#this sounds exactly like lonestar

[happilylovingchaos]

Hello, @lonestar-s5countdown.

Content warning: I trauma-dump for like 85% of this post. Sorry in advance.

(1) Which character death in 911 Lone Star hit you the hardest?

Okay, whoever’s behind the blog? First of all how dare you. (Both jokingly and devastatedly) Because This is what thinking on my personal tearjerkers and failures does to me👇🏼

3x08 is a visceral episode that always hits me in the jugular from start to end, followed by 3x09. The fact that Ronen method-acted his character’s physical agony from his drug addiction? I am horrified and awed at his dedication. Lisa was amazing with the little time she was given in the show’s 2017. And in the following ep, after TK’s scene at grief support, Rob’s monologue just… god, the melancholy when he tries to put himself in Gwyn’s situation, in the seconds before she was killed. And the surprise when Ginsberg shows him affection for the first and last time.

In my last year of high school, there was a video of the 1992 Olympics that my AP English class watched to boost our morale; it was an Josh Groban AMV that featured a track runner, Derek Redmond. He seemed to be pacing everyone behind him… until he started limping and trying to keep himself from tripping and falling on the field. The running had taken a toll on his ACL, and this injury allowed the rest of the racers to catch up. But his father, Jim, and his coach had rushed onto the track. They took each side of his sobbing self, helped him hobble through his lane… and then they let go, allowed him to limp across the finish line in last place.

It made me tear up then, but it took me years after I graduated to start working out what exactly I took away from the video. And I didn’t know what to think or even express it without sounding… ableist? Unsympathetic? Nihilistic? Some other synonym for “bitchy”, “mean-spirited”, “pathetic”, “pitiful”?

Then I remembered the AMV the first time I saw 3x08. Short version: TK was Derek Redmond and Gwyn was his dad, his Jim. I was projecting hard— an ACL injury and an addiction to opiates/ barbiturates/ substances don’t compare with each other, but one event often results in the other. And the portrayal (both in the show and also in reality) of leading an addict onto a redemptive path really isn’t as pretty as carrying an injured racer through most of their last lap. TK kicked and bitched and moaned from Queens to LAX, Gwyn refused to give an inch because doing so would enable and then kill him… and all I thought was “Why would she look for and help and care, beyond the simple fact that she is his mother? TK knows that he is loved, so what is he doing? How does he not think of her when he’s taking and withdrawing from drugs?”

I think it came from projecting some complicated feelings about my parents, and how I’d be able to cope with similar adversities without them. My dad would be pretty disappointed and angry in me if I’d fallen that low, but chances are he’d do what Gwyn did with less levity and more grousing. And… my mom is the first most hard-working person I know. She’d definitely take me to rehab, do what she could when my body tried to adjust without the addiction. But I wouldn’t— don’t think I could even try— looking at her. Because she would be prominent in my mind. If I looked, I would see both my shame and her own tired complicated version of it in her eyes, and it would kill me inside before withdrawal could. I was depending on my mom, using her, letting her help me and hurting her with weak defiance, because I knew she didn’t want me to suffer. And that additional fact would just make the shame all that more painful. I don’t know if that’s a sound interpretation of TK’s mindset, but… well, it all happened how it did. Gwyn let him go, he decided to proceed, I made my own negative interpretation of this scene and the Olympics AMV, and it was difficult to convey. There’s more to make peace with now, but for the sake of time I’ll stop right there.

(2) What is your favorite grief-related moment in the show?

My top 4:

Owen’s monologue and apology to Ginsberg (was it meant to be ambiguous as to whether Gwyn’s spirit remained in her macaw, waiting for Owen to make amends with her? Probably, probably not). And then he and Catherine find his feathered corpse. That was such an underrated moment killer.

The montage of everyone grieving for Tim. Though I wish he got more screen time to show how he got to bond w/ the 126, it seemed clear to me that Tim got almost-not-quite close to being accepted into the found family.

Related to the first point, Owen seeing Gwyn in 3x18 as he was recovering from the building collapse. TK got to grieve his mom more than once in the season, but I wasn’t sure how much Owen felt too until he brought up her accident to her spirit. She didn’t blame him, encouraged him to keep going forward...

Tommy’s rendition of “Being Alive” at Tarlos’ wedding. It celebrated living life, but I think I got why it was also considered a lowkey funeral. Especially Robert’s bit— that contextual dissonance and parallel to the song as Owen saves the brother he hasn’t known for long from an approaching “long goodbye”? On both of my rewatches, I was sobbing. And the second time hurt even more this year with the added experience of watching my grandmother’s health sharply decline and hearing her decide to die while she was still lucid and upright. She’d battled reproductive cancer four times throughout her life and didn’t believe she could endure a fifth just to stay with her family; in her words, living out one’s life in chronic pain and exhaustion wouldn’t be living. So… Robert’s death paralleled my grandma’s death— they lived full lives, and they got to die on their terms with support and love from their families (at least where TK was not made aware [yet] about his uncle’s death, my aunt and uncle were present when my grandma finally died before we stood vigil).

(3) Do you think there will be a character death in season 5? If so, any guesses about who it might be?

I again hope beyond hope: Do Not Kill Grace Ryder. Or Andrea Reyes.

(4) Which living character's death would destroy you the most?

Grace, especially if it’s used to explain/ excuse Sierra’s absence.

Owen, because he’s been such a catalyst for most of the show’s developments. And some psychopathic part of me is curious about how TK would feel about losing both of his parents— how much of his sobriety hinged on having both his mom and dad’s love in his life? How much of his physical health would be affected along with his emotional health? Could he utilize this pain in his life and career, or would the extra loss be too much for him? (I’m sorry, TK. 😞)

(5) Which character's childhood trauma do you think was most significant in shaping them?

I think Mateo’s childhood trauma is the most overt-ish. If his WandaVision-inspired dream is anything to go by, losing Marvin for his misguided arson changed him from an adrift and immature prankster to someone more withdrawn and hyper-focused, to a relatively healthy balance between both.

Sorry to cut off the post this abruptly… it’s getting late where I’m at. For @littlemissmarianna @trkstrnd @alrightbuckaroo @bisasterbuckley, this tag game’s open to y’all at this link! https://www.tumblr.com/lonestar-s5countdown/759338493467099136/this-week-we-have-some-grief-themed-questions-for

[rmd-writes]

dialogue day

share a section of dialogue that we like from our own work! It can be funny, sad, ridiculous, mysterious, plot-centric or just characters shooting the breeze…anything! And it can be from a WIP or a posted fic! It can be short or long! Let’s celebrate our beloveds having a chat.

thanks for the tags @carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @strandnreyes @goodways @lovesgalores @heartstringsduet @jesuisici33 @mammameesh @reyesstrand @freneticfloetry @apothecarose

this was really hard for me, I write a lot of dialogue in many different ways across three fandoms, and as soon as I tried to remember any of it, I forgot every conversation I’ve ever written. In the end, I decided to limit myself to just dialogue in the form of food-related banter:

Lonestar - from the (Un)professional Services wip that @welcometololaland and I are writing

“Falafel?” Carlos asks, panic rising in his throat. “You’re not vegetarian are you? Oh my god, I should have checked first, I’m so sorry. Here, I can take it back,” he says, reaching for the container and inadvertently placing his hands on TK’s. “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Carlos,” TK interrupts him, laughter in his voice, but it isn’t unkind. “I’m not vegetarian.”

“You’re not?” Carlos winces at the way his voice goes a little pitchy. 

“No, I’m not.”

Relief washes over Carlos and his breaths come a little easier. 

“I am vegan though,” TK deadpans. 

Carlos stops breathing. 

“Oh my god, your face. I’m kidding!” TK laughs. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist but the panic on your face was too much to keep it up. Thank you, though. You really didn’t need to do this.”

I think I’ve shared this snippet before

RWRB - from What, like it’s hard?

“There you are! I’ve been fucking waiting for you so we can finish this thing.” Henry’s mid-bite when Alex finds him, so Alex watches him take a bite of his peach, chew carefully and swallow, licking his lips to catch some peach juice. “Is that a peach? I’m waiting for you so we can finish the stupid contract and go home and you’re in here eating a peach?”

“Is it the peach you find offensive, Alex? Or is it the fact that I’m not at my desk?” Henry says, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t get me started on peaches, they’re not right. But the latter. Are you done with the terms?”

Henry laughs softly. “What exactly is wrong with peaches? I happen to think they’re delicious.”

“It’s the skin!” Alex says, waving at Henry’s hand. “Peaches are all fuzzy so when you bite into them it’s like biting a person.” He sees the look of amusement on Henry’s face and inexplicably keeps speaking. “And the fuzz feels weird on your tongue and it’s just wrong! Eating food shouldn’t feel like biting someone and I mean—”

He cuts himself off, suddenly remembering the flash of chest hair he’d seen the other night as Henry had taken his tie off and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt when they were working late.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with a person having a bit of fuzz or hair or whatever. Or biting, if you’re into that I guess or, fuck—” Alex wants to die. He needs a fucking filter.

sidenote: if you haven’t read this fic and decide to read it, please read the first fic in the series first, this is very important for Reasons

Schitt’s Creek - from it’s just for snow

“One large melted ice cream for David?”

“You think you’re funny.”

“I am funny.”

“Sounds fake.”

--

“The usual?”

“God, please.”

“My name is Patrick actually. Large caramel mac, skim, two sweeteners, sprinkle of cocoa coming right up.”

I feel like everyone else has already done this but let’s try @liminalmemories21 @basilsunrise @sunshinestrand @maxbegone @cha-melodius @everwitch-magiks @clottedcreamfudge @treluna4 @hippolotamus @blackandwhiteandrose

[crescentbunny]

No Good Day

In honor of my favorite Commander's birthday coinciding with not just mine, but my bestie @mallaidhsomo's birthday, I decided a mash-up was overdue.

So, happy birthday Molly, and happy birthday Commander of my heart! Here's a little snippet of our chaotic Shepard's if they had been earth born twins in another universe. <3

__________________

Emery fisted her hand in the hem of her dirty tank top and stretched it to his nose. “Here.”

He smacked her hand away and wiped his arm across his face, smearing blood all the way to his elbow, and shot her a glare she rarely ever saw directed at her. 

“This woudna happened if you’d left well enough alone,” he said angrily.

Guilt clenched through her belly, but a dark dribble sped past his lips, so she tried again to hold her shirt hem to his bleeding nose.

Eric sighed, but he didn’t yank away from her this time. “Why’d you go and do that anyway? You know what messing with Lark means.”

Her tears welled, hot and angry immediately. “Because he’s an asshole,” she spat.

