flash of red, the electricity exploded from your hands, throwing Wanda off her seat and hurling her backwards. Quickly she caught herself mid air before she crashed through the window, hovering above the floor.

"Holy crap" She screamed, checking she was all in one piece "I sincerely apologise to anyone I've done that to. That really stings." She winced as she landed back on the ground.

"Shit, I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry!" You crossed the room, making sure she was okay.

Wanda laughed, "You sure do make a great first impression." She spoke sarcastically. You half smiled, not knowing how you could help.

"I guess that's kinda' my thing." You spoke, causing a dazzling smile to dance across Wanda's pink lips.

"This is so exciting! I’m going to run back to the lab and run a few more tests. Obviously you aren't able to control how you absorb your opponents powers. You're going to have to practice before we can try that again." Shuri spoke, tearing you away from your exchange with Wanda.

"I am not doing that again." You argued, horrified that you almost chucked Wanda out a plate glass window.

"Sure you are. Come now, science experiment, let's see what else you can do." You huffed and followed Shuri’s voice.

..…………

A/n: as always, feedback it welcomed!! Let me know what you think 💕💕💕

@projectcampbell

[twitchesandstitches]

A Gun For Tia

Walls shook and floors subtly bent as Tia ambled through, her expression the calm and benevolent blankness of someone who might as well have elevator music playing in her head. Today her pink hair-tentacles were short and soft lumps glowing around her head, her glasses bobbing faintly on a snout halfway between being fish-like and froggy (and very cute either way). Massive lips were slightly opened, as if framing a thought she’d lost hold of a while ago, and onward she moved, without any particular indication that she really cared where she was going.

The floor bent beneath her feet. For a while, her feet had remained fairly stable, so it was probably a configuration she was happy with. The basic structure was surprisingly birdlike, with considerations for her great weight and mass and the needs her feet needed to be to support her body; a broad foot, with three very wide and short webbed toes, arching into a high shin. For the moment, though, she was not walking on two legs, but on all fours.

It should have given her some trouble. Her gigantic breasts were so big, and billowed out in front of her and outwards, that they were smacking into the ground. They rolled beneath her, slick skin wobbling and jerking with a liquid heaviness, and it should have been uncomfortable. She didn’t look like she was walking, exactly, but dragging her expansive endowments beneath her.

She hummed contentedly to herself, giving no sign that it bothered her at all. Possibly she’d just forgotten to feel discomfort, right them.

Her massive tail flapping behind her (And today, many thick and fleshy flaps sailed out from the sides, many times larger than her actual tail, which would have been perfect for swimming), she paused and noticed something. She’d wandered somewhere she wasn’t entirely familiar with.

The walls were heavily dented here; to one side, a long passageway had been converted into a barebones shooting range, with holographic projectors rigged to display various monsters. Perhaps activated by her presence, one of them turned on and projected the moving image of a demonic-looking beast, snarling silently.

She regarded this calmly. Considering that her other general reaction to an apparent threat was to instantly lash out with overwhelming force, it was probably best for the integrity of the habitat that she felt more mellow than that.

A nearby door lay ajar, prone to a lot of attention. She paddled over to it. “Yo hoo?” She called out. No one answered her.

She entered into a small room, managing to squeeze her disturbingly flexible body through the comparatively tiny door. There, she was met by a number of lockers, hanging off the walls; locker was a bit of a technical term. They weren’t stationary metal boxes, but big containers like giant hamster wheels, large enough for a human to fit into comfortably; in the strange, fluid nature of local space, they seemed a lot bigger on the inside.

She came close to the nearest one. A counter-weight mechanism allowed them to rotate at a steady pace, and as she came close to one, light glinted off many implements of destruction. Sharp edges glinted just barely visible through their ports; plasma capacities hummed faintly, ready to draw the cosmic energies of the universe into a combat-ready form; gigantic miniguns rested, ready for their under-arm grips to be taken by anyone big enough to properly use them.

Tia studied them for some time.

She felt a little uncertain. On the one hand, she had an aversion to most things specifically designed to (and Nevnir and the other weaponsmiths hated it when she refused to play nice about this) kill people. That’s what a weapon was. They were for killing things.

She ran a huge webbed finger awkwardly across the hilts of swords and the integrated power sources that would, when activated, project a cutting field that would carve through whatever they touched. It was too easy to imagine those blades piercing flesh; her breath caught as some part of the back of her mind rifled through scabbed memories and she heard brief gasps that sputtered out, the echoes of blood splattering on the ground, and the distinctive smell of spilled… internal bits.

She stared at them for some time. Her expression was somewhere between grim fascination and a sort of existential revulsion. For someone who had been alive for so long that continued existence was just part of the way her life worked, the idea of a permanent ending, or a tool specifically created to hasten that, was… uncomfortable.

Her stomach turned. Additional pockets for digestion, accessible from pretty much any orifice of note, formed on the spot.

On the other hand, she felt limitless curiosity for pretty much anything, even if it was profoundly unsettling to her, and a bit of hard pragmatism hammered into her by grim necessity. Yes, she was immortal; her flesh repaired itself, she automatically adapted to most things that hurt her, and even if her body was destroyed, she’d eventually rematerialize soon enough. But the people around her wouldn’t.

It was a duty to stop the things that would hurt them. Even if it made her stomach churn.

The lockers spun underneath her hand, her fingers gently tapping it to apply just enough force to spin them around like a prayer wheel, a comparison that struck her as both amusingly ironic and kind of mean.

She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. But perhaps she’d know what it was, when she found it-

The wheel stopped, her finger pressing against it hard enough to lock it into place.

A-ha.

There, sitting there, was a gun. A firearm. It was one of the ones that drew its ammunition directly from the background energy of the multiverse; not something that blasted projectiles with tiny explosions or accelerated its payload with electromagnetic catapults. It spun cosmic essence into its ammunition, and she carefully lifted it out, studying what it could do.

It was… bulky. Bulky all over. It was a cross between a one-man minigun and a light machine gun; a big gun probably meant to be wielded with two hands and a mount if at all possible. She carefully maneuvered it around, noting that it was nearly as tall as the average man; anyone wielding would be nearly dwarfed by it. Much of this bulk was from the surprisingly simple machinery that would harness its cosmic ammunition, shaping it into projectiles based on the weapon’s settings.

Yes; she found a dial on the side. It went from 0 (STUN), a little higher at 1 (ZAP ZAP) all the way to Ten (ARMOR BUSTER)... and then a hastily scratched 11. She played with it a little, twisting the knob, and as it moved up, it rearranged itself, various mechanisms switching around on the fly. She felt them powering up, pumping more juice into increasingly destructive processes, little vents shuddering and releasing acrid steam, bolts of energy grounding themselves from larger capsules along the sides.

It started shaking around level 6; alarmingly, little spikes and ominous angry faces appeared on the screens, and she hurriedly put it back to zero. The gun sealed itself up, back to its more friendly original appearance.

The barrel was long and heavy; more like a cannon than a gun. She found a switch of sorts and clicked it; this setting was marked ‘SNIPER’ and the barrel extended considerably, various power-augmenting batteries visible within it. There were a few others: ‘ROCKETS’; ‘BOOMSTICK’ and, in tiny scratching so as to actually fit into the space: ‘DROWN THE WORLD IN GLOW’.

She hit that one. The gun extended and swelled out, into something that looked very much like a laser minigun.

Some part of her that was a little more enthusiastic about the prospect of lots of automatic shooting made very happy noises, in the back of her head.

Tia gave it a tap on the side, casting a spell, and abruptly the gun grew bigger, instantly fitting her hands and growing nearly as big as she was. “Well, if I GOTTA have a shooty stick, this one looks pretty nice,” she said to herself.

She turned around and headed off, to have a conversation with Cocoa and Nevnir. Maybe she could see about getting a few improvements to this weapon.

[peonypearls-muddled-musings]

“Watch your step. Here,” 

Gwinletta leaned over as Dargon lifted a branch, making sure it didn’t find contact with her head. She looked up at him as they continued through the wooded area.

“How far in is this place?” She asked; more concerned than frustrated. Dargon smiled sheepishly.

“A ways in. I... I had to make sure I was never found vulnerable.”

The newlyweds, the king and queen of Olthandrynn, stepped through one of the many forested parks in the kingdom. This one was the closest to the castle.

This was the one that used to be the closest thing Dargon had to a home; besides Hell.

“I thought Floryndus had offered you a place at the stables?” Gwinletta asked; knowing full well the stables weren’t much of an accommodation to a then 15-year-old Dargon; but it was more than enough accommodation for a Shapeshifter. 

The now-king who had once saved Floryndus’ life had appreciated it- to a degree.

Dargon nodded. “He did. But I had no protection. Even if Floryndus had ordered it, I would have been on my own. A king ordering the protection of a Shifter? He was already risking his image by just housing me.”

“You saved his life.”

“... I saved many lives during the war. Not all were as grateful as Floryndus; or you.”

Gwinletta squeezed her husband’s hand as they continued through the thicket.

“After some time, I decided that it was safer for me to stay elsewhere. So I found this place,” Dargon said, crouching under more branches. He helped Gwin find her footing as she followed; as she stood from avoiding a tapestry of bark and ivy, she saw the cave ahead. Dargon gently tugged her hand as he led her along. 

Stepping from soft earth onto cold, slick rock, Gwin could hear a trickling of water. The reflections of a small pool created patterns onto the walls, and she watched Dargon walk further in.

“Let’s see; is it still here?”

Gwin followed, past a few rocky fixtures, over a few cracks in the ground where water streamed; she held up the hem of her ankle-length dress to better see where she was stepping as Dargon returned to aid her.

“Over here; it’s still there, just like I left it.”

Dargon and Gwinletta rounded another rocky fixture; but Gwin didn’t see anything; only remnants of wood that had once been a fire, and some hay strewn about. But she watched Dargon look up at something hanging from one of the stalactites; a metal basket; and as Dargon loosened the rope, the basket lowered with a small, echoing clatter. Gwinletta watched her husband’s strange excitement as he rushed over to unveil the contents.

“Ah! Still in one piece! At least; in the one piece I stole it in,” he said, pulling out a thin, ragged blanket with bits of hay clinging off of it like barbs. “I took it from the stables; they were going to throw it out anyway. Once I decided to stay elsewhere at night I just... relieved them of it,” he grinned. 

“Oh, I do love a thrifty man,” Gwinletta teased, crouching next to him as he excitedly tossed the blanket over his shoulder. He looked further into the box.

“Ha! Look at this!” Dargon pulled out a small book; it had childish pictures on it, and large letters. “This was one of the first things I could afford. I used it to start learning how to read. I would do chores in exchange for just a simple lesson. Not everyone reciprocated; but I had a few I could count on to teach me. But many of them stopped after their neighbors started threatening them. After that, I counted on librarians. I learned most of what I know now after joining the army. I was required to be taught what I pursued, as a soldier of the king.”

Dargon offered the book to Gwinletta. The cardboard pages had become warped and fragile from the damp air, but it was still solid. It was a book meant for toddlers to begin a normal life; but for an outcasted Shapeshifter, it was a lifeline to simply living.

Now that Outcasted Shapeshifter, who joined the King’s Army, was the king himself.

Gwinletta listened to Dargon shuffle around in the metal box more. “Clippings; wrappings... flyers...” He pulled out a multitude of papers. He smirked, “I was planning on using this bundle for my next fire. But then the signups for the army happened; and I was allowed to join and I never had to come back here.”

Dargon looked at the clippings, and he looked up at his surroundings. “For the first time in my life, I slept in a real bed. With a whole blanket, and a pillow, with a pillowcase!”

Gwin giggled as he looked at her with excitement at the mere prospect of such luxury as a pillowcase. 

“Surely you’d hit the jackpot.”

