#myspace… now that’s a flash from the past

[cruesuffix]

hellooo! what do you think about the fact that seraina and mick met on myspace? i think it’s funny!

hi!! i love remembering this fact tbh.

how cute, right? like, i know seraina was a myspace baddie frfr!! also i love the idea of mick lurking on myspace, i wonder what his page looked like… no, i wonder what seraina’s page looked like!! i know they both had that badass goth aesthetic type thing going on.

i also find it pretty funny. i can imagine the shock of finding out the weird funny man you’re talking to online is a member of one of the biggest bands of the eighties. i don’t know what i’d do if i was her tbh!!

[kirkonline]

the stuff you post on the internet doesn't always stay forever... ARCHIVE YOUR STUFF!!!!

You know what makes me so sad sometimes? The burning of the Library of Alexandria. Just imagining everything we could have had, all the information and stories that could have existed if it weren't for its destruction is just so heartbreaking. Like fr, I can't even begin to comprehend what sort of crazy info was hidden in those scrolls. What would be different today if we had that info?? These are some deep existential thoughts that I'll continue to have later tn, because right now I need to talk about something else that well, kind of relates to the tragedy of Alexandria… 

So there I was just minding my own business and my number 1 opps besties appeared on my instagram feed with a latest clip from their newest podcast. They give me migraines and i'm already suffering enough as is but as I was about to scroll away they said something along the lines of how Instagram is being controlled by a bunch of people behind your cameras and that they hack your microphones to  listen to your conversations and that’s why you get those super specific ads for stuff you were just talking about (this is a huge simplification to what they actually said because it was a lot more messed up and crazy than my explanation)

While they followed it up with some crazy explanations and takes that hurt my head just thinking about them, which is what I wanted to avoid in the first place but here we are, it actually kind of… got me thinking. Who knew that the insane RealTalk girls would inspire a coherent train of thought hello?? So a few weeks ago a friend recommended I read this blog post written by Kate Wagner called 404 Page Not Found and it talked a lot about classism, nostalgia, the capitalization of the internet and the importance of archiving websites. I kinda got sad reading it honestly because it was basically a summary of all the things I already knew about the problems of the internet and stuff, just articulated in a much better format. She talks about how recently social media apps have really been pushing the more nostalgic elements of the internet, which is crazy to me because the reason why so many aspects of the internet are no longer relevant anymore or cease to exist is because they were deemed “unimportant” and “unable to capitalize on.” Now, the big corporations are bringing it back as an aesthetic and making you pay for it one way or another!!!

You want to play the OG Mario Kart?? Unless you have a working Wii, you have to buy a nintendo switch, buy the Mario Kart game, then pay a subscription to play the og maps… like girl bffr are you kidding me rn.

Kate makes this wonderful point that when websites or aspects of the internet, that again were so crucial in the past, like Flash, MySpace, even Blingee (my fangirls know what this is) and customizable website formats that were integral in the Web 1.0 era, go offline or are no longer supported, it's like we are experiencing a small Library of Alexandria, (hence my rant up top). And the reason why this occurred at that moment??? It's because corporations who control social media now deem personal artifacts of the internet worthless and unable to generate an income!!! I just know Karl Marx is rolling in his grave rn. Kate even included a quote from him here: “All this is solid melts into the air.” Anything that we have created online or irl is all susceptible to the ever changing nature and patterns of capitalism, which quite frankly sucks. 

The way we used to interact on the internet sounds so nice actually. People used to be hands on involved in creating their websites and stuff and while it must’ve been a learning curve I still dk how to code woops you were actually involved in the creation of your own, personalized, corner of the internet. Nowadays, the format is already created for you in a minimalist aesthetic where the institutions who developed these sites and apps can control all your data and you don’t have a single say in how you can “present” yourself on the internet. This is why archiving websites and stuff from the internet is soooo important rn more than ever (especially considering what the orange guy in the white house wants to do) Because we live in a capitalistic society, getting rid of websites, data mining and data leaks have become soooo much more feasible, so protect your stuff guys and archive your shit. Just because it's personal doesn't give the crazy government the right to scrub it off the internet because they can’t make money off of it. Even not so personal websites ig, like they make these split second decisions the moment that the “elties” feel they can't capitalize off of something, get rid of it, hear the outcry of the public, and then reintroduce it but this time, it costs even more money than it did before, if it even charged money in the first place!!!!! 

Ok I really need to get off my computer and touch grass but Kate also talks about the classist and racial undertones between MySpace and Facebook, which is crazy cuz all the younger people hate Facebook now. I’ve linked the blog post above so you can read it because even though I’d love to dissect every part of this post, ik yall don't have the attention span to read all that and my eyes hurt from staring at my screen too long lmao. 

Chat is this making sense? Am I screaming into the void here?? Just rereading my own writing here im giving a really bleh and depressive vibe here I think so im gonna switch that attitude now (I'm still in my feels about Alexandria tho)… even though i don't want to give them more views than necessary tf PLS go check out this weeks RealTalk podcast and come rant to me cuz even though im not watching it, yall can and I wanna see if I can come up with a coherent argument in 2 min that has more merit than anything they could say in their 20 min yap sesh. STAY VIGILANT EVERYONE AND ARCHIVE YOUR STUFFFFFF kirk out

[star-firework]

wow, i watched a clip of paramore's song for twilight and it oddly threw me into nostalgia memory mode

i was in 7th grade and i remember hearing all the girls in my class talk about twilight and so i decided to pick up a book

but it was new moon and only once was i half way into it i realized "hey this might be the 2nd book...............and why i dont know whats happening" or i figured i could assume, idk

i still really liked it and so i picked up the first book

oh FUCK i was HOOKED, i would wake up at 4 am before school just to read!!!!!! I also had just discovered nico nico douga and so i would play the medley songs and read fjdsklfjsl

i mentioned i would wake up to read and teachers thought i was a smart kid finally but little did they know i was just reading twilight

then i would search fanart or anything i could to get visuals since the movie was only announced and no previews released

i found stephenie meyers blog and would read whatever i could, later on I remember she had the rough draft of the only just released edward book?? I remember reading it in 2007!!! so crazy!! its like food fight (2012)

once the trailer was released, i was a bit disappointed in how they looked, much diff than how i imagined, especially jacob!!!!! idk, i thought jacob in the first movie had such a distracting wig on so i didnt like his design LOL the later movies i was like hell YES

i was a jacob girl and my mom became a edward girl after the movies

i got the first round of twilight shirt merch with alice on it and a thin ass jacket with twilight on the back. alice's hair was becoming popular and i really wanted it too. I think I ended up getting her cut but obviously her hair is styled so my hair instead just looked like an avon lotion MLM sales lady...

The next few movies my mom was actually the one who would get us midnight screening tickets with her friend. i didnt even have to ask LOL! she was so into it, such a phenomenon

afterwards we would hit the kind-of-waffle-house and try to get sleep before school. For some reason couldnt miss it even tho we were out til 2 or 3 am lol

those years were such a rough, terrible, traumatic time in my life but the obsessions and internet roaming was some of the best times and memories.

i was also into gaia and would love walking around on the world, seeing cake-kun frozen on the waterfountain in the town square, and try to make friends and get a cool avi outfit

i remember someone named super? saia neko chan or something, i always thought of the shipping company, SAIA, and now I work w receiving from SAIA LOL, not a coincidence but a funny thought

iscribble.net was also around, i would DREAM, LITERALLY DREAM, of getting the full permission of all the tools once i drew enough or something like that. I was obsessed and would also wake up at 3-4 am just to draw. I wish wish WISH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i had screen recorded the loading screen of my oldest draw room, "epic girls only"

we made an effort to never clear the board and let it have a history, an archive of our art. it would take foreeeeeeeeeevvvvverrrrrr but it was always so fun to watch our art over the years flash by and be erased and redrawn. there really wont be a time like that again i think, same with pretty much all the early internet era stuff like first era of youtube, tumblr, and twitter. they were just soooo different. tumblr wasnt callouty. youtube would let you edit the design of your channel like myspace and it was the best, the comments i would interact w were also different. I am now having kids today talk to my comments i made at their age on the same videos!??@?@?@ thats so crazy

a my melody opening video i commented on in 2007 or something is still up and so just a few months ago, young kids replied to the comment asking if i still am alive or old loooooooooooool so cool!!!!

interacting w the past and future in one

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 34 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Adore turns 16. Courtney keeps reaching out.

Chapter 34: I Don’t Wanna Wait

Pearl tossed her bag across the basement floor, letting it fall as it may, momentarily pulling Willam’s attention away from his phone.

“Someone’s birthday is coming up,” Pearl sang, grinning at Adore as she quickly snatched the box of Cheez-Its from Trinity.