He fixed her with a look, despite his swollen eye that was already purpling. “I should’ve just let him hit you.”

His mumbled words hung visibly in the cold air, and somehow she felt like she’d gotten that punch anyway.

The rain was the only sound between them, loudly pinging off the metallic awning of the stoop they were huddled in.

He was soaked to the bone, his baggy clothes sticking to him and black street grime went all the way up his thin legs. He looked so small and miserable, and she probably looked exactly the same.

This was not how she’d been thinking this would go at all. The entire day had been a fat mess.

Just like her.

She opened her mouth, but a Lonestar shuttle blasted by somewhere close, its siren and thrusters seeming to rob her of the right words as they drowned out even the pounding storm.

Rain was pouring down her face in thick streams, and plastering her ponytail uncomfortably to her neck - and that suited her just fine, she could let the tears go and he wouldn’t even know.

“He took my money,” she grumbled, then turned away from him to blindly watch the tourists shuffling by the dim alleyway.

“What?!” Eric exclaimed. “God, Em, I got socked because he took a measly coupla cen—”

“No! He took 10 whole credits from me!” she cried. “And they were mine! I spent all day helping Mrs. Lee clean that shitty little shack to get that!”

He blinked up at her, but before he could continue she put her foot on her sopping windbreaker and yanked it to them, then bent awkwardly to scoop it up off the toe of her boot while keeping her shirt firmly under her brother’s nose.

Emery shoved the jacket into his lap. “Here. It’s for you.”

He sucked in a shuddering breath around her wet shirt and gently unwrapped her present.

“Oh…Em…” he trailed off.

“It wasn’t a waste,” she vomited the words at him, knowing his likely protests and trying to head them off. “It's not replicated - I went all the way up to Greenwich for it.”

He held up the clear plastic container to the flickering stoop light to get a better look at the dark piece of chocolate cake inside of it.

“Why?”

Emery shuffled her feet. “Well, it's our birthday right? You said it was probably sometime in February.”

Shadows of emotions passed across his face, but with his fat eye she couldn’t tell if they were good or bad.

The container crinkled and popped in his grip.

So, she hurriedly continued. “And you’re a teenager now. That seemed….” she trailed off.

Eric tugged on her arm until she sat next to him, then he popped open the lid of the cake and eagerly shoved a goey piece into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hummed, then held the container out under her chin and impatiently shook it. “You’re 13 now too, you know.”

Emery’s stomach growled loudly as she stuck her fingers into the frosting. It was every bit as soft and perfect as it looked in the glass case, but nothing prepared her for the absolutely overwhelming creamy sweetness of real.

So she savored that bite, curled shivering into her brother’s side while blood dried on his face.

“Worf it?” she asked with her mouth full.

Eric nodded and swallowed another bite. “Yeah. I’m sorry I said that — I’m glad I didn’t let him hit you, Em.”

She snorted. “Because I'm the most thoughtful sister ever?”

He stuffed another piece in his mouth and talked around it. “No, becuf I still look goof even wif a black eye — you’f look like a vorcha.”

Emery punched him in the arm, and they both dissolved into laughter muffled by chocolate cake.

[album-a-day-project]

8/14/23

The Mexican OT

Lonestar Luchador

====

This flow is so sick. Sounds like he's from Memphis. If he just reduced the number of features on this he could have really been one of the best of the year. The ad-libs are amazing and it's exactly what you want from a rap album. Something that has a consistent vibe and just leans into the culture. I'll be sure to recommend this to anyone and everyone. I'm going to be a bit worried if he's on everyone's music and brings everyone in. If he stays in his lane he's going to really go a long way. Stay away from the mainstream rappers and Hollywood.

8/10

[marvelmyriad]

@9-1-1--lonestar

Usually, Bucky did not appreciate being read...especially when the person reading him was absolutely correct. The way that Owen gave the answer though, with such authenticity in his eyes and his tone, made him want to put his faith in the Captain having good intentions. He was weary, but he still wasn't leaving, and when Owen stood from his desk and walked over to the vantage point, Bucky followed.

At first he had simply glanced out the window, intending to look back at the man with which he was speaking, when he did a double-take at the sight of his daughter having once again refused to stay in the car. His shoulders fell with such defeat over it that his hands slipped out of his pockets and to his sides as his eyes rolled a bit dramatically. His sigh was at least only a quiet huff before he glanced to Owen for a second. As he begun to describe his team, his family, to Bucky, he followed the Captain's gaze to each one of them.

The feats that were described were impressive, even if it seemed like the boasting of their accomplishments was an attempt to sell him something. Something that he was starting to catch on to. Somehow though, none of the tactics that Owen was using sounded any alarm bells in the former assassin's mind.

It took a lot of guts as a rule to be a firefighter, but these guys tended to go above and beyond apparently. In a way...they reminded him of the Howling Commandos. There was a warmth that settled in his chest without warning and he realized deep down that he was feeling a sense of safety as he looked out to the crew. It was intimidating in a way, to feel that as he looked at a group of people he'd only seen once before.

There was vulnerability to be seen in the former Winter Soldier's hues as he looked back to Owen. When the offer was finally laid out for him evidently on the table, the words that the Captain used were exactly what Bucky needed to hear. His shoulders relaxed more fully and his expression softened further, his eyes almost pleading with Owen for his to be a true and honest offer with no strings attached. Admittedly, Bucky did need a job as well.

Taking one last deep breath, Bucky's right hand raised from his side and he extended it out to Owen. "All I want is for her t' be okay," he stated simply, referring to his daughter, "long as she is...I'm here t' help."

CAPTAIN OWEN STRAND.

Owen could tell this man was on edge . . . and he had every right to be. Owen wasn't naive to how this all looked, but there WAS a reason. Just like when Owen had Judd come out to the house, only to meet him with telling him he wasn't ready to come back yet . . . Owen hadn't led with why he had asked Bucky to come out here because he wanted to see what kind of reaction he could get if this man was put under pressure.

And so far . . . he wasn't disappointing.

When Bucky came back now DEMANDING that Owen come out with it already as to why he had been asked to come down here. Anyone else around this man would have probably felt . . . uneasy about him. No doubt a purposeful air about him, being remainder from the admittedly insane life this man had led or perhaps a way to defend himself from being hurt. He'd seen that enough in his life to know the signs.

" Mr. Barnes I called you down here because I think you're looking for a place to start over. " He said rather deadpanned, calling him out right there. He still wore that charming smile he had, though it had softened slightly. Realizing that Bucky WASN'T planning on sitting down, Owen stood from his desk, turning to look out the window that oversaw the garage of the Firehouse. Already it looked like the teenager Owen could assume was his daughter, was waving at Marjan and Judd as she cautiously approached the garage. His team was instantly welcoming her after recognizing who she was, and a brief conversation he couldn't here, they had her over by the engine, showing her the ins and outs.

" She's somethin special. Repelled into a volcano in a mini golf course to pull a man out. " He pointed to Marjan, who was moving to show her the harnasses she used, Anya looking overjoyed with being shown everything. " And Paul? " He pointed out Paul, who Bucky had met already downstairs. " At his old Firehouse he called out a man with a gun from just watching him. And Judd . . . Judd's probably one of the best men I know. " No doubt there was confusion in why he was saying what he was saying, but he was getting to a point.

" Not all of us appear to belong here, and not all of us are what we seem. But we take care of each other here . . . And that's not just when the shift ends. It's out there in the real world too. " When he looked at Bucky again, he turned to face him fully. " What I called you down here to do . . . was to give you a chance to take what happened to you and do something GOOD with it. Something that doesn't inflict harm, but saves people. And to give your kid a chance to know the man you want her to know. "

[theswiftarmy]

#32 – THE QUADRAPHONIC FOUR (And The Lish Lish Wishlist)

No artist lives in a vacuum.  Every artist is influenced by every possible work of art they have ever encountered.  If the art you take, is equal to the art you make, one must be careful which art they consume, every book you've ever read, movie you've ever watched, song you've ever heard, painting you've stared at, every Broadway play you’ve ever sat through, that art could be the art of war, or perhaps, nothing more than art for art's sake.  But that’s the thing, you just never know what’s at stake.

If we’re all under the influence of influencers, who’s influencing the influencers?

           The best way to describe what happened after Lizzo’s flute song collided with that sweet Swiftie sound is that moment on a dance floor when one song ends and another begins.  The shuffle of a playlist controlling the dancefloor, two songs adjacent to one another, but the changeover wasn’t smooth, it didn’t flow, it didn’t sync with the tempo.  Ask anyone who was there, they’ll agree.  Someone hit the skip button mid-song on a shuffled playlist.  It completely interrupted the entire dancefloor right in the middle of the groove.  And… well, here we are…

           The interior of the Westin Bonaventure stood brightly lit.  Day time.  Business as usual, so it seemed. Guests coming and going.  According to several very vague signs some sort of big important conference was on the verge of taking place.  A bag guy bellhop walked by Billie Eilish pushing some bags on a cart.  ‘I’m the baaaaaaaaag guy.’  He sang out.

           “Uh.”  Billie Eilish wasn’t sure what else to say.  “What just happened?”

           The group stood facing one lone standing Swifite.  The large group of Swifites were nowhere to be seen.  Just one, single Swiftie remained from the gaggle of Swifties that had just chased them down the street and cornered them on the walkway above South Figueroa Street.

“Not so tough without your friends, are you?”  Kymmie smiled at the one remaining cardigan.  He wore it as though it were a size or two too big, a hand-me-down of some sort.

The Swiftie backed up slightly.  He lifted his hands to form a heart shape.

The group looked to one another then back to the lone Swifite, a heart shaped Flavor Flav Bluetooth speaker locket hanging on his neck.  The Swiftie lowered his hands.  His eyes narrowed.  Ready for attack.  A couple walked by, touristy looking, they gawked for a moment then continued on their way.

The lone Swiftie stepped back again now just inches from being completely backed against a wall.  “Looks like the tables have turned!”  Stan stepped forward.  The Swiftie touched a few buttons and knobs on his Bluetooth locket and the sweet sounds of Taylor Swift blared back.  He lifted his hands again in a heart shape.

Stan wobbled slightly and fell back a few steps.

The Swiftie stepped forward holding his hands out again in the shape of Lover hands.  The fingers forming the top of a heart and then thumbs forming the bottom.  He directed it directly at Stan’s heart.  Stan’s eyes grew soft, complacent, relaxed… ‘Prepare to be Swifted!’  The lone Swiftie thought with glee.  ‘PREPARE TO BE SWIFTED!!!’  He grinned.

