#they'd be like optical illusions

[rei-ismyname]

Is Magneto mistaken or am I taking this too literally?

Ambassador Magneto has a lot to say in House of X, especially to humans on the subject of violence.

All his dreams are coming true and he's not shy about expressing his feelings on the matter. At the Jerusalem habitat the other ambassadors (who are all intelligence plants) claim to be wary of military advantage Krakoa and the gates provide.

Let's fact check Magneto there. 'There has never been a mutant war.'

What's this then? It doesn't sound very good at first glance but can it be considered a mutant war? It's basically Magneto himself unleashing an EMP and making demands of the UN. A mutant sanctuary - one they gave him too - Genosha. Terrorist act? Yeah defs. War? I'd say no.

What else? Oh yeah, that time Magneto conquered Santo Marco, a fictional South American country. Spoilers for a comic from 1963.

Okay so shelling is bad, definitely a warlike action, though it's later said there were no casualties at all, mainly thanks to Mastermind's illusions. Still, really bad optics there dude. The fake soldiers are straight up goose-stepping. This is drawn by Jack Kirby too, who definitely had strong feelings about that kind of thing - not something he'd portray unintentionally.

You'll note Mags having pseudo telepathy at this point, mainly bc Stan Lee had no idea how magnetism works.

Let's be honest, there's a big Nazi vibe to this occupation. This is in X-Men #4 in 1963, over a decade before Mags was retconned into a Jewish holocaust survivor. I'm honestly not a big fan of the original X-Men run and I can see why it got cancelled. Magneto was their greatest foe, but he was a pretty one dimension Doctor DOOM expy with none of the pathos, willpower or consistent ideology Claremont would reinvigorate him with. Anyway, sensing defeat, Magneto arms a nuke to blow the whole country up. Yikes.

It's actually Quicksilver who solves that problem, deciding he's not okay with nuking a few million people. It's the start of his face turn proper, with only Wanda's 'debt' to Mags keeping her there, and therefore Quicksilver as well.

See? Not cool, Mags. Not cool. When it's all said and done though, his occupation of Santo Marco is very brief and news doesn't get out. I assume Chuck had something to do with that. Though the country refuses to accept Krakoa for 'ideological reasons' nearly 60 years later, so maybe not. I'm going to say it definitely counts as 'conquering their land and making slaves of their people ' though.

Honestly, Magneto has died a lot since then, had amnesia and barely aged in 70 years so maybe he doesn't remember. One could argue that the spirit of what he's saying is correct - Magneto the individual did a lot of supervillain shit but there hasn't been a unification of mutants who then warred upon humans. Indeed, the opposite is true. Most mutant conflicts that could be called a war were defensive after these events.

None of the 'ambassadors' took issue with past events or his record, instead focusing on future hypotheticals. Someone should tell them that if mutants united in world conquest they'd likely be very successful and humans wouldn't know until it was too late. Technically Magneto has been tried for his acts before an international court, and acquitted because he'd been turned into a baby and was considered a different person. Yes, really.

The conversation pivots to the emissaries being there in bad faith, with slick concealing a gun. (Not that it would be very useful.)

Magneto demonstrates why that's the case and doesn't budge on his position. I guess we could say Magneto was (technically) right, in this specific circumstance. A show of force is certainly needed to make them take Krakoa seriously. It's only fitting then that Mags acts as the stick to make the carrot more palatable. I've still got room for one more pic so here's the X-Men enjoying post-training birthday cake, cut by Cyclops and his POWER BEAM. The X-Men's first birthday as a group.

Note the contrast in vibes around the Brotherhood of EEEVIL Mutants' dinner table, with petty bickering, Mastermind being a creep (the X-Men have that too tho NGL,) and a very impressive tower of mashed potato. Good to know Toad has poor table manners and that Pietro is willing to punch on over it. Not to be mean, but Wanda's headgear looks super silly. Oh well, it was the sixties!

[camels-pen]

Drooble request!

Luffy meets a Danno due to chaotic shenanigans

drooble #7 - chance encounter

-

Danny poked his head through the door. He squinted at the bright sun in his eyes. Was this the right one?

"WOAH, how're you doing that?"

He turned to his right, brows furrowed. "What?"

"That!" A guy in a straw hat squatted at the edge of the portal. "The way you're sticking out of the ground."

"Uh, optical illusion. More importantly, have you seen a senior citizen with hair like stupid horns? Sorta looks like a low budget vampire?"

"Nope."

"Damn." He looked past the guy. A ways away were a group of four others, bickering and eating. "Those your friends?"

The guy nodded. "They're my crew."

"Cool. Could you ask them if they've seen him?"

"Why don't you come over and ask them yourself?" The guy grinned. "Sanji's stew is the best!"

Danny looked past the guy to his friends. The blond next to the pot- 'Sanji', he assumed- was shouting at the green haired guy, looking seconds from strangling him. "He doesn't seem very friendly."

"Aw c'mon! They'd love to meet you!"

"If I get any further out of this portal, I'll end up stuck here," Danny deadpanned. "And besides, you haven't even met me."

"Ah, that's right. I should introduce myself before recruiting." The guy's grin grew wide. "I'm Monkey D. Luffy, the man who'll become the King of the Pirates!"

Pirates have a king? This guy's a pirate? Now he definitely could not get stuck here. Sam would never let him live it down if he got scurvy. "I'm Danny Phantom. Now could you go ask-" Danny blinked. "What do you mean recruiting?"

Luffy's eyes started to literally sparkle. "Of course I'd try recruiting; you're so funny!"

"That's great and all, but I really just need you to ask-"

Luffy interrupted. "Hey, can you poop?"

"What the- yeah. Now can you-"

"How does that even work? You don't have a-"

"It works." Danny dragged a hand down his face. "Listen, I really need you to ask them because the guy I'm chasing is really-" Annoying. "-dangerous so if we could speed this up, that'd be great."

Luffy shrugged. "I guess." He turned and shouted, "HEY GUYS, I FOUND A FUNNY GUY IN THE GROUND!"

Danny cringed, covering his ears. He had half a mind to point out that Luffy could've just shouted the question.

As the group got closer- the redhead and guy with a long nose quickly taking cover behind the other two with identical shrieks- Danny didn't waste time. "I'm Danny Phantom, nice to meet you, have you seen any old men in bad Halloween costumes recently?"

"Why are you stuck in the ground?" all four of them asked, in a variety of tones.

"Because I live here. Answer the question please." They looked at each other. Looked at Luffy. Then, slowly and a little confused, they shook their heads. "Wonderful. Thank you."

"Isn't he great?" Luffy asked, eyes still sparkling. "He's our newest crewmate!"

"I never agreed to that."

For some reason, that made Luffy's friends groan. "You're not inviting someone just 'cause he looks funny," the green haired guy said.

"Zoro, he's perfect!" Luffy shouted, gesturing at Danny. "Just look at him!"

"I've known you less than five minutes!"

"Doesn't make a difference," Sanji said.

"You're not just a torso and head, right? These are your powers?" The long nosed guy asked, peeking out from behind Sanji.

"Yes. Powers. Ghost powers." Danny adjusted his grip on the door frame on the other side of the portal. "And now that I know the fruitloop isn't here-" He started to push himself back through the door. He just barely saw the Ghost Zone's green and purple sky when he felt something yank him back.

"WAIT! You didn't even try Sanji's stew!"

Bright light again, now with a bowl of piping hot stew shoved in his face.

The redhead smacked the top of Luffy's head. "If he wants to go, let him go! He's freaky!"