“Hey!”

Pearl flashed her a smile before shoving a handful of crackers into her mouth and then returning the box. She flopped onto the couch beside Adore and poked her in the side.

“So…birthday…ehhh?” she teased gently.

Adore gave her a small smile and nod; it felt like the millionth time she heard that line in the past couple days, and she was just about annoyed with it.

“Yeah! Are you excited? Bonnie make any plans?” Fame snapped her mirror closed, eyes lighting up in curiosity.

“Yeah, nothing too big. Angelica’s coming over and we’re gonna go out to eat. It’ll be nice.” Adore shrugged, playing with the loose thread on her jeans.

“Are we allowed to come or is it family only?” Trinity inquired, barely glancing up from her homework.

“If not, we’re gonna do something for her birthday anyway.” Violet shrugged, plopping down beside Trinity.

“Will it involve drugs and sex?” asked Willam.

“Do you know how to have fun any other kind of way?” Trinity rolled her eyes at Willam.

“I’m plenty fun!” Willam yelled, throwing an eraser at Trinity’s back.

“Ow, that hurt. You ass!” Trinity quickly scrambled to find the eraser to throw it back.

“Of course you guys are invited. Wouldn’t want to spend my birthday any other way,” Adore announced.

“So, we need to go shopping for a birthday outfit. I don’t have anything to wear,” Violet grabbed Trinity’s homework, copying the answers onto her own.

“Yeah, because it’ll be a shame if you didn’t look your best on Adore’s birthday,” Pearl joked.

“Exactly,” Violet replied with a smirk and a hair toss.

-

Courtney finished slicing tomatoes for the salad just as her mother strolled into the room. Thankfully, dinner tonight was just going to be the two of them, as Grandma Muriel was in San Diego visiting her cousins.

“Looks great, love!” Karen said, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

“Thanks. Do you want avocado?”

“Why not? I’ve been good today.”

Courtney chuckled. Only her mother would see something that grew on a tree in their backyard as an indulgence.

“So, how was school this week?” Karen asked, pulling their vegan enchiladas out of the oven.

“Alright.”

“Just alright?”

Courtney shrugged.

“Hey, isn’t it Dory’s birthday this weekend?”

“Uh...yeah.” Courtney set the salad bowls on the table and dropped into her seat, avoiding her mother’s curious gaze.

“Does she have anything exciting planned?”

“Um...I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure? So she’s not having a party?”

“I don’t-I don’t think so.” Courtney stuffed a forkful of salad into her mouth. She knew that she should have told her mom what was happening, but every part of her thought that it would’ve blown over by now.

“Well, maybe you want to plan something for her here? It’s been warm, so you can use the backyard-”

“She’s not talking to me, okay?!” Courtney finally met her mother’s eyes, and the concerned surprise made her feel even sicker than she already was. “She hasn’t talked to me since before school started. So...I don’t know if she’s having a party, and if she is, I wouldn’t be invited anyway, so…”

Karen paused, placing her fork down. She could see the misery on her daughter’s face and for a split second, guilt rose in her chest. How could Courtney be in a fight with her best friend of almost 10 years without her mother knowing?

“Are you okay, love? Do you want to talk about it?”

Courtney shook her head, tears collecting in her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together as her vision blurred. She’d cried so much in the last month that she was shocked she had anything left. Arms suddenly wrapped around her shoulders, as her mom hugged her tightly.

-

Adore and the rest of the girls wandered through the mall, floating from store to store, trying to find the perfect outfit for her dinner.

Little miss fashionista, Violet, pulled Adore away from every store she’d normally find herself going into. No ripped jeans, frayed skirts or 80s band shirts. Violet had a vision; elegant grunge, elevated chola. At least Violet knew her style, unlike Fame, who pulled her into every store she’d normally only enter if a certain green-eyed blonde pouted and tugged her in.

Adore tried not to think about her too much. Actually, she’d done a pretty good job not thinking too much at all.

The hardest part was just trying to fill that void that she left in Adore’s-

“Ooo, look, look, look at this! So cute!” Fame’s squealing jolted Adore out of her thoughts, as she grabbed a bright pink, thinned strapped, shimmery crop top off the racks, putting it to her chest for the girls to look.

“Uh, I think it’s cute for you,” Adore tried to keep her dislike for the brightly colored top off her face.

“You don’t like it?” Fame pouted slightly, looking in a mirror.

“Come on, Fame. You know that the only time you’ll find something like that in Adore’s closet is if Courtney-“ Trinity stopped short, quickly realizing her slip up.

She could feel Adore’s big hazel eyes staring at her and Trinity gulped, avoiding her gaze. In a haste to change the subject she quickly grabbed a dark green top off a rack.

“I think this is more Adore’s style.” Trinity finally looked over at her blue-haired friend, “Don’t you think, Adore?”

-

Bonnie started to climb into her car when a petite figure came darting around the corner, hissing, “Wait!”

She looked up and saw Courtney, eyes fearful, hurrying over to her with a small, wrapped box.

“Hey sweetie, how are y-”

“I’m sure you know that she’s mad at me,” Courtney said flatly. “I don't want you to take away from her day, so, don't give it to her tonight. But...maybe tomorrow? I don't want her to think I forgot.” She handed over the package, chewing nervously on her bottom lip.

Bonnie raised an eyebrow, putting a hand on Courtney's shoulder.

“You sure, babe? You know she can’t stay mad at you. Why not give it to her tomorrow yourself?”

Courtney's eyes filled with tears. She didn’t have the heart to tell Bonnie how long it had already been. Or how wrong she was, about everything. She just nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry to put you in the middle, Bonnie.”

Bonnie tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and smoothed it down, saying, “It’s okay, honey. And don't worry, alright? I'll give her the present first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Bonnie leaned in and planted a kiss on Courtney’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, hmm?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Courtney pulled away, turning and running back towards her house so that Bonnie didn’t see the tears spilling down her cheeks.

-

With dazed eyes, Adore watched herself in the reflection of Violet’s vanity. Everything was coming together nicely and her birthday had been going well so far.

She felt good about her birthday outfit considering the time and bickering it took for everyone to come to an agreement.

She liked the way the red tube top looked against her skin. Violet picked out the perfect faux leather pants that Adore thought flattered her shape nicely and she could wear with her favorite black laced ankle boots. Trinity had found the cutest oversized heart-shaped hoops and some black and red rhinestone bracelets in Claire’s to complete her outfit.

Adore had decided to get ready at Violet’s with the rest of the gang, with plans to meet her family at the restaurant.

Lately, she’d found herself becoming more dependent on the distraction of her friends to keep her mind off of Courtney. And today she needed that distraction more than ever.

Everything just seemed so off.

Her thoughts constantly wandered off, thinking about her bright green eyes and infectious laugh.

Courtney always made sure to be the first to tell Adore happy birthday; she’d stay over the night before so that when the clock struck 12, Courtney was always the first to do the honors.

The last three birthdays, Courtney had made a tradition of slinging Adore’s curtains open the minute the sun rose before climbing onto Adore’s bed, jumping around, sounding off with noisemakers and popping confetti all over her.

But this morning, Adore had slept in, not dragging herself out of bed until 12. As she scrolled through text messages, MySpace posts, and emails from family and friends wishing her a sweet sixteen she found herself bracing for Courtney’s usual grand entrance or call or text message or even some sappy post.

But it never happened.

And that was Courtney’s fault.

This all was, Adore had to remind herself, as she still craved for Courtney to call her, to sing her happy birthday or text her some sappy paragraph about growing old.

“I think it’ll be cute,” Pearl defended. She wanted to put a few braids in Adore’s hair and tease it, but Violet thought otherwise, wanting an updo and maybe giving Adore some bangs.

The two girls quarreled over Adore’s hairstyle as Fame took charge of her makeup.

“More glitter!” Willam ordered Fame.

“Willam! I know what I’m doing, give me some space.” Fame huffed, annoyed with Willam’s hovering.

Adore had hoped that the chaos of getting ready with them would keep her mind off Courtney, but she was wrong. Her eyes constantly found their way to her phone, waiting for the ring. Waiting for her phone to light up with Courtney’s number.

-

Walking into the restaurant, the gang followed the hostess towards the back where her mom and sister had already settled in. Adore’s face lit up when she saw that Adrian, who she was told wasn’t gonna be able to make it, stood from his seat. He rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug.

Adore laughed and squealed as she tried to squirm away from him. Mostly out of embarrassment, but with claims she didn’t wanna ruin her makeup.

“You’re just getting so big,” Adrian teased, “it’s right what they say ‘they grow up so fast.”

“Adore, you look so pretty,” Angelica complimented pulling her from Adrian into a tight hug. “I love these,” she commented on the earrings, “and your makeup looks incredible.”