Oak Felder reached for his headphones holstered on his belt.  He hovered his hand just over the headphones and wiggled his fingers in the air inches away from the holster… ready for action.  He narrowed his eyes and focused on the Swiftie—the Swiftie narrowed his eyes and focused his attention back to Oak.  Oak pulled the headphones out like a gunslinger in an old western movie and powered them up.  The others nodded at him and reached for their over ear noise canceling headphones unfastening them from their holsters and powering them up—that is, everyone but Stan, since he didn’t have a pair of Oak Felder’s special headphones, modified with a Swiftie sound silencer.  The bag guy from before whistled The Good, the Bad and the Ugly theme song off in the distance.  They should have been wearing Swiftie silencers earlier but sometimes you get caught up in the moment.  Maybe they would regret it later on, and maybe nothing would come of it.  One never knows with these types of things.

Just then a sound like batteries dying, or an old school tape deck winding down could be heard from the High-Fi Swiftified Flavor Flav fashion accessory.

           Stan shook his head with closed eyes then opened them again.  Shake it off, shake it off.  “Whoa.  Weird.  I felt like something was just trying to take over my thoughts!”  He stopped speaking for a moment, “Cool.  Do it again!  I want more!  DO THAT AGAIN!!!”  Stan reached out for the Bluetooth heart shaped locket, ravenous, like he was mad for it.  Like he couldn’t stop himself.  “I WANT MORE!”  The Swiftie guarded the locket as Stan clawed at the air around it.

           “No.  Don’t do that again.”  Carl Lyle Lawyer, Kymmie’s dad and legal advisor advised against it as he stepped in front of Stan and the rest of the group.  They pulled Stan back, holding on to him, keeping him from nearly ripping the Flavor Flav locket off of the Swiftie’s neck.

           “Stan!”  Kanye yelled over to him, Stan turned around to face Kanye West.  Kanye snapped his fingers three times and Stan snapped out of a spell.  The scene was like a hypnotist waking someone up after hypnosis.

           “Whoa.  Ye… thanks.”  Stan moved like he had just been reunited with his body again after having some sort of out of body experience.

           Kanye nodded at his stan.  “I got ya man.  Stay woke… Stay woke.”

           The Swiftie began banging on the Bluetooth heart shaped speaker locket in a panic to get it operational again.  The device was dead.  ‘THEY MUST BE SWIFTED!’ He repeated in his head.  He pulled out his phone and fumbled with the device encased in a cool new Taylor Swift phone case.  Bluetooth connection lost.  The phone was also dead, or at least not allowing him to do whatever he was trying to do with it.  Presumably resume Taylor Swift playback though the internal built-in phone speaker.  The Swiftie looked up eyes full of panic, his heart pounding, hands trembling, as he realized he had been disarmed somehow, he stepped a few feet back until he was completely back against the wall. “Where are all my Swiftie friends!  They were right here with me and then there was a flash of light and now they’re all gone!  What’s going on!?  WHO ARE YOU!?!?”  The Swiftie demanded to know of Lizzo and the rest of the group, just moments ago, the veloci-swiftie-raptors had been ready to Swiftify.

           No one replied.  They had no answer for the Swiftie.  How else do you explain time skipping, a scene transition without any link between the two.  The DJ suddenly spinning down one tune mid song and spinning up another.  Switching from one DJ deck to another without any sort of transition that made sense.  It was the equivalent to a party guest going over to the playlist, picking up the Bluetooth connected phone or tablet or laptop and deciding to pick a new song, and everyone at the party turns to that person and screams, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!  DON’T CHANGE THE SONG!!!”  And the person screams back, “THIS NEW SONG IS WAY BETTER!”  Party Playlist ADHD.  Too many hands skipping and shuffling and controlling the music at the party. That’s exactly what it had been like.

Will had his secret keys in hand and ready to let them into The Westin Bonaventure to escape the Swiftie chaos in the streets when Lizzo began to play her pied piper flute tune.  It had been night, and it was now inexplicably the middle of the day.  How do you go from Swifties in the streets to hotel check-in’s and complimentary eats?  Carl looked over at a large buffet setup in the lobby, it seemed quite lavish.  A large table full of fancy eats and treats.  And bottled water with a sign that read “Drink water.”

“We don’t entirely know.”  Carl responded to him matter-of-factly.

           The Lonestar Swiftie tossed a loose lock of his relatively neatly kept jet black hair to one side.  “Yeah well, you’d all be Swifties if it weren’t for HER!”  The Swiftie pointed to Lizzo.  Who was in the process of trying to tuck the flute back into her tiny purse.

           “Go IN the purse!”  She mumbled to herself trying to figure out a way to jam the flute back inside the purse.

           “I don’t think you’re going to get it back in there…”  Kymmie pointed at the flute, “That flute is like ten times the size of that purse.  I don’t understand how it even fit in there in the first place.”

           “Oh I’ll make it fit, I just need to move some things around.”  She peered into purse and then shook it up and down, then reach a finger in appearing to nudge things aside.  The sound of the contents rattling around was obnoxiously loud for such a teeny tiny itsy-bitsy handbag.  Like the sound of pots and pans banging loudly  after being dropped to a ceramic kitchen floor.  Everyone covered their ears with their hands.  “Sorry.”  Lizzo apologized.  Finally, she slid the flute in with ease and it disappeared from sight.  “There it goes.”

           The group clapped like a magician performing the final act of a show.  Lizzo took a bow.

           “Oh no!  NO!!!  NO NO NO!!!!”  The lone Swiftie suddenly screamed out.

           A few people in the lobby standing around the lavishly long table filled with food turned their heads, then went back to business as usual.

“What?”  Kymmie asked the Swiftie peering around her dad.

“My cardigan ripped!”  He replied inspecting a tear in his cardigan.

“That’s the worst.  Well, you can always get a new one.  Right?”

“No.  I mean, it’s just not the same.  Taylor gave me this one herself.  My sister is one of her backup singers… well, she was one of her backup singers.  This was supposed to be for my older sister.  She was going to wear it on tour.  But Taylor gave it to me instead.”

“What happened?  Did they have like a falling out?”  Kymmie inquired.

“She died.”

“Oh.”  Kymmie said after a moment of silence, then she stepped closer.  “I’m soooo sorry.”

“I’ll never stop being a Swiftie!  I love Taylor SO MUCH!  Taylor was EVERYTHING to my sister.  My sister loved Taylor and her music more than anything in this world.  She was her backup singer on tour and she was supposed to be on tour with her for the Lover tour.  They were best of friends.  Taylor gave her the opportunity to live out her dream… at least… before she got sick….”  The Swiftie trailed off and looked away.  He poked a finger through the tear in the cardigan.

He inspected the tear, his sister wouldn’t be upset, she’d tell him it was just ‘personalized’ now.  He missed her so much.  So.  Damn.  Much.  She was everything to him.  His older sister had been there for him his whole life, her dream was his dream.  He remembered her singing songs to him when he was younger.  He remembered her singing early Taylor, classic Taylor… it’s those songs, those early songs the first six albums that reminded him of his sister.  When he heard those songs his sister came back to life.  Through Taylor Swift, his sister could live forever.  As long as he had her songs, those old songs, the same songs his sister knew, loved, and sang to him, sang to the world… she would live forever.  All those years of practicing.  When she auditioned to be Taylor’s backup singer.  When she got the part.  All of it intertwined, time on rewind.  As long as he had those old songs… he had her.  If anything were to happen to those songs, he’d lose his sister all over again.  And it would be for good.

“Cancer sucks.”  He wiped a single tear from his eye.  He looked up at the others then looked back down to the tear in the cardigan… it seemed like a giant hole.  A hole in the cardigan just like the hole in his heart.  “And now I can’t even listen to Taylor’s old music.”  He wiped another tear away, holding up his broken phone.

Kymmie wanted to give him a hug.  She thought of an idea and pulled out her phone.  “Well, my phone’s broken too.”  She hesitated.  “See…”  She held up the phone and tapped the screen.  “So, we both have something broken…”  Kymmie stopped talking.  She knew it wasn’t a close comparison in the least.

Stan abruptly stepped forward, pushing everyone out of the way, “What did you do to my friend!”  Stan pointed a finger at the lone Swiftie.

“Stan!”  Kymmie rebuked

“Oh, so you’re taking his side.”  Stan moved his gaze to Kymmie but keeping his finger pointed at the Swiftie.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side.”  She looked at the Swiftie then to Stan, “ I’m looking at the facts and making decisions based on what I see.  It’s called empathy.”  She replied back in a lawyerly voice.  Her father smiled and nodded, that’s my girl he thought.  “Oh my gosh, I’m turning into my dad.”  She blurted out.

“Empathy.  Then what about my friend!  Dan was my best friend!  I want to know what happened to him.  Where is he now?  So, you don’t care about my feelings or care what happened to my friend?”  Stan looked Kymmie square in the eyes.

“Awwwww, they’re having their first fight.”

“Billie!  We’re not fighting, we’re just—”  Kymmie and Stan continued to glare at one another for a long moment.  “—we’re just having a disagreement.”  Kymmie turned to the Swiftie.  “Where’s his friend?  Where’s Stan’s friend?”

The Lonestar Han Solo Swiftie shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know where his friend is.  He’s probably with the rest of my friends, with the rest of the Swifties.  But… I don’t know.”  Stan sized up the Swiftie, like he was ready to start a fight.  Kymmie stepped forward in front of Stan.  The Swiftie would have been stylishly dressed if he didn’t look like he’d been dragged through the fabric of time and space unwillingly.  His shoes were hip, pants not square and a cardigan with a tiny tear in the cloth.  He kind of looked like Elvis—A teenage Elvis—At least the few photos she’d seen of Elvis, anyway.  And, yes, she did actually know who Elvis was.  “You look like Elvis.”  She said to him.  “But you’ve got slightly longer hair in the front, I like it though.”  She was trying to make conversation, defuse the situation between the Swiftie and Stan.

“I’ve been told that.”

“I think he looks a little more like Draco Malfoy but with an Elvis haircut.”  Stan added, contemptuously, still angry that he had no answers about what happened to his friend.

“That would make sense, Swiftie is Slytherin.” Justin said and looked at Kanye.  Kanye nodded.  Kanye looked at his stan Stan.  Stan nodded back.

“Swiftie is not Slytherin!”  The Lonestar Swiftie shouted back.

“I mean, it is a little.  Right Scotty?”  Justin looked at Scotty too hottie B Borchetta and he too nodded back.

“But, would that make you Lord Voldemort?”  Carl Lyle Lawyer, legal advisor to Scotty B asked Scott.  “Because you discovered Taylor.”

“In this example?  Well, one might say that if he’s Draco Malfoy, then wouldn’t that make Taylor Lord Voldemort?”