"But Nami..." Luffy whined. The long nosed guy whined with him, no longer hiding.

With a sigh, Danny accepted the stew from Sanji. He'd humour them for a few bites at least. No sense turning down free food.

Warm and filling, with a flavour like he'd never tasted before. He threw his previous plan out the window and started scarfing it down. "This is amazing!" he said between spoonfuls.

"See? Sanji's food is the best!" Luffy grinned. "And you can get it everyday if you're sailing with us." That was probably his most tempting offer yet.

Still. Scurvy. Probably dysentery too, who knew.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I really better get going-" Danny reached for his grip on the door, only to feel the bowl in his hands. "Uh."

He looked down. Stared at his feet on solid ground.

Stared at green grass rather than ectoplasm.

"Hey," Luffy said, tilting his head. "Didn't you say you'd get stuck if you got out of the ground?"

Danny was going to kill this guy before he got home.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Would like to make a request for reader x Xavier Thorpe and some hurt/comfort if that's okay. Xavier has feelings for the reader but doesn't think they'd ever be reciprocated, and he usually draws her a lot because of how infatuated he is, until one day some of the bullies at school steal his sketchbook and threaten to show it to everyone, and Xavier fears that if you saw it, it'd damage your friendship; he gets it back, but ends up getting beat up by the bullies. Later on reader finds him all bloodied and trying to take care of the injuries himself, she gets super worried and drags him back to his room to take care of him herself, and she's super gentle which gets him melting and emotional and eventually with a bit of insistence from her, he tells her what happened. Ending with fluff <3

Xavier expressed his feelings best through the media of his art. He would find it best when looking for inspiration, that he were to sit through his emotions and feel out what art style would suit the subject best in expressing every fibre optic detail possible. Xavier also never found it difficult to find inspiration for his next piece whilst attending a particular school such as Nevermore Academy. Wherever he looked there was always something that would have him reaching into his bag for his stencils, charcoals and sketch pad and allow himself to be driven deep into his study, sketched, shaded and or painted within a matter of minutes.

The quad during lunch

The flowers within miss Thronhill’s botany class

Sirens playing in Lake Eerie

Vampires under tree shade

Werewolves digging up unidentified bones

Blades of grass with drops of early morning dew still clinging onto them.

Any and all butterfly species that would land on Ajax’s nose whilst he was sleeping.

Subjects like these could be found seen in their finished product, pinned up on Xavier’s bulletin board, strategically placed in positions as though they all told individual aspects and view points from the same story. However Xavier carried two sketchbooks. One was at the end of it’s run as it was clearly hanging by a thread from how overstuffed it was with his casual one off sketches. The other however was more well kept and pristine then it’s predecessor, as it had a built in locking system, a polished looking pure leather cover -not like those faux kind- and a multiple facets that made his hobby as an artist a hell of a lot easier. This sketchbook (if it could be called that) was solely restricted for passion projects only; projects that Xavier Thorpe would rather die then let anyone, even Ajax, from seeing beyond it’s cover.

His frequent passion project? You of course.

Xavier felt his emotions quite deeply, so when the artist one day found himself finding inspiration within the crows feet creasing the corner of your eyes as you laughed at what your friend said, throwing your head back just enough for the natural light to reflect every individual follicle of your hair as it moved like a calming river. He had already sketched out a full scale portrait of your face and some other small sketches in the available space. One sketch became two, two sketches became four, four sketches then became six and so on until a massive proportion of his sketchbook became studies of you; whether it be your face, hands, or just some sketches where you were doing you.

Today Xavier found himself drawing yet another sketch of you during botany class instead of the white orchid like he had planned, he was quick to snap out of his rose tinted illusion; suddenly realising that you were situated next to him and could peek over his shoulder at any given time and see your own face peering back. Xavier were quick to snap his sketchbook shut and onto his unsuspecting hand, causing a resounding thud followed by a pained grunt that -unfortunately for Xavier- brought the whole classes eyes onto him. “Xavier, are you alright?” You whispered softly from beside him, shoulder brushing against his own which made the poor boy break out into a hive of goosebumps. Before he could open his mouth to answer you, miss Thornhill’s voice wedged between you two. “Mr Thorpe? Mrx l/n? Did you have anything to share with the class?”

The teacher flashed a grin so fake that it should be put in a ‘who smiles the fakest’ contest principle Weems during public outings and Dr Kinbott. “Xavier hurt his hand, may he be excused to leave for the nurses office or is your lesson more important then the current condition of his hand is subjected to be sidelined?” The class ‘oohed’ at your words as the smile on mrs Thornhill’s face faltered a little only briefly; as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose, opening her eyes once more just as her smile regained it’s previous position.

“Of course,” she said cheerily as she addressed Xavier, “Mr Thorpe, you maybe excused,” her eyes then moved to you where you could see her intolerance building behind that fake facade of hers, “mrx l/n? I suggest you watch your tone next time when addressing me. Wouldn’t want a visitation to principle Weems’ office for your unacceptable behaviour.” Thornhill then continued the session as Xavier was flustered with embarrassment as he began packing away his stuff at the fact that you had just spoken up for him in front of the entire class. Sure it would’ve been admirable, technically it was admirable, if Xavier wasn’t already infatuated, he was beyond the borders of the word at this point; but since a group of bullies that have chosen him as their target for the semester were also within your botany class. Xavier couldn’t help but feel his pride bruise and ego shatter at something that originated from your kindhearted intentions.

He saw the group out of the corner of his eye, as they scribbled down on scrap paper that had mocking phases scrawled across them, such as; ‘Xavier is a beta male,’ ‘Xavier get’s no bitches,’ ‘y/n pegs Xavier,’ and his personal favourite, ‘Xavier no balls.’ Not wanting to give them the reaction they desperately desired that in his own mortification, Xavier didn’t realise that he had in the midst of packing he had accidentally shoved your hand away when you offered it up as a sign to help him. So lost in how everyone else perceived him now, he failed to notice the one person before him whom he’d give everything for a scrap of attention from, had hurt in her eyes. “I don’t need you speaking up for me, I can do that perfectly fine on my own.” Xavier’s words came out harsher and more ungrateful then he wanted to, but it seemed as though the damage had already taken affect as you merely scoffed in response before turning back to the front of the class.

During his examination and then being discharged with a bruised hand with an ice pack tied to it by flimsy blue paper towels to take away some of the initial pain. Xavier was given the time to recollect on his actions towards you and came to the conclusion that whatever he thought would’ve potentially happen between you two had he not being a self-righteous asshole, riding his on his own dick, were scrapped and tossed away into a bin like the rest of his potential attempts in crossing the bored from friend to boyfriend. Xavier had a potential plan forming within the crevices of his mind but from how hurt you seemed when he brushed you off; insinuating that you made him publicly look bad?

he wouldn’t see any point in pursing the idea any further because he valued your thoughts and feelings that even after he had finished explaining himself to you and you still didn’t want to pursue him romantically? He’d be fine with that, hurt, devastated, soul crushed, but he would be fine because he’d valued being your friend more then chasing after an nonexistent fantasy that he made up. As he was heading down the hallway where your dorm was, feeling a slight fluttering sensation within his stomach the close he got that his hands began to grow sweaty as his heart jumped from his chest, to his throat, and then up to his ears.