“Thanks—“

“I picked out the earrings!” Trinity butted in.

“Yeah?” Angelica glanced at the girl.

“Yeah, they were on sale for five dollars.”

“I did her makeup,” Fame cut in, proud of her work.

“And I helped!” Willam reminded.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I said more glitter! Without me, the look would be trash.”

The clicking and flashing of the camera quickly stopped the bickering between the two as they posed for Bonnie.

“This is my good side.” Willam smiled as he shoved Pearl out the way, squeezing next to Violet.

“Hey!” Pearl shoved Willam back.

“The pretty ones need to be next to each other,” he gestured to himself, Violet and Fame. “Stand next to Trin.”

“How do you deal with them?” Angelica joked.

Adore shrugged “They’re fucking cool. Plus they always have my back.”

After a few more poses, Bonnie sat the camera down pulling Adore into an embrace.

“Oh, look at you, my little baby,” Bonnie cooed, leaving kisses on either side of Adore’s face. “Sixteen, sixteen years I’ve been blessed.”

Adore’s face was red with embarrassment but, her smile was bright, thinking about how lucky she was to be so very loved by her mother.

All month, Bonnie had been in a slight state of disbelief that her baby girl was nearly an adult. She was two years away from an empty nest, and was apparently facing her own mortality. Even though Adore’s height had surpassed her mother’s by the time she was fourteen, it hadn’t stopped Bonnie from treating her like anything other than her baby.

The days leading to Adore’s birthday, Bonnie had rambled on about all the missed days that she spent working and how she was should take a couple of days off to spend with Adore while she still could.

Just yesterday, her mother had climbed into her bed early in the morning, before she left for her shift. The two reminisced on the past and how fast time had flown. They talked about things like, was her favorite color still blue, favorite food still tacos. The type of music she was into now, celebrity crushes. She asked how the new school year has been going so far, and if Adore had any plans to keep the vibrant blue in her hair or change it. She even asked about Courtney, how she had been, where she’s been. Adore bristled and quickly dismissed the question. When Bonnie didn’t push, she was thankful.  

Adore was led to her seat, golden balloons in shapes of the number one and six tied to either side of her chair. There was a glittery gold ‘Happy Birthday’ sash on the back of the chair, which Violet helped her into, not wanting Adore to ruin her hair.

The waiter came to get everyone’s drink orders, and soon the table was engaged in a lively conversation.

Until.

“So, where’s Courtney?” Angelica asked, head cocked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Uh...”

The table suddenly came to an incredibly loud hush.

Adore’s stomach churned, her mouth suddenly dry. What the fuck were the only words going through her mind.

She had been doing so good. She’d nearly forgotten the lack of Courtney’s presence.; she was actually having fun and for once not thinking about her estranged best friend.

Or thinking about how much she couldn’t stand her. And how much Courtney had hurt her. How much she missed her.

“I’m not sure,” Adore shrugged.

Angelica’s brows furrowed deeper, ignoring the stop signal from her younger brother and the stricken faces from the others.

“What do ya mean? Courtney’s never missed a birthday. And I think your sweet sixteen is a pretty big one. What’s going on?” Angelica pushed.

As long as Angelica could remember, the two were inseparable. Never went longer than a day without talking. Courtney even came along on a couple of family trips, because the girls couldn’t stand to be apart. So, the idea that Courtney Jenek was not here on a big day like this was mind-blowing.

An assortment of reactions went around the table. Adrian buried his face in his hands, second-hand embarrassment too much for him to handle.

Fame nervously gulped down half a glass of water while Willam crunched loudly on ice cubes.

“Uh, does everyone know what they’re getting?” Bonnie spoke up.

“The Cajun chicken pasta looks good,” Violet commented quickly.

“Yeah, I’m probably just gonna get the tenders and fries,” Trinity added, trying to help ease the tension.

Adore stared down at her menu. Blinking to keep the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She jumped as she felt Pearl’s hand rest on top of hers under the table.

“Wait, is she planning to pop out in a cake or something? Because I’d like to see that!” Angelica chuckled.

“I don’t know, don’t really care,” Adore finally spoke up. She didn’t mean for the words to come out as harsh as they did. But fuck it, she thought as she reached for her pink lemonade.

She didn’t want to think about what Courtney could be doing on her birthday. She deserved one day that didn’t revolve around thoughts of Courtney.

“Are you guys ready to order?” The waiter appeared pad in hand.

“Saved by the otter,” Willam mumbled loud enough for the table to hear, enticing awkward chuckles from the group as the waiter smiled in confusion.

-

Adore’s hands covered her face as the restaurant employees made their way out of the kitchen, cake in hand, drawing attention with their loud rendition of Happy Birthday, her friends and family singing along poorly making it so much worse. Even some of the other restaurant-goers decided to join in song, everyone turning to see.

Violet and Pearl sat on either side of her, trying to pry her hands away from her face.

“Adore, come on, let me get a photo!” Bonnie reached over, swatting Adore’s hands away to get a good picture of her daughter.  

Face red and buried in her hands, she had no plans to look up until all of this was over. But even with the embarrassment, she was experiencing at the moment, her heart was filled with delight at the show her friends and family were making over her.

Adore could feel the warmth of the candles as the song came to an end.

“Come on, Adore. Blow out the candles and make a wish!” Bonnie encouraged.

Adore removed her hands, taking in the smiling faces of everyone around the table.

“Make a wish! We wanna eat cake, not wax,” Willam teased.

Adore closed her eyes and wished the only thing she could think of.

To go back in time, so that things could be different and that Courtney would be here with her. As the table erupted into cheers, she opened her eyes and smiled, doing her best not to look as devastated as she felt inside.

-

Adore entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

“I really hope you’re not planning to judge me, because I’m having cake for breakfast whether you like it or not,” she announced.

Bonnie laughed and pulled a Tupperware with the leftover cake from the fridge.

“Anything you want, monkey. Still your birthday week!”

“Awesome,” Adore said, grabbing a fork and sitting down at the table.

“Oh, and, um...here, there's a present I forgot about yesterday.”

Adore’s eyes lit up as she snatched the gift from her mom's hands and unwrapped it greedily.

“Thanks, ma! Who wrapped it though? This is way nicer than how you normally-” she stopped short when she opened the box and glanced at the handwriting on the card.

As much as she’d been hoping to hear from her, desperately wishing things were different, seeing it was overwhelming. And of course, the card was inside the box. If the card was on the outside, Adore wasn’t sure she’d have opened it. But now it was too late, and she had a card in her hand, and sitting atop a cushion of velvet, a choker—the band was black leather, decorated with little cut-outs to make it look like lace, and dangling from the center was a beautiful, shiny Onyx star.

Hey Dory, It’s so crazy to be anywhere except with you today. But I know you’re still mad, and it’s your birthday, after all, so I guess I can give you a small break from relentlessly hounding you. But I ordered this 3 months ago and it seemed stupid not to give it to you. It's still your birthday, right? And even though I’m not your favorite person right now...well, you’re still mine. So Happy Birthday. I hope it was great. I love you. Always, C

Adore stuffed the note and the choker back into the box, furious with both Courtney and herself. It was, of course, fucking perfect. Something that, had she seen it in the store, she would have coveted immediately. Which made it even worse. And that note? Ugh.

-

Courtney couldn’t say that she was surprised, when she didn’t hear from Adore after her birthday. She was disappointed, though. A week later, she looked up from her history book to peer out the window. She’d been antsy all evening, waiting for Adore’s bedroom light to go on, and now, seeing it, she marched out her back door and through their backyards, tears stinging her eyes. This had gone on long enough. She was not about to let another week go by without her best friend. Adore could be mad, didn’t have to want her romantically, fine, but she was not allowed to cast her aside like she didn’t matter.

She rang the doorbell at the Delano’s back steps, hugging herself. Of course she’d gone stumbling blindly into the Autumn night without a sweatshirt.

“Adore! I see your light, open up!”

She waited and waited. Rang the doorbell again.

“Dory, please, come on!”

She waited some more. No answer. This again.

She began to pound on the door, trying not to cry, calling out, “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

Silence.

Tears began to leak from her eyes. She banged harder, so hard her fist hurt.

“YOU’RE BEING RIDICULOUS! ADOOOOORE!!! FUCK!!”

Still nothing.

Throat now raw from screaming, she continued, “IT’S FREEZING OUT HERE! ADORE!! OPEN UP!!”

-

Bonnie sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes, irritated. What the fuck was going on outside her home? She’d gotten off a 24-hour shift at the hospital mere hours earlier, and she was simply trying to get some much-deserved rest. She let out an aggravated sigh and rose from the bed, tying a bathrobe around herself and padding across the hall to her daughter’s room, where she knocked on the door.