“I would eventually,” Dargon smiled. “This was the start of my luck. Who would have thought... I never thought I would return to look at these clippings, and this blanket, and this cave, dressed like this.” Looking his hand over, bearing his wedding ring and the Olthandrynn seal ring on his hands, and the fine clothing on his body, he felt as though he was living two lives at once.

Gwinletta reached over, still holding the alphabet book, and put her hand on his. She regarded where her husband used to live, to keep himself tucked away and safe, and how he did his best to survive, even after his attempts at good deeds often went unwelcome.

He was still unwelcome to many; but she looked into his amber eyes; the same ones that calmed her after he’d saved her from death; and he was the most welcome man in her life.

“Do you want to save anything?” She asked. Dargon blinked, looking at the blanket on his shoulder. 

“... I used to have to know where these were; they were my lifelines. Then there was a point when I didn’t think about them for days; weeks even. But as I’ve learned how to navigate the castle over the past year, I found myself missing the simplicity of this forest; of my cave... But hiding in a cave was already me trying to find comfort in... in old memories.”

Gwinletta listened, her heart aching, uncertain of what he meant. Her hand remained unflinching on his scarred skin.

“I just needed to live. I never had a plan. Just a will. And sometimes I feel empty because I never let myself find... find me. I’m still not sure who I am; besides the man Floryndus chose; or the man that you chose to marry. I will never take those for granted. But I don’t know... me. What do I have to offer? What can I become?”

Gwinletta inched over closer to Dargon, now taking his face gently in her hands.

“So, so much,” she whispered. “You are, and can always become, so much. You’re patient, and gentle. You love bigger than you think you do. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat until you know the servants have eaten. You’ve let people put so much weight and hatred and fear on your shoulders; so that maybe they might be relieved of what you’re already used to. And I can’t wait to watch you grow into the man I know you’ll want to be; instead of the man you’ve had to be.”

Dargon, reaching up to touch Gwinletta’s hands, listened intently, even as he fought to keep his gaze from looking away. His amber eyes glossed over, and his lips, notched with scars and years of dehydration, quivered.

“I’m going to enjoy every step of my life with you; Dargon; and it pains me to know just how many set aside such a beautiful man without getting to know him.”

Barely able to keep his emotions in check, another thing he was very new to, Dargon wiped his tears with his sleeve. He looked into Gwinletta’s grass green eyes, which seemed to rejuvenate him as he took refuge in her gentle gaze.

“I’m already honored to have you by my side.”

____

“Now remember, daddy might be resting, so open the door quietly.”

Gwinletta looked down at her young daughter, Dagney, as she listened and nodded. Dagney’s little hands gripped the latch to the infirmary door, and she peeked inside, peering with her large amber eyes. It was a strange sight inside; machines lined the walls, and they beeped and chirped and flashed; but her eyes landed on her father, laying on the bed as he turned to look her way, and he smiled.

“Hey, dove.” Dargon greeted, and Dagney bounced in excitement. She bolted inside, clinging to the bed.

“Daddy!!” Dagney cheered. She fought to jump up into the bed, but she was aided by her mother behind her; and just as she was lifted up to join Dargon, her doe eyes caught something in her father’s arm that she hadn’t been able to see from the floor.

A bundle; with a scrunched, pudgy face, swaddled and snug against their father’s chest. Dagney blinked as she stared at the strange newcomer. She sat still for a second, completely silent.

“Dagney, this is your brother, Bensith,” Gwinletta said, unable to keep herself from smiling.

Dargon, already beaming as he watched his firstborn stare at her new sibling, reached over to ruffle her mahogany hair.

“What do you think?”

Dagney looked at him, then she leaned in closer, nearly climbing over Dargon, who kept from laughing too hard as he smiled up at Gwinletta. She beamed at her family, reaching over to stroke her husband’s porcelain hair.

Dagney stared, unflinchingly, at Bensith. He slept silently; his little, wrinkled face, scrunching now and then. 

“I think... umm,” she looked up to her parents, fighting for words that a four year old would know to say about a new brother. “He’s okay.”

Dargon finally laughed, despite the still-soreness from Bensith’s arrival.

“Well I’m glad you approve,” he said softly. 

“Dagney,” Gwinletta said; “Do you want to show daddy the book you bought for Bensith last night with Ollipe?”

“Yeah!!” Dagney said as Gwinletta offered her satchel to her daughter. Dagney rooted through the bag as Dargon watched curiously. Gwinletta sat next to him.

“Ollipe took Dagney out to town to calm her down last night;  Dagney decided she wanted to get a book for her new sibling.”

“Yeah this one!” Dagney said. “He’ll be able to use it!”

Gwin watched Dargon’s eyes land on the little book; it’s cardboard make, and childish pictures. It was the same one he’d used as a teenager to learn how to read; but in perfect condition. He took the book into his hand, memories flooding back.

“You chose this, Dove?” Dargon asked.

“Yup! All by myself! Ollipe said he won’t be able to use it yet, but that’s okay! We can save it for him! Right?”

Dargon flipped through the book with one hand, the other cradling his new son. 

“I’ll keep it on my bookshelf for him!” Dagney offered. Dargon finally peeled his eye away from the book, and the memories; and looked at his present and future. His daughter, and wife, and now his son.

Oh.

He was suddenly the man he’d grown into, all in the eyes of his family.

Smiling, he closed the book, and let Dagney take it from his scarred hands into her perfect, soft ones.

“I’m counting on you to keep it safe for him.”

Dagney held the book close to her heart. “You got it!” She bounded off of the bed and opened the book, keeping herself occupied. 

Dargon looked up to see Gwin looking from their daughter, back to him. Her hands were still lost in his matted ivory hair. He hadn’t seen the weathered, old book in nearly seven years; and it suddenly returned to his life to remind him that he was still living different lives.

But smiling at his wife, and listening to his daughter, and holding his son; Dargon had become the man he wanted to be.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Gwinletta asked softly, for him to hear. 

Smiling, closing his eyes against her touch, Dargon let himself relax.

“I’m the happiest man alive.”

[miss-pearlescent]

Tag Team (IIIᴹ)

Chapter: I II IIIᴹ IV V VI VII VIII IX Xᴹ

ᴹThis chapter contains mature content.

You didn’t have much time as you looked around the room. Everywhere sat tubing, and there were vats and vats of some iridescent liquid, bouncing from blue to purple to silver. It made you shiver knowing Jongin was kept in this room for days.

You saw a blueprint tacked to a chalkboard with a body drawn in the centre. Notes like “super strength” and “super speed” were scrawled on the paper. You ignored it as you hurried into the room.

A screen played a movie and you almost ignored that too until you saw your own face.

It was a scene from over a year ago after you had ingested some poison and Jongin nursed you back to health. That was also when you thought you were going to die and confessed to Jongin that you loved him. Your own heart broke as you saw yourself lying in your bed, bone thin and skin a pasty white. You couldn’t fathom what kind of emotions must’ve been running through Jongin’s head.

You knew you would have lost it if it was the other way around.

Tearing your eyes away from the screen, you followed the tubes that ran behind it and turned the corner.

Your feet slid to a stop as you saw your husband, his body stark naked, strapped by leather to a board in the air. The purple-blue tubes pumped liquid into his skull, and you couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive. You held your breath, trying to see if he was was breathing.

1, 2, 3…

He drew a slow deep breath.

He was still alive.

You thanked the lord as your body moved on its own volition, climbing up the pile of computer monitors underneath Jongin’s feet. But when you got to him, you didn’t know what to do.

You eyed the tubes coming out from his head and instinct told you not to pull on them. What if the liquid was what kept him breathing?

“Jongin, wake up,” you begged, patting his cheek.

He took another deep breath.

You kissed his shoulder, hoping he could hear you. “We need to get out of here.” You fiddled with the straps, managing to loosen one of them. “We need to get home.”

You heard a crackle and turned to the screen. It faltered as if it was losing signal.

Then something prodded your belly.

You looked down and saw that Jongin was semi-hard.

You blushed, suddenly brought back to last week when you had woken him up with a blow job. He was a deep sleeper until he had sex on his mind.

You toyed with the idea in your head. This was totally an inappropriate time, but if it got the job done…

You gripped him in your hands and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “C’mon Jongin, you promised you were going to tuck me into bed.” You slid your hand over the head of his cock, rubbing it with your thumb until you felt it become slick with precum. “Don’t you want me to fuck me first?”

You heard another crackle and you watched the screen turn into a picture of you on your back, his dick deep inside you as you trembled from an orgasm.

“Yes, mm, just like that,” you panted as you licked the shell of his ear. Your husband had a great spank bank and it was turning you on. “I have nowhere to be tomorrow so you can fuck me all you want.”

You stroked your hand up and down his shaft, all the while pulling down the zipper of your one piece uniform from your neck to your belt. Shimmying your uniform off your shoulders, you pulled his length between your legs.

“Can you feel how wet I am, Jongin?” Arching up, you cradled his face to your breasts just as he took a deep breath. The monitor changed to a video of your breasts jiggling above him as you rode his cock.

You almost giggled at the images Jongin was feeding this machine. “You’re so good to me, Jongin,” you purred as you pressed his length along your slick entrance. “Can’t you see how much my pussy wants you back? It’s so swollen, it hurts.”

Something shattered overhead and you ducked, avoiding any glass shards. The screen went black and a growl rumbled from Jongin’s chest.

He was awake.

“Jong—” You cut off with a gasp as Jongin’s cock surged into you, stretching you open until he was deep inside.

You could barely hold on as the first orgasm hit you with no warning.

You looked up, shocked to find that Jongin was no longer watching you with warm brown eyes but blue-grey ones. He panted as he pulled against his wrists restraints. “Sweetheart…”

You cupped his face. “I’m here, Jongin. I’m here.”

“You came for me.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, silencing his nonsense. Of course you would come for him. You were his partner and his wife.

He groaned and his hips canted, sliding back into your pussy again.

You let out a loud moan because every time he did that, he was hitting all the right buttons.

And he didn’t stop.

Even with his wrists and ankles restrained, he found the strength to tilt his hips and ram his cock into you the way you liked it. You held on for dear life as you rode out two, three more orgasms. Your legs were becoming weak but you heard more tubes bursting above you.

Sex was overriding Jongin’s brain and breaking him free.

You threw your head back as another climax hit you, and Jongin took that opportunity to greedily suck on your neck.

“Sweetheart, don’t fight it,” he murmured. “I have super strength and speed in my veins now. Let yourself enjoy it.”

No wonder he was pumping away like superman.

You heard something snap and then felt Jongin’s warm hands cup your ass, holding you off your feet in a perfect position for his cock.

“Jongin, it’s hitting me so deep, I...I can’t...,” you warned him as your legs shook and you felt like you were going to collapse.

It had never happened before, but it always felt like you were entering another dimension when he gave you mindblowing orgasms.

“Take me with you.” He pressed your body flush against his as he sealed his lips around your nipple, muffling his groan as your felt his hot seed shoot deep inside you.

-

Jongin watched in awe as his wife gulped for air, her head back and her eyes closed. He brushed the baby hairs back from her slick forehead and pulled out of her warm core, settling her to her feet.

She had come to rescue him.

In Jongin’s foggy memory, he had images of men strapping him to a board and injecting him with all sorts of things. They exchanged words about creating a super spy and dominating the world.

He flexed his shoulders as he helped his shaky wife zip up her uniform and get down to the ground. He sure felt like a super spy seeing how she could barely stand up after what he’d done to her.

So much so that he swept his wife off her feet and cradled her in his arms.

“Jongin?” she asked curiously. “I can walk.”

“I know,” he said, walking to the door in his bare ass. “But you look like you’d rather sleep.”

He held back a laugh as she fought a yawn. “We have to grab Joori and then we can leave.”