Where he couldn’t hear the jeers nor the crescendo of footsteps that closed in behind him until he was forcibly pushed to the floor; landing right on his bad hand, crushing the bag of melted ice bean that his weight as it soaked the front of his uniform and purple jacket underneath. Annoyed and in even more pain then before, Xavier got himself up from the floor and turned to see that it was Billy, head honcho of the group, who pushed him. “What the hell man!” He exclaimed. “What the hell man,” Billy mocked as his eyes drifted downwards to his feet where he saw that Xavier’s sketchbook, the nicer one of the two, had escaped the bag and landed at his feet like a prize. “Look what we got here boys,” he bent down to pick up the sketchbook, pulling back his arm a tad when Xavier tried to reach for it, “it’s Xavi’s little sketchbook.” The other boys laughed as the book was held in the air.

“Hey, give it back, it doesn’t have anything you’d find worthwhile in there.” Xavier once again tried to grab the book but one of the boys behind Billy pushed him back down to the ground, landing on his tailbone this time. ‘That’ll hurt in the morning.’ Xavier thought as pain emanated from both affected parts of his body as he struggled to get back up. “Nothing worthwhile you say? What about the creepy drawings you’ve oh most definitely got of y/n in here?” Billy said as he watched Xavier’s face grow pale before moving in closer as to be a breaths width apart from one another. “You probably have drawn her nude am I right? So I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me and the lads taking a peak before maybe, oh I don’t know,” Billy hissed as he then leaned towards Xavier’s ear, “share them with rest of the school so they and y/n can see how much of a perverted creep you truly are Thorpe.”

Acting on pure determination in getting his sketchbook back, Xavier brought his foot subtly behind Billy’s ankle and with enough force, pushed him so that he would trip over his foot and land on his ass, groaning in pain. Xavier took advantage of the sudden change of the fight and grabbed his sketchbook from Billy’s hand and mad a run for it down the hallway as he heard Billy’s goons bustling after him only once Billy screamed at them to give chase. Xavier didn’t look back not once as he tried to get the rest of Billy’s squad off of his tail that he didn’t notice that one of his shoelaces had unfortunately came loose from all that running and along with the residue of ice pack from earlier.

Xavier slipped and just as he was about to come into contact with the ground, he positioned himself so that his back would take the brunt of the force and he wouldn’t loose his sketchbook a second time. Pain racked his entire back as he gritted his teeth in pain; Xavier knew that there was no use in trying to run away again as he had already over exerted himself enough along with the fact that he had possibly pushed past his luck limit for the day for as soon as he blinked. The rest of Billy’s group had already caught up to him as one of them pressed down on his chest with his boot. “Hey guys, how about a truce?” Xavier attempted to wave the white flag but was greeted with a boot to the face before everything became black.

You found Xavier in a fetal position, bloodied and bruised but his grip on his sketchbook held out. “Xavier? What the fuck happened.” You asked as you rushed to his side, forgetting about how pissed you were towards for the time being. “Y/n? Is that you?” He cried out weakly as he opened his eyes to be greeted with your worried face. Your beautifully worried face. “Yes Xavier it’s me, what happened?” Xavier sat himself up against the wall with a wince. “Just got into a one sided fight against a couple of guys.” You looked at the state of him more carefully that you started to notice more injuries that you missed the first time. “You look like absolute shit.” You spoke, aghast, “we gotta get you back to your room.” You grunted as you immediately got to work in escorting Xavier back to his room, taking not of how tightly he held onto his sketchbook; the same one he got all pissy about you helping pack away.

“Y/n,” you hummed, shifting your arm when you felt your grip slip as Xavier rested he head against your shoulder, “do you hate me?” You looked over to stare into his weeping eyes that looked back at you remorsefully. “No I don’t hate you, your a dickhead but I’d prefer it if you didn’t brush away my help so quickly. We’re friends right?” You questioned as you finally saw Xavier’s dorm up ahead and quickly positioned the boy so that he was leant against the wall as you opened the door, pushing it wider enough for you to escort Xavier to his bed where he groaned in either relief or pain; letting go of the sketchbook when he felt it was safe enough to do so.

“Friends?” Xavier chuckled humourlessly as you went to grab the necessary materials from a first aid box you brought him as a gag gift incase for emergencies like these. “Well by that logic I’ve been a really shitty friend to you as of late.” You started at him confused as you began to disinfect the clear cut he got across his hairline. “How do you mean? If we’re on about what happened at botany, then yeah sure you were an absolute arse but-“ “Thats not what I meant y/n,” Xavier tries to push himself up as best as he could with one good hand but in the end you ended up helping cushion him against the headboard.

Your thumbs subconsciously began to rub up and down his face as a means of distracting him from stinging sensation; To Xavier however, he could only feel your thumbs, rubbing softly into his skin as the pads kissed across the skin of his face the same way a mother would when their child was injured from doing who knows what. Xavier began to melt into your palms as you continued to patch up his face, leaving the ones that can do without coverage while also fishing out a cold compress for his swollen hand. “What are you trying to get at Xavier? I don’t understand. It’s like you’ve been speaking in riddles with me as of late and acting all hot and cold with me. I’m starting to wonder if there’s something else going on.”

Xavier hissed softly when you pressed the compress firmly against his bad hand, you whispered your apologies on the form of uttering soft and sweet words to him that he could listening to forever if you let him. Xavier hopes at least that you let him. “You wanna know why I’ve been acting so- “dick-ish.” “Thank you y/n.” He replied sarcastically as you laughed but when Xavier pushed the sketchbook towards you, the laughter seemed to die on your lips as you stared deeply at the leather bound book in front of you like it was about to jump, fly, run or burst forth with Xavier’s drawings. Seeing your hesitance Xavier chuckled, pushing the book close to you, finding enjoyment as you seemingly flinched away from ever dare touching something that must’ve cost an arm and a leg.

“Open it, y/n, maybe once you see what’s inside it’ll hopefully clear things up for you better then I could try with words.” Xavier said, watching you intently as you picked up the book like it was glass or porcelain.

“Yeah, you are quite shit with wording how you feel.” You joked as to ease the tension off of your shoulders as you finally mustered up the courage and opened the sketchbook; Where page upon page you found yourself staring back at you, beaming brighter then any star and your hair moved in tandem with the breeze. You looked beautiful, so beautiful. Did Xavier really see you in this light? If so why didn’t he say anything? “Turn over the page, I’ve written something awhile go that now I just find unbearably cheesy and cringy to even look at so please when you do read it, don’t read it aloud. I’d die.” Doing as he suggested, you tuned over the page and saw a short sentence scrawled within the corner of the paper that read;

‘Starlight twinkles in your eyes as the north star is easily replaced as the most brightest amidst the rest that they burn with envy at what you could do so effortlessly.

Your laughter sings a song that grips my heart tightly as you caresses it with gentle hands and a poisonous kiss that is surly to curse me forever.

However I’d rather to suffer from a friend’s hand then an enemies as to die within your arms with a broken soul as the last essences of my mortal flame is sniffed out. I get to see the love you once had for me blossom in your eyes once more.’

[spookberry]

👀 I would like to hear about the Oregon Vortex if you feel up to sharing!

sure! I mean I only just learned about it so I feel like I'm losing my mind a little bit that I can't seem to find anyone else connecting the two beyond like "oh yeah the crew went there and took a photo during the 2013 Mystery Tour." And wikipedia having a trivia note connecting the two.

But anyways The Oregon Vortex is a "Mystery Spot" in real life that claims to be the original House of Mystery that all other mystery spots take inspiration from. (they've got beef with the Santa Cruz Mystery Spot in particular) It was first opened to the public in 1930 by this man named John Litster. As the lore goes he's deemed a bit of a conman, but also a scientist? He was fascinated by the strange and eerie phenomena of Oregon Vortex and had a ton of wild theories about why it is the way it is. One of his theories is Aliens.