“Uh, hello?”

“Yeees?” came the sugary sweet voice from the other side of the door.

“Adore, why the hell is Courtney Jenek throwing a temper tantrum outside our back door?”

“No idea, why don’t you ask her?”

“Adore...you’re really grinding on my last nerve here…I had a long day and I’m trying to fucking sleep.”

“I have. No. Idea. And I have no desire to find out. So you’re welcome to tell her to fuck off.”

Bonnie sighed and padded down the stairs, shaking her head. She opened the door, saying, “Alright, kiddo, you know I love you, but it’s time to go home…Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Courtney stopped, lowering her hand, eyes red and puffy, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Bonnie. I was just...I’m so sorry.” Her face crumbled and she let out a wrenching sob.

Bonnie looked at her, a picture of abject despair. What the fuck was going on? She sighed, pulling her in for a hug.

“Oh, honey, come here…” She smoothed her hair down, rocking her.

“Why does she h-hate me?” Courtney wept against her chest.

“She doesn’t hate you. Is this the same fight? I’m sure she’ll get over it soon. You know she loves you.”

Courtney nodded, sniffling, wishing with all of her heart that Bonnie was right.

“Okay. Thanks. I’m really sorry.” She pulled away, taking a shaky breath, and then pausing and saying, “Bonnie?”

“Yes?” Bonnie opened the door back up a little.

Courtney looked up at her, shivering, green eyes full of anguish. “Please tell her I miss her.”

“Sure, baby. Goodnight.” Bonnie smiled, touching her cheek gently before closing the door. Jesus Christ. She climbed the stairs and stopped at Adore’s room again, hesitating before knocking.

“What?” came the sharp voice from inside.

Bonnie sighed. “She seems pretty miserable, Adore. I don’t know what she did to piss you off, but maybe you could cut her some slack.”

Adore wrenched open the door, saying, “That’s right, you don’t know. I thought you said you needed to sleep.”

“Honey, I-”

“So why don’t you go to sleep and stay out of my fucking business?” She slammed the door in Bonnie’s face.

Bonnie stood there for a moment before shaking her head and walking back across the hall to her own bedroom, shaking her head, muttering, “Hormonal little cunt.”

[winchesterbrotherstan]

SPN- Crossroad Blues (2.08)

Pairing: Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: The siblings find a case that isn’t what it seems, Dean pulls a dangerous stunt, and Olive comes clean about a few big secrets

Warnings: mentions of blood, demons, bad dogs, uhhh, cursing

Word Count: 5054

I huffed as Sam pulled the computer screen out of the line of sight of people around us. I looked at the picture, then at Dean with another huff. Jinx whined at our feet.

“So much for our low profile.” Sam grumbled. “You’ve got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you’re officially in the fed’s database. And Ol, you’ve got a warrant in Maryland.”

I shrugged as I looked at our mugshots.

“Dude, I’m like Dillinger or something.”

“Dean, it’s not funny. Makes our lives harder, we’ve gotta be more careful now.”

“Well Sams, what do they have on you?”

“I’m sure they just haven’t posted it yet.” He mumbled.

I looked at Dean, who grinned. “No accessory? Nothing?”

“Shut up.” Sam scowled.

Dean laughed. “You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not!” Sam spat.

I giggled. “You should’ve come with me, you’d have a warrant too.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shut the laptop. I leaned forward with a smile. “Alright, what do we have so far?”

“Yeah, you innocent, harmless, young man. What d’ya got?”

Sam pulled out a folder. “Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condo he designed.”

“Hmm.” Dean hummed. “Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That’s classy. When did he call animal control?”

“Two days before he died.”

“Did he actually say black dog?”

“Yeah. A, and I quote, vicious, wild, black dog. Authorities couldn’t find it, no one else saw it. In fact, the authorities are kinda confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up, and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town.” Sam sighed. “And after that, no more calls, doesn’t show up for work. Then he takes the swan dive.”

I looked back at Dean and picked a fry off his plate. “Think we’re dealing with an actual black dog?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Sams, what’s the lore on it?”

Sam handed me a few pages from the folder with a shrug. “It’s all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but… some say they’re animal spirits, others say death omens. Either way, they’re big and nasty.”

Dean plucked a sketch from the pile and held it up with a smirk. “Yeah, I bet they could hump the fuck outta your leg, huh?”

Sam glared and I snorted. Dean’s smile turned into a frown.

“What? They could!”

                                                              ***

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Sam and Dean insisted that I wear heels to look older, and I could already feel blisters forming.

“So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?”

“That’s right.” The man nodded at us. “Now one more time, this is for…”

“A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest.”

The man snorted, and Dean’s eyes narrowed.

“This funny to you?”

“No, it’s…” He sighed. “It’s just, a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind. Well, he gets another tribute.”

“Right.” Sam nodded. “Any idea why he’d do such a thing?”

He shrugged. “I have no clue. I mean, he lived a charmed life.”

“How so?” I furrowed my eyebrows.

“He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I’m capable, but next to him, I… and it wasn’t always that way, either.”

“No?”

“You wanna know the truth? There was a time where Sean couldn’t even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he was working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive.”

“Right.” Sam nodded. “So what changed?”

“You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing… he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like… the level of van Gogh, and Mozart.” He stopped, staring at the ground.

“What?”

“It’s funny. True geniuses, they seem to die young, don’t they? To have that kind of talent. Why… why just throw it away?”

                                                             ***

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. Sam smiled from beside me.

“Are you sleepy?”

I nodded. “A little.”

He held his arm up and I dove into his side, head resting against his chest. I let my eyes fall shut as I took a deep breath. I hadn’t been sleeping right for the last week. Drinking Dean’s blood had healed me, but he insisted that doing it every day would make me stronger. So far, it was doing nothing but giving me vivid nightmares.

I had woken up thinking I had killed him, and after two nights of hearing me scream, Sam suggested that I sleep in his bed instead. I felt like the scum of the earth, and although I knew better, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam saw me in the same way.

Jinx yawned from the backseat, and Sam giggled. The driver’s side door opened, and Dean slid in.

“So?”

“Secretary’s name is Carly. She’s twenty-three, she kayaks, and they’re real.” Dean grinned at me.

I sighed, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“You didn’t happen to ask her if she’s seen any black dogs lately, did you?”

Dean pulled a folded page from his jacket pocket. “Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There’s nineteen calls in all. And uh…” He pulled a post-it off the paper. “I don’t know what this thing is.”

Sam plucked the post-it from him and laughed.

“You mean her MySpace address?”

“Yeah, MySpace. What the hell is that?”

Sam and I both laughed, and Dean stared.

“Guys, I’m being serious. Is it like…” He leaned over and put his hands over my ears, but I could still hear him.

“Is it like some sort of porn thing?”

Sam and I only laughed harder.

                                                             ***

I sighed and rolled my neck. Dean huffed.

“I swear, if this is another fucking pomeranian barking in the neighbor’s yard-”

The front door opened, and Dean cleared his throat.

“Afternoon, ma’am.” He flashed his ID. “Animal Control.”

“Oh, someone already came yesterday.” The young woman shook her head.

“Oh, we’re just following up.”

“We’re looking for a Dr. Sylvia Pearlman.”

                                                             ***

“The doctor, well, she… I don’t know exactly when she’ll be back. She left two days ago.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded. “And you are?”

“I’m Ms. Pearlman’s maid.”

“So, where did the doctor go?” I asked, keeping an eye on Dean, who was roaming around the living room.

“I’m not sure.” She shook her head. “She just packed and went, she didn’t say where. That stray dog, did you finally find it?”

“Oh, uh, not yet. You know, you didn’t ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?”

“Well, no.” She sighed. “I never even heard it. I was almost starting to think that she was imagining things, but she’s not like that, so…”

Dean plucked a photograph off the wall and squinted at it. “Hey, I read she was uh, chief surgeon at the hospital. She’s gotta be what, forty two, forty three? That’s pretty young for that job.”

The woman nodded. “Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position about ten years ago, I think.”

Dean hummed, and I sighed.

“An overnight success. Ten years ago.”

Dean flipped the photograph over. “Yeah, we know a guy like that.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, hey. Look at this.” He showed us the back of the photo. “Lloyd’s Bar.”

                                                             ***

I sighed as Dean put the car in park. He ruffled my hair with a smile and a wink.

“Alright. We’ll be back, keep an eye on Jinx. Yeah?”

I nodded. “Okay. Be careful please.”

Sam smiled and kissed my head before clambering out of the car. “Always, bug. You too.”

I watched as they started toward the door, and then Dean stopped. He and Sam exchanged a few words, then Dean pointed. I shifted around to see and sighed.