Jongin walked out the door and looked up and down the empty halls. “Where is she?”

His wife stirred in alarm. “She’s supposed to be here.”

The hair on the back of Jongin’s neck stood up. It was too empty here. No way would all that broken equipment behind them go unnoticed. And the fact that Joori had disappeared? “We need to leave. Now.”

“But Joori—”

Jongin bolted down the hall, holding his wife tightly. “She is competent. She will be fine.”

He hoped he was right.

---

And that is the end......... of the prequel! :D That was supposed to be the entire story but then the character Joori had to disappear so I had to write about her because she’s a scaredy cat and I love writing about scaredy cats >:) I hope you guys enjoyed these two characters and please look forward to the next two ^^

[tisthenightofthewitch]

How Ghost became the face of the new generation of heavy metal

Pressure. Controversy. An army of haters. It seems like nothing can throw Ghost off-course. How Ghost's mastermind Tobias Forge took on the world… and won

Paris, tell me… did that make your asses wobble?” It sure as hell isn’t “Scream for me, Hammersmith!”  but somehow, inexplicably, this flirty, moustached, makeup-splattered dandy wiggling about in a tux and leather gloves has 9,000 people in the palm of his hand like he’s Bruce Dickinson in ’86. Hammer is at hallmark gig venue Le Zenith in France’s capital city, witnessing Ghost deliver their latest sermon.

The City Of Love might be frozen solid on this chilly February evening, but the unstoppable Swedes are heating things up in style – fire, steam cannons, confetti, a dazzling light show and enough costume changes to make Lady Gaga dizzy are just some of the ingredients reaffirming their status as one of metal’s premier attractions in 2019.

It all makes a two-hour set fly by in no time, guided masterfully by that  aforementioned, ’tache-donning Daddy. Cardinal Copia, Ghost’s Master Of Ceremonies, raised a few confused eyebrows when he was unveiled this time last year, breaking an eight-year streak of Papa Emerituses who’d fronted Ghost since its inception. But he’s since become the beating heart of a band that have continued to evolve, grow and adapt beyond all expectations.

He’s also a world away from the blue-eyed, slick-black-haired, quiet and thoughtful man we spent time with two hours earlier, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, decidedly sans-moustache and doing much less wiggling.

When Hammer last spoke to Tobias Forge, he’d recently (some may say forcefully) been outed as Ghost’s resident mastermind – its very own Wizard Of Oz, working behind the scenes and behind the mask to help orchestrate one of the most unlikely success stories of recent times.

We are creating a dynasty.

Soon after our last conversation, Ghost dropped their latest album, Prequelle – an instant classic stacked with playful menace and 80s-tinged pop-rock bangers – and have pretty much been on the road ever since.

“Hey, if you wanna rock, you gotta rock,” shrugs Tobias of his relentless schedule. “It takes a lot of effort, a lot of cogwheels spinning and turning, to make all this work.” He’s not kidding.

A weary roadie will later inform us that it takes almost four hours to pack up Ghost’s monstrous set each night – a towering, multi-platformed, chapel-esque set-up that recalls the kind of backdrops Maiden have made home for decades. “But, once you’ve got that whole machine rolling, you don’t wanna stop,” Tobias adds. “At some point, we will have to wind down a bit, but we’re not there yet.

If you wanna be comparative, look at all the big bands; even though they made it in a different time, statistically it takes five records, about 10 years, to go from nothing to something to something great.”

And that, right there, sums up Tobias Forge. The reason Ghost have been such a triumph isn’t because of great songs, a good live show and a savvy gimmick – metal history is littered with bands that never made it despite boasting all those things.

The difference is that Tobias is the man with the plan. He may not be the tortured artiste or swaggering hellraiser that rock’n’roll loves to stick on a pedestal, but he’s a leader: a brand ambassador with a calculating mind and a shrewd business acumen who knows exactly what needs to be done to immortalise Ghost’s legacy.

He’s playing the game, and he’s winning. And if you look hard enough, the seeds for it all were being sown right at the very start.

“You can find all the details in my record collection,” he says with a knowing smirk – and he’s not wrong. Before Cardinal Copia, there were Papa Emeritus I, II and III – a line of frontmen that not only enabled Ghost to set up a deep-running narrative, but change up the formula and the image for every album cycle. Sound familiar? It should – it’s what rock’n’roll superstars have been doing for decades.

"I’ve always been a big fan of Kiss,” he continues. “Most Kiss fans can tell the era [of the band] by the photo, what they’re wearing. You can say, ‘That is ’75, that is ’76, it’s in the spring, it’s in the fall, it’s Rock And Roll Over, it’s Destroyer.’ So I figured that in order for this band to age, we need to create dynasties.

"And that way, there’ll also be nostalgia. Because I come from a heavy metal background, I know how important nostalgia is, and the attention span nowadays is so short, so you need to create it quickly. You need people to be able to say, ‘I was there when this part happened.’ That’s why it was always Papa Emeritus I, right from the start.”

It’s a meticulous level of forward-thinking that has come up trumps, but amazingly, you’d have been hard-pushed to find anyone who’d have backed Tobias to carve such a path 10 years ago.

Before 2010, it was with respected Swedish death metallers Repugnant that the Linköping native had had his most ‘success’, his love of rock’s theatrical side flirted with via a splash of corpsepaint and a drop of fake blood here and there.

A spate of EPs and splits and one well-received album, 2006’s Epitome Of Darkness, ensured a small part in heavy metal folklore was guaranteed, but it was what happened next that changed everything.

Channelling his love of catchy NWOBHM mainstays like Angel Witch and Demon, Tobias wrote what would become Stand By Him – an irrepressible schlock-rock anthem a world away from the guttural noise of Epitome…

He called up former Repugnant bandmate Gustaf Lindström to help record it, and more songs quickly followed in the same, earwormy vein – “I’ve always liked the NWOBHM bands that had melody and pop sensibility,” he says today.

But there was still something missing. The songs Tobias was now writing were following a formula that had been laid down since the 70s. It needed something different. Something fun. Something… metal.

Deciding that this new project should carry an image that’d bring it a world away from its influences – a band that, in Tobias’s words, should “sound like Angel Witch but look like Death SS,” he began doodling some ideas. One scribble stuck – the image of a Pope-like character, plastered in ghoulish corpsepaint. Papa Emeritus was born.

I was 29 years old. I wasn't going to get another chance at this.

“And as soon as it was confirmed that he’s gonna be a Pope… well, when a Pope dies, you have a new one!” adds Tobias with a laugh. Soon after Papa I came the idea for the Nameless Ghouls – masked, anonymous backing musicians that’d add to the band’s hokey mystique.

By 2009, the project had an image, some songs and a name: Ghost. But it’d be a little while before things started to move forwards, and Tobias’s grand plan would take shape.

Between 2008 and 2009, there were maybe 20 people who knew about Ghost,” says Tobias, who ended up fronting the band through default after unsuccessfully offering the gig to a variety of names from around the metal scene.

“The guys in In Solitude, the guys in Tribulation, the guys in Watain… they were the only people who knew about it! But I knew at that point that it was gonna have the ability to turn heads, because it made everyone [excited].

"Repugnant were popular, but nothing I had ever done had had such an immediate impact on people. They were all like, ‘Ghost! I wanna hear more!’ I knew that there was gonna be some sort of buzz.”

A “buzz” is an understatement. When Ghost’s first songs were finally made public – on MySpace, no less – things began to move very, very quickly. Metal messageboards were set ablaze with excitement and offers came flooding in.

“I was quickly in touch with Will from Rise Above,” notes Tobias now, and he would eventually accept a deal with Lee Dorrian’s much-respected label. An album, Opus Eponymous, was recorded, and the metal underground waited with baited breath for its new favourite band to deliver on the hype. And yet, even at this stage, Tobias wasn’t totally certain just how far things would go.

“Originally, I thought that Ghost was gonna become more like a theatre/installation sort of band, like Sunn O))),” he reveals. “We would play Roadburn, arthouse concerts, five dates at the London Scala, that sort of thing.”

So a kind of ‘event’ band. You’d show up to play special shows and residencies.

“Exactly,” he confirms. “I never thought we would be the band that would play metal festivals, play in daylight, play with other bands.”

But then more offers started steaming in. Suddenly Ghost – with not so much as a gig to their name – were being asked to go on tours, play festivals and do interviews. For Tobias, there was a straight decision to be made: keep this project as a ‘cult attraction’, stay within the underground and become everyone’s favourite ‘Oh, you wouldn’t have heard of them’ reference point, or take a leap into the unknown and reach for greatness.

For a man that had spent years keeping a lid on his grand ambitions, now was the time to sink or swim. And, really, there was only ever going to be one option.

“I wasn’t gonna get another chance,” he states flatly. “I was already 29 years old at the time, so it was like, ‘This is the train and it’s leaving now.’ You can choose to stay, and sit there and fucking wonder all your life, or you can get on.”

Tobias got on the train, and it hasn’t stopped rolling. Opus Eponymous was released on October 18, 2010, and within three years intimate club shows became packed-out academy shows in front of 5,000 people, and soon after that the band could be seen supporting everyone from Metallica to Foo Fighters to Iron Maiden.

They won a Grammy for Cirice (and have been nominated for two more); they’ve been championed by everyone from James Hetfield to Phil Anselmo; their merch has become obscenely big business, t-shirts selling out in no time at gigs (including the show Hammer attends tonight) and the Ghost IP being plastered across everything from baubles to butt plugs to custom plague masks.

Tobias has manoeuvred that quick sketch of a spooky lad in a Pope hat into a machine Gene Simmons would be proud of, all underpinned by a storyline that has fans salivating as they wait for the next chapter to be revealed.

And if there was any doubt that this is still very much Tobias’s baby, you need only look at the casualty list littered with names that have crossed him. There are the disgruntled ex-bandmates who attempted to bring a lawsuit against Tobias in 2017 after claiming they were denied their rightful share of the Ghost pot.

The lawsuit was thrown out in October last year, his former colleagues ordered to pay Tobias’s legal costs (around $145,000, if you’re counting). There was also the Sister Imperator incident, where the elderly Ghost matriarch and star of their ongoing vignette series had to be swiftly recast after a mysterious falling out.

“All of a sudden, you’ve an actress who decides to start making fucking trouble and makes herself unemployable,” Tobias says. “Well, then you have to do what they do in any soap opera… a car accident.” That’s not allegorical, by the way.

Tobias literally had a new vignette made revealing that the Sister was in a car wreck and needed reconstructive surgery. The new actress was brought in so smoothly that many Ghost fans assumed it was the same person with a different haircut. How’s that for efficient?

“That’s how you solve things,” the frontman shrugs. “But that was not planned at first, because we’d been working with the same actress for three years, and then all of a sudden, things fell apart. But, you have to roll with the punch, you have to bite your finger, and come up with another plan… car accident. Boom.”

That Tobias won’t be moved on what actually happened between he and the original actress is understandable – after all, this is a man that spent years holding his cards close to his chest.

That this all managed to play out under the noses of one of modern metal’s most fanatical fanbases, however, is pretty damn impressive. Basically: don’t cross the boss.

While Tobias’s masterplan may seem iron-clad, he will at least admit that there is room for fine-tweaking along the way. He recently revealed that Cardinal Copia’s character could stick around for another five years and multiple albums – a first for Ghost, who have thus far changed up their protagonist for every record.

“That’s just because of the potential of him being a ‘Pope’ or a Papa Emeritus IV,” he explains, before adding: “If he becomes a Papa Emeritus.”

So there could be multiple endings planned for Cardi C?

“Absolutely. All of this is an organic movement, and that is one of the biggest paradoxes for me, as a control freak. To be part of this living world, I can’t control everything. I can control a lot, and I can influence a lot, but I can’t control it [all]. And coming to terms with those things and accepting that is a big struggle for me.”