“TAYLOR IS NOT VOLDEMORT!!!!  YOU ARE!” The Swiftie screamed back.  “TAYLOR IS THE MAN!  TAYLOR IS MY HERO!  TAYOR IS THE HERO!  TAYLOR IS ALWAYS THE HERO!  TAYLOR IS EVERYONE’S HEROINE.  SHE IS WONDER WOMAN!”

“Okay, okay.  Everyone just chill.  Soo… ummm… how old are you?”  Kymmie asked changing the conversation trying again to diffuse things.

“Well, since I don’t really know you, I’m not going to say my actual age.  But, I’m a teenager.”

“Me too!”  Kymmie said with a smile.  “And Stan here is too.”  Stan waved back, deciding that impressing Kymmie was more important than the whereabouts of his friend Dan.  “I do that all the time, especially if I want someone to think I’m cooler than I really am and need to be younger or older than I really am.  I just say I’m between the ages of 13 and 17.”  Kymmie looked at her dad, “Why did I just say that in front of my dad.”

“We’ll discuss what you just said later.”  He said in a very serious lawyery voice.  “I didn’t raise my daughter to be untruthful.”

“It’s not that I’m being untruthful, I’m just not disclosing the full truth.”

Her dad didn’t reply.  He simply crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Ooooooooooooooooo…” Everyone murmured.  “Someone’s in trouble.”  Billie Eilish whispered to Justin Bieber.  He smirked slightly.

An awkward moment of silence ensued.

“So…. what’s your name?”  Stan asked breaking the silence.  Trying to impress Kymmie by following her earlier lead.  The things we do when we start to like someone.  Kymmie smiled at him.  He kind of looked like a youthful Kanye, a young Kanye when Kanye worked at The Gap in the 90s.

“My name’s Sashy.  Well, Sasha, but friends call me Sashy.  I can get a little sassy.  Sashy the sassy Swiftie.”

“Are you, umm?  Do you, uh… like… You know…”  Stan narrowed his eyes slightly.  “Like, you’re a dude, but your name is sassy Sashy.  It just seems a little…”

“Are you trying to ask if I’m gay?  Is that what you’re trying to ask?”  The Swiftie replied sassily.

“Stan!”  Kymmie yelled.

“Well…” Stan shifted his stance his tall teen frame bobbling around.  “Kinda, yeah.”  Impressing Kymmie was turning out to be more difficult than expected.  It’s okay, just keep your head in the game don’t let a small setback get in the way, he thought to himself.

“I’m pansexual, actually, I don’t love by gender.”  The Swiftie replied confidently.

“See, I like that.  That’s really cool.  That’s just really beautiful.”  Kymmie tilted her head slightly and stepped one foot towards Sashy.

Stan moved his eyes between Kymmie and Sashy.  He could feel a hint of jealousy hitting him.  “Yeah, that’s cool.  I… uh… I think that’s cool too!”  He said in a tone vying for Kymmie’s affection but trying to stay chill. “Sorry Sashy, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, I was just asking.”  He looked back at Kymmie for her approval.  She seemed peeved.  He looked over at Kanye tried to mentally convey his thoughts to him ‘Kymmie is so hard to figure out, like I’m trying really hard but I say the wrong thing’.  Kanye mentally thought back at his stan ‘tell me about it, I know exactly what you’re talking about, I’ve got Kim problems of my own’.  Stan thought back to his idol, ‘you just get me, ye, this is why I stan you so hardcore.’  Kanye replied again with his mind, ‘of course I get it, Stan, I get it.  You’re my favorite fan.��

Billie Eilish leaned over to whisper to Justin Bieber standing beside her “Great, now she’s going to have to choose between two boys, like in Twilight. “

“You read Twilight?”

“Finneas and I watched the movies. You?”

“I audio booked it while I was at the gym.”  Justin made a flexing muscle motion.

“Nice.”  Billie rocked her head back and forth in agreement as though she were standing in the crowd at a My Chemical Romance concert… no that’d be way too intense… more like watching The Smiths, or some sort of Brit pop indie shoegaze band.

“Okay well, it’s nice to meet you Sashy, my name is Kymmie… Kymmie Lawyer.  Kymmie is spelled with an ie at the end and a y after the K.  Okay?  And this is Stan.”

Sashy The Sassy Swiftie made an unsure half smile that lasted for a brief moment.  Stan smiled at the sound of Kymmie mentioning his name.  He felt some sort of strange new feeling he’d never felt before.  Like, he just wanted to be around her, all the time.  He could hear Ye in his thoughts, ‘play it cool, play it cool.’

“I don’t mean to interrupt miss Katniss Everdeen Chatness and her little lover triangle between Peta Mellark and Gale Hawthorne but I’m going to head over to the front desk and see if I can find out what day it is since we seem to be back in some sort of world that resembles normalcy—”  She pointed to the hustle and bustle of the interior atrium of the hotel lobby.  Life appeared to be as normal as could be at the moment inside the walls of the Westin Bonaventure Hotel.  Things were certainly vastly different from what they had just experienced in the previous street like a scene from the Westside Story.  “—at least, I think we’re back, something still feels… off—Like the world’s a little blurry.”

“Wait.”  Kymmie shouted as Billie started to walk away.  “We should introduce everyone to our new friend!”

Billie made an annoyed face.  These stans!  She thought.  “I’m Billie Eilish, okay gotta go!”

“No!  You have to wait until everyone has been introduced.”

Billie rolled her eyes.  “Okay.  Fine.”

Kymmie smiled.  “So, I’m Kymmie Lawyer, and that’s my dad Carl Lyle Lawyer.  He does Lawyery things for that guy, Scott Borchetta, who discovered Taylor Swift—”

“I love Taylor!  I stan her so much.  I stan Taylor!”

“Yes, Sashy, we know.  Of course, you do.  You’re a Swiftie.  We went over this already.  Anyway, my dad also works for like some guy named Scooter I don’t know, and he works for some guy who likes the ocean, or water, his name is The Whale, or Mr. Whale, or something along those lines.”

The Switie looked confused for a moment and then tried to pretend like he was following along.

“I stan Taylor!!!”  Sashy repeated, just to make sure it was clear.

“Yes, Sashy, you said that.  You said that like a million times already.  Taylor reminds you of your big sister, I understand.  You miss your sister.”  Kymmie smiled compassionately at the nodding Swiftie, then continued her introductions, “Okay, and that’s Lizzo, and Kanye West.”  They waved back.  “And that’s Oak Felder, he’s Ariana Grandes music producer.  Well, Ariana works with a lot of people, but he’s one of her favs.  And that’s his sidekick Pop Wansel.”

“Sidekick?”  Pop was going to object but decided he was okay with that.  “Sidekick, eh?  Yeah, alright.”

“And that’s Justin Bieber.”  Justin gave a thumbs up.

“And this is Stan, he’s Kanye’s biggest fan.  And I’m Ariana Grande’s stan and biggest fan.  And then there’s this mystery guy who helped us to escape the Tunnel of Sound.”

“I still think it was The Wall of Sound.”  Billie corrected.

“Whatever…”  Kymmie waved her away.  “Anyway, Will Way has these magic keys…”  She looked around trying to find Will. “Wait… where’d Will go?  He’s gone!”  Kymmie blurted out to the group.

“Yeah!  Where’s WILL?  That dude was cool.”  Stan craned his neck in every direction.

“Wait…” Kymmie pointed to something on the floor by Sashy’s feet.  “Aren’t those the keys he had?”

Sashy swiftly scooped up the keys and held them up.  They sparkled in the light, every color of the rainbow represented, one color for each key, the translucent material reflecting light in every direction—a rainbow disco ball.  He held them out to Kymmie.

“How about you hang on to those until we find Will and then you can give them back to him.”

Sasha smiled and then he hooked them on to his broken Flavor Flav locket speaker.  “They’ll be right here.”  He was still upset about his torn treasured Taylor cardigan, but felt proud to be responsible for these cool looking keys.  Kymmie was going to make it her new mission to befriend this Swiftie.  Not only did he lose his older sister, but he lost all his Swiftie friends.  And who knows, perhaps in time, she might be able to convince him to join team Ariana Grande.  Baby steps.

           Just then a young lady darted across the hotel lobby yelling out to them.  Her blonde pigtails bobbed.  Her roots died green to match Billie’s iconic look.

“LISH LISH!!!  CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH?!?!  LISH LISH!!!!!  I STAN YOU SO MUCH!!!!!  I LOVE YOU LISHY!”

“Incoming.”  Scott said to the group.

The excited young one nearly ran right into Billie Eilish.  “LISH LISH!!!!”  She held out a pen and paper and a sticker covered small notebook.  Billie’s face was plastered across the front.

“Are you calling me Lish Lish?”  Billie asked.  The girl nodded so fast her head looked like it would fall off.  The pigtails flailed about.  She smiled and blinked.  “That’s not my name.”  Billie replied.

“LISHY!!!!  Listen, I’m your number one fan, I’m your stan!!!!”

“Lishy?  Okay… um… That’s not my name either.  You can have an autograph, but… just call me Billie.  I don’t go by Lish Lish, or Lishy.”

“Thanks Lish!”  She held out the autograph journal.

Billie made an Aubrey Plaza look with her eyes, let out a sigh, then took the autograph book from her stan and signed her name on a blank page in the journal.

“Who do I make it out to?”

“Jillie Jean.”

“Your name is Jillie Jean?”

“Jillian Jean.  But I go by Jillie Jean, friends call me Mean Jillie Jean because sometimes I can be mean.  Or my full nicky is Mean Green Jillie Jean Bean because I get jealous and mean and I like Jellybeans.  Also green is my favorite color.  Like the color of your hair… and also my hair, I dyed it just like yours!  Seeeeeee.”  She pointed to the green part of her hair.  “We match!”

“Riiiiiiiight.”  Billie signed the book and handed it back to her along with the pen.

“So what’s going on?  What are we doing?  Where are we going?”  Jillie asked, excitedly.

“Ummm… we’re not doing anything.  Where are your parents?  You’re a small child of some sort.”

“Eh, they’re around here somewhere, they said I could go anywhere that didn’t require a drivers license.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m older than I look.  I’m a teenager.”

“US TOO!!!”  Kymmie, Stan, and Sashy yelled out.  “We’re trying to be influencers.”  Kymmie said and pointed at Stan and herself.

“ME TOO!”  Jillie and Sashy yelled at the same time.

“NO WAY!!!!”  All four of the teens yelled at the same time.