A crossroads, with yellow flowers growing in each corner. I squinted. Those were yarrow flowers, which were used for rituals. Summoning rituals.

“I’ll be right back, girl.” I patted Jinx on the head before climbing out of the car.

The boys heard the noise, and Sam beckoned me over.

“So, two people become sudden success about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out at Lloyd’s.” Dean stated.

“Where there just happens to be a crossroads.” Sam sighed.

“You guys think?”

Dean shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

He walked into the middle of the crossroads and stopped, looking around. “This seem about dead center to you?”

Sam and I both tilted our heads.

“A little more to the left.”

“My left or your left?”

“Uh, our left. So your right.”

“Gotcha.” Dean mumbled as he shuffled a few steps over.

“Stop, there.” Sam put a hand up.

“I���ll get you a shovel.” I put a hand up. “Keys.”

He tossed them and I snatched them out of the air, hurrying to get a shovel from the trunk. I grabbed it and shut the trunk, handing it off Sam. He took it to Dean while I let Jinx out, holding her on a tight leash so she wouldn’t get in Dean’s way. Dean dug a few inches past the gravel and the sound of metal against metal made me cringe.

“Yahtzee.” He grinned and dropped the shovel, going at it with his hands.

He pulled out an old rusted box and dusted it off, coughing. He opened it and Sam and I dropped to his side. I sat in the dirt and picked through the box, pulling out old, small bones. Sam took a jar with a sigh.

“I’d be willing to bet this is graveyard dirt. And that’s a black cat bone.”

“That’s serious spellwork.” Dean sighed.

“Yeah, like Deep South Hoodoo shit.” I put the bones back in the box and rubbed my hands off on my jeans. 

“Used to summon a demon.” Sam huffed.

“Not just summon. Crossroads are where pacts are made.” Dean grew upset as he stood. “These people are making deals with the fucking thing. You know, cause that always ends good.”

“They’re seeing dogs, alright. Just not black dogs.” 

“Hellhounds. Demonic dobermans.” I huffed, petting Jinx’s head.

“Yeah. Whoever this demon is, it’s back and collecting. And that doctor lady?” Dean let out a low whistle. “Wherever she’s running? She ain’t running fast enough.”

We circled back to the car, tin box in hand. Dean had it in his hands, but he had closed it. He was agitated, and I felt guilt start to rise in my throat.

“So it’s just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads kinda deal?”

“Yeah, except that wasn’t a legend. I mean, you know his music.”

Sam shrugged, and Dean deadpanned. “You don’t know Robert Johnson’s songs? Sam, there’s occult references all over his lyrics. I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail?”

Sam only pouted, and Dean sighed.

“Story goes, he died choking on his own blood. He was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs.”

“And now it’s happening all over again.”

“Yeah.” I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. “We’ve gotta figure out who else made deals here.”

“Great.” Dean groaned. “So we’ve gotta clean up these peoples’ messes for em? I mean, they’re not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced them to play Let’s Make A Deal.”

“So what, we should just let them die?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and save em?”

“Dean.” Sam and I made the same face.

“Fine.” Dean sighed. “Alright, rituals like this, you’ve gotta put your own photo in the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing, let’s go and see if anyone inside knows him.” He paused. “If he’s still alive.”

                                                             ***

“What’s this guy’s name again?” I asked as we walked up the set of wide, wooden stairs.

“George Darrow. Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd’s. Though this house probably ain’t up next on MTV cribs, is it?”

Sam chuckled and I sighed. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, so whatever kinda deal he made…”

“Wasn’t for cash.” Dean huffed. “Oh, who knows.” He shrugged and grinned at us. “Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis.”

Sam and I sighed.

“No, I’m just saying… this dude’s got one epic bill due. Hope he at least asked for something fun.”

I made it to the door first and noticed black dust lined up under the door. I crouched and slid a finger through it.

“What’s wrong?”

“The hell is this, pepper?” I stood and held my finger out to Dean.

The door swung open and I jumped back into Dean, caught off guard.

“Who the hell are you?”

“George Darrow?” Sam tried.

“I’m not buying anything.” He moved to shut the door in our faces.

“Whoa, whoa.” Dean chuckled. “Looks like you went for the wrong shaker there.”

George glared and I sighed.

“Usually when you wanna keep something evil out, you use salt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man spat.

“Talking about this.” Dean held the photo from the tin box up. “Tell me. You seen that Hellhound yet?”

The man’s face went blank and he pulled away.

“Look, we just want to help. Please.” Sam begged. “Just five minutes.”

He sighed and let us in. I followed Dean, and Sam stayed behind me. The apartment was full of paintings, some done and others barely started. There was a table full of paint and brushes, and a bottle of whiskey. George served himself some in a glass, and the three of us looked around, and then at each other.

“So what is that stuff out front?”

“Goofer dust.”

I blinked, and Sam and Dean awkwardly faced George.

“What, you kids think you know something about something but not Goofer dust?” He pulled a brown sack from behind an easel and tossed it straight at us.

Sam and Dean both flinched, and I reached up and caught it with ease.

“We know a little about a lot of things.” I explained as I inched closer to Dean, looking at the bag.

“Just enough to make us dangerous.” Dean mumbled.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons.”

“Demons, now that we know.” Dean perked up.

“Well, then.” George huffed. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.” He slumped in a chair. “Four minutes left.”

Dean and I glanced at each other with slitted eyes before both turning to Sam. He took the lead with gentleness.

“Mr. Darrow. We know you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, that you got yourself into.” Dean grumbled.

I elbowed him, hard, and he grunted as Sam kept talking.

“But it’s not hopeless, alright? There’s gotta be something we can do.”

“Listen.” George sighed. “I get that you boys wanna help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they’ve just got to lie down in it. I’m the one who called that demon in the first place.”

Dean huffed as he shot us both an I told you so look. “What’d you do it for?”

“I was weak. I mean… who don’t wanna be great? Who don’t want their life to mean something? I just… I never thought about the price.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Hell, no. Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame. I’m still broke and lonely. Just that now I got this pile of paintings don’t nobody want. But that wasn’t the worst…”

“Go on.” Sam pressed.

“Demon didn’t leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done, the damn thing stayed at Lloyd’s for a week. Just chatting. Making more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean… who’s gonna listen to an old drunk?”

“How many others?” I asked.

“Uh, the architect, that doctor lady. I kept up with them, they’ve been in the papers. Least they got famous.” He sighed.

“Who else?”

He shook his head.

“Come on, George, think.” Dean pressured.

“One more. Uh, a nice guy, too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don’t know what he asked for. Don’t matter now. We done for.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “No, there’s gotta be a way.”

“You don’t get it!” George shouted, and the three of us inched away. “I don’t want a way!”

“Look, you don’t-”

“I called that thing! I brought it on myself! I brought it on them…” He sighed. “I’m going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I’m done. I’m just trying to hold them off til then. Buy a little time. Okay, kids. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help.”

“We can’t just-”

“Get out!” George snapped. “I got work to do.”

“You don’t really wanna die.” Sam reasoned.

“I don’t?” George challenged. “I’m… I’m tired.”

The three of us shared a look before heading for the door.

                                                             ***

Sam knocked on the door, and Jinx tugged at the leash. I tugged back, forcing her to sit. The door opened, and a man poked his head out.

“Yes?”

“Evan Hudson?”

“You ever been to a bar called Lloyd’s? Would’ve been about ten years ago.” Dean’s face was devoid of expression.

Evan slammed the door shut with a grunt, and I heard the latch go. I sighed.

“Come on, we’re not demons!” Dean called.

“Any other bright ideas?” I turned to Dean with a scowl.

Dean gave me a bitchface before turning, setting himself, and then kicking the door down in one go. I let go of Jinx and she ran in, following where Evan had gone. Dean set himself back up, and Sam smacked his leg down.

“Wait!” He hissed.

Dean scowled, and Sam shot him a look right back. He turned the handle and gently pushed the door open. There was no noise from inside, and Sam stepped in first. Jinx stayed by my side, tail wagging.

“Evan?”

“Please!” He jumped out into sight, hands up. “Don’t hurt me.”

Sam put his own hands up, and Dean’s face remained blank. Jinx sat down, head tilted to the side.

“We’re not going to hurt you, alright? We’re here to help you.”

Dean took the lead, stepping forward. “We know all about the genius deal you made.”

“What?” Evan was shocked. “How?”

“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we’re trying to stop it.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Evan shuffled backward as I took a step forward.

“Well, you don’t, but you’re kinda running low on options there, buddy boy.” Dean spat.

Evan swallowed and began to pace back and forth. “Can you stop it?”

“Don’t know. We can try.”