He’ll also admit that being the mastermind behind a machine as big and ever-evolving as Ghost has had a serious impact on his personal life. Being a part of a successful band is one thing, but having that success rest almost entirely on your shoulders is something altogether different.

“It’s very hard to do this without any casualties,” he muses. “It takes a toll on your surroundings, your crew, your parents, your children… I have two kids, 10 years old. They were toddlers when this whole thing started. My family’s had to endure a lot for this to happen.”

He’s also had to face up to the reality that being in a big rock band means you’re going to attract the attention of

a fair few haters – and Ghost have an army of them. Check out Hammer’s Facebook page to see the dizzying levels of vitriol that a post about Ghost will attract. Recurring issues seem to be accusations of selling out, anger at Tobias’s treatment of his former bandmates and, most commonly, whether Ghost belong in our world at all (and to be fair, you’d be hard-pushed to describe Prequelle as a true heavy metal record by any standards).

“I’ve noticed it,” says Tobias. “I noticed it in the beginning. I think that it’s the same old discussion. ‘Is Ghost a metal band?’ ‘Are we a clone of Mercyful Fate?’ It’s the same old thing. But now these people are saying the new record is not as good because it’s not as much of a clone of Mercyful Fate! OK…”

Why do you think Ghost wind people up so much?

“Because we are ever-present, all the time. We are being shoved into people’s faces, and we’re rubbing it in. They wouldn’t talk about us had we not been successful. Does it worry me? Not really. If they’re talking shit about me, that’s one thing,  especially if it’s someone that I know. That can hurt me deeply. When you’re at the beginning of your career, especially nowadays, you spend a lot of time surveying what’s going on, because you need to feed off anything that’s happening to the band. So I noticed there was a lot of ‘controversy’, a lot of mixed opinions. It’s surprising they don’t understand that the more they talk about us, the more traffic there is about our band. More than we would have had had they not spoken!”

Once again, it’s there: the unnerving feeling that Tobias is metal’s modern-day puppet master, pulling the strings above a performance that we all continue to play our parts in. Whether it’s the media, his fans, his critics or the few who have attempted to foil him, everything only ever seems to play into his hands, and the Ghost train rolls on.

“A few months ago, based on metadata alone, a website made a list

of the biggest bands in metal,” Tobias reveals as a PR informs us our time together is up. “We were number four! Right up there. And that’s thanks to these people that keep on fucking hating. So I have nothing but great feelings for them.”

He makes to leave before adding: “That’s how all these bands made their careers. You think Lars would shy away every time people would talk shit about Metallica? Fuck. That.”

Hated, adored but never ignored. This summer, Ghost will play in front of stadium crowds with Metallica once again – something Tobias calls a “PR exercise” – before more global dates and, eventually, a new album that’ll reveal the next chapter of his grand plan. You can imagine that people will have plenty to say about it. And you can imagine that Tobias Forge is going to relish every second.

ALL RIGHTS OWNED BY METAL HAMMER

[percentmagazine]

Matrix Pill 2020

The Matrix has you…

The cultural overview over "The Matrix Trilogy" and how it foresaw the social trends.

"The Matrix" trilogy by the Wachowski brothers is the most iconic and groundbreaking movie trilogies in cinema history. Terms like "The red pill", "Dessert of the real", "There is no spoon", "Follow the white rabbit", "Why, Mr. Anderson? Why?" and many other phrases from the film became the golden quotes of the new millennium, shaping the entire culture of the "generation Y"… also known as "the millennials". "The bullet time" effect with fancy acrobatic moves and bullet waves turned into the most quoted gimmick for decades in action films, parodies and video games. The slow motion has never been so cool and slick, as it was after "The Matrix", not to mention sunglasses at night and dark looks with fashionable black leather tailored coats.

Its been 21 years since the theatrical release of the first "The Matrix" film. It came out in November of 1999 (the most revolutionary year in cinema history, since it is the release year of such groundbreaking hit titles like "Star Wars: Episode I. The Phantom Menace" by George Lucas, "Fight Club" by David Fincher, and "The Matrix", of course, by the Wachowski brothers). Four years after the great success of the film, "The Matrix" was reloaded with two worthy sequels: "The Matrix Reloaded" and "The Matrix Revolutions" — turning a movie franchise into a full-time trilogy. There was also "The Animatrix" — an anthology of animated short films set in "The Matrix Universe" directed by highly acclaimed Japanese animators, and a video-game "Enter the Matrix" which told a story that went parallel to the story of sequels, explaining some of the unanswered questions in the films. Thus "The Matrix" franchise has become one of the first inter-media franchises where all available storytelling formats told one epic story from different angles and points of view. And unlike other attempts of creating such inter-media franchise around movies (like it was with "Star Wars Expended Universe" or "The Terminator" franchise) it wasn't just pure merchandising and cash-grabbing schemes with questionable product quality having a famous brand logo on it… no, '"The Matrix" franchise was one well thought out project and story from the very beginning, created and curated by the Wachowski brothers. Nothing more or less.

In the year of 2020 "The Matrix" is being reloaded once again with its new instalment being in production. Internet is filled with shaky mobile phone behind the scenes footage of "The Matrix 4". We see Neo, played by actor Keanu Reeves and his stunt double, jumping of high buildings and riding fancy motorcycle with Trinity, played by Carrie Ann-Moss, while the streets of San-Francisco are being turned into a chaotic war zone with explosions, car chases, extras running all over the streets and helicopters flying.

Usually such big blockbuster film productions are being held in secret in order to prevent unnecessary leaks and story spoilers… most of the extras and crew members don't even know what movie they are filming up until the very end. During such big productions fake movie titles are made. But this time, as it seams, filmmakers don't really care about production secrecy, as actor Keanu Reeves and film director Lana Wachowski keep on hanging out with random people on a street during the filmmaking process. What is it? A new viral social media format of film advertising? Or the new way of entire filmmaking approach? Or maybe both?

Either way — Lana Wachowski is the visionary artist that is going to bring something fresh and unexpected into the cinema format and into the new "Generation Z" culture. The Wachowski brothers have foreseen the future with "The Matrix" film almost in every way possible… and I'm pretty sure they are going to do so again. They spoke of cyber-crimes, data privacy and internet control long before Edward Snowden incident, WikiLeaks, Anonymous group, social medias and etc. They showed aircraft controlled by so called "terrorists" hitting skyscrapers years before 9/11. "The Matrix" also tried to warn us about the dangers of virtual realities, and here we are 20 years later using VR systems and spending our lives in endless MMO RPG games (by the way, "The Matrix" franchise even had its own MMO RPG video game "The Matrix Online"). The virtual values have become much more valuable that the material ones. Bitcoins and Facebook likes are considered to be much more precious then real money and even gold by many. Instagram pages are viewed as the only true portraits of their users, however bright filters, happy faces, flattering camera lenses and photoshop have nothing to do with reality. It is merely a "Residual self-image", as it was named in the film, "A mental projection of your digital self". The person sees himself whom he wants him to be, not whom he really is.

And I think that this topic is the most overlooked topic by critics and contemporary culture scholars.

Just think about it — the Wachowski brothers are the physical manifestation of their own concept of "Residual self-image", as both of them saw themselves as someone different. Both brothers were men, but they considered themselves to be women. Their physical reality didn't match with their mental projection of virtual self. Thus they had to do surgeries and go through sex change procedures. The Wachowski brothers are officially sisters. Nowadays in 2020 it is a common practice that can't surprise anyone, however in 1990s during the production of the first "The Matrix" film it was a big deal… so big that Wachowski brothers had to rewrite the screenplay. In the earlier drafts of the script there was a fully flashed out transgender character. She is still present in the final film, but her role and concept has been reduced. Character Switch — portrayed by Belinda McClory �� was a transgender, and her name "Switch" meant too illustrate her constant transitions from one form into another, as she was a female in the real world, but in the Matrix her personal "Residual self-image" switched her into a masculine male. For Wachowski brothers it was a very important topic to explore, since both of them dedicated their lives to transgender worldview, but in 1990's the film studio and producers thought that such concepts would be too confusing for average film viewers and difficult to follow, thus it was all cut out during pre-production. Even their first film "Bound" that featured lesbian love story was met with numerous misunderstandings during pre-production, during its filming and, of course, during its release, since such themes were considered too risky… almost taboo, as they could easily put off many unprepared audiences.

But now… look how the world and culture has changed?! In 21 years everything is upside down. It is almost impossible to find a big blockbuster film or franchise or T.V. series or even a video-game that has no lesbian, gay, transgender, bisexual, pansexual or any other "something"-sexual character. It is true for both "rated R" and "rated M" media and for media oriented for children. Disney's life adaptation of animated classic "Beauty and the Beast" is the prime example… not to mention more.

I must say that unorthodox sexual orientation of characters were always present in cinema, they were never the subject of prohibition and never will be, however before "Wachowski era" their orientation always played some sort of narrative purpose. No character was supposed to be gay or transexual just for that sake of being such. But nowadays we see LGBT characters all over visual media… and the fact of their orientation rarely enhance the story or add anything to it. For the most part it is just being there for no reason other then being there. No wonder we have so many poorly written stories today. "Chekhov's gun" is the key to good storytelling, isn't it? If you put something into a story, it must heave a purpose, because without purpose it's just a filler, a white noise… this means it shouldn't be there at all. And here I'd like to quote Agent Smith from "The Matrix" films:

"But, as you well know, appearances can be deceiving…" — even here Wachowski brothers point out the previous "Residual self-image" topic. "…which brings me back to the reason why we're here. We're not here because we're free. We're here because we're not free. There is no escaping reason; no denying purpose. Because as we both know, without purpose, we would not exist."

Curious… Wachowski brothers were pioneers in LGBT mass-media, yet even they were smart enough to exclude these themes from "The Matrix trilogy", even having a total creative freedom over the sequels, as they knew that it would serve no purpose in their story. Yet they used much more sophisticated tricks to pinpoint their agenda and worldview. Get ready for some hard drugs! Wachowski brothers urged the protagonist and film viewers to take "The red pill" and "Free our minds". They also urged us to fight against all rules and stereotypes, and young generation loved it. In the film it simply meant "rage against the machines", but in our world where this film was "The red pill" for young people, this fight against the established order had much deeper purpose.

Upon the quick view on the lives of the Wachowski brothers over these two decades we can tell that their "red pill" they were giving us, was simply a androgyne hormone for transgenders and their main "Matrix" they were fighting against, was the sexual orientation stereotypes. They succeeded in their revolution, as LGBT themes are no longer taboo in mass-media. But there were also other important cultural topics Wachowski brothers presented with their trilogy: multiculturalism, racial diversity, feminism and even "toxic masculinity" and war against white men and patriarchy… long before these themes became mainstream in pop-culture.

"The Matrix" franchise had always a diverse cast, didn't it? It also has strong and independent female characters right from the start. And it wasn't just a copycat trend to appeal some social minorities, as it happens today. It was the personal philosophy of the authors. However, despite all their diversity and equality, one social group was shown deliberately one-sided. Just think about it. All evil characters in all three films were male and white. Agents are white middle aged men, Cypher — white middle aged man, Merovingian — white middle aged man, Architect — white man, Bane — white middle aged man, etc. Some can argue on this topic, since white men where also on the side of good guys. True, "but, as you well know, appearances can be deceiving…" says Smith. All white men on the good side of the story are… well, questionable. Whom can we name? Councillor Hamann — played by Anthony Zerbe — is a white man… a father figure in Zion, however he is shown to be an irrational and rhetorical weak old man. Comparing him to other leaders of Zion we can easily see his incompetence. Even Neo makes fun of him, pointing out on a fact that Hamann's solid age doesn't make him wiser (and it is the only time in the whole trilogy when the main protagonist ever trolls anyone). Then there is the Kid — played by Clayton Watson — another white man good guy, but he is just an immature naive boy… in "The Animatrix" he in the moment of danger finds no better way out then a suicide… a very questionable role model, don't you think? Who's next? Mouse — portrayed by Matt Doran — once again a young teenager full of sexual hormones and nothing more. There is also Captain Roland — played by David Roberts — and his ship crew, but a single black woman Niobe — played by Jada Pinkett Smith — turns out to be wiser and much more competent then any of them. Meanwhile all non-white and non-male characters are shown in the positive light. Wait… but what about Neo — the one himself — played by Keanu Reeves — he is a white man — the hero of the trilogy. True. However originally "The Matrix" creators wanted to cast Will Smith for the role of Neo, but Will Smith declined the role and chose to act in "Wild Wild West".