“Great.  This is exactly what I wanted to do with my day.”  Scott Borchetta said in an exasperated voice, a Professor Severus Snape voice, complete contrast to the excited aspiring teen influencer stans with the energy of a million suns.

“Does anyone else suddenly feel really old right now?”  Justin said to the non-teens.  Kanye, Lizzo, Oak, Pop, Scott, and Carl all nodded back.  

Billie shrugged.  “Not really.”

“Oh, don’t worry, one day… you’ll get it.”  Carl said with a smile.  “No one can stay young forever.”

“THIS IS SO AMAZING!!!  I get to hang out with other teenagers who are also aspiring to be influencers and of course, my idol, Billie, LISH LISH!”

“Whoa… hang out?  No no no… and don’t Lish Lish me.  I already said that’s not my name.  My name is—”

“LISHY!!!!!”

“I gave you an autograph.”

Jillie stared blankly.

“That means you go back to wherever you were before.”

Jillie stared blankly more.  She blinked a few times.  “Lishy lish!”

“Wow.  You are incredibly annoying.  And also very persistent.  I’m not getting rid of you am I?”

“We’re a team!  Billie and Jillie!  Lishy house for life!”  She did a little dance.

“ARIANATORS!”  Kymmie joined in.

“YE!”  Stan also began to dance.  Kanye nodded approvingly.

“SWIFTIE HOUSE!!!!”  Sashy joined the dance party.

The four teen wanabe influencers began to dance together in an imaginary dance party in the middle of the Westin Bonaventure hotel lobby, like a mini-Coachella were taking place and only the teens could hear the music.

Carl and Scott sighed as they watched the four teen stans dance.  “I feel like I’m chaperoning a high school dance at Hogwarts, but instead of houses, they’re stanning pop music icons.”  Carl said to Oak Felder and Pop Wansel.  They made a face like dads agreeing from the sideline of their kid’s sporting event.

“This is great.”  Scott added, sarcastically, implying that it was in fact, anything but great.  “It’s like I’m stuck in detention with the brat pack of aspiring social media influencers.  We’re gonna have to save the world with a bunch of Tik Toking teens.”

“SAVE THE WORLD!!!!  YES!  THAT SOUNDS AWESOME!!!  Wait, we need like a name for us…”  Jillie proclaimed.  “If we’re gonna save the world, we need a name.”

“Oohhhhhh… I LOVE THAT!”  Kymmie beamed.

“SO COOL!  Yes!”  Stan also smiled… mostly at Kymmie but also at the others, but mostly at Kymmie.  And then he kind of tried to stand cool, like Ye had said in his head, stand cool, superhero cool.

Sashy danced on his own with the group, but also apart from the group.  He appeared to be doing some dance no one had ever seen before… it must be some kind of secret Swiftie dance that Taylor made up and posted to Tik Tok and only her Swifties could see and learn the dance.  It was probably part of some sort of worldwide Swiftie dance that allowed them to speak to one another in Swiftie dance code lingo.

We can dance if we want to,

We can leave your friends behind

'Cause your friends don't dance

And if they don't dance

Well, they're no friends of mine

It's the Swiftie dance

Well, it's the Swiftie dance

Well, it's the Swiftie dance

Oh, it's the Swiftie dance

Oh, it's the Swiftie dance

“Well there’s 4 of you, how about the Quadraphonic Four.”  Billie suggested.  “Although, that’s kind of redundant since Quadra—”

“Ooooo, LISH… that’s delish!  I don’t know what a quadraphonic is, but it sounds amaaaaaaaze.”

“Can I trade my stan?”  Billie asked.  “That’s a serious question.”

“TRADE?!?!?! Noooooooo.  You’re stuck with me Lishy!”

“She’s sooooo annoying.  Why is my stan so annoying?”  Billie complained.  “How come I got the annoying one?  This isn’t fair.”

“They’re all annoying.  That’s what stans are.  Better than strangies.  Just be glad you don’t have strangies following you.”  A passerby-er said back to her in a low voice.  Billie turned around to see someone walking quickly away.  What’s a strangie?  She couldn’t quite tell who it was, the silhouette looked a little like Brendon Urie… but, maybe not… the person was already too far away and just his outline was visible.  He walked quickly by a peculiar sign that read “THE CINAMATOGRAPHER’S ANOMALY DISCOVERY EMERGENCY MEETING REGISTRATION: RED CAMERA, ARRI, PANAVISION & EQUIVILENT” he then walked by another printed sign “SCREENWRITER’S ANOMALY DISCOVERY EMERGENCY MEETING REGISTRATION: FINAL DRAFT, CELTX, WRITERDUET, TRELBY & EQUIVILENT”  Finally the man walked by a third printed sign, “AUDIO ENGINEER’S ANOMALY DISCOVERY EMERGENCY MEETING REGISTRATION: PRO-TOOLS, CUBASE, LOGIC, ABLETON, FL STUDIO & EQUIVILENT”  and a fourth one “EDITORS ANOMALY DISCOVERY MEETING REGISTRATION: AVID, PREMIERE, FINAL CUT, DAVINCI RESOLVE & EQUIVILENT”

Anomaly discovery… emergency meeting?  She thought, as he walked by a sign at the very far end, “FOLEY ART FINDING”.  None of it made any sense.  There were other signs designating various meeting signups: COLOR CORRECTION FADE FINDING, DIRECTORS DEBREIFING DISCUSSION GROUP, ACTORS DEBRIEFING DISCUSSION GROUP, CREATIVE CLOUD STORMS, NEGATIVE+ SERVICES INFORMATION SESSION

Negative+?  What is all this for?  What is all this?  There’s something going on, but WHAT?  If only Finneas were here… She needed to find Finneas.  He’d be able to make since of all of this madness.

She turned her attention back from the labeled conference sign-up tables to the stans, Billie pointed at Justin.  “How come you don’t have one?  Can you take her?  Please?”  Billie pleaded in his direction then turned to Jillie, “How do you feel about being Justin’s stan?  Justin is REALLY cool, he’s REALLY cool.  And his music is AWESOME.  Jillie… you don’t want to pass up this opportunity.  I mean, it’s JUSTIN BIEBER!”

Justin and Jillie both simultaneously shrugged back and replied, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Jinx!”  Jillie shouted out.

“What?”  Justin asked.

“I just jinxed you.  You said the same thing I said at the same time.  That means you can’t talk until I say you can talk.”

Justin leaned in and whispered to Billie, “Billie… a definite pass on this one.”

“I said no talking!  You’re Jinxed.”

“Well, fortunately for me, I can only be Jinxed by my Beliebers.  So unless you want to become a belieber, you can’t Jinx me.”

“Well, that’s not gonna happen.  I’m with Lishy.”  She stared down Justin.  “Okay fine.  But I’m going to double check the rules to make sure that’s true.”  Jillie Jean opened her notebook and made a note to check cross stan Jinxing.  She wrote it in all caps, CHECK RULES ON CROSS STAN JINXING.

“I’m redirecting your Jinx to Billie.” Justin said to Jillie.

“Can’t do that.  Can’t redirect your Jinx to me.”  Billie shook her head no at Justin.

“Jillie, check your rulebook on that.”  Justin replied trying not to laugh.

“I don’t think you can redirect a Jinx.”  Jillie was dead serious and deep in thought.

Billie and Justin made Parks and Rec Aubrey Plaza/April Ludgate eyes at one another.

“Lizzo!  Please… Just take her.  Do that little magic flute thing you did earlier and lure her over!”

“Oh, I… uh, I lost the flute.”  Lizzo pretended to check a watch she didn’t have. “And, I um, have to be somewhere soon.”

“No you didn’t and no you don’t.  You PUT THE FLUTE BACK IN YOUR PURSE!  We all saw you put it back in your purse.  And then we gave you a standing ovation, and you bowed.  Although, we were already standing when we started clapping, so I don’t know if it technically counts as a standing ovation.”

“Well… I have a lot of stuff in there, it would take me a while to find it again.”

Billie rolled her eyes.

Jillie began to sing, “I don’t want anybody else, when I think about you I—”

“Okaaaaay!  That’s enough of that song.  How about if you don’t sing the rest of that song, you can be my stan.  Okay Jillie?  I feel like the rest of those lyrics to that song aren’t appropriate for someone your age to be singing.  I’m trying to be the responsible role model here.”

“LISHY!!!!!!!!!  Listen, Lishy.  It’s me and you baby!  I’ll be the best stan you’ve ever had.  I won’t let you down!  I promise.”

“Seriously.  One last chance… anyone want to trade?”  Billie asked.

“Lish, don’t be ridiculish.”  Jillie smiled at her idol.

“Okay that was kind of funny, I’ll give you that…  You’re still annoying though.  I mean you’re funny, but you’re annoying.”

“I’ll take it!”  Jillie grinned.  She opened her autograph book.  “Okay, so now that I got your autograph, I can cross that off my Lish Lish Wishlist.”

“Your what?”

“My Lish Lish Wishlist!  It’s all things you!  Like, get your autograph, which I just did, interview you on my influencer socials, go on a road trip together—”

“That’ll never happen.”

“We’ll get there, Lishy.  Anyway, some of the other things on my list include…”

It was then that Billie noticed The Whale, she tuned out her stan, Jillie, as she yammered on about all the items on her Lish Lish Wishlist.  He was standing on the other side of the lobby talking to someone, standing near one of the registration tables for the ‘Anomaly Discovery Emergency Meeting’.  He seemed almost like he was selling something to them.  He was very animated, his hands waving about in an excited manner, and every so often he would point to the signs.  His guest’s eyes would fill with wonder.  There’s definitely something going on.  The Whale is up to something.  He’s behind all of this.  Taylor’s warning about The Whale echoed inside Billie’s thoughts.  She flashed back to the meeting in his office not far away from where they currently were in downtown LA.  She recalled what Taylor and Taylor’s attorney Sara with her Siri like voice had said about The Whale and what his intentions were.  She recalled the fabled celebrity suicide notebook/journal currently being held for safekeeping from the world presumably by Emma Watson—hidden within her own journal collection—and how The Whale and his friends had a trick up their sleeve to leverage Emma’s own secrets against her by pulling off a Mean Girls/Regina George movie ending using Emma’s journals to expose her Hogwarts Burn Book, if it existed at all.  If it didn’t exist then Emma had nothing to sweat about.  But if it did… she’d have no choice but to go along with The Whale, despite what Taylor and Halsey and Taylor’s attorney Sara told her earlier.  If she wrote personal things about Tom Felton and her other co-stars, and it were published, who knows what outcome that may lead to, and there’s no way Emma wanted that on her conscious.  And if Emma made a Hollywood Burn Book of everyone she’s ever been in a movie with, that would be even more useful to The Whale.  It’s possible Emma handed the notebook of celebrity suicide notes to someone else.  If she wanted out, if she wanted out of Hollywood for good, could she even get out?  Would The Whales of Hollywood let her?  Just trade in her fame?  Just like that?  Emma Watson becomes Emma the person without the Hollywood image.  Take off her fame, like a dress she no longer wants to wear—Fame as a fashion accessory that one can simply remove at the end of the day and discard as they please.  Would it be as easy as handing the secret celebrity suicides journal off to someone else?  Perhaps.  But who?  Who would she know and trust who also journals?  They would have to journal in order to hide the devilish book amongst their own journals.  Who else could hide that book, stashed between journals?  Who else would be able to hold such a notebook and never be so curious as to peek at it even once?  That is, after all, what The Whale is after.  The Whale had one agenda and that’s leverage because leverage, leads to control.

