the-bassist

[the-bassist]

So I just went with my buddy while he got a rib tattoo, and they hurt like a lot, so he’s over there grimacing and being a huge manbaby so I just reach over and grab his hand so he can squeeze it because I’m a good person who helps others

And he’s clinging to my hand like it’s a life preserver and I’m being me and talking about nonsense like Grimace from the McDonalds commercials and how R2D2 is always ready to throw hands, and whatever, and the artist keeps glancing over at me and I’m like do your tattoo bro I’ve got my buddy handled

But then I realize he’s like, looking over because he can’t tell if he’s seeing something or not, and I glance down and I see my rainbow scalemail bracelet, and how I’m talking to my buddy all fondly and I’m like stroking his arm like he’s a wounded animal, and right as it clicks in my head the tattoo artist asks in his most nonchalant voice possible, like intentionally bland, I’m just talking about the weather haha what do you mean voice:

“So, are you guys close?”

And my gay ass is over to the side internally screaming because yeah, I am gay, but like this is just me being a good bro and my buddy is COMPLETELY OBLVIOUS TO WHAT IS HAPPENING BECAUSE HE’S A GARBAGE STRAIGHT PERSON AND HE SAYS

“Yeah of course, that’s why I asked him to come”

SO NOW THE TATTOO ARTIST THINKS HE’S RIGHT AND HE HAS A GAY COUPLE GETTING A TATTOO AND MY BUDDY HAS NO IDEA AND I’M AWKWARDLY SITTING HERE LIKE SHOULD I STOP HOLDING HIS HAND??? SHOULD I CORRECT THIS TATTOO ARTIST??? SHOULD I LET MY BUDDY KNOW??? MY GAY ASS DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE BEING INCORRECTLY ACCUSED OF BEING GAY, WHAT DO YOU DO

So that tattoo artist is like “Cool man, that’s great. Good for you.”

So then my buddy is like can I get some water, and the guy comes back with one bottle of water and my buddy takes a drink and then hands it to me, and I’m like obviously he has to lay down and needs me to hold his water so I just hold it in my hand, but turns out he was offering me water, so he turns to me and is like Colton, drink some water, and I take a drink and my garbage lizard brain is like “You’re drink sharing in front of the tattoo artist, now he KNOWS he’s right”

So we’re talking about tattoos with the artist and I mention that I’m getting a tattoo in September and my buddy is like “Yeah I’m gonna go and hold HIS hand for that one haha” and the tattoo artist FUCKING SAYS “I mean, I should hope so”

I MEAN, I SHOULD HOPE SO

I MEAN, I SHOULD HOPE SO

AND NO ONE ACTUALLY BROUGHT IT UP. I KNEW WHAT THE TATTOO ARTIST WAS THINKING BUT DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING TO CORRECT HIM. NOW WHEN MY BUDDY GOES BACK AND GETS HIS NEXT TATTOO IN THE FUTURE AND I’M NOT THERE HE’S GOING TO GO “OH WHERE’S YOUR BOYFRIEND”

[the-bassist]

Consider: Post-canon Zuko wakes up in the body of his childhood self, the morning of That War Meeting. Would he still speak against the plans, knowing his fate? What do you think he would do differently the second time around?

"Turned away at the doors, Zuzu?"

"Shut up, Azula," her brother sulked. But sulked weirdly, after staring at her too long and too wide-eyed, not like she'd surprised him but--

But like he hadn't expected her to be there. At all.

He turned away. ...He turned back. "Hey, Lala? Do you think you could help me practice that one set?"

He didn't meet her eyes.

She narrowed hers. "Which set?"

"The one I'm bad at."

She scoffed. Pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning against. "That's all of them, Dum-Dum."

He didn't shout or stomp or yell about the nickname. His lips twitched.

"It's okay," he said. "If you're afraid you won't be a better teacher that my instructor..."

It was the most obvious manipulation ever.