In other words Wachowski brothers brought up anti-white men SJW themes in their films long before such topics became mainstream and part of pop-culture. Thus they weren't even noticed by the time of film release. But it is worth mentioning that Wachowski brothers were depicting anti-white men subplots not because they were following some kind of fashion or social agenda like mass-media does today, but because brothers WERE white and men, and they wanted to do something about it. And they did. For real.

However next generation of filmmakers and artists took the Wachowski brothers' personal issues and turned it into a viral trend, changing the culture forever. It can be even said that the modern SJW and LGBT hysteria is the Matrix, created by Wachowski brothers. I wonder, will their new "The Matrix" film change the world once again?.. and how?

Text: Jurii Kirnev

Omnifinery Editorial: Article 003

[tarithenurse]

Undercover ch.8

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: everything except explicit sex A/N: had to rewrite this a few times before it felt right, which means that it became less action filled and more traumatizing…sorry. Also, this is the second to last chapter. Hope you’ve enjoyed it so far.

8 - Face to Face

The two agents hesitated outside as if waiting for some signal. When it came, I assume there was some order in their ear pieces, it was the Dorito-shaped man that kicked in the door in a rain of splinters before entering as if to be a shield against any attack aimed at us. It was a good thing too. Two shots hit the shield, creating the sound of a gong being struck, before the Captain was close enough to bash the weapon away and then land a heavy punch.

At least I thought that was what must have happened…by the time I peered past Natasha’s shoulder, the man from the 40’ies was straightening the wobbly shape of my boss up in the heavy, leather office chair. Every time the other girls and I got so see our owner, because that was really what he was, he was perfectly groomed with the brown hair slicked back and a face worthy of the biggest billboards. It would have felt great, somehow, if I could’ve said he was ugly, fat, and smelly. Of course, he wasn’t. Knowing how he used to look heightened the contrast of his current state where both hair and clothes were dishevelled, and the once perfectly straight nose had gotten an odd bend and was gushing blood. The haunted glimmer in his eyes was familiar because every girl he owned had radiated the same fear at some point before he got them drugged out of their minds. He knew. Everything he’d done was catching up with him and there was nowhere to run. No places to hide.

Steve Rogers was standing next to the highbacked chair, quiet as a statue and somehow controlling Stein’s movements with just one gloved hand on my former boss’s shoulder. Even from where I’m standing could I see the contempt in the blue eyes of the veteran. The jaws were working hard, and his breathing strained in the manner of someone trying to hold back rather than recover from physically strenuous work. Every fiber in the captain wanted to give my boss what he deserved, but it wasn’t his task at that moment and he let Natasha do her job. She got his attention by squatting on the antique desk before him, snapping her fingers until he focused the bleary eyes.

“Daniel Stein…Stein, Stein, Stein...” There was a singsong quality to her voice that would have fitted a horror movie. “You’ve been busy playing with the big boys, haven’t you?”

My legs threatened to give out underneath me. I had to sit. Moving towards the sofa by the windows, I didn’t take my eyes off the boss, so I notice how his gaze swiveled and locked onto me, prompting a mad smile to split his face in two. It made my skin crawl with cold goosebumps. There was no filter, nothing to hide how twisted and cruel he was and had been all the time to be able to run the kind of business he did.

“Hey!” Natasha tapped him on top of the head with the cannon of a gun. “You look at me, not her.”

He did, and I made it the rest of the way to the sofa. As I sat down, I felt my heel tap something hard on the floor and I bend down to see my boss’s gun lying there. A black and deadly killing machine. It wasn’t as big as I had expected, which probably explained why it felt light in my hand and allowed my fingers to curl easily around the handle when I grabbed it. Perhaps I should’ve been intimidated or at least apprehensive of the idea of holding a real, loaded gun so comfortably, but I wasn’t. It made me feel safer. No, not safe…powerful. For the first time in my life, I knew I’d be able to put up a fight worth mentioning if I had to.

Glaring over at the three people, I tried to focus on what they were saying, but the words were coming from a place much further away, creating echoes as they warped through space to reach my ears, and instead I had to extrapolate what was happening from their faces and actions. Natasha wasn’t happy, maybe because Stein didn’t tell her what she wanted to know, not even when she started breaking his fingers. He just kept laughing the dizzying cackle of a madman. The sound made my head spin, so I was grateful when the red-haired miracle made him stop and I could shake the dizziness away.

“I’ll never tell you, bitch,” Stein sneered, “never.” He spat out blood…maybe he’d taken a punch to the teeth too? “Just accept it.”

If he hadn’t been clocked in the face by Natasha before then he did now, and it was so hard that I could hear his jaw crack and neck creak as his head snapped towards me. He had to blink a few times before spotting me where I was sitting by myself, then I recognized the diabolic glee that I’d seen in the kind of client that liked to hurt us to get off.

Turning slightly to look at Natasha from under his messy hair, he chuckled darkly. “I won’t go with you, so feel free to kill me.” The chuckle became a proper laughter. “At least I won’t go alone.”

The boss lunged at the much smaller woman sitting before him, but his attack got stopped. One gunshot rang out, then a second and a third although the last only hit the dark wood of the table he’d sunk down behind.

The face of a woman with fiery hair pops up at the far end of the table where she’d rolled off to get away from either Stein or the bullets. “[Y/N]?” Her voice was echoing, spilling out from a glass jar on its way to me. “[Y/N]…put the gun down.”

The gun? Looking a bit down, I saw my hands clutch the black weapon, but they weren’t my hands. Not really. I had to concentrate to detach my fingers and let the thing drop to the floor with a thud softened by the plush carpet with the swirly pattern. Such a soft carpet, I thought, I must be nice to lie on that. The image of Chastity lying motionless on the same surface calmed me because I remembered how peaceful she looked.

Natasha’s voice penetrated the fuzzy darkness, urging me to wake up and look at her. I was so, so tired, but how could I deny her that? She saved me.

“No, [Y/N],” she argued softly, “you saved yourself, and now you gotta enjoy it so don’t fall asleep, okay?”

“Yeah…”

She was holding me tight against her, strong arms wrapping me in safety and warmth.

Warmth.

I needed it. My body was getting cold and heavy and a part of me knew that it wasn’t supposed to be like that even if it meant being close to her.

[ritebeforeyoureyes]

A Little Jealous

This was kind of a collection of prompts that I got in my inbox. I decided to merge a few together to create this little smutty piece. So, be warned. Also, to the anon who asked how to send in prompts, a message in my inbox or a PM is perfectly fine x

Masterlist – Plot: Tom witnesses Zac and Zendaya’s chemistry and grows jealous.

A Little Jealous (One-Shot)

Tom sat on the side lines as he watched his girlfriend do her thing. She and her co-stars, Hugh Jackman and Zac Efron, were in the starting leg of The Greatest Showman promotion tour and their first stop was London. And, as per usual, Tom was there to support his girl whenever he could.

Zac and Zendaya were being put side by side throughout the duration of the tour, their interviews consisting of the same reworded questions about their chemistry and their characters’ monumental kiss. Tom couldn’t really hear much of what was being asked or said in response so all he could do was pay attention to their body language. There was something about Zac’s quick glances towards Z that bothered him.  At first, it wasn’t that noticeable to bystanders, but Tom had picked up on it instantly. It was his girlfriend, after all.

He’d watch helplessly as Zac would touch her shoulder momentarily, smile brightly at her as she gushed over something the interviewer said. The little snippets of adoration from Zac was making jealousy bubble within Tom and he found himself glaring, his eyes narrowing thinly. However, the icing on the cake, for Tom, had been when Zac had called Zendaya his favourite on-screen kiss.  It was made hundred times worse because Zendaya had chuckled the slick comment off with a funny face in tow. Zendaya could laugh it off, but Tom evidently couldn’t – he was fuming. Tom hadn’t seen Zendaya interact with another man so closely and it didn’t sit right with him. He was the only man who got to laugh at her jokes and shower her with compliments; he didn’t like that another guy was calling her his favourite kiss, regardless of the extended meaning behind it.

Following the comment, Tom stayed angry for hours, the jealousy slowly cooking dangerously within him. He had had to wait whilst Zendaya finished up her interviews and had tried to distract himself with Darnell’s banterful personality. It had preoccupied him for a while, the two of them sneaking out of the hotel ballroom in search of the rumoured Moèt vending machine. They’d found it and had a midday drink, sneakily, before Tom had retired up to Zendaya’s hotel room. He knew if he walked back into the ballroom, he would do something he would regret, and he didn’t want to do that. It was getting harder and harder to keep their relationship a secret, but he wasn’t going to disrespect Zendaya’s wishes by outing them in such a public setting.

So, Tom waited. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He watched the clock tick slowly. He read the room service menu, three times. It had been hours, the sky darkening suddenly, before Z was back upstairs. As soon as she entered the room, a loud sigh escaped her lips and she discarded of her heels. Within seconds, she was her usual casual self; stripping of her couture blazer so she was left in bottoms and a skin-tight vest.

“I’m done.” She huffed, flopping down onto the bed next to him. “I’m ready for pizza and ice cream!” Like the child that she was, Zendaya grabbed onto the menu in his hand, her eyes scanning the kids’ section. “Why does the kids’ menu always have nicer stuff? I really want the veggie fries …” Zendaya glanced up at Tom before correcting herself. “I meant veggie chips.” Zendaya teased, her eyes rolling. Tom and she had had this argument before; the difference between fries and chips. Zendaya didn’t really get why Tom called them ‘chips’ and she’d just presumptuously concluded that all Brits were stupid. But when Tom didn’t retaliate to her teasing comment, she lifted her body over his so that they were making eye contact. “What’s up with you?” Tom just shrugged, his arm reaching over for the TV remote. “Hey!”

“You’re his favourite kiss, huh?” Tom scoffed, the anger clear in his tone. Zendaya blinked in surprise, obviously not expecting this kind of reaction and she pushed her body over his. Her leg swung around his torso so that she was straddling his hips, both of her palms flat against his chest. “I can’t believe he pulled that shit.” Personally, Tom thought it was a little unprofessional for Zac to make such a declaration in an interview. But deep down, he knew, if he got the chance to, he wouldn’t hesitate to confess that Zendaya was his favourite kiss too.

“Is somebody a little jealous?” Zendaya prodded, a glint of mischievousness prevalent on her face. Secretly, she was hoping her poking fun at Tom would result in him vocalising how much she meant to him. She never had to ask for compliments from Tom, he dished them out as often as breakfast around the world. However, after a few weeks apart, it felt like an eternity since Tom, in person, had told Zendaya how he felt about her.

“Is he a good kisser?” Tom let out a grunt of disapproval, not liking the mental image of his girl kissing anybody but him. He gripped at her hips, his hands splaying out across them. Her frame looked so tiny under his hold and that seemed to turn them both on. Tom’s gesture was possessive and Zendaya groaned as he used his hold to forcefully rotate her hips. She could feel his evident arousal pressed against her and her head fell back, hair flowing across her back. “Does he make you feel like this?” Tom gripped her tighter this time, forcing her core against his erection in a circular motion. Zendaya’s mouth opened and closed, no words escaping her as she was blinded by her own lust. She clung to his shirt, her long nails scratching at the flimsy material in a desperate display; she was trying to tell him she wanted it off. “Huh, tell me.”