“I don’t want to die.” Evan whined.

“Of course you don’t, not now.” Dean hissed.

“Dean.” Sam whispered. “Stop.”

“What’d you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?”

“My wife.”

Dean let out a harsh laugh. “Right. Getting the girl. Well, that’s worth a trip to hell for.”

“Dean, stop.” I warned.

“No. He’s right.” Evan sighed. “I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm, that… woman, or whatever she was… at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but… I don’t know how… I was desperate.”

“Desperate?” Sam repeated.

“Julie was dying.”

“You did it to save her?” I asked, voice quiet.

“She had cancer. They’d stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying… a matter of days. So yeah. I made the deal. And I’d do it again.” Evan shook his head. “I’d have died for her on the spot.”

Dean took a predatory step forward. “You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn’t have to live without her. But guess what? She’s gonna have to live without you now. What if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul, huh! How do you think she would feel!”

“Dean!” I shouted, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him backward.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Sam warned, then turned to Evan. “You just sit tight, alright? We’re gonna figure this out.”

I pulled Dean into the hallway, grip on his wrist tight. Jinx stayed with Evan, and Sam followed us out.

“What’s your deal?” I hissed.

“I’m fine.” Dean snapped.

“Dean-”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dean snarled. “Look, I got an idea. Ol, you still got the Goofer dust?”

I scowled as I pulled the bag out and handed it over. “You throw George’s hoodoo at the Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I’m gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon.”

“The fucking hell you are.” I glared at him.

“Olive, I’m the fucking grown up here.”

“Dean, are you nuts?” Sam tried to ease the tension.

“Maybe a little. But I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent.”

“How much time, Dean?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I don’t know. A while. It’s not easy for those clusterfucks to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “No way.”

“You’re not allowed to say no, Sammy. Not unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“Dean, we’re not gonna let you summon that bitch.”

“Why not?” Dean turned back to me.

I shook my head, and Sam jumped in.

“We don’t like where your head is at right now, that’s why not.”

“What the hell are you guys talking about?”

“Dean, you’ve been on edge ever since we found the crossroad.” I reached for his hand.

He let me take it and turned back to Sam with a huff.

���She’s right. And we know why.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Dean tore his hand from mine and brushed past us both. He shoved the Goofer dust into Sam’s chest without stopping, ready to take off.

“Dad.” I called. “It’s because Dad.”

“I’ve been thinking it too, De. I’m sure you have too.”

Dean’s shoulders shrunk and he sighed. “It fits, doesn’t it? I’m alive. Dad’s head. Yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul?”

“I think I hear it!” Evan shouted. “It’s outside!”

Dean steeled himself once more, but his expression softened. “Just keep him alive, okay?”

“Dean…”

“Go.” Dean pointed.

Sam and I turned back and Dean took off. Sam began to line the windows with Goofer dust. I tied Jinx’s leash to the bookshelf Evan had hidden behind and took a handful from the bag, making a circle around Evan.

“What is this stuff?”

“Goofer dust.”

“Is she serious?”

“Afraid so.” Sam sighed. “Look. Believe us, don’t believe us. Whatever you want. Just stay inside the circle, alright?”

Evan nodded and hugged himself as he stood in the circle. Sam helped me finish it, shaking out the last grains from the bag.

“Alright. That’s the last of it.” Sam sighed and we began to pace around the room, eyes on the dust.

Sam was quiet, thinking. I glanced over at Evan, who looked horrified, but somehow at peace. I sighed and turned to Sam.

“It wasn’t supposed to be Dad.”

Sam blinked. “What?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be Dad.” I repeated, feeling tears brew in my eyes. “It was supposed to be me.”

“Olive, what are you…”

“I gave Bobby a different list. I did it on purpose. I was gonna make a deal. For Dean. That way, you, and him, and Dad would be together.”

“Olive.” Sam shot me a warning glance.

“That’s what Dad and I were fighting about before Dean woke up. He knew what I was gonna do. So he did it instead.”

“Olive…”

“It’s my fault that Dad is dead. It’s not Dean’s. I should’ve been quicker.”

“Olive.”

“If Bobby hadn’t said anything, it would’ve happened. And Dean would be happy. He’d have Dad.”

“Olive, don’t you let him hear you say that. Okay? He will never forgive you.”

My heart shattered at the prospect, but I shook my head. “I don’t care. I’m so tired of lying to him. I can’t see him like this, not anymore. I should’ve died, and Dad should still be here.”

“Olive, that’s not-”

“I’m a fucking monster, Sam! How many teenage girls do you know that have to drink their brother’s blood everyday?” I hissed.

Sam looked away, and I nodded, wiping away my tears.

“Exactly. I should be dead, and Dad should be here.”

“Did you guys hear that?”

“No. Where?” I wiped my tears and stood straight.

“Right outside the door.”

The office doors began to rattle like it was the end of the world. Sam grabbed Jinx and pulled me to follow as he stepped inside the circle of Goofer dust. The three of us stared at the door as it shook harder. Jinx whined, and then barked.

“Just don’t move, alright?” Sam ordered. “Stay where you are.”

The door almost came off the hinges before stopping suddenly. We swallowed hard before turning to Evan.

“Do you still hear it?”

“No. Is it over?”

We looked at each other, and Evan whipped around to stare at a grate in the corner. I mumbled a string of curse words to myself, and Sam pushed Jinx into my arms. He slowly crouched and picked me up, placing me on his hip.

The grate burst off the wall, and the Goofer dust began to blow away.

“It’s here!” Evan shouted.

I looked and gasped.

“Ol?”

“I guess the glasses work.”

A huge, hairy, pitch black dog that looked more like a wolf moved closer. Red eyes and yellow fangs, and everything about it screamed death. Another one came out after it.

“Sammy.” I whined, clinging to him.

“Can’t you see it?” Evan whined.

“No! Stay inside the circle!” Sam ordered.

I tightened my grip on him. The dogs circled us, but it was like watching a silent movie. Jinx let out a howl. They clawed at the floor, gouging deeper than an inch in the wood. They stopped just outside the Goofer dust, glaring.

Sam huddled the three of us closer, trying to protect Evan while keeping me on in case we needed to bolt. I watched as the wind from the grate continued to eat at our circle.

“Come on, De.” Sam whispered.

The wind blew at our hair, and Jinx let out a loud whimper. I ducked my head into Sam’s neck and tensed up, ready to die.

“Circles broken, come on!” Sam shouted and took off, dragging Evan along with us.

Evan ducked into a storage room down the hall, and Sam slammed the door shut behind us. 

“Bug! Need a hand!”

I handed Jinx off to Evan and let out a growl, helping Sam hold the door shut. My head began to throb, and my fangs tore at my bottom lip. The hellhounds pushed hard, but Sam and I pushed back harder, both grunting.

The pounding stopped.

                                                             ***

“Demons lie all the time, right?” Sam repeated what we had told him so long ago when we were on the plane. “Maybe she was lying.”

“Come on. That really what you think?”

Sam looked down, and I looked away, shuffling closer to him.

“How could he do it?”

“He did it for you.”

“Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that? You know, the thought of him… wherever he is right now. I mean, he spent his whole life chasing that… yellow-eyed son of a bitch. He should have gone out fighting. That was supposed to be his legacy. You know? Not bargaining with the damn thing. Not this.”

“How many people do you think Dad saved? Total.”

“That’s not the point, Sam.”

“Evan Hudson is safe because of what Dad taught us. That’s his legacy, Dean.”

“She’s right, man. We’re still here. We gotta keep going. For him.”

There was a long pause, and I turned back to Dean.

“De?”

He hummed in response.

“When you were trapping that demon, you weren't… I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that deal, right?”

He stared straight ahead, then glanced out the window. Tears began to stream down my face and I turned to bury myself in Sam’s side as the radio began to blare. Sam only wrapped his arms tighter around me.

                                                             ***

Sam shut the bathroom door, and I heard the shower turn on.

“Dean.” I whispered.

“What is it, kid?” He didn’t look up from the TV.

“It wasn’t supposed to be Dad. I’m sorry.” I sat on the bed opposite of him and fiddled with my thumbs.

He turned the TV off and knelt down in front of me.

“What the hell does that mean, Olive?” He got closer to my face.

“I was supposed to make the deal. Dad did it instead. It’s my fault he’s gone, not yours. I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean you were gonna make a deal?”

“My soul. For your life. But Dad found out. And he did it instead.” I looked up with tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Dean’s face conveyed an emotion I couldn’t describe. He looked like he wanted to kill me and smother me in kisses at the same time.

He put his hands on my knees and let out a shaky breath.

“Why would you even think about doing that?”