Some of the reported strange occurrences that happen at the vortex are: bottles rolling uphill, backpain disappears, hangovers get worse, people's physical height change seemingly at random, mysterious beams of light in photographs, inexplicable urge to visit, etc (claims of fairies, and walking through the 6th dimension, also throwing pizza to "the beings")

The House of Mystery itself, the main attraction of the Oregon Vortex looks like this fyi. It used to be an office for an old Gold Mining Company.

there's a sign that looks like this

But back to fuckin John Litser, like part of the lore with that guy is he did a bunch of research on the place and why its so wacky and weird (though arguably its probs just optical illusions) However all of his research supposedly got burned in a fire in the 60s.

I found this interesting article on Roadside America that's got some awesome quotes from Elena Cooper (who managed the vortex at the time?? It is owned and ran by the Cooper family but another source listed an Irene and her daughter Maria, idk who Elena is.) and some of the quotes are beautiful and others have me feeling like I'm being punked. like

"It's existed probably since the planet existed. To be a part of that is just fantastic."

"If this is the middle of the Sasquatch Intergalactic Highway, I may as well sell stuffed versions of him."

"by the end of a tour you could tell them just about anything and they'd believe it."

She is real life grunkle stan

Anyways this place has been mentioned in a bunch of things, like theres an episode of X-files on it, Ghost Adventures went there once, Fact of Faked declared it an optical illusion.

they haven't posted on their official twitter since 2019, but their facebook still updates.

[ckret2]

Failed to resist the urge to post a snippet from chapter 16. This is my way of 🤝ing @godsfavoritescientist over the "grieving ex-worshiper who never figured out how to fill the gap left by a false god" Ford characterization.

Ford didn't move. He was still staring at the neon sign of an eyed triangle hanging in the psychic shop's window.

Did the "psychic" who ran this shop actually know what that symbol meant, Ford wondered? Did Bill have a worshiper here? Perhaps just another believer who'd been recruited by one of the micro-cults Bill left in his wake, five degrees removed from a former "student" that Bill had "inspired" and then abandoned half a century ago? Or had Bill met them in their dreams? Had he been summoned up to give them knowledge of the future—did they remember Bill as the central figure in a visionary dream that now made up the core of their spirituality? Maybe he'd visited them more than once, while trying to decide whether they'd be useful to him? Perhaps he'd been grooming the fortune teller into his minion, feeding them lines he wanted to pass on to a local politician or scientist? Did he ever play board games with them?

Did they worship him still?

Did they know their god was dead?

####

There'd been an ache in Ford's chest for over thirty years—an empty pit that once held awe—a dark void that used to be filled with starlight. Ford knew now that, metaphorically speaking, the divine light Bill put off had never been anything but optical illusions with flashlights and mirrors. But even so—even so, nothing and nobody had inspired such sublime wonder in Ford since.

During his lowest moments out in the multiverse, starving and exhausted and despairing, he'd irrationally wondered if the unimpressable depression left in Bill's wake was evidence that Bill had been truly that great, too great for a human like Ford to understand, and the shadow cast on his life in Bill's absence was the natural consequence of turning away from something godlike.

Ford had gotten over that. He'd recovered, he'd grown. He understood the truth: Bill's parlor tricks had dazzled his eyes so thoroughly that now he couldn't detect the subtler glimmer of the truly wondrous. He wondered if his eyes would ever adjust to the dark again.

Whether he liked it or not, he missed the way mind-blowing awe felt. He missed being dazzled. 

There were days when he wasn't sure what he resented Bill for more: vomiting so much glittery garbage into his soul, or stopping.

[earthdiaries]

After Party's Aftermath

It was Scared Straight, Zuva Ellis-style. Twelve years old on wash day, her grandmother's hands on her head untangling her hair, her dark eyes fixated on the screen of the little television set on the counter-top in the kitchen. "This what happen when you let boys mess around with you." That old movie. That skinny white girl, face turned upwards towards the window, cheeks glistening with tears, crying in the dark in the back of a yellow taxicab. The scene had never completely left Aura's mind. It flashed through her thoughts now, vivid as the first time, in the back of the Uber. But her face was dry and her hands were steady in the daylight as she brought her phone up to her ear.

Atlanta. A hotel she couldn't remember the name of, booked last minute, a suite that seemed greater in square feet than the entirety of her grandmother's house, patterned carpet in the long hallways, swirling under her heels. Her exit retraced the presumed path of her entrance, in reverse. There was a rush of sound in her ears, imagined static while a video tape was rewound in the cassette player under that warm square screen of her childhood memory, echoes of the fight that had escalated some minutes before, from nothing, half-dreaming, groggy, still wrapped in a bedsheet, to something, something dangerous. It crackled and jumped, flames from a BIC lighter, smoke from the end of a gun, and her fingers with their long nails painted bright red, warning sign, arterial wound, were trigger-happy. She had almost forgotten she'd even dialled a number when a voice came through her iPhone by the side of her face, suddenly. "Hello? Aura? Is that you baby?" She hadn't wanted to call home. Hadn't been in the mood for her brothers' worried questions or her grandmother's pursed lips. There were other numbers in her contacts, who could've – who would've – run her some money for a plane ticket home last minute but as she'd left the hotel in her furor without a glance backwards, bag slung over her shoulder and shoes clicking against the steps to the lobby, then to the sidewalk, miniature exclamations after everything she hadn't said, all she wanted was to be home in Compton without involving anyone else in the situation. And yet, she had to call someone. Somebody. She was clean out of other options. She needed to get on a plane.

"Yeah Ambuya, it's me."

"What's going on?"

Nothing, now. The leather of the car's backseat was warm under her thighs, she shifted the way she had positioned her legs, wishing she was speeding at the steering wheel of her own car instead of a passenger in this one, maneuvering its way through the morning traffic towards the airport, its driver gracious enough to pretend he was more interested in the podcast he was listening to through the speakers in the front than in the girl with the honey-blonde hair in the back. The hosts were interviewing a former NBA player, someone she'd forgotten the name of as soon as they'd introduced him, and Aura was tuning all three of their voices out to zero-in on her grandmother's, turning to look out the window. Her reflection in the glass revealed nothing, she'd mastered an unreadable expression. The streets they passed blended together, all unfamiliar to her. Atlanta. She'd never been here before. It hadn't even been her idea to come here.

"I'm coming home early."

"Are you alright?" "Yes, Ambuya, I'm fine." Lying in time with her heartbeat until it slowed. Until it was true.

"Mm." Those pursed lips. That disbelief. Those eyes. Those all-knowing eyes. Her eyes. Her grandmother couldn't be deceived. Not by Aura. They were too much like each other. The older woman and the younger one, two sides of the same optical illusion. "That boy." That boy. Last night he'd been slick, more game than ever, smelling like mousse and cologne. Urban to urbane. Red pants. Big pimpin', steady pumpin', all moves, dance floor to closed door. His hands on her, her mouth on him. Eyes closed. Lights off. Running her tongue over his tattoos. His grill on her thigh. In the club, he looked and acted like he'd stepped off the backlot of a seventies movie and into the spotlight, stepped right where she could grab him with both hands, right where he could get her alone. The atmosphere in the crowd was contagious, but even when the crowd was gone, they were pushing the envelope, further and further. Companion and competitor. Racing, neck and neck, like she would've if she had her keys and the old Chevrolet with her. It had started out as a pipe-dream ended in a fiery crash.