You see, The Whale wanted something big… and perhaps, it’s to control this massive fragmentation occurring before our very eye, perhaps not.  No one can deny the winds of change are upon us.  New Streaming+ services galore popping up almost every day and influencer generated content on every corner.  Any kid with a computer and enough knowhow would create the next number one viral music sensation and disrupt the charts.  The old-world entertainment aristocracy on the verge of crumbling.  Like Steven Spielberg warned, Hollywood was headed for an implosion, and The Whales of Hollywood knew it.  Maybe the bankrolling days were numbered.  Or, maybe the art itself just didn’t want to be part and parcel in this profiteering game any longer, it wanted to break free, Art For Art’s Sake l'art pour l'art.  For all anyone knew these Tik Tok teens really were superheroes saving the art world one video at a time.  The Whale and his entertainment business cronies had everything to lose.  When you universally control an entire group of music or movies and a new generation threatens to pull that rug out from under you, what else can you do?  The biggest threat to a Hollywood whale is an artist that can still make new content and make it on their own terms.  Afterall Michael Jackson won’t be rerecording his music catalog any time soon.  Billie Jean will live on indefinitely.  Art that lives on seemingly forever is the name of the game.  Old movies, old TV shows, Just like books and paintings from the past.  But new content is a wildcard in this “Classic Art” pawn shop world of wheel and deal.  I’ll trade you this “Classic Taylor” music, an old catalog of “Vintage Swift” for this brand-new mystery gift, let’s make a deal, you know it’s a steal!  The Whale and his leverage, his fabled suicide note journal, melancholy mixed with infinite sadness, minor key melody, and of course, his trusts.  His grip on Hollywood, the man no one knew even existed, ruled it all in plain sight from an unmarked office building in downtown Los Angeles.  The man and his associates trying to fight off that inevitable Spielberg implosion of Hollywood, rolling bigger and bigger dice until finally, they pay the final price.  But if The Whale can get his way those dice can roll forever, and that implosion will never come.  The Whale song will sing on and we all sing along.

“What?”  Jillie watched as Billie’s face went pale like a ghost.  “What’s wrong?”

“The Whale…”  She said in a low whisper to her stan Jillie, not taking her eyes off of The Whale.  She glanced quickly over at the others then back to The Whale.  Carl wore a poker face while he watched The Whale.  The rest of them hadn’t noticed his presence inside the hotel, at least as far as Billie could tell no one else had noticed.  There was no telling what Carl was thinking.  She didn’t trust him, even though Kymmie was cool, but that’s because Kymmie most likely had no idea what line of work her dad was really in.  He’s a Hollywood entertainment lawyer, an intellectual property specialist and he worked directly for The Whale, one of the most dangerous men in the business.  But maybe even Carl didn’t know what Taylor knew, maybe he was just doing his job, he did have a daughter to provide for after all, and she seemed to have a habit of breaking her phones, and those things aren’t cheap!  But something told Billie he knew way more than he was letting on.

“The Whale?”  Jillie Jean craned her neck looking around.  “Oh, him?  The old guy over there?”  Billie slowly shook her head yes.  “My parents and I were talking to him earlier.  He said if I ever made it big to contact him.”  Jillie continued.

Billie leaned in closer to Jillie.  “Jillie, listen to me, don’t ever talk to him again, ever again.  He’s a VERY dangerous man.”

She furrowed her brow.  “I don’t know Lish, he seemed nice.  What’s so wrong with him?”  She asked innocently.

“Just don’t, okay?  Just… trust me.  He’s not what he seems.”  

“Really?”  Jillie looked over at him again then back to Billie.  She looked down at her autograph book then back up to Billie.  “He said he’s here for the same conference my parents are here for about some new finding… my parents are here specifically for something called Foley Art or something.  Some Foley Art ‘finding’, I don’t know, really, that’s what I know from what I overheard between him and my parents.  My parents received some notification about it a while back. I looked it up, Foley Art is the art of making sound effects for movies… apparently all the big movie directors are going to show up too, it’s all part of some big conference.  Something about a pattern.  To quote my dad, ‘it’s happening across all the creative mediums…’”

“A pattern?  And the pattern has to do with the finding?”

“Yeah, I don’t know… To be honest, Lish, I wasn’t paying attention.  They started to discuss it in the other room and I was just like, I’m gonna put on some Lishy Lish while I do my homesworks”

“Your homesworks?”  Billie asked, completely confused.

“That’s what I call homework.”

“Why not just call it homework?”

“Because Lish, no one wants to watch me do homework on livestream.  But if I call it homesworks, they tune in!  They tune in like a TON!”

Billie put her hands on her hips and looked down at her stan, “Wait a minute, you’re telling me that you livestream yourself doing homework and no one watches it, but you changed the name to homesworks, even though it’s still just homework, and people watch your livestream?”

“Uh, yeah.  I mean, I listen to your music while I do my homesworks, also I’ve got 8 different camera angles that I switch between too, and I dazzle them with effects.  The other night I had over 7500 viewers!  I even had the chat box open and everything!  They were asking ME questions, I wasn’t asking them, in case you were wondering if I was cheating on my homesworks.”

“I wasn’t.  Wait, hold on, you play my music while you livestream?”

“Of course.  Always.  I was listening to your music for like the 7000th time.”

“Are you paying royalties on my music use—"

“Lish, I don’t know how any of that works, all I know is people like homesworks.  And if people like it, I’m gonna keep doing it.  And if they think I’m royalty, great.”

“Royalties, not royalty—you know what, never mind.  I’m pretty sure they’re just tuning in to listen to MY music.”

“Yeah, okay Lish, I’m sure they are, if it makes you feel better, you keep telling yourself that.  Enough about my homesworks, I’ll send you the link next time I’m homesworksing.  B-Lish, let’s get back on subject.  Anyway, I heard Spielberg is supposed to be here!  Which really sucks because I wanted to get a selfie and post it to my socials but now my phone is broken.  It just says SMPTE error, I tried to take the SIM card out and put it back in but it’s not that.  Anyway, The Whale gave me his business card and everything, it’s got a funny picture of a whale on it, see!”  She pulled the card from her pocket and held it out for Billie to see.

Billie looked at the business card in Jillie’s hand.  “Can I see that?”

“LISH!  For you, anything.”

“Thanks…”  She took the card and inspected it.  ‘The Whale’ was printed in fancy font and along with it a cute drawing of a cartoonified whale, a Disney looking whale, but vintage looking, like something Disney would have drawn in the olden days before the name Disney was anything to anyone.  The card had additional peculiar properties, it contained optical illusions.  If you tilted the card one way and back another, the cartoon whale appeared to move back and forth.  You could also see bits of text change to form a sentence that could only be read as you tilted the card to reveal each word.  The card contained no phone number or identifying information, no street address, simply a QR code.  Or rather a series of codes depending on which way you held the card.  The QR code changed as you tilted the card, an infinite number of possible QR codes, again, depending on which way you held the card when you scanned it.  It seemed like something you’d find in a 1980s cereal box as a prize with a secret message.  The sentence read, “You can trust me.”

Jillie pointed to the QR code beside the cartoonified Whale.  “I tried to scan the QR code with my phone, Lish, no dice.  He gave me his card right after this SMPTE error appeared.  Or maybe it happened when he gave me the card.  I know I used my phone just before my parents started chatting with him, I was live on all the socials showing off that crazy food table over there, not as many viewers as homesworks, but not bad.  My parents told me not to post anything online about this conference, but, whatever, like I’m NOT going to post stuff online.  Parents, am I right?”

“Listen, Jillie, that man is not what he seems.  He’s a very bad man, okay?  Just remember that.  He works at a bank his name is Banksy, but not THAT Banksy, not the one that makes art, he’s a money guy… but they don’t talk about money.  I know, you’re gonna say what kind of bank doesn’t talk about money?”

“That’s easy, Lishy.  A blood bank!”

“Ohhhh, funny.  Funny.  Hey, Jillie Bean, you’re not so bad.”

“And you wanted to trade me!”  Jillie tossed her hands up in the air.

“That was before we… we bonded.” She said not really paying attention to her stan but inspecting the business card more.  She turned it over and tilted it slowly back and forth to reveal an animation of a stream that appeared to flow out of the QR box… flowing down the stream were musical notes.  She handed the card back to Jillie. And whispered to her.  “Don’t tell anyone what I said to you about The Whale.  That guy over there works for him.”  She pointed at Carl Lyle Lawyer/Kymmie Lawyer’s dad/Legal advisor to those fighting Taylor to keep her old masters from her.

“Lish, listen, I stan you so much right now.”  Jillie Jean beamed back at her.  Then lowered her voice so that Carl and Scott and Justin and the others couldn’t tell what she was saying, “I won’t say a word.  I trust you.  If you say The Whale is smelly fish in a pail, I believe you.”

“Jillie…”

“Billie…”  She smiled and blinked.

“Listen…”

“Lish… I’m listening.”  She smiled wider.

Billie smiled ever so slightly for just a moment, then attempted to conceal it.  She shot a quixotic look at her stan, then thought for a moment, “You said that your parents were talking to The Whale about how there’s a bunch of movie directors showing up for a conference and about Foley Art?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say what it’s about?”  Billie motioned to Oak Felder and he walked over to stand near her.  “Like, any other details about the ‘Foley Art Finding’ that you mentioned earlier, or… anything else at all?”

“Nope.  I just know there’s more, that’s just the part of the conference my parents had an interest in more than anything else.  Something about sound effects in movies and old samples.  I don’t know.  Did you know, that in Harry Potter the sound of Buck Beak is actually some sound from like a million years ago.  It’s like that in a ton of movies… old sounds.  Like Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Whale said he plans to get a meeting with Spielberg about something, discuss business proposals related to the finding, apparently, they used old bird sounds from Cornell University along with something called Movietone and blah blah blah… I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.”  She returned her voice to normal volume,  “They lost me at Cornell, I plan to attend Brown University so what do I care about Cornell.”