The tears began to flow freely. “I just wanted you to be happy. You loved Dad, more than Sam and I ever did. I just wanted you to be happy, Dean.”

His hands moved up to my cheeks and took another deep breath. “Olive Sam Winchester. If you think, even for a moment, that I would be happier with anybody than I am with you and Sam, you’re dead wrong.”

My lips quivered and I looked up, meeting his eyes through blurred vision.

“I’m sorry.”

He only shook his head and pulled me into a hug.

Previous Ep: The Usual Suspects (2.07)

Next Ep: Croatoan (2.09)

Taglist:

@i67​

[yousayparty]

The right place, the right time, and the right amount of exclamation marks

The history of Vancouver via Abbotsford British Columbia’s You Say Party is a storied one. Imagine this: trapped in a never ending nightmare of suburban dystopian hell, you form a band. With the simple adjective of having fun, spreading a message, making people dance - you leave the confines of a religiously stifling community. Within a few years you’re playing the world’s top festivals, winning awards, and wooing critics.

But now I find myself piecing foggy bits of memory fragments together with duct tape and hairspray. Like stickers on a dive bar bathroom stall, I know I was there. But why and for how long? I feel like I’m sifting through a shoebox of handbills and press clippings like some True Crime podcaster placing myself at the scene.

I’m not sure where I first heard the name You Say Party! We Say Die! but it caught my eye. It was an era of exuberant band names. !!!, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Shout Out Out Out Out, Hot Hot Heat, Fake Shark- Real Zombie! And my own band GoGoStop! It was also a time when bands out Vancouver’s sleepy conservative suburbs were starting to break out: Witness Protection Program, The Hand, Fun100.

It was exciting. There was a sense of community. Of people just wanting to have fun. Perhaps we were shaking off the anxieties of a post 9/11 world, or shrugging off the self seriousness that was emo and hardcore. We still made mix tapes and zines- scoured Terminal City and The Straight for new bands. There was this new social networking craze called MySpace that had yet to be a ubiquitous omnipresent corporate behemoth that dominated every corner of our lives. We were called Scenesters not Hipsters. Everyone was in an art collective.

Adorned with white belts and one-inch pins; asymmetrical hair cuts and red velvet blazers we set out to prove Vancouver wasn’t No Fun City at now long shuttered venues like the Marine Club, the Pic Pub, and Mesa Luna. I didn’t drink at the time so dancing, and by extension dance punk, had become my saviour- bands like The Rapture, Les Say Fav, Pretty Girls Make Graves to name a few. When Mp3 blogs became a thing, I immediately downloaded The Gap from their 2005 debut Hit The Floor! and loaded it on my 100 song iPod shuffle. I like so many others, became an instant fan.

I moved into what could only be described as a punk rock compound- 3 houses that were owned by a former Christian sect that we dubbed Triple Threat. Members of Bend Sinister, No Dice, Witness Protection Program, and Devon Clifford from You Say Party and Cadeaux (and Whiteloaf) all lived there. He drove an orange 1981 Camaro Berlinetta to match his bright red hair and big personality. We would walk to the greasy spoon Bon’s Off Broadway to get terrible but cheap breakfast and to watch The coffee Sheriff pour undrinkable refills of sludge. It was like living in the movie Withnail and I, but funner. We all wore pins that said Do You Party? on them.

It felt like Vancouver was blowing up and You Say Party was the hand-clapping drum majorette leading the pack. Ladyhawk, Black Mountain, Radio Berlin, New Pornographers, Destroyer, S.T.R.E.E.T.S., The Doers, They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? And The Organ highlighted just how tight-knit and diverse our scene was. Relentless touring and glowing reviews for You Say Party’s sophomore Lose All Time ensured they were head of the class, despite being unable to tour the US due to a previous border snafu.

Lose All Time sat on top of the Earshot charts for what seemed like forever. Famous for their frenetic live shows, and aided by stunning videos, their sophomore effort was a clear progression from Hit The Floor! It still harnessed the visceral rawness of their origins, but hinted at a confidence and maturity that was to come. The title of Lose All Time was a reference to the discombobulation of constant touring and it too was a hint of what was to come.

The touring would take its toll. Fuelled by Chinese Red Bull; a well document public dustup between band members at a bar in Germany would throw everything into uncertainty. But it was that turbulence that would set the stage for XXXX and after a restorative tour to China, the stage was set for the penultimate You Say Party record. 

Flash forward to 2009 and the city was on edge. Everything was about to change. Vancouver was preparing to host the world amidst the unfolding Great Recession. Anti-Olympic protests ramped up. A gang war raged in the streets and made international headlines, tucked behind Swine Flu hysteria and the ongoing imperialist war on Iraq.

It seemed like all the venues started closing and all our friends were moving to Berlin or Montreal. We starting looking in. Is this the city we want? Was it just growing pains? This kind of introspection is clearly reflected in XXXX. If Lose All Time was a record the band wanted to make, XXXX was a record for the people; a record for the city of Vancouver; a record for 2009.

"I finally feel like a singer, rather than a dancer who loves being in a band" said Becky Ninkovic at the time. It’s a perfect quote. One that succinctly captures the maturity and focus of the record. After a breakdown for Ninkovic, a year of rest and vocal lessons, Exclaim! announced XXXX to be a career resuscitation.

And it was. Going back now and rediscovering the record is such a magical thing. Opening for You Say Party with my band Taxes in 2008, I was impressed with the new material even if was a little jaded (I mean I was almost 30). But now with time and space I can see the songs they were working on were truly timeless. Laura Palmer’s Prom could so easily slot in with the latest 80s synthwave revival along alongside bands like Lust for Youth, Lower Dens, and Chromatics.

Overall, XXXX sounds like an exhale. A moment of stillness when you know you’ve made something extraordinary. When you know all those moments combined; moments of sheer terror, adrenalin, elation, boredom, and longing- culminate in a piece of art that once you let go of it- you just know in your gut that it’s right. It draws you in, wrestles with a brooding tension, then sends you into a churning whirlwind of tight drums and buzzing synths. It’s a remarkable achievement.

There’s plenty of vintage YSP sass throughout. “She’s Spoken For”, “Make XXXX”, and “Cosmic Wanship Avengers” are all classic synth punk gems, but the it’s in the subdued that the album really grips. “Dark Days”, “There is XXXX (Within My Heart)” and the sprawling Kate Bush like ballad “Heart of Gold” are the hallmark of a band that is comfortable exploring the limits of their genre. While lyrically quite positive, the melodies are daunting. Indeed, as Pitchfork put it, “the slower pace and more sentimental outlook of XXXX gives listeners the necessary space and encouragement to surrender to the band's emotional message”.

And it was a message they would finally return to the US with in 2009. The band was poised for mainstream breakout success. They were long listed for the Polaris and they won a Western Canadian Music Award for Best Rock Album of the year. Much has been written about what would happen next. I don’t want this article to be about the tragic onstage death of drummer and friend Devon Clifford, but it’s inexorably linked to the band’s story.

And I can only really tell it from my point of view. I wasn’t sure I would go to the funeral but a mutual friend told me that Devon would want me to go. Portland Hotel Society, a local housing provider which Devon had thrown the weight of his passion behind, rented a bus to drive out to Abbotsford. I held up pretty well until my friend Al Boyle got up to play. Then some yelled “Spagett”. Then Krista and Becky sang “Cloudbusting” and I lost it.

The band would try to carry on. Krista would leave the band and Bobby Siadat and Robert Andow of the band Gang Violence would fill in for touring.  When that didn’t go as planned Al Boyle who had been in the punk band Hard Feelings with Devon would replace Bobby. They officially went on hiatus in 2011 only to reunite a year later with Krista back on keys and a drum machine in place of Devon.

And while the band’s self titled 2016 release would be their moment of closure, the reissue of XXXX is one of celebration. Celebration of what they made with Devon. Celebration of a near perfect moment in time. A capsule of a entire city at it’s peak. The band has changed. The scene has changed. And I’ve changed. But there will always be XXXX within in our hearts.

'Cause every time it rains

You're here in my head

Like the sun coming out

Ooh, I just know that something good is going to happen

And I don't know when

But just saying it could even make it happen

Sean Orr Vancouver, BC January 2020

--------------------

We are so excited to reissue a limited run of XXXX on clear vinyl through Paper Bag Records Vintage for Record Store Day on August 29th! Support your local stores & grab this album on vinyl for the first time in 10 years! https://recordstoredaycanada.ca  #yousayparty #YSPWSD

--------------------

About Sean Orr Sean Orr is a writer, musician, artist, activist, and dishwasher living and working in the unceded Coast Salish territories of Vancouver, B.C. Besides his twice weekly news column in Scout Magazine he writes for Beatroute and has written for Vice Magazine and Montecristo among others in the past. He’s the frontman in the punk band Needs and also has a pickle company called Brine Adams. Twitter | NEEDS | Tea & Two Slices | Flickr

[heidisunshine]

Hi Taylor, I want to tell you about my best friend Karla. ( @krain10 ) I affectionately call her “my Abigail.”