Last night, Atlanta was their wilderness. Last night, they'd run wild. Last night, she'd fallen asleep without taking off her makeup or checking what time it was, with his arm and the hotel's bedding around her. Shoes and chocolate brown dress in a heap on the floor. This morning... "...Her broke ass." "Y'all see this? Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass." "Jackass? Maybe I am Eddie Murphy on RAW after all because you damn sure Jerry Lewis."

"What the fuck is your problem? You get knocked on the head or something? Earth to Takahashi? Hellooooo?" "Did I get knocked on the head? No. What problem I got? Only problem I got is your ass. And you make that shit clear every fuckin’ day for me. You blind as fuck if you don’t see me out here making myself look a fuckin’ fool for you because you know you wouldn’t do the same for me. Can’t even write a fuckin’ album. And you know why you Jerry Lewis, because your shit is dead." "Excuse me, YOU the one who talk big game about flyin' me out and shit, and then switch up as soon as we – you know what? FUCK you. Disrespectfully. I ain't gotta be here with you, talkin' to me crazy and shit like you ain't the one who begged me to come out here yesterday! Like you ain't the one who was followin' me around like a lost dog, simpin' so hard the 𝖫𝖮𝖱𝖣 wouldn't forgive you. Showin' up at my grandma crib with flowers. Talkin' all slick in the studio when your homies gone? Now you wanna act like you all that? Like you better than me? You sound fuckin' whacked out. You got too much white up your nose last night and now you woke up snow blind or some shit? Can't see a good thing in front of you?...Fuck you! Fuck you! I'm goin' home." "Walk." "You walk. On that fuckin' plane ALONE. You gon be in that bitch, ALONE. Sitting ALONE. You think you all I got? Boy please. Like I don't got options. Like nobody back home would spring ticket money for me. You got me FUCKED up. But I STILL ain't as fucked up as you." "I don’t have to do shit since you can’t. I be in a bitch alone regardless. You out here wobbling in the lobby and shit. Too fucking stubborn to get some help. Seek help...What the fuck you just say?" "You heard me! You need help. Jealous ass, can't handle me dancing? That what this was about? You think you a bad bitch? It's giving DRAKE. You ain't all that."

"Drake? You unserious as fuck. You ain’t hard. Think you Kendrick. You really Azealia Banks! All that fucking potential to waste, because you be too busy tweaking out. Fuck you, Miss Independent Records. Get the fuck out of this hotel. You been hitting them moves since Kindergarten. You want to get your phone before I throw it out the window or before I unlock it?" "The fuck you accusing me of now? I got nothin' to hide from you, unlock it, I don't give a fuck! You gonna see fifty text messages from my brothers and my grandma and five hundred pictures of Prince Junior...And my "broke ass" ain't payin' you back for no plane ticket either. I consider it asshole tax!" ...This morning, that dress was in a ball at the bottom of her bag, and that boy was spitting venom. His tongue was forked – not by accident – he wanted his words to cut her. The playful flicker in his dark eyes from the night before had blossomed while they slept, blazed into a hellfire. He was her damnation.

But she could dish as much as she took.

"Do you have the computer open? Can you help me get an earlier flight?"

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

glance and texture for Rashad? 👀

Holy Shit, Glitchy, you're a damn champion sending me new asks when I had forgotten this one rotting in my inbox. I'm so sorry!

Rashad Basri

Glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

I want to say anything but height, but they're 6'5" so it's high up on the list of things people first notice about them. It's made worse by the fact that they're very lean. A walking optical illusion of They Make People This Tall? It was definitely worse in Rebirth, when they were gaunt on top of being lean and tall. Looked a bit like a scarecrow with a mop of curls on top. Which might very well be their second most noticeable trait about them: the absolute rat's nest of hair.

Texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

Rashad likes heavier fabrics, which should be a hint that they should live somewhere colder. They like the weight and feel of stiffer, sturdier fabrics. Knit sweaters and wool coats. Reminds them that they don't need to worry about someone seeing their tattoos. They will stim with corduroy.

If they ever got rid of the tattoos, or got comfortable enough with them, they'd probably switch to linen and cotton and lighter materials.

Find more OC Design Questions here!

[p-redux]

Do you know if Maril and Matt are really a couple and have kids? I see people talking but I never saw anything between them or they talking about it.

Yes, Anon Outlander's Maril Davis and Matthew B. Roberts have been a couple for YEARS. I was told this by a couple or insider sources years ago and posted about it. People aka my haters didn't believe me so, I posted source proof on my previous blog showing they owned a house together. Then I was told by another insider source that Maril was pregnant and 'lo and behold Maril shows up looking pregnant at this panel. 👇

Then the same source tells me Maril and Matt had twins and Outlander production designer Jon Gary Steele confirms it. 👇

See my previous post where I show this. 👇

As an aside, maybe some people remember when I shared with the fandom that a source had told me they'd gotten wind that someone on Outlander was pregnant. Well, they told me then it WAS Caitriona Balfe. And sure enough Cait had her son later that year. Here is my post where I mentioned that. I didn't name Cait at the time because I was asked not to, but I already had been told it was her. 👇

I wrote the above on this date, March 21, 2021. That's when I was given the source info that Cait was possibly pregnant. 👇

And then 5 months later, Cait announced on her Instagram that she'd had her son! I love it when source info comes true. 👇

Again, there is no denying those dates. I posted the source pregnancy rumor on March 21, 2021 and Cait had her son in July/August 2021. I love it when I can PROVE that I do indeed GET INFO AHEAD OF TIME.

[powerbottomblake]

cannot tell you how much funnier the climax of the original phantom of the opera novel is.

both raoul and the persian get trapped in this optical illusion room devised by erik to look like an endless forest thanks to mirrors and which works basically as an oven. while the persian is trying to find a mechanism to free them raoul drops on the ground and is like ok bro you do you I'll just lie down here. then the heat gets into both of their heads and at some point raoul thinks he's seeing christine in the "forest" and he starts running around and sobbing abt how he's been there chasing after her for three days (it had been an hour). then, bc erik is the funniest fucking person on earth, he starts using this contraption he made himself to make lion roars sfx, and raoul starts pointing his gun at the trees and being like HAHA I DARE you to come closer, ferocious lion all the while the persian is like mr de chagny I BEG you please get it together. then the persian who's the only one with a braincell finds a way into the cellar and they find loads of barrels and by that point they'd been getting slow cooked in the heat for hours so they were so thirsty they'd started licking the mirrors so when they see the barrels (full of water and what they assume is also alcohol) raoul just keeps pointing and saying Barrels. Oh. Barrels. Barrels. Look. Barrels.

anyway props to erik phantomoftheopera for being the funniest gothic creature/haunting/monster of all time

[aeonix-posts]

We love Optimus being miserable in this household

"Orion?"

A voice, familiar yet *distant*. Recognizable but *foreign*. It called out to me, and I turned my whole frame to find the bot who addressed me by the name of which was unfamiliar, yet so nostalgic to me.

As the fog lifts to reveal a *familiar*, yet *different* silhouette of someone I used to know. Someone I used to *love*; well, who's to say I still don't to this day?

"...———..? Is that.. you?"

I whispered loud enough for it to be audible, slowly approaching the figure of the bot whomst I lost *millions* of vorns ago.

My pede was the only thing I could hear as I slowly started accelerating to run towards the silhouette in the fog.

I ran towards the figure with my arms reaching out to grab it. Hoping that maybe we can make amends.

But when we made contact.. it disappeared, mixing in with the fog. Leaving me behind reaching for the blending colors around me.

"Ah!-"

I exclaimed quietly, desperately looking around my surroundings for something, for *someone*. Hoping perhaps, that I can hug them again.