“N-no.” Zendaya stuttered. She was now willingly rocking against him; the moans escaping them simulatenously. Zendaya’s was much louder than Tom’s guttural moan and he couldn’t stop staring at her as she moved. Her eyes occasionally fluttering closed, her pink lips opened in pleasure; it was the sexiest sight Tom had ever seen.

“You’re so beautiful, Z.” Tom sat up to lift his shirt over his head. He pressed his bare chest tightly to hers now, his hand wrapping round her back to hoist her higher onto him. With a swift motion, Tom was pushing Zendaya’s top up and over her head too. It was thrown aimlessly, joining a darkened abyss in the corner of the room. The movement made Zendaya’s breathe catch in the back of her throat and she used a hand against Tom’s shoulder to steady herself. “So fucking beautiful.”

As soon as Tom complimented her, she felt a shoot of pleasure throb at her core. She was always somebody who was turned on by the vocal reassurance of her significant other and it was safe to say, with Tom, it was a lot. “You’re mine, baby girl. Only mine.” Tom peppered kisses against the skin that was left exposed. He started on her face before descending down to her jaw and to her neck. His tongue flicked out to trail a pattern down her collar bone, his teeth clawing at the strap of her bra. Leisurely, he pulled one strap down the tops of her arms and Zendaya was in heaven. He never failed to make her feel beautiful, even when she was achy and bummy after a busy day at work. He loved to cherish her and that was exactly what she was feeling right now – worshipped. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“Yours.” She whispered before dragging his face back up to meet her lips. Everywhere was aching, the need for him to touch her everywhere suddenly dominant. His hands immediately went to the sides of her head, tangling in her hair so that her face was now angled. The new position allowed their lips to crash together, his tongue gaining deeper access into her mouth. Her usual taste of mint and ice cream was evident on her taste buds and Tom urged for more.

The kiss became hot and heavy from the moment their lips met the second time. He was sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips, asking for permission, before he forcefully pushed his way through anyway. She’d closed her eyes and was breathing deeply, losing herself in the feel of his kiss and that scent of beer and cologne that was uniquely Tom Holland.

“I want you so bad right now.” Zendaya was taken by surprise when Tom flipped their bodies over quickly. He took a moment to savour the sight of his girlfriend lying beneath him, staring up at him lustfully. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he slid his hand behind her back to unclasp her bra. Soon enough, the bra joined her shirt somewhere the floor. Tom moved his body down the length of hers until he was eye level with her breasts. His lips were now placing open-mouthed kisses all over her them. He’d treasure each one, one with his mouth, the other with his hand.

“Oh, god.” Zendaya moaned, her hands gripping tightly at his slowly growing out curls. She found herself torn between wanting to kiss him again or let him continue his assault on her chest with his lips. As the minutes dragged on, Zendaya wanted more; she was begging for more. “Tom.” She whined, slapping her heel against his calf in protest. “Please!”

“Patience, babe.” Tom smirked in that smug tone that he always took when he was teasing her and Zendaya smacked his arm. “Patience.”

“Get this show on the road or I’m going to get Zac to take care of me-“ Zendaya grated out, knowing her words would trigger Tom. She didn’t mean them but she knew it would get her exactly what she wanted. And it seemed like she was right because within seconds, Tom was scowling profoundly. He didn’t like that Zac was being brought up, now especially, and he reached down to remove all excess pieces of clothes, urgency swarming him. He slid a hand between her lengthy legs, trailing his index finger through her wetness. Just like that, all thoughts of Zac were forgotten and Zendaya’s mind was back to tunnel vision; Tom’s bare body was all she saw.

As he continued his splendid torture behind her legs, his thumb pressed firmly against her clit. The sensitive nub had her body bucking and that was it, she couldn’t wait any longer. She didn’t want the foreplay and the teasing; she wanted him in his entirety. “Inside me. Now.” Her reply was frantic and the pure crudity of it had Tom obliging. He didn’t need to be told twice and he slid his fingers out from between her. He raised the two fingers to her mouth, letting her lick them clean. She let her tongue circle the pads of his fingers slowly, indulging in the taste of herself. She shot him a naughty wink and Tom chuckled softly before positioning his erection at her entrance. He grabbed her hips and slid inside of her in one quick motion, groaning loudly as he did. Her warmth enveloped him, and he was finally home. He was so lost in the pleasure of just being inside her that he was completely surprised when she wrapped her legs around his waist, raising her hips so that there was some form of movement.

“You look prettiest like this,” Tom winked, his cockiness at the surface. Why wouldn’t it, he had one of Hollywood’ hottest actresses in his bed. “Under me, begging, screaming my name.” His dirty talk was doing all kinds of things to Zendaya and Tom lustfully began to set a rhythm in motion, feeling like the luckiest man on Earth. It still surprised him that this majestic beauty was his girlfriend. He gyrated and swivelled his hips, his movements becoming more and more rushed as her breathing sped up. He could tell she was close from the gentle whispers in his ear, “Oh my god, Tom, yes, right there.”

“Come on, baby.” Tom rasped in response, his voice gruff and oh so manly. “Cum with me.” Zendaya panted audibly as her walls began to contract around him. Literally seconds later, Tom was releasing with her. He fell off the edge with a loud moan, her name slipping from his lips in a prayer of sorts, “Oh god, Zendaya.” He let them both ride out their orgasms, their chests heaving violently as they fell from their mountain of pleasure. Once her core stopped throbbing, slowly, Zendaya slid Tom’s dick out of her and then rolled over to lie beside him, her head resting against his lightly perspired chest. His fingers threaded through her hair, massaging her scalp comfortably.

Her finger gently traced the indents of his chest and she glanced up to look at his face, “You should be jealous more often.”

If you enjoyed this piece and would like to help further me and my work please support me here. It is one hundred per cent a voluntary pursuit, your lovely comments and votes are always welcomed too : https://ko-fi.com/D1D072V0

[moviesyndrome]

Movie Syndrome’s Film of The Hour” London Fields “DIRECTOR’S CUT.” 2019

The only time to watch and review The Director's Cut of London fields is now: within a human species post-crisis, so novel to that species that there is no occurrence leave alone a record. Its the only time that London Fields makes more than just sense, total sense. It is now our new potential mirror and or X-ray machine for our so called"New Normal."  It can be London but it can be any city, town, enclave of human dissonance.

As a child I went to the school of life though films presented by the great Alex Cox, on his Moviedrome show, I was introduced to precursors to the coming influx of Neo-90's Noir. Narratives that coiled around its characters with the love of hungry anacondas; stories from the shrades of the social human fringe; men and women alike gleefully hapless or broken, souls just seeking to steal their inevitabilities from fate and make it their own - as if that some how made thier doom bearable.   Films where pale shadows crowded the celluloid frame even they were alone they were just paler than the crowd.

London fields so reminds me of this vein of filmmaking. In Neo-90's noir people were incapable of making anyone happy, not even themselves, or anyone else, they either new it and would violently seek irony, or just detraction, or simply some air of self-appointed cleverness about their failures: their philosophy the wisdom of one's own doom is better than the ignorance of it (as if that helps).

It was a joy to feel like a kid watching films I shouldn't be watching, with the sound turned down low, so parents in bed don't wake, listening to an intro by the great Alex Cox, and the prototypes of the coming 90's noir. This is what it felt like watching London Fields.

The first shot had dance in its guts, the first sign of a good director, making sure the audience know s/he cares. I was reassured and sat back in comfort knowing I don't have to be anxious. Few films know how to utilize stock footage, or some films over use it, some just don't respect it, we may see more of it since the big plague of 2020 hit planet earth. The now infamous "C" word hit just 4 months after I saw it in 2019 on the eve of the UK election that would decide the fate of thousands literally and of the new London that I am now living through. This is why London Fields Directors cut must be watched post-global pandemic, post London post human incubation, post human global coma, wake up and watch it!

The true value of London Fields is in its ability to be relevant externally, not just internally, it will be talked about for decades as the greatest film-restructuring/ turnaround since George Miller saved Mad Max 4 from september 11th. As long as London is here with a new normal that a film and book called London Fields possibly predictive like Nostradamus "pre" and mid plague predictions. Like Daniel's predictions of the fourth beast,  that is a president of the free world advising people to drink bleach as it cures plague like some victorian charlatan-witch-doctor.  

Talking of victorian London look out for a wonderful Fagan meets Sid-Vicious like surprise, it will remain a surprise as I will not spoil it , you will have to watch it.  Remember the advent of dvd extras where the story behind the story became King and queen, well here is your story behind the story of London Fields the coiling fluid labyrinth that this director's cut had to circumvent and master at the same time, is in itself a book, a film maybe a trilogy. It then becomes a matrix for the films ability to gracefully scream with silent pain, palpable in its starving human waifs, the population of jagged grizzled shadows of an old world, just like a pre-covid London.

My story:

- I waited 5 years to watch the director's cut, as I knew this would be the film to watch, I know from day zero, that this would be the definite splice, I am glad I waited, but i had no other option. More importantly I am glad I waited to be one of the fortunate survivors of the real London apocalypse to be able to write a review worthy of note.

Filming locations:

During the pandemic I walked around the many locations that London Fields filmed in, like Brixton where I grew up, and I went to bulk buy food, part of my post apocalyptic preppers protocol. I'm a prepper by nature so  I had bought my ffp3 mask months before. I actually gave a health and safety threat and risk consultation to a filmmaker heading to Ebola hit Lagos, I said "Make sure you have 3 meters on everyone and every surface so only the soles of your shoes need chlorine (the only chem that degrades DNA) I didn't call it social distancing I called it don't get Ebola. Here we are fortunate it was not Ebola that hit world and London Fields. I bought food in bulk buying is very different from panic buying, but I can't judge london is pretty but pretty tough to live in.  

London Fields Anatomy: + Matrix: When I say The Matrix of London fields I speak about the meta-mould, London is the ideal place to film an apocalypse, London was once the capital of the world since Britannia once owned most of the world. Location location location is everything.   +Concept: You can have a concept of any thing a concept of concept itself , a concept of the idea of a principal. Why not start with the concept of human nature, give our nature enough rope and we will hang ourselves and each everyone else in the room , but why is the nicely investigated by Bill Bob Thornton's character. This rope reaches the macro space to the micro of all the individual characters. + Basis: I have a feeling much like the basis for the characters in "Withnail and I"  the writer Ames, the author of the book, he has based these characters on the transients that peppered his life in London. + Grounds: There are sub-cultures of ravaged souls who make the characters even in the book look pale in comparison - art always mimics life not the other way round.

+Criteria:  The criteria is to capture a credible cinematic vignette of a very wild book + Responsibility: There is an integrity of context well policed diegetically and in the non diegetic space. The director is now renowned for policing this context which was under threat when islamic content (there's that other "C" word) was misaligned with pornography to create a pornography, the legal battle that ensued was only fueled by this particular mismanagement of content with no context.

+ |Sense of place "This is London" London is hit by hyperinflation, social controls, shortages, poverty, mass unemployment, Social Unrest,divisions, divergency of schisms, social branching in to pockets of gang pods.

+Pattern of capacity: is potent disconcerting X-ray machine to the lower digestive system, beyond the ice-tipped persona of innocence, the bystander, observer, storyteller. It peels back the plasters wrapped around the slick wounds, and it does it finger by finger of London's inner ducts, where its appendix once was.  