Billie looked to Oak.  Oak looked back, thinking what Billie was thinking.  Australian Crosswalk sound, the sound map.  There’s more to it, to the mysterious subsonic frequencies.  The adaptive sounds they saw on his computer screen.

“Brown?  ME TOO!”  Sashy yelled.

“Cooooooool.  OMG if we both get in, you wanna be study buddies?”  Jillie screamed at Sashy.

“Deal!”  Sashy screamed back.

“Brown?”  Kymmie stated flatly.  “I’ve got my heart set on UCLA.  That’s where my dad went.”

“I’m not going to college.  I’m gonna be a college dropout.”  Stan added.

“You have to go to college to be a dropout.”  Sashy said sassily.

“No you are NOT going to be a dropout!”  Kanye said to his stan.  “You’re going to college and you’re going to graduate.”

“Okay fine.  I want to go to UCLA then.”

“You just want to go because she wants to go there.”  Justin pointed at Kymmie.

“No, whatever… I was thinking about going there anyway.”  Stan said defensively.  Kymmie smiled slightly at Stan then looked away.

Why the interest in Spielberg, Billie thought for a moment turning her attention away from the stans bickering about which colleges they wanted to attend.  Why would The Whale want a meeting with Spielberg?  Then, it suddenly clicked… Sasha, might have the journal.  Not Sasha the Swiftie stan… Sasha Spielberg.  She went to Brown with Emma Watson… didn’t she?  Billie remembered it being mentioned in conversation at some party after a show she played a couple of years ago.  And they’re both into journaling.  I bet Emma’s backup plan is to hand it off to Sasha.  The Whale is trying to get an in, he’s trying to cover his bases.  He’s manipulating, calculating, trying to stay one step ahead.  It’s all tables turned… one would think most people might want to befriend Sasha Spielberg to get an “in” with her dad… Steven himself… and here The Whale is befriending her dad to try and get an “in” with Sasha.  He knows Emma Watson wants out of Hollywood and he’s trying to stay one step ahead of her Hollywood exit strategy, her plan to escape—escape the constant control over her life, the constant worry that The Strangies will come crawling through her bedroom window in the middle of the night.  But just like Princess Sheikha Latifa, why does Emma Watson even need an escape plan in the first place?  Why does anyone need an exit plan from unhappiness?  Maybe The Whale needed Emma to stay in Hollywood, just like Princess Latifa isn’t free to simply go her own way… but why?  How exactly did everything piece together?  Billie wasn’t sure and what shew knew was mostly based on scrolling through sites and reading random stuff on the internet on her phone when she couldn’t sleep at night, like we all do, or staring at the bedroom window expecting The Strangies to press their face against the glass.  The things you read right before you drift off to sleep, and then when you wake you think, maybe I didn’t really read that?  Or maybe what I read wasn’t real?  Maybe she had it all wrong, and maybe not.  Perhaps, Jillie Jean might prove useful in all of this after all.  Jillie jean is not just another fan, another stan, Jillie Jean might be a useful one.

Billie waved Kymmie aside and broke back into the conversation between the two potential future roomies, provided they were both accepted at Brown University.

“Who are your parents? Are they in the conference?”  She asked her stan really seriously, Billie seriously.

“Eh, they’re in the movie industry.  They do, like, important stuff… It’s not important—”

“Listen, Jillie… I need to know as much as you can tell me… ”  

Jillie thought for a moment, “I just know they got some invite and got all excited.  I’ll be honest, I don’t really know exactly what it is they do, I just know it’s important, like, really important, they meet with a lot of big time behind the scenes industry people—Listen, Lish, I didn’t come over here to talk about my parents, or that creepy old man and the sea, I came here to hang out with you.  I’m not trying to be my parents, I’m trying to be me.  I’m trying to make my own way in this world, so who cares who my parents are.  Yes, they’re kind of a big deal, but I want to do things on my own without their help.  Okay Lish?”

Billie looked at The Whale once more.  “Okay.  You can hang out with me.  It’s totally cool, and we can even work on that Lish Lish Wishlist of yours.”  Billie didn’t want to think of it as using her stan so much as protecting her stan.  She kind of felt obligated to make sure she didn’t end up going down a devilish path, as annoying as she was, she actually liked her—

“LISHY!  I knew you’d come around.”  Jillie Jean made a high-pitched squealing noise.

—Well… maybe.  Maybe Billie liked her number one stan.  Billie Eilish smiled at the wannabe mini-me version of her.  “Alright, Mini-Lish, just stick with me.”  Billie joked.

Jillie stepped back, “Don’t call me Mini-Lish.”  Jillie said in a mean green jelly bean voice.

“Whoa.  What?  Why not?”  Billie replied, caught off guard, “Well, that’s kind of a double STAN-dard.  Don’t you think?  Eh, eh??”

“Ohhhhhh.  Lish, you’re funny.  I call you Lish, you call me Jillie… But don’t call me Mini-Lish.  Don’t ever call me Mini-Lish, ever.”

These stans are out of control, am I right?  I take back my thought about liking my stan… maybe.

@taylorswift

[lonestarbabe]

Hi! FND here again, looking at those photos, helps put things into perspective a little more. Just my take on it some more. The Grandpa doesn’t just throw the gun when he falls. It’s clearly there beside him. So unless the grandmother pushed it away when she was there beside her husband, the little boy would have been in her personal space to get it. The picture looks like she is looking more at the door way than at her grandchild, which makes sense because TK used a battering ram to (1/2)

(2/3) gain entry into the house. Personally, I don’t think she knew what happened in the moment. The sound of the doorframe shattering could have sounded similar to the gun going off in the moment. In the end, I personally don’t feel anyone is to blame. Like TK told him, he was protecting his family. I’ve definitely had my fair share of scared children, and even adults. I will say, Lonestar connects deeper with me, than the OG because they’ve written Grace so well and I connect

(3/3) with her so much more than the OG dispatchers. The moment she was speaking to the astronaut and all she could do was connect him to his family in his last moments. I knew just exactly how hopeless and useless she felt in that moment because I’ve been there. And to see those experiences played out on TV, it’s almost relieving. Sorry that got out of hand a bit. Whoops.

Hello! Glad to see you back again. I think your perspective on this is very interesting and useful for me. You make some good points that the situation would be disorienting, and she might have trouble sorting out what exactly is happening, and I certainly don’t think she intended on letting anything like that happen. I do still have some questions about how it happened, but those will never be answered, so I’ll have to live with them haha.

I still think the grandmother made some mistakes in this situation (but that’s just the way I perceive the situation), even if I an understand why she would make them, so I certainly don’t think she’s a bad person or anything like that. The mistakes she made were very human of her, and she didn’t have all the information, so all that combined just caused an altogether tragic situation for everyone. People aren’t at their best under stress, so do I think she has some culpability for what happened? Yes. Do I think she should feel guilty for it? No.

I do think that Grace is written so well, which makes her such a powerful character to watch, and she handles situations incredible. I also love how they show the emotional impacts of the job like in the moment with the astronaut, which you referred to. It was such a beautiful series of events even if it was heartbreaking. I really do think that makes Lone Star stand out for me as well.

Thanks so much for giving me all these wonderful thoughts!!

[butterflyinthewell]

Headcanon ahoy!

Ahh, I can’t believe how much fun I had writing Danceverse Ultra Magnus (semi OC) in my Stories Tell Us fic. I was waiting for an opportunity to spotlight him for a bit while he did his Guardian bot stuff AND finally bring to light my headcanon about his specific race / language.

I call Mags a “semi OC” because he’s a named character in the franchise, but hasn’t been seen in the Bayverse movies, so I yanked him up for myself. He first showed up in Lines as a white Kenworth t800 and later changed over to an International LoneStar.

Kenworth

LoneStar

Ultra Magnus is a Rustian. 

Rustians are native to the Sea of Rust, which is like a hybrid of a desert and a plain and the rust storms make Earth’s sandstorms look like dust puffs. Rustians are Cybertron’s equivalent to the indigenous peoples around the Earth, like Aborigines, First Nations, Native Americans, Pacific Islanders, etc..

Autobots are respectful of Rustians. Decepticons...not so much. I’ll get more into that soon.

The racial slur Decepticons use against Rustians is Junkions or Junkers-- it hurts them like the N-word hurts black people. The term exists in Decepticon mumblings because Rustian homes look like piles of junk from the outside, while inside it’s clean, neat and cozy. They build like that because the Sea of Rust is known for its rust storms, and the “junky” looking homes let the wind and blowing rust slide around buildings instead of battering against them and piling up to block the exit doors.

You can call Rustians a Rusty or Rusties because that’s what they’ll playfully call themselves (in their language), but the J-word will get you a one-strike warning if you’re ignorant, and repeats get you smacked in the mouth and kicked out of the social circle. Avoid the J-word! 

Rustians are excellent storytellers. They’re notorious for it! It’s how they pass on knowledge. They love hearing other peoples’ stories, too, the more gripping the better. A favorite game of theirs is for a group to retell a known story with the most absurd twists they can make up without changing the story’s outcome. You lose the game if your addition changes the plot and you win if you’re able to finish the story to its proper end while laughing your aft off. Like, they might tell you the plot to the Die Hard movies, but everybody is wearing tutus or has rainbow colored teeth, or all the cars drive backwards, that kind of stuff.

Rustians evolved for a long time without any contact from the rest of Cybertron, so they have their own language, writing system, culture, beliefs and technology that is totally separate from the Autobots and Decepticons. 

The first outside contact Rustians had with anyone was with the Primes, who they saw as gods capable of appearing and disappearing at will. It was a glowing contact with kindness exchanged from both sides. Then the Fallen came through later and wiped out a lot of Rustians to prevent a Prime from emerging, and it became the first time Rustians had ever seen death. Death was so new to them that they had to invent a word for it because one didn’t exist. 

They thought they somehow angered the gods and came up with prayers, music and poetry to try to appease them and prevent it from happening again. The fear of angry gods appearing gradually faded, but the legends, stories, songs, prayers and poetry about it continued through history.

The Rustians’ second outside contact was the Decepticons, who arrived shortly after Ultra Magnus’ generation first saw the stars. The Rustians were still hurt and the population was slowly recovering from the Fallen’s unprovoked attack. They were no slouch with weaponry and combat, so they were able to put up a fight against the ‘Cons. The problem was they were outnumbered.

And Optimus showed up with a small convoy, having tracked the ‘Cons to the Sea of Rust. He realized he didn’t have enough bots with him to hold off the Decepticons in the Sea of Rust, and the Rustians knew they didn’t have enough people to hold off the Decepticons either. 