Perhaps if he proved an adequate firebending student, she'd work on his courtly survival skills next. Honestly, it was good that not even Uncle Gets-Cousins-Killed had been fool enough to take Zuko into that war meeting. She could only imagine how terribly that could have gone.

"Keep up," she said, and turned her steps towards the training grounds.

He did. There, and during the katas she ran him through.

Azula kept her eyes narrowed.

"Hey," he asked, "do you know how to bend lightning yet?"

As if he could have missed it, if she'd been able to get more than sparks. "I will soon," she said.

"You will," he agreed, and flowed through his next set. The one she'd only just mastered.

Father didn't notice how weird Zuzu was being. Uncle never noticed anything. Zuko ate dinner and asked a servant for seconds and didn't stutter or flinch or lose his appetite when father asked, coolly, what he'd done with his day. Azula's shoulders tensed, because one mention of how she'd squandered her own training time teaching him--

"Azula hogged the training grounds. For hours," Zuzu scowled, exactly like a petulant thirteen year old.

Exactly like he hadn't been acting all day.

By the time Father was looking her way, Azula had her usual smirk in place. "I'm sure there would be room for both of us," she said, "you're not afraid of a little friendly fire, are you, brother?"

Zuko sulked. And ate his seconds, like he was enjoying each bite. There was something in his eyes, like a joke no one else was getting.

---

Father died that night. A heart attack. There were the faintest of burns to either side of the treacherous organ; the royal physician hypothesized that he'd grabbed at his chest, fingers burning hot in his final moments; so hot they'd only exacerbated the problem.

The royal physician would never have been brought any victims of lighting strikes. Those that occurred in the capital did not generally require a doctor in the aftermath.

Zuzu ate a hearty breakfast.

He didn't order seconds. Azula gave him points, at least, for not being tacky.

---

The sages named Iroh as regent.

They named Zuko as Fire Lord.

"No," the tiny Fire Lord in his perfectly miniaturized Fire Lord robes said, sitting at the head of his war council. "We're not doing that. And I'll be reviewing all recent battle plans, as well. What's this I hear about a division of new recruits being deployed to the front?"

He did not mention how he'd heard of the 41st Division. No one asked.

"Prince Iroh, surely--" one of the generals tried to appeal.

The young Fire Lord's regent was looking as startled as the rest of them, for a moment. Then he sipped his tea, and smiled.

"Your Fire Lord is correct, of course. A change in our leadership--a change the other nations may mistakenly view as weakness--will necessitate a change in our strategy."

"Now," said their lord, "what, exactly, is our overall objective in this war?"

War, the new Fire Lord decreed, was not an end unto itself.

---

The new Fire Lord continued to have time, to pretend to be trained by her. Azula watched him. Adjusted her footwork. Did not tolerate, and was not offered, any commentary on who was teaching who.

"What did you do with my brother?" she asked, as they flowed from one set to the next. As her hands, poised to throw fire, just so happened to be pointed his way.

He missed a step. It didn't look like an act.

"I'm, uh. Right here?"

She didn't bother to dignify that.

He didn't bother to look worried about her hands, one movement off from a true attack.

He looked around, then grabbed her sleeve, and tugged her further from any walls that may hide ears. The royal family's private training grounds were wonderfully large, and wonderfully open.

"It's me," he said. "It's still me. Just. More of me? Longer of me?"

She narrowed her eyes. A familiar expression, by this point. "Explain."

"...I found the Avatar," he said. "And this is definitely his fault, but--but I guess it started at a war meeting, when I was thirteen."

Azula listened. It was a very Dum-Dum story.

[the-bassist]

So there’s this huge dudebro in my class, who, yesterday, sat next to me. And I’m sitting there sweating because like… I’m wearing my shirt with the lesbian flag on it, and he’s the most popular jock in school, and always has this look on his face that say ‘I can and will kill you’. He looks me up and down, stares at me for a minute and then goes, “So. Girls in skirts and long socks, am I right?”

To which I nodded solemnly, both out of agreement, surprise and also a healthy amount of awkward fear. He nodded and went, “You get it.”