The shadows of a cosmopolitan gas chamber known as London slither and preen the boiling social swampy waves seeking their nothings in what they see as somethings', goals that are obvious traps or not so obvious. They leave patterns of psycho-splatter across the corridors of doom-drowned doors with no one able to reach their goals and no one capable of making each other happy but, even though deep down they know it, they still pursue against instinct better judgment. They have to, as if they don't we would not have any drama.

This is Kitch satire the likes of which spilled out of neo-grungy scenes of the 90's neo noir, but its interesting to see this in a London steamy punky setting, rather than Hollywoodland. Highlights of the film is an interesting crossing of the 180 degree line, which is always a tricky area.

In London Fields the human ice-berg is built almost entirely out of constellations of man and woman's failure points, we are left with the question simply what will drive us, what will keep us going after the discovery of these failure points.

I: Inspiration by the challenge to put a x-ray, a mirror in front of the face of London as a gateway to the face of the wider world W: WHy do this film? Well every couple of years in intervals where London is begging for this mirror so lets provide it. V: The vision was to engineer an exposing investigation of the ghosts of London all the way to their souls and their soul-engines. M: Mission was to find the cast and support structure to manifest this vision S-T: The strategy to tactical synergy was to turn the motion of this story in to an serendipitous dance off the page of the book on to the cinema screen. Vision: To make a respectable cool potently socially vital potency vignette that a 2 hour film cna do for the many pages of a book Strategy: To go in with fervent dedication leveraging years of mastering skill of marrying music and image, and an industry that forces the discipline of story. B: Diegetic: Why do these characters do what they do, human beings have drives from baseline to top line drives, these drives are constantly hungry, convergent and divergent simultaneously. where do we put drives, what do we do with them, where will they go The characters with doomed naive seek happy endings for their drives, in doing so misd judge everyone. The souls here are using chess strategies to leverage their needs and clear the road of others in their path creating an emotionally psychologically all-in-ring wrestling match everyone eliminating each other. - Agility: The agility is not just in the films dynamic rehabilitative turnaround but agility in characterisation of the most hyper-wild surreal characters in a book nicely done by Jim Sturgess fagan meets sid vicious sex-pistols. And Johnny Depps Cockney-Rockabilly predator. 5.- kudoi: The Synecdoche: Here is with the director has managed to perform if not one of but maybe the most important Innovation Turnaround in the history of cinema. This could be the making of a new career. It is a career I went into recently I have performed it on other films myself but never had to do it on my own. 6.- Innovation: The director holds the mantle on the most strategic siege-craft innovation since those valiant thanes of the 5th century, took the gabled hall to siege in King Fin's realm of friesland; that young King of Denmark Heanerf with with 60 retainers went to visit his sister, recently married in peace weaving in Frankish lands, and for reasons yet to be disclosed to us, is put to seige in a gabled hall. It is an example in history where siegecraft worked. Matthew Cullen would have had to must some ancient type of lock-jaw dedication to pursue a siege craft of 5 years. with an army of producers, investors and compounding resistance. 7.- leadership side: The leadership it requires to execute a turnaround on a business is Herculean. There are 5 stages to a turnaround 0. People 1. Runaway - Leverage Cash runnaw 2. Technical engineering 3. Value chain strategy: add value - take away value - modify underlying value 4. Finalizing product market fit and fitness to execute a cut 5. New Campaign 6. Re-delivery. Just like in the film the characters all see themselves as leaders but they are ultimately proxy-puppets of a greater chess game. 8.- assertiveness: The director asserts with a five year kung-fu grip to show that the little voice in the milestone of a crocodile culture of producers, investors and meta-investors that the little voice can shout the loudest when it counts. It can do this  when it is important, when our voice must protect the unicorns gallop and leave our creativity factory, we must do this so they don;t fall down the cracks. In the film we see actors forging their stamps on their portrayals, of characters seertingthier desperations on each other's visions of happiness. 9.- Resonance of Messaging:brand Matthews Brand is potent authenticity of creativity this resonates in his film-turnaround and in the realignment of creative assets in,most in the alignments 10. Positive magnet respect attract positive Providence: The Universe has shined on Matthew and his valiant journey as the results have shown that it was on his side

LONDON FIELDS GLOSSARY:

- Conceptuals: What if you apply business turnaround to your own film not just someone's film but your own. Inside the film the concept - Concept of principle: The core principle was constant unbridled constant pulse of exposure of warts and all innards of post-social apocalyptic jagged humanity character by character. - Context: The Meta Post-Apocalypse: the after-party to the aftermath of London. - Grounds: Matthew had good grounds to purser this Colonel kurtz-like mission his unicorns had been dropped down the - Reach - if it is made more clear where to find the directors cut this will be king, . - Inimitability: Anyone trying to imitate this will stick out like a pik zeblinp - replayability: There is plenty here to study and restudy and this is the best master class in Film Turnaround making Matthew Cullen the most history making CFO of London Fields successfully restructured like LEGO brick By Brick (Which is also an interesting book on how lego turned themselves around in 5 years). - Accessibility: There is plenty here to make accessible to wider audiences with lots of help from Johnny Depp providing magnetic rockabilly-cockney psycho-menace - Principle: Waste nothing and produce more with as little as possible. Vision mission : Apex-Crux: A poetic battle manual in overcoming the cataclysm-apocalyptic crushing of your family as a consequences of the poisonous chains of criminology. - Idea: Human nature builds cunning paths of self-sabotage for itself knowingly and unknowingly and its infectious. - Theme(s): self-infliction, sabotatge, self-sabotage - Terms of understanding: the terms of understanding here are though the pattern of traffic between peoples' enemy within how they clash and - Dance: The film is nicely dancing   - sculpture : There is a sense of engineering finess to the this cut that reaches between the small life of characters and the wider outside world that is out there somewhere but hasn't been seen in a long time and and clearly is not missed. 4 - Signature: The signature here the brand the unique finger print is garishly distinct defined unmistakable, flamboyant graish clever use nourish pop-kitch- - Innovation: There is an interesting way that Matthew Cullen breaks the 180 line look out for it, Jim Sturges Innovative contribution to a now infamous Sid -Vicious meets Fagan mashup is no legend. ---------------------> - Communication: The colours seem to be the some of the most dominant communicator in London - Message: Warnings of not just the soul's emotional vulnerability of people, the hazard of peoples problems, but the hazard of a now victorian like London - Language - Conveyance - Shape Nuance: Nuance swells in the misery that Billy Bob Thornton carries around, it hangs like the unsucked cigarette smoke constantly trailing his character's - Ethos: The Directors ethos is the first rule of any endeavor is never give up! Once the mission was demanded to turn the film around this rule become law so taking names off a film are not part of this ethos.  The Films' ethos everything is available. - idiosyncrasy: The positions of satirical use of nourish pop--kitch is so uni - ethics: The direct fought to remedy inflammatory scenes IN the original cut there were scenes where religion is explicitly juxat - Responsibility: There is obvious responsibility to do just ice to the book, but also to the characters and how the actors navigate this, then there is London, one of the most if not the most unique city in the world. - Code: Its code of conduct is to never let you rest to corrugate the constant exposure of the shades of core characters and new characters both minor and major. - Policy: IS to be calmly unrelenting in the face of adversity on and off set.

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: MOVIE REVIEW: Irresistible

(Image courtesy of Focus Features)

IRRESISTIBLE— 3 STARS

Jon Stewart’s new film Irresistible holds a broad and powerful mirror up to the lies and guises of America’s election economy. Right when you think an outspoken personality like the beloved former host of The Daily Show is going to shout from his now-taller cinematic pontiff a chosen side or favorite, he remarkably doesn’t. This is an even-handed farce of finger-pointing where both political sides have dirty hands and the media in the middle is wholly and equally complicit. Stewart unleashes this cringing astonishment in a surprising movie that pulls your leg and also very rug right out from underneath you.

The political labels are coming at you for full exposure. If that’s a porcupine you try to avoid (astounding social acrobatics if you’ve got them), good luck. However, if you need a way into Irresistible consider the lyrics of heartland rocker and political centrist (who knew) Bob Seger’s 1978 hit “Still the Same.”  

You always won, every time you placed a bet

You’re still damn good, no one’s gotten to you yet

Everytime they were sure they had you caught

You were quicker than they thought

You’d just turn your back and walk

You always said, the cards would never do you wrong

The trick you said was never play the game too long

A gambler’s share, the only risk that you would take

The only loss you could forsake/The only bluff you couldn’t fake

And you’re still the same/I caught up with you yesterday

Moving game to game/No one standing in your way

Turning on the charm/Long enough to get you by

You’re still the same/You still aim high

There you stood, everybody watched you play

I just turned and walked away/I had nothing left to say

‘Cause you’re still the same/You’re still the same

Moving game to game/Some things never change/You’re still the same

The simple song is a recurring background musical motif that echoes the deception happening from the red and blue directions of this movie with pure white citizens being manipulated in the middle. Between the insincere sameness of the bets, charms, aims, bluffs, tricks, and more, line after line of Seger’s ditty nails a piece of the duplicitous characters in Stewart’s film.

The guileful gamblers of Irresistible are political strategists Gary Zimmer and Faith Brewster played by the twosome of Steve Carell and Rose Byrne. Each are fantastically introduced during the 2016 national election in front of small gatherings of faceless press with their eager microphones, flashbulbs, and cameras. Letting you know exactly what kind of outrageous people they are and the type of movie that contains them, both proudly proclaim their job is to lie straight into faces. Their matching responses are delivered precisely as if it were one of the sterilized and scripted soundbites we tend to expect. Instead, it’s the veracity we never hear but should be able to decipher.

LESSON #1: SPIN WITHOUT SHAME— With their finely stretched fabrications, Gary and Faith relish this cruddy combat, veiled as “working with” not “working for.” Truth be told, they don’t value the people they’re collaborating with or studying. Both spin doctors blow off teachable moments with zero regrets under twisted mantras that state “people have to do shitty things in the service of the great good.” That’s the slime of supposed dignity they wash their hands through and shine their smiles with. If you don’t know the type, you’re falling for the fake shine.

The post-election hangover of Donald Trump’s historic Presidential victory has left the Democratic pusher Gary crushed and desperate to expand the base of the party so lacking in rural American support. When a low-ranking staffer shows Zimmer a viral video of a former Gulf War Marine Colonel named Jack Hastings (Academy Award winner Chris Cooper) standing before a city council meeting speechifying needed support for welfare programs in the small (and fictitious) town of Deerlaken, Wisconsin, his eyes light up. He sees “a Democrat that just doesn’t know it yet,” “Bill Clinton with impulse control” and “Bernie Sanders with bone density.”

Gary is so convinced he can make something of this utilitarian unicorn he travels to the swinging Badger State to turn him into a mayoral candidate. The completely city-slicking 2%-er who is used to getting his ass kissed and avoiding carbs jumps right into his awkward elbow-rubbing in the land of beer, streusel, cheese curds, and Carthartt. After coaxing Jack to challenge the incumbent Mayor Braun (veteran character actor Brent Sexton), word travels faster than the town’s dialup internet among the kindly denizens and a race is on.

LESSON #2: DOES EACH PARTY HAVE A TYPE?— Here come the warped “liberal” and “conservative” labeling assignments that demand side-choosing. Why? That’s because a duel between analytics and polling (personified by smarmy supporting turns from Topher Grace and Natasha Lyonne that could fill their own spinoff movie of competitive banter) reveal an alarming amount of trends and descriptors in every person. Chris Cooper, with his silvered mop and down-home cadence, is perfectly cast to be a principled fellow not bound by any porch-rocking. Anchored by his astute daughter and unofficial public barometer Diana (Mackenzie Davis), his character is fluffed up to become someone and something he is not purely for the sake of appearances. That created image moves needles, television graphics, and checkbook covers. 