Then I heard a soft and gentle chuckle behind me, it made me go stiff and turn around to face them.

"I always was good with illusions."

They spoke, arms wide outstretched, waiting for me. And before I realized it, I was walking in their direction with my servo reaching out for them.

A dim and marcid expression resting on my faceplate behind my mask, hiding what I truly felt like.

The tip of my digit touched their chassis, and they blended and combined with the fog, right before my optics. If I told anyone they'd never believe me.

My servo fell to the side of my frame and a small melancholy smile crept onto my dermas, I wearily sigh, my optics half shut and looking at the ground I stood on.

"You always were good with illusions."

[refrxctive]

thinking about a Talon verse for Harlow, maybe in a case where they hadn't yet finished their research and therefore Talon needed them alive rather than dead... so what would be the easiest thing to do? recruit them, of course!

For Harlow to join an organization like Talon (before the sniper incident happened), they'd have to have been intimidated into it. Most likely, Talon would promise them and their family safety if they acquiesced, but would make it clear what would happen to all of them if they didn't.

Obviously when Harlow finished their refractive technology, Talon couldn't just let them go back to normal civilian life. They knew too much. While they could just kill Harlow, they saw how diligently they worked and they knew that an optical physicist might be good to keep around.

At this point, Talon would probably distance them from their former life as Harlow. They'd be heavily trained, with the end goal of a stealthy assassin unable to be detected by infrared sights. (Maybe some focus on holographic illusions as well!)

Due to the extreme emphasis on stealth, Harlow would be encouraged (demanded) to never or rarely talk. This would have the added benefit (for Talon) of distancing them from their old life, as Harlow is naturally a very social and talkative person. Their call sign here becomes... I'm thinking Whisper. Not sold on that just yet though.

[palatezones]

Yeah, the history of aviation is the history of dying in new and exciting ways, sometimes ways nobody's ever died before, but a lot of it is the same way over and over again till somebody's embarrassed enough to make a new rule.

The US NTSB, along with parallel organizations in other countries, have long been remarkably forward-looking about the workload, attention problems, and general brain shortcomings of the humans that fly planes. (In addition to analysis like, Please don't build planes that fall apart in midair. That's a bad plan.) They recommend things like redesign of instrument panels to be less confusing; rules on minimum rest; procedures to minimize task saturation at key moments; training in the various optical and proprioceptive illusions pilots fall prey to; and active communication among team members in a cockpit.

The profession of piloting started out as all cowboy, the heroic individual doing virtuoso things all by himself; but that's one factor in tons of people going splat over the years. They had the gumption -- or the humility -- to change the profession's culture, and embrace systems thinking, so that a pilot is just one part of a team that's all working together, in rigorously prescribed ways, to get the aluminum tube from here to there safely. Careful communication, established routes, location markers like buoys in the sky, prescribed approach paths, checklists, conservative decision-making. It's a massive infrastructure, down to the word-order in a sentence, all to keep people from flying their tin cans into Valhalla.

If only we did the same for driving, or for keeping trains on their tracks and not leaping into people's back yards or off bridges. They'd be as safe as airline travel.

I’m convinced it was an interdimensional portal

[byanyan]

[ MIRROR. ] + reverse

vampiric promptsㅤㅤ∘ ˚ ( accepting )

[ MIRROR. ]  when passing a mirror, the receiver sender notices the sender receiver does not have a reflection. 

ㅤㅤ" c'mon, lemme do your makeup an' let's go out, do somethin' fun! "ㅤthe suggestion comes on a note that's vaguely pleading, though byan does everything in their power to conceal this as they heft their bag up onto angela's bed.ㅤ" don't even gotta be my kinda thing, we can do somethin' you wanna do, yeah? i just... i dunno. i feel like doin' somethin' normal tonight, y'know? "ㅤit's a little more honest than they like being, even if they haven't really said anything that out of the ordinary. all sense of normalcy they'd had, which had never even been all that much, had gone out the window that night they'd been attacked. that night they'd... died. ever since then, everything has been off. whatever sense of control they'd felt over themself and their life had been lost, and god, what they'd give for one night of feeling like a normal fucking teenager again—

ㅤthey think (they hope) that maybe angela can help with that.

what they fail to notice in the next moment, however, as they unzip their bag and start digging through for some of the makeup palettes stashed within, is the way she stiffens behind them. the energy of the room shifts, but it breezes right over byan's head while they continue their search, now muttering to themself in an odd mix of english and korean as the particular set of eyeshadows they're after isn't in the pocket they remember tucking it into. it's only when they turn around a good two minutes later, a portion of their cosmetics collection in hand, that they finally see the way angela has tensed up, and it draws them to a (slightly alarmed) pause.

ㅤㅤ" whoa, hey, what's up? what's wr— "ㅤgaze lifts to the mirror she stands in front of, and they end their sentence short, finding the unfinished question answered in an instant, leaving them staring in silence at the space in the mirror behind angela's reflection where their own should be.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...shit.

ㅤㅤ" hah... "ㅤthe laugh exhaled is humourless, and the quizzical smile they set across their lips is forced as they struggle to stall for enough time to figure out some bullshit excuse to explain the whole thing away. fuck, fuck, fuck— think, you idiot! this is your own fault for not taking into account that she might have a goddamn mirror in her room!

ㅤㅤ" that's... "ㅤbyan starts, hesitation resulting in them trailing off to swallow thickly before giving it another shot, eyes never leaving the reflective surface.ㅤ" that's so weird... "ㅤfailing to sound as surprised as they want to, tone instead rather dull, the lie is dying fast on their tongue, easily replaced by the panic that now sends an uncomfortable chill through their veins.ㅤ" —what is this, some kind'a, like... trick mirror, or somethin'? "ㅤalmost desperately, the fledgling reaches out an arm to tap a finger against the glass like that might change something. like that might make them suddenly appear. like that might make things normal again.

ㅤㅤ" an optical illusion, or...? "ㅤsmile falters, and they stare into their non-existent reflection for another moment, the hopelessness of being able to recover the situation beginning to fully sink in. then, clearing their throat, byan abruptly tears their gaze away and turns on their heel, making a hurried beeline for their bag again where they quickly start shoving their makeup back inside.ㅤ" ...i think i should go. i'm, uh. ...i don't feel so well. maybe we can do this another time. "

[the-firebird69]

Watch "The Kinks - Victoria" on YouTube

And it is the Isle of Victoria it was Queen Victoria one of the daughters of Queen Elizabeth II and she ran it and very well for a hundred years almost he's very old and they said how are you doing this she kept doing it she came back a few times and she's not around she passed away it was quite a while ago about 300 years ago is during the revolution when the warlock took over the island. It's not why we're bringing it up but they're a murderous slot and that's what the kinks are singing about but really they saw it looked like an angel and they thought they'd name it that and it had fallen and that's what it is it just fell off from an impact and it is in one two pieces which is very weird it never breaks but it was from an impact and the song by The cars is by Hera and Zeus son our grandson and it is regarding him helping her reassemble it and bringing her home to be attached to him and his ship is massive together it's the second largest no but it's massive it's probably the third largest. This is a song about the queen but they do reference the object to the water and you can hear it and there are other songs and they are listed there some of them in the top 100 list

Gu Oya

Oh yeah I hear it all over the world now now I understand something they're selling Queen Victoria stuff and this is going to be awesome these things are huge okay there's no stopping what's going on now I can't believe it oh yes I can the ships are too big but they're not yours and they're not your people but they're ours they do know we're doing yes