In ninth grade I sat in class next to this funny girl with wild dark curly hair and we instantly clicked. You know when you meet someone you feel like you’ve always known? That was Karla. We became instant friends bonding over our obsession with MySpace music and Grey’s Anatomy. In 2007, our sophomore year we went to see you open for Brad Paisley, wearing our sundresses and cowgirl boots, screaming Our Song at the top of our lungs! We captioned all of our Myspace photos (wow that sounds soooo old 😂) with your beautiful lyrics.

Fearless came out the fall before our senior year, and it truly became the anthem of our lives during that season of uncertainty. We had no idea what the future held, but we held onto that album and it was a beautiful tie that bonded us. Night after night blasting Fearless nonstop with the windows down in Karla’s little white Scion, we proclaimed the walls that they put up to hold us back WOULD fall down. (And then we graduated!) 🎉

Flash forward to 2010, one year into college and still not much of a clue what we were doing with our lives. Speak Now was the newest soundtrack to our lives, and Long Live became our official friendship anthem. Through the past few years together we had experienced our share of backstabbing, heartache, even bullying from dragons we didn’t see coming. We continued to lean on each other and learn the value of true friendship. In the summer of 2011 we got to see you on the Speak Now World Tour in Orlando, and it was one of the most emotional nights I have ever experienced. Karla was going through a really hard breakup at the time, and we were seated near the B Stage. You started playing Last Kiss, and we just stood there hugging and sobbing the entire song. Then of course lost it again to Long Live. ♥️ That concert was so therapeutic and special, a show we will never forget.

During the Red era I went away to a college out of state, and we learned how tough long distance friendships are. We also learned that our friendship was 113% solid, because it only got better and made us even closer.

Karla is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. She has been through so much pain and hardship in her life that she should be the most bitter person, but instead she overflows with love. She takes care of everyone around her, loves people unconditionally and never asks for anything in return. She stood by my side even when it wasn’t cool, and I am so thankful for her huge heart. Everyone deserves to have a friend like Karla.

Fast forward, we are both 28 now! Both busy working women, and she is now a mom! In the last 13 years SO much has changed but we have stayed tied together as friends, tied to your music and the way you open up your heart. Karla was my Matron of Honor in my wedding and her daughter Remy was my flower girl! You actually liked some photos of Remy wearing her “I heart TS” onesie at the pumpkin patch before Rep came out! Well, Remy is two now and a very serious Swiftie. It’s actually so cute it’s painful. When we get in the car Remy will scream “play Taylah Swif!” and she even recognizes you in photos which blows my mind.

I had to explain all of this to really just say thank you. Thank you so much for bringing Karla and I together through the power of your music and your heart. It is SO COOL to look back through photos of every era and think about all we have learned. To realize the beauty in the pain and scars that made us stronger, all with you by our side. I would LOVE for you to meet Karla. She is the warmest, most loving soul. Our biggest dream in life is to be able to thank you in person together one day, but even if that never happens your influence has truly changed our lives for the better, and for that I will forever be thankful.

We love you Taylor and can’t wait for a whole new era with you!! ♥️ @taylorswift

[shirlleycoyle]

Flash Is Responsible for the Internet’s Most Creative Era

These days, our web browsers—whether on mobile or desktop—are highly functional and can do all sorts of things that we could only dream of a decade prior.

But despite that, one could argue that the web has actually gotten less creative over time, not more. This interpretation of events is a key underpinning of Web Design: The Evolution of the Digital World 1990-Today (Taschen, $50), a new visual-heavy book from author Rob Ford and editor Julius Wiedemann that does something that hasn’t been done on the broader internet in quite a long time: It praises the use of Flash as a creative tool, rather than a bloated malware vessel, and laments the ways that visual convention, technical shifts, and walled gardens have started to rein in much of this unvarnished creativity.

This is a realm where small agencies supporting big brands, creative experimenters with nothing to lose, and teenage hobbyists could stand out simply by being willing to try something risky. It was a canvas with a built-in distribution model. What wasn’t to like, besides a whole host of malware?

The 640-page book, full of pictures of interactive websites from prior eras, benefits from taking a wide view of the visual culture of the past: Starting at the embryonic stages of the World Wide Web, it follows the art of web design through periods of extreme experimentation on the way to the convention-driven scaffolding we have today. The book makes a compelling case through its general structure that the sweet spot of creative web design came during the late 1990s through the mid-2000s—periods in which major brands were willing to invest a whole lot of money in a website intended for show, not just tell.

Ford, who is known for running the long-running Future Web Awards (FWA), is very much in the “show” category. In an email interview, Ford listed off a dizzying array of iconic websites, pages that once wowed the broader internet and helped uncover key design mechanisms—for example, Ford says 1998’s EYE4U, an early influence on many Flash developers, “showed us responsive design 15 years before the term was coined,” while sites like 2002’s Who’s We Studios and 2003’s tokyoplastic brought personality to the equation.

There was a lot of it because of the artistic influences these creators brought forth. “It’s worth noting how many super-creative talents have a ’background‘ in rave and club culture, whether that be as punters or promoters,” Ford said.

These sites, reliant on animation and Flash’s underlying ActionScript language, were the kind that excited creatives, ready to embrace an artistic medium, but frustrated usability experts, who would rail against the way the sites flouted basic convention.

If any one website sort of hits these two tensions perfectly, it’s Subservient Chicken, the popular Burger King-produced web interactive which hits right in the middle of the nearly three-decade period covered in this book. At the time of its creation, it was widely discussed and dissected by advertisers who realized that its combination of visuals and ELIZA-style text commands represented something new. Given the move towards chatbots and memetic videos in the years since, it feels downright predictive.

“Subservient Chicken gave us something we hadn’t experienced before, that was real time (even though it actually wasn’t real time, it faked it very well) interaction but, more importantly, an emotional ‘live’ personal experience,” Ford notes, adding that it also predicted voice assistants that work in similar ways.

But the aggressive creativity offered by Flash eventually would prove impossible to bring to the mobile era in quite the same way, as portability and improved HTML rendering capabilities made it obsolete. Around the time of Steve Jobs’ famous open letter to Adobe, Ford noted that many of the Flash era’s creators “completely moved away from the web and used their talents elsewhere.” There were still some notable HTML5-based creations during this period—including the Arcade Fire’s Google Chrome “experiment” “The Wilderness Downtown,” which Ford calls “the biggest, most influential website in over a decade.” But the social era—particularly Facebook Pages—proved “a final nail in the coffin for web design,” he noted.

But all those wild ideas had to go somewhere, and many of them didn’t appear in the App Store. Ford says that while the modern web has largely eschewed the creative risks of the Flash era, it can be found in physical mediums and augmented reality, places where many of the creative explosions that web tools like Flash and HTML5 initially allowed can be furthered and built upon—with many of the same creators behind the initial rise responsible for much of the modern excitement.

“The progressive interaction and visual creativity is happening outside of the web browser now,” he explained. “The rise in interactive installations, AR, and experiential in general is where the excitement of the early days is finally happening again.”

This book, which hits next month, comes just at a time when Flash—a tool first developed by FutureWave, then improved upon by Macromedia and exploited on a mass scale by Adobe—is about to meet its maker, and the internet has moved past it for perfectly sensible reasons. (Seriously, Flash is hacked all to hell and you probably should avoid it in most circumstances.)

While a book may be static rather than interactive, this feels like a fitting coda for a kind of digital creativity that—like Geocities and MySpace pages, multimedia CD-ROMs, and Prodigy graphical interfaces before it—has faded in prominence. But when it was there, we needed it, because of all the creative folks it inspired.

“Without the rebels we’d still be looking at static websites with gray text and blue hyperlinks,” Ford said.

Flash Is Responsible for the Internet’s Most Creative Era syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[marigoldbaker]

i router, you giles

read it on ao3!

“Wifi,” said the dark-haired woman, holding a small tech-looking box out in front of her like it was some sort of birthday present. “Got any?”

In which Giles meets the new computer science teacher, Jenny is unapologetically combative, and Willow does her best to set them both straight. (It doesn't work.)

in the event that jenny calendar does show up in the btvs comic reboot, we are probably going to see her meet giles for the first time. and because i have my own thoughts about how that will play out, i wanted to make sure i wrote a fic about it before there’s any established canon.

doesn’t actually require any knowledge of said 2019 reboot--just that this is giles and jenny’s first meeting, now