The full orchestra of Gary’s war drums draws national media attention to this humble hamlet as well sparks the invading arrival of the vapid bitch Faith to back Mayor Braun. Armed with their micromanaged minions, mucky millions, and salacious scalpels for scandal, the two rivals thrown down an oral sex wager to whomever’s candidate can win this parliamentary pissing contest. Let the zany pandering and placating begin.

LESSON #3: PATRONIZING IS A TWO-WAY STREET— Echoing Lesson #1, Gary and Faith’s professions are that of micromanaging shit shows. Inconsequential things are inflated to manufactured influences. The strategists do not care to connect unless there is an angle of personal or professional gain. The by-products of the wannabe geniuses thinking they are above their targets are perverted presumptions and massive condescension, with an emphasis on the “con” prefix. Not every hayseed is a mark. Plenty of fat cats are as well. 

LESSON #4: THE INSANITY OF THE MONEY IN POLITICS— With the one-upmanship of “spend to start” and “spend to stop them,” the rinky dink stuff is soon over. Framed in comedic setups and montages, frivolous millions are poured into Deerlaken and the PAC influences crop up next. At a fancy fundraising party in New York, the out-of-his-element Jack mildly unloads on how stupid the preening glad-handing stage is. Even that emboldened and honest truth doesn’t change the deep-pocketed donors. No one bats an eye and that’s not good. The course of all this is a financial food chain all its own, one where, during the very telling end credits of Irresistible, a research subject poeticizes “money lived happily ever after reveling in its influence in politics.” The real question should be what shady sunset does the money ride off into. 

LESSON #5: COMPARING THE END RESULT TO THE PROCESS— On the eve of the climactic election, Zimmer comes right to Hastings telling him his chase is about extremely simple math behind all the streamers, fireworks, and media mound. The goal is to outvote the other person by merely one vote. Screw all the analytics and polling when the ballots open. In his experience, the tawdry theatrics are forgotten when there’s a winner to celebrate. That is all the more reason why the perceived importance of the result, even for a small-town mayoral election, is maddeningly worth the quality of the chase.

LESSON #6: WHERE IS THE BLAME?— The cog of the dramatized machine in Irresistible that comes out the cleanest and most dutiful is John Q. Voter. The “fickle mob” public are the ones who must be discerning enough not to snort the spin or guzzle the cable TV conjecture. It would be easy just to slap a “satire” label on this movie and take none of it seriously. That would be a mistake. Stewart and company play us all because we, the people, deserve to be played. Yet, it still has a stance begging whoever is watching not be a part of any future blame. Color that as hope out of the shocking sarcasm. 

There are places in Irresistible where the mockery is as thin as a pesky mosquito’s wings as it draws patriotic blood and passes on diseased ideas. Other spots are as thick as quicksand made with indomitable behaviors that seem insurmountable to rescue if this was the real thing. Preposterous is the point. If you think you have the movie all figured out when it debuts on streaming platforms on June 26th, you have another thing coming. 

Bring it all back to Seger. The grand game is exposing the hypocrisy and Irresistible builds to the swindle of swindles to make this very valuable point, one prominently placed now in an election year. If you have an open mind, which can be a challenge for far too many folks on the swinging national pendulum of personal politics, you may come to enjoy the razor sharp cut of your Stewart’s biting jib. Irresistible becomes an immediate pre-election time capsule and a deserving place for rubbing our nose in our own shit, forcing us to see our gullibility, inaction, and ignored responsibilities before history repeats itself… again.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#891)

Permalink

from REVIEW BLOG – Every Movie Has a Lesson https://ift.tt/318lnXi via IFTTT

from WordPress https://ift.tt/37TplUR via IFTTT

[artdjgblog]

​Innerview: ? / The One Club - Young Guns

May 2008​

Art & Design: DJG​

​Note: ​Submission(s) ​Explanation

0​1) The Afterparty & The Wilders This is a Kansas City, MO concert poster made for bands The Afterparty and The Wilders. It is originally hand-made out of sewing ribbons and pencil writing. The “Afterparty” is built of one continuous ribbon piece. Posters are 12″ x 18″, inkjet prints (two different layers) by DJG on thick, flesh-colored paper found for cheap. Amie Nelson is credited as the client for this piece. She and DJG are both credited as the copywriters for this poster. This poster received honors and exhibition around the globe from the Type Directors Club of NYC in 2007. ​0​2) Cacophony at Blank Space The first DJG double-sided poster is for a music and art group exhibition called “Cacophony” at Blank Space Gallery in Oakland, CA. What you see here are both views in one frame. The original front and back is roughly 36″ x 75″ and built by hand in an eight hour period on my basement floor. The client is Hunter Mack of Gold Robot Records. Copy writing credits go to Hunter Mack and DJG. Final posters are printed on 13.5″ x 22″ blue print paper. They are to be sold at the opening exhibition night. I rarely sell things. ​0​3) Capture the Drag This is a piece of personal art built on a big piece of foam board. It is mostly made from a pile of found objects and trash that have captured my interest. I have been sitting on this pile for seven or eight years and put tiny dents into it whenever i get an itch. This image came to my head on a vacant Friday night and needed to be made. ​0​4) Danielson Danielson released a highly acclaimed album in 2006 called “Ships”. They are a very unique, spiritually-influenced family band that makes odd freak-folk music that is both almost eerie and inspiring…in that strange and surreal basement church childlike puppet theater way. Here we have our Lord’s lamb with boat ores as feet, sailing the seas. The little guy steers the ship of man in his gullet, leaving a trail of sheep-like droppings to mark the way (aka: anchor drops). The lamb is originally 24″ x 36″ (give or take) and made from front lawn clippings, weeds and the tiny flowers that never get noticed. Typography is all done by hand and headlined with little round metal pieces collected from a construction site. Posters are printed 12″ x 18″ on white construction paper. They are my first posters for a New York City show. It is sometimes nice to see the sheep get kicked from the clubhouse a little further down the road. Client for this poster is a record label called The Record Machine. Copy writers are Nathan Reusch and DJG. I normally don’t make the same thing twice, but of late I have been making more and more sheep in a similar fashion. I made five this past Friday for a show in California and four smaller ones last September for a St. Louis, MO exhibit. A huge one or two will go on display at the Missouri State Fair this summer. The Danielson sheep was on display and was part of a DJG series that won “Best in Show” at the 2007 AIGA Kansas City Design Awards & Banquet. The making of sheep is a great exercise while in-between other things. The sheep are cute and have personality, I like this “cloning” aspect, and they help reconnect me to the past. I grew up on a sheep farm, showed sheep in county fairs, got tickled by baby lambs, kept some on the back porch, played basketball with them on my sheep poop basketball court, still appreciate their connection to Biblical things and still think that their round droppings look like M & M’s brown candies. ​0​5) Elevator Division – Whatever Makes You Happy A run of 250 hand-cut and spray painted cardboard CD packages with photocopied inserts were made for this CD by a band called The Elevator Division (I am only showing you the cover image). I lived on the couch and worked out of the band’s basement at the time, so we had a great one-on-one relationship. I played the instrument of full-time art director and part-time adviser for six or seven years. This image reflects the ideas and themes within the lyrics that deal with coming of age change, conflict, war and the shooting off of one’s options. The first 250 went quickly and I only own one. Though,I happened to inherit a second via marriage to a gal who bought one back in the day when she had her eyes on my design guns. A second run was created with spray paint on standard CD jewel cases, making production less of a hassle and still maintaining the original idea/execution. And some people bought both. Copy Writers include James Hoskins, Paul Buzan, Sam Hoskins and DJG. This “Finger Bomb” image came to me the night before I was to begin production of this massive project. The idea I had before of a soldier running just didn’t seem to fit completely and I was being too easy on my head. This one came and spoke and then screamed during an idiotic mad rush of basement spray paint fumes on a stormy late spring evening. The image has also taken heart with many an entertaining design publication (Print / STEP), book and even strange collectors of DJG work. Upon finishing the 250 packaged marathon, I lept out of the basement at a crack of lightning and belly-slid down the slick front lawn hill into the gushing gutters of an urban Kansas City street. With red paint streaming from my ears, nostrils and mouth, the “squatters” at the house across the street found this manic display of joy as quite interesting and clapped and hollered. ​0​6) DJG Marks​ (Image NA / Go Here)​ After eight years or so of making things in a more “professional” manner, a large paper trail of logos had been stringing up. This poster was created to show and memorialize almost every single member in the DJG logo family. There are a small handful that slipped away, and will be searched for at a later date. Clients vary from many bands to bars to websites to a law firm, university union, film studio, media and recording and computer companies, city slogan, and a church. ​0​7) DJG’s One Eye Brow “DJG’s One Eye Brow” was the first (and probably last) professional lecture given by DJG Design. This poster was created to promote the event and to collaborate an original art piece with friend and fellow graphic maker, Douglas James Wilson. He is a university design instructor, fellow graphic enthusiast, photographer and letterpress operator in Springfield, MO. The lecture was at the design school I studied at, Missouri State University in Springfield, MO. MSU’s Students In Design are credited as the client for this poster. DJG & Doug are the copy writers, designers and type makers. Poster images were first made and printed in black and blue inks on 13.5″ x 22″ blue print paper by DJG. They were then shipped to Douglas James Wilson who letter pressed two layers on top of that in yellow and black. The fine print at the bottom of the poster is an actual email conversation between DJG and Douglas about the project. This poster was honored and exhibited at the AIGA Kansas City Awards & Banquet. Douglas and DJG have combined on one other project exactly one year after this lecture poster was completed, and plan to make more and more babies together. Currently there is what we call a “Three Way” in construction. DJG has made close to forty original art pieces and passes digital files of the images to Frank Chimero (www.makemakemake.org) who makes stuff on top of them and prints them out and then ships them to Douglas James Wilson (www.onpaperwings.com) who will end it in letterpress. ​0​8) The Vines & Jet DJG heard about Australian bands The Vines & Jet traveling a long way to play the middle of Lawrence, KS and decided to make a poster commemorating this journey/event. These “suitcase” posters were made and printed entirely by hand. Old, thick posters found in a dumpster were covered with sticky contact paper from a roll that an old roommate left behind. They were then cut to the shape of suitcases and typography was created with spray paint and rubber stamps. The type stenciling resembles the typical markings that identify band equipment cases and the vine pattern is a salute to tacky suitcases and travel gear. The posters were celebrated by Print Magazine, STEPinside Design and a few other publications and books. DJG has since looked out of curiosity for more vine patterned contact paper… ​0​9) DJG’s Truck Stop Love Stalls No. 1 & 2 These two, decently-sized, mini-type billboards were built and exhibited in a special Valentine’s show in February of 2008. Handmade type has always been in the DJG diet, but lately, and in conjunction with the action of pushing into more straight so-called “art” pieces, giant works of typography have been starting to leak from the DJG studio. This twin project has helped trigger more and more marriage with the designs and writings of DJG. A brief, 48 line poem was written on the seven minute walk to the day job in September of last year and 3/4 of it was used as inspiration for this project of experimenting with word and type design out of many types of things. It was a real hoot and many rolls of tape are holding it all together. Though, one word will be defined for sure in the future, “BIGGER”. 10) The Violet Burning One day at my day job I found that a kind lady mending the plants and landscaping had dumped a ton of plant clippings into my trusty janitorial barrel-cart. Earlier that morning my mind had been plowing over ideas for a new poster design. The clippings found their way into my pockets and out the door I flung at 3:30pm to run home and hit the basement door with full design speed. Letters and type were constructed, scanned and inkjet printed and another layer of bugs and flowers was put over top of it. Copy writer credits belong to DJG. The poster was well-received at the show venue and around Kansas City and eventually recognized and exhibited by The Type Directors Club of NYC in 2004 and many other publications and books. -djg