Thor Freya

And if you look where Arcadia is it's a specific spot and that's where the hatches and that's before the big huge bulb which is mostly what Greenland is and it's where it broke off but it's just the land it's actually intact it's my husband's ship kind of goes beneath the Midwest and go figure and mine is kind of going beneath the West but the bulb has a hatch and that is where Arcadia is and it's solid Stone blocking the hatch way when I think it would be opposite but no and it's because it was repaired yes and the new exteriorated hardened rapidly. And that's where the Arcadians are from and you had a fight with them in New Hampshire and they're not robots they're my children. The Tortuga area is where our children are from too and they're tortugans and has to do with Jen AKA Katya equus and her history and it's similar and parallel actually the same place in time as Dave and Carol in Spain we were part of that but we've physically weren't there but these people are here. It's kind of a strange looking part of the ship and my ship is configured in the same orientation and South America ship is gigantic but it is about 500 miles shy of hours is all stretches all the way to the pole even though they're stretches all the way down it's just not as big for some reason and they're aware of that it's an optical illusion. And the location of the Tortugan area is on the Baja peninsula. The angel is gigantic and could be what the Yucatan is

Hera and yes my ship is slightly bigger and he says longer and I say no it's bigger this is mine is larger volume wise and it's a constant argument

Haha

Zues honestly it's just filler and stuff I guess not

Olympus

[button-mash]

What I've been playing this week

After my last post I decided to take a very well earned 9 year break before posting again, as I simply didn't want to bombard the reader with constant posts.

Now that enough time has passed for the reader's pallete to have gently refreshed, it's clearly the right time for my return. In all seriousness, I think I've often struggled with a mental back and forth with myself when it comes to writing that essentially just boils down to wanting to write about games but also a) having no idea what I'd actually want to write about them and ultimately b) being incredibly lazy

Over the last couple of years, I'd started tracking which games I'd completed over the course of that year - this initially started as part of a challenge I took part in on a gaming forum to try and finish 50 games in a year, but gradually over the next couple sort of just became a way to highlight what games I'd seen all the way through to the end. It also functioned as a sort of gaming journal and let me look back at the end of the year to see what I'd enjoyed the most.

At the end of this year however, it made me realise it also created a massive blind-spot for me where any game I didn't finish kinda just got forgotten about in the periphery of my mind... even though of course not every game I finish is good, and not every game I stop playing is bad. Additionally, I realised I don't always play games in a neat way where I finish one and move onto another - sometimes I'll drop one for a while and come back to it, sometimes I'll be playing multiple games alongside each other, sometimes I just wanna throw on a game and fuck around for a little bit and then get bored because I have zero attention span rather than actually make any real attempt to finish it.

So that's why I've decided to resurrect this blog from it's almost decade long hiatus. I've basically spent a decade umming and ahhring over whether I wanted to write reviews, or opinion pieces, or something a little more in-depth and insightul, and trying to second guess what people might want to read, and how they'd want me to write it.

I've finally realised now that the real anwer is much more simple than that - I really just want write dumb stream of consciousness hot takes about what I'm doing in the moment, but on a blog nobody reads so I don't actually have to give a shit and I can just endlessly ramble into the void for my own benefit. Essentially just the blog equivalent of just shouting my opinions directly into a freshly flushed toilet in terms of audience reach and required effort.

So here we go - in true style I'm gonna post what I played last week even though I've said 'this week', because I know if I wait another week it'll actually be another decade. The stakes have truly never been lower

WHAT I PLAYED THIS LAST WEEK

Superliminal [PC] First up with a game I actually finished. This is a first person puzzle game based around optical illusions, forced perspective puzzles, non-euclidean geometry and so forth, with extremely mixed results.

It actually has a lot of cool ideas, and the overall concept is very fun, but it ultimately doesn't lean enough into it's core to stick it's landing.

I think one of it's main issues is what it feels like it's trying to be the entire time, where it's very clearly trying it's level best to fall somewhere between Portal and The Stanley Parable - and whilst it did a good enough job to certainly constantly remind me of those games, it was unfortunately usually only to remind me how much better those games are in just about every facet.

From a more gameplay focused uh...perspective, it's main issues are just that it's core mechanics are just too finnicky, and inconsistent puzzle design and odd difficulty spikes just made it quite a frustrating experience - all too often in this game I would figure out a solution fairly early on, and then spend ages trying to get the game to do what I actually wanted - or worse still assumed I was wrong and spent ages trying something else... a cardinal sin in any puzzle game. It has moments where it feels very cool and it's hitting the beats of it's premise in a way that feels very unique and clever, but it's mostly hamstring by it's own jank and clumsiness, and comes away feeling like a fan-mad mod than it does it's own game. It's also really buggy which often meant restarting puzzles or reloading entire sections, which was a pretty tough ask in a game I felt like I was borderline about to quit almost the entire time I was playing it Another issue is that it wants to encourage you to come up with your own outside the box solutions to puzzles at times, but that just meant the puzzles can come off as feeling like they're not fully realised, and it's often not satisfying to actually solve them - either because you feel like you've just kinda skipped the puzzle entirely, or kinda just stumbled your way through it and you just come away thinking 'was that how they wanted me to solve it?'. Ironically, for a game that seemingly wants you to try and pick at it's seams and break it in your own way, the game was always at its best when it funneled you into more myopic solutions in it's more linear sections.

Finally, it tries to have some sort of meta-story that seems to be genuine attempt at emotional resonance, or some profound meaning behind it's lightheated tone, but it just falls incredibly flat - the script is terrible and the voice acting is not great. This functioned pretty well as a GamePass special - something that I'd probably have never played without it being on a subscription service, but just about interesting enough to be noteworthy. I don't think I'd recommend it overall though. I actually forced myself to finish this, I don't actually know why I persisted with it - I think I just hit a point where I found I wasn't too far from the end and figured I'd just power through because of sunk-cost fallacy.

I was surprised to see this game actually reviewed relatively well. I am usually a big beliver in the notion that there aren't really any 'bad' games, just interesting and unintersting ones - in this case I think this is an interesting game that is bad...

High on Life [PC]

Aw jeez, Rick, it's like a Rick & Morty game ya know? exept we didn't get the license to do it but thats okay, cos aw, jeez like Justin Roiland just does the Morty voice for everything anyway! haha, right? and...and that stammering stream of consciousness affectation...so really its just the same thing anyway, right? a..and meta humour, don't forget that! did you forget that? aw, jeez I actually quite like Rick & Morty in the times that I've watched it - I think it mostly suffers from that 'popular thing that is actually kinda good but it's fans are fucking exhausting so you instinctively think you hate it even though you don't' phenomenon (aka Anchorman Syndrome)

Honestly, I've just found almost everything about this game just so instantly tiresome. It's strange because I have played both Accounting (which I quite enjoyed and found genuinely very funny for the most part) and Trover Saves the Universe (which I enjoyed a lot less, but didn't really actively dislike), which were both extremely heavy on the whole 'Roiland doing his one trick act', but I feel like this game just started doing my head in almost instantly.