I said, “Yep.” He fistbumped me, and on went our lives.

[the-bassist]

“a penis is Ontologically Evil because it’s technically capable of perpetrating sexual violence” damn, wait till you hear about hands!

[the-bassist]

happy valentine's day !!!!

[the-bassist]

easily one of my favourite tweets of all time

[the-bassist]

[the-bassist]

unironically a sticker chart would go over SO well with this crew

X-Men (2024) #11

[the-bassist]

The idea of Jason and Stephanie’s friendship being simultaneously both tender and casually violent. I can easily picture Jason resting a grounding hand on Steph’s shoulder, and Steph looking out for Jason’s health while he is too internalized to remember to do it for himself. I can just as easily picture him sticking a foot out to trip her, or her slapping the dogshit out of the back of his head.

[the-bassist]

"cis men dni" are you ready to come out of your "no boys allowed" treehouse yet. its time for lunch.

[the-bassist]

wolverine and batman enders #truth

clean ver.

[the-bassist]

shorthands for dumbassery that i have grown to love deeply

"how dare you say we piss on the poor" in response to someone misinterpreting your post

"_ isnt gonna fuck you" for suck up behavior

"woah. should we tell everyone? should we throw a party?" for who the fuck cares

"and what if the world was made of pudding" for when would this ever matter.

"and sharks are smooth both ways" for a group of people heatedly arguing with 1 guy who is fucking with them all

".. but its about a witch in the alps finding her lost cat" for someone trying to sanitize something to the point of absurdity

[the-bassist]

okay i can't remember if this is canon or fanon or just me, but.

The Bat-fam all kind of resemble each other, right? Like especially Bruce and Dick and Jason, as adults they all look pretty similar. Jason and Bruce especially (my heart, omg) resemble each other bc they have similar builds and so on

Now, Bruce has filled in as Nightwing in the comics, because Dick was in trouble and Blüdhaven needed Nightwing, and Dick's been Batman before, so he took that upon himself (instead of asking literally anyone better suited to it, like Tim for example). Here's where the fun begins.

Imagine for me, if you will, the medical wing of the Batcave. Jason Todd lies on one of the beds, bleeding and broken and beaten, stoically growling as Alfred sews up his wounds, desperate to return to Crime Alley, because some dangerous shit is going down and by some circumstance only Red Hood can intervene in a way that will permanently end the threat. Batman isn't trusted like he is. Nightwing doesn't elicit the same grudging respect he does. The Red Hood needs to be there, and Jason can't do it. He tries to stand and his legs give way before he's halfway up. He's panicking because this enemy is threatening his kids, and he doesn't know what to do if he can't be there, when Bruce gives him a *look*.

Tim and Alfred both catch the look, and Tim visibly pales. Jason immediately starts to reject the idea, and Tim is about to lose his shit, when Damian pipes up from across the room, agreeing that it is the only way. Bruce and Jason share a long, deep stare, and some unspoken communication passes between them that even Alfred isn't able to read. Jason says, "Okay."

Bruce hugs his son and turns to leave, and immediately Tim is up after him questioning and shouting and arguing, the way he used to when he first became Robin. He's scared, both for Bruce and for the rest of his family. Everyone knows what being the Red Hood did, has done, is still doing to Jason - is it at all a good idea for Bruce to inflict that on himself? Damian almost follows, but a soft "ahem" from Alfred tells him to leave his father and brother to it.

As he suits up, in a costume so unlike his own and yet fits him so easily, Bruce relents on his silence. He looks earnestly into Tim's red, tear-rimmed eyes, and tells him that he knows. He understands. He wouldn't be able to do this if it weren't for Tim, and if there were another choice he'd take it, to spare his soul and his sons'. But this is how it has to be.

In one of the greatest displays of willpower Bruce has ever shown, he straps on Jason's gun belt and pulls on his son's helmet. From his hospital bed, Jason Todd watches as the Red Hood races out into the night, leaving a trembling Tim Drake standing alone- not alone, as Damian and Cass sidle up to him, wrapping their arms around him, telling him Bruce will be fine, everything will be fine, he doesn't need to be afraid any more.