The language barrier made communication almost impossible, so Optimus made his intent to team up with the previously-unknown bots clear by only pointing his weapons at the Decepticons, never the Rustians. They figured out the rest pretty quick.

Let me make it clear that both teams were screwed if they didn’t join forces, it wasn’t the Rustians getting totally clobbered until the Autobots saved the day. The Autobots were getting clobbered, too. Neither group had a chance of winning on their own. It was a mutual agreement to combine their armies and drive the ‘Cons away. The Rustian Optimus fought back to back with as a team happened to be a young Ultra Magnus. After the battle, they worked patiently through the language barrier and established communication.

Ultra Magnus recognized the Prime engraving on Optimus’ helm and believed him appearing when he did was an apology from the gods for bringing death into their ranks, so he did what people do with a sincere apology-- he accepted. He invited Optimus to immerse himself in the Rustian way of life and taught him their culture, religion, music, stories and their spoken and written language. Optimus offered Ultra Magnus the same in return, which began a complete and equal cultural exchange. Nobody forced anybody to change who they were even though there was quite a bit of culture shock in the beginning. Everybody got over it and worked out a harmonious coexistence. :)

Rustians weren’t technologically behind the Autobots. They had a lot of medical tools and navigation methods the Autobots had never seen, and likewise the Autobots had weaponry and construction equipment the Rustians had never seen. They filled in each others’ technological gaps and got stronger for it. 

Btw, some Rustian tech looks like something out of a steampunk comic because that’s their style. A lot of their art and sculptures are clockwork stuff that moves.

The technological exchange let the Rustians start building “underground” underneath Cybertron’s top layer. A lot of them started living beneath the Sea of Rust as much as living on it.

Optimus told the Rustians he had no desire to erase their culture or their way of life, but he knew the Decepticons wouldn’t hesitate to do exactly that. He offered them a place in the Autobot army if they wanted one, and they were all over it. There are no Rustians in the Decepticon ranks. Not one. 

Rustians have a very distinct accent when they speak Cybertronian; the human equivalent would be somebody speaking English with a Jamaican Patois accent. A non-Rustian who learns to speak enough Rustian to communicate will have a strong and obvious accent, too, like an English speaker speaking Patois. 

Ultra Magnus is perpetually amused by Optimus’ command of Rustian. Optimus comes from the southernmost tip of Simfur and has the Cybertronian equivalent of a thick rural Alabama drawl. Sentinel Prime “cleaned up” his speech a bit and trained him out of his tendency to mumble, but the drawl is bleepin’ obvious in the way he pronounces words. Optimus sounds funny when he speaks Rustian, but he speaks it correctly. He knows Rustians find his pronunciation hilarious and he’s fine with the teasing.

Regional Cybertronian accents (Rustian included) don’t show up when bots speak Earth languages because they download those and pick up whatever regional accent they scan off human voice transmissions, like people talking on cell phones, Skype and so forth.

Rustian has to be learned, so you can’t download it off a dead bot and suddenly be able to write / speak it. Only a native speaker of the language can teach it properly, and there’s a lot of nuance outsiders will never pick up and mimic perfectly.

Here’s a small taste of the language. One phrase will be familiar if you’ve been in the TF fandom for awhile.

Bah weep gragnah wheep nini bong is a universal peace greeting that means “I arrive at your presence peacefully and harbor no ill intent towards you”.

Bah weep is a greeting for when you’re arriving, literally “I arrive” or “I come”.

Nini weep is a greeting to somebody who is arriving, literally “you arrive” or “you come.”

Bah gneh is a farewell you say when you’re leaving, literally “I go”.

Nini gneh is a farewell you say when somebody else is leaving, literally “you go.”

The Rustians gave the Autobots and Decepticons nicknames in their language. Autobots are affectionately referred to “shinies” (ar ang) and Decepticons are derided as “sharpies” (ing arg). They refer to anyone in general who isn’t Rustian as nileeng. It’s a non-offensive term that means “others”.

The Rustian “I love you” is bah ethsteo nini.

Ultra Magnus’ name is still his Rustian name. Ult Ra Mag Nus. He’s got a name people can easily squish together and pronounce in Autobot, Decepticon and English. It means warrior elemental or warrior of the elements, and references an old story describing a Rustian who faces and overcomes the four elements-- ground, fluid, flame and air.

Rustian language sounds like total gibberish to someone unfamiliar with it. Listening to two native speakers of it sounds a lot like radio interference where two frequencies mix up because they talk fast. Optimus asked if he could utilize the spoken and written language as a code language. That was totally cool with the Rustians, and from then on you were likely to find a Rustian sitting in on listening posts and teaching Rustian in the Autobot Academy. They could relay information over Decepticon channels to help conceal Autobot frequencies, and the Decepticons still haven’t caught on to the trick.

Rustians like Ultra Magnus became the Cybertronian equivalent to Navajo code talkers. The written language looks like a bunch of dots, so somebody could carve or shoot holes in something to say “there’s 200 ‘Cons holed up here” or “Warning: Snipers” without alerting the Decepticons that they were onto them.

A Rustian who hasn’t scanned another planet’s vehicles looks distinctly different from other Cybertronians due to their protomatter coming from the Sea of Rust and living life where rust storms can scour a nice paint job off in a matter of hours. 

Rustians are matte and appear rusted, like old vehicles left out in nature for years and years, but they're in good physical condition. They don’t creak, they aren’t breaking down and they can move like any other bot. 

Their optics are white, though a lot of them got blue filters voluntarily so people knew they were friendly to the Autobot cause, and they can turn the blue off any time they want. 

White optics help them see and be seen in heavy rust storms where rust is blowing like sand. Rustians in their native environment will paint reflective stripes on their faces and wear a scarf around their neck with reflectors arranged in decorative patterns to aid in visibility, and they can flip the scarf over and scrape off the paint to camouflage themselves if they need to.

Their creation story says their optics are white because Primus swept the stars from the sky to light the Sea of Rust and the stars became the lens through which they see the beauty of the universe. Cybertron’s oldest star charts are Rustian in origin.

Rustians who scanned an alien vehicle are almost indistinguishable from any other Autobot, so you can’t spot them in a lineup unless you know what to look and listen for. Like all Cybertronians, Rustians don’t attach too deeply to their physical appearances aside from their dot glyphs. They keep those no matter what form they take, and they’re easy to miss. All Rustians have a dot glyph somewhere on their body, so those glyphs, an occasional glimpse of optics without blue filters and noticing an accent if they speak Autobot Cybertronian are the only hints that you’re talking to a Rustian. 

Ultra Magnus’ dots are on the backs of his hands. He’s got a whole bunch of other Autobot Cybertronian glyphs on his body, kind of like somebody who has a lot of tattoos.

But Ultra Magnus isn’t the only Rustian. They are a minority in the sense of not many are left after war tore Cybertron apart, but they’re not in danger of going extinct. 

So I headcanon an onscreen bot as also being Rustian because he’s got dots right smack out there on his chin.

It’s green duster double-gun boi, aka Crosshairs.

Crosshairs goes by Crosshairs because the Autobots have a hell of a time trying to pronounce Kroz Stiz Ay Ras correctly (humans can’t either!) and he got tired of non-Rustians butchering it, so he goes by an Autobot approximation that doesn’t make him cringe. His Rustian name means aims well and swift because he’s ridiculously good at sharpshooting while moving fast.

And I hinted that Rustian survives into the future in the same way languages evolve over time, but readers didn’t know it at the time because I hadn’t “brought out” my headcanon for Mags and Crossy yet. The roots of Rustian words still exist a trillion years after the Autobots first touched down on Earth. 

In Tin Man’s Treasure, the main Trillian characters (distant techno-organic descendants of humans) are named Eth and Steo. :)

[nicolawritesnovels]

tagged by @sortyourlifeoutmate

How Old?

23!

Profession?

I work at the YMCA, doing a childcare program and also as a substitute teacher at the preschool there. Basically, I play with kids all day. 

Dream job?

Quite frankly, exactly what I’m doing now, but for slightly more money, and the ability to work both my actual job, and do more hours in preschool. 

Is there anything you’re talented at?

I’ve been told I am at writing. unrealistic optimism. finding the most ridiculous possible stance on a subject, and making it sound realistic. 

Are there any big goals you’re working towards?

Well, the obvious one of writing 1,067 novels. 

What’s your aesthetic?

That is a very good question. 

Do you collect anything?

I used to collect a lot of things when I was a kid. Dolls. Snow globes. Hats. Erasers. Stuff animals. Sun catchers. Dreamcatchers ( I still collect those, I’ve got 20something). 

Now it’s mostly books, and dreamcatchers and cardboard boxes. 

Is there a topic you always bring up in conversation?

Depends on who I am talking to. When I’m talking to my co-workers, I like to bring up the fact that I think we learn too much about zebras. Or mac and cheese. 

Pet peeves?

People in a positions of power over children who refuse to do everything they can to help those children (and no, this doesn’t mean people who don’t have the time/energy/resources to help, but rather the teachers that have those resources and still refuse to act). Gum. 

Any advice?

Do what makes you happy. It’s okay to change your mind as much as you want, but sometimes, it’s productive to stick with things. If it makes you miserable though, don’t force yourself. Find what works for you, and stick with it. If it’s not working, change it. Compartmentalization is useful. Communication is key. If you find something that always makes you smile, remind yourself of it often. 

Recommend 3 songs?

Just 3? oh boy, time to narrow my iTunes library greatly. let’s go with three songs that are currently on the playlist I’ve been listening to which is one from high school called “Katie” and it’s related to the story I’ve been working on “And Then We Danced” aka K-Dance. 

Mountains by Lonestar

I’d Lie by Taylor Swift

Me and Emily by Rachel Procter (tbh, I have no idea why this is on this playlist but it is)

And I tag... I dunno @emptymanuscript, @nano-writer, @thejollywriter and I’m too lazy to tag anyone else

[musiccosmosru]

Suicide Silence’s last album didn’t exactly get a great reaction from fans, so I was very curious to see where the band planned to take their direction for the future. It looks like the band is heading in a much more groove-oriented direction, as opposed to the typical deathcore sound they came to prominence with.

It should be noted that the footage features Darkest Hour’s Mike “Lonestar” Carrigan on fill-in guitar for Mark Heylmun. No word on why Mark is missing these dates. Are you stoked for new Suicide Silence? The band is on tour all summer with Attila. Get the dates here.

[via MetalSucks]

Posted by Metal Injection on July 23, 2018 at 12:29 pm

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