I think part of it is maybe Roiland's shtick is probably a little well worn by this point, but I think a lot of it is that the game tries SO incredibly hard and just does not shut the fuck up at any point ever. It eschews trying to patiently land a well formed gag with just bombarding you with constant commentary hoping that something lands, and it just means that even when it did (because some bits are still genuinely very funny), I was just so weary of the whole thing that it completely undercut any genuine humor that was there. Undercutting is basically the entire theme for this game from what I experienced - the humour can be funny but mostly spends an insane amount of effort trying to appear effortless, so it diminishes anything that does actually land. The game constantly makes you feel like it's provoking you to go off script a-la Stanley Parable, but often doesn't actually know what do to the second you don't play along with whatever it was trying to set-up. The combat and movement have promise but every encounter is essentially a hollow wave shooter, etc, etc, etc. I will say the music is actually great, but even that feels like it belongs in a completely different game, as cool as it is. It also does that irritating thing where it'll do some meta-gag about a certain gameplay trope or level design thing being boring, completely overlooking the fact that simply pointing out something being boring doesnt suddenly make it some subversive twist and stop it being boring. I remember the Deadpool videogame did that a lot and that game was absolute runny shit, so poor company to keep really.

It's a shame really, because there is a framework there that actually has promise - the world is relatively world conceived from a visual standpoint, there are some occasionally genuinely funny gags, and there are moments that show genuine craft and care - it's biggest issue is that it has zero restraint and cannot climb out of it's own way from wanting to constantly show you how clever it things it is. I don't think there is a clearer indication of that than how you cannot skip the dialogue in this game, god forbid you rob it of a chance to show you how cool it is. Actually the clearer indication is probably all the Justin Roiland text messages that have come out the past day or so, showing that he really is just an excruciating piece of shit, so in that regard, this game is a perfect reflection. Aw, Jeez!

TMNT: Shredder's Re-Revenge [Mega Drive]

This is a comprehensive romhack that someone has made where they have put TMNT cast and characters into the levels of Streets of Rage 2, and refined the animations, combat and AI where the gameplay and movement is sort of a mix between the two. There is actually a similar Romhack that came out a while back called TMNT of Rage, but this one focuses on trying to recreate the visual look and moveset of Shredders Revenge - and for the most part it succeeds. What struck me was just how well these games actually meld together - obviously shouldn't really be that much of a surprise considering SoR2 and Turtles in Time came out around the same time and were both brawlers, but it never really occured to me how well their visual styles, settings and music fit together - like the opening stage of Turtles in time is a still under contruction bridge just like the 2nd stage of SoR2, and there are a few other levels that have a decent amounf of visual overlap.  

What was a bit different about this hack is mostly with romhacks, even if they change up gameplay stuff or difficulty, they ultimately always just feel like reskins, so you always feel like you're playing the game it's based on. With this it genuinely felt like a meld between the two - the combat is close enough to the Turtles game to feel like you're playing with Shredders Revenge movement and combat, but it's still following SoR2's rule on their stages - for the most part it actually felt like a genuine standalone game, with the only real hacky feeling holdover being that you couldn't pick up weapons but presumably they couldn't find a way to remove them, meaning you'd just pick them up and instantly discard them. They also did a great job of matching up the enemies from turtles to be a solid equivalent to enemies in the game, both visually and how they attacked. With that said, there was probably less enemy variety overall which got a little tedious, but they did a really good job of feeling like they'd tried to recreate SoR2 using Turtles assets and AI, rather than just plonking it over the top. I think also I would have liked if they'd mixed in some Turtles music, as as far as I noticed it was all SoR2. - no argument as it's a goat videogame soundtrack (and again it actually fits the turtles really well anyway), but I think that would have been the extra step to make it feel like a true mesh. Only other thing was that the game felt way way easier than the original SoR2 did, I think maybe as a consequence of the deeper moveset and improved mobility, it was just much easier to avoid damage and juggle enemies, especially the bosses. Still, well worth checking out if you're a fan of either game really

Red Dead Redemption 2 [PC]

I punctuated various points throughout last week with further attempts in what appears to be a neverending quest in not accepting to myself that I don't think I actually like RDR 2 very much despite really wanting to. My wife started watching Yellowstone the other week, and watching a bunch of cowboy achetypes act like they were in a videogame at all times was enough to relight the fire, but like always it never actually takes long with that game to realise to myself I am not actually having that much fun. I think my main issue is the same with most Rockstar games in that the worlds are always just 1000 miles wide and 2 inches deep - for all the incredible detail the world contains, it just feels like you can never really interact or become a part of it in any real meaningful way. The trouble with RDR2 is that the setting just means it's so much more limited in creating fun moments, since even getting around is entirely more cumbersome. GTA always suffered with the same issues with depth for me, but the difference was in GTA it feels like the game is it's most fun in those moments between missions - here those are the absolute dullest moments of the game, and there are only so many beautful country vistas and random encounters you can have until it all just starts to feel a little rote.

Additionally, that game really does not get enough shit for how clumsy it is in general - the way it controls, its awful radial menus, it's UI... almost everything about it mechanically just feels like a game constantly trying to get out of it's own way. Maybe I am just the world's worst RDR2 player, but the ratio of me pressing a button and then Arthur valiantly doing something completely different to what I wanted or expected just seems to be astromically higher than just about any game I can think of. So time is a flat circle and here I am a few days later, already bored of it again but wishing things were different. Can't wait for another 9 months to pass, at which point something else will inspire me to play it again and like always I'll try and convince myself it'll be different this time. Just like updating this blog

[brightbluedot]

So, let's notice something about this image. The rainbow is tilted at an angle away from the viewer. Have you ever, ever in your life seen a rainbow like that?

There's a good reason why you haven't seen anything like this. It's impossible. It's never happened once in the history of rainbows. This image is fake.

Another way to tell that the image is fake is to look up the caption. A quick Google search shows it's ripped from a DIFFERENT, REAL RAINBOW IMAGE, below (x)

That's a REAL circular rainbow. Pretty, right? And it looks like a real rainbow in terms of color saturation, angle, etc. so there's way less reason for your bullshit meter to start pinging. But most people haven't seen those either, so what gives?

There's a really good write-up by HowStuffWorks here, but I'll try to summarize below:

Rainbows are not physical objects. They are optical illusions created by light refraction. As you might know, sunlight enters the front of a raindrop, bounces off the back, then exits through the front, refracting (or splitting) into rainbow colors on the way out. Here's a diagram (x)

(So, practical tip: If you're ever searching for rainbows on a sunshower day, always stand with the sun DIRECTLY BEHIND you!)

As you can see from the above diagram, different colors of light exit the raindrop at different angles; red is at 42 degrees relative to the sunlight, and violet is at 40 degrees. Everything else falls in the middle.

Essentially, that means that different raindrops bring you different colors! The diagram below (x) is a decent illustration of this.

Notice also that the height of the observer matters. A shorter person would get light at those angles from different raindrops. So, they'd seen the rainbow in a different place! This means that no two people see the same rainbow. That's why we can't see them from a "tilted" perspective like in the fake photo from above.

So! That's basically how rainbows work. Where does the circular part come in?

Essentially, that refraction phenomenon can continue in a circle, but it gets cut off by the ground for most observers. Some of us have been lucky enough to see a full rainbow that seems to touch the ground at two points. If we were floating in space, with no ground in the way, there's no reason why raindrops below us couldn't toss light back up to us the way raindrops above us toss light down to us and complete the circle. (I can't find a good diagram for this part, sorry!)

Remember: No two people see the same rainbow. So, if you're a little taller than your friend, the horizon looks lower to you. There's less ground in the way. That means you'll see a slightly bigger rainbow with more of a complete arc. If you get taller and taller, you'll see even more.

Now take that to the extreme. Get on an airplane with rain in front of you and the sun behind you. Then, you'll see a full rainbow, forming a complete circle -- but it'll look back at you face-on, like in the real picture by Colin Leonhardt, not shying away from you like the fake one.

Full circle rainbow was captured over Cottesloe Beach near Perth, Australia in 2013 by Colin Leonhardt of Birdseye View