Barbara gets the shock of her life when she hears Bruce's voice coming in over Red Hood's comm channel.

[the-bassist]

Speaking of the Super Bowl, this is a screen shot of a video ESPN posted (the commentary text on the video is theirs) and I find it *fascinating* that the official video of the show didn't show this angle.

So most folks at home didn't see the shadow being cast on the ground, which is a very classic "hangman" from tarot. Although, I'd assume we're supposed to think of other hanging men when we see this. Strange fruit, if you will.

Powerful. Upsetting. And of course, hidden from TV viewers.

[the-bassist]

Someone please talk with me about the Uncle Sam parts of the Super Bowl performance because oml I fucking loved it

Starting out with the “this is the Great American game” which like feels like it’s referring to the Super Bowl and football in general, until you get to the next interjection:

“No, no, no. Too loud, too reckless, too ghetto—Mr. Lamar, do you really know how to play the game? Then tighten up”

This is the great American game — trying to contort yourself into white culture and cutting out everything that makes you Black aka being “loud” and “reckless” and “ghetto” to survive

And you’ve always gotta tighten up!! You’re never going to be good enough because you’ll never be white, but you’re supposed to keep trying anyways!!!!

So for Kendrick to just go “fuck it” and be authentically Black in front of the entire country?? Hell fucking YES

[the-bassist]

I think people are gonna get the wrong lesson from Kendrick winning Grammys for Not Like Us, that life's too short to not be a hater. No, because Drake had plenty of haters even before this and calling out his track record with minors. The takeaway should be let your haterism lead you to create transformative works of art. Let your anger, spite, and need to prove even 1 guy wrong fuel you to make cool shit. Kendrick dropped what, 4 diss tracks in the span of a week? It's easy to be a hater sitting on your couch. It's that much more impressive to convince the world your haterism was correct and that's only done with a convincing body of work arguing your case.

tldr: life's not too short to be a hater, let spite guide your heart into MAKING COOL SHIT !

[the-bassist]

Also. Kendrick opened with an unapologetically loud performance focused on Black America with a ton of political messaging. And the women sang “someone better squabble” in almost a mocking tone?? Because so many white Americans only know Kendrick from the Drake beef, and they’re there to see two black men fight, not a celebration of Black Culture.

The american flag literally dissolved into depictions of violence and shooting. And then, once the performers were united in sync again, the audience flashed “WARNING, WRONG WAY”

That has so many meanings, both in the context of the performance being about politics and the path America as a whole is going down—the wrong way.

But also in that specific moment, when black men were working together as a whole, America would rather see them fighting. After that section is over, Uncle Sam mocks Kendrick.

Once the performance turns into a pop song and , Uncle Sam says, “yeah, that’s what I’m talking about! That’s what America wants—nice and calm! You’re almost there. Don’t mess this-“ and he is cut off by Not Like Us starting. White America is content to watch Black artists as long as the art is palatable to them, but Kendrick disrupted that with the Drake beef, and white America watched because it glorifies violence between black men.

But Kendrick emphasizes that this is not what this performance is about. When asked if he’s really about to do this, he says “It’s a cultural divide, Imma get it on the floor.” And “40 acres and a mule, this is bigger than the music.” He is doing this for Black America. Not Like Us has brought folks together when America has tried its hardest to divide and conquer. Hell, Kendrick had Crips and Bloods dancing on stage together at a concert. He’s managed to work through centuries of oppression and trauma to bring Black America together in this moment. This is bigger than the music.

And he brings it back to politics with “yeah, they tried to rig the game, but you can’t fake influence.” There’s a reason he said that with the president in the audience. Kendrick had the biggest stage in the world and he used it to say “They Not Like Us” with the president, a known child predator, in the audience. And the rest of the crowd was screaming the lyrics along with Kendrick.

Kendrick Lamar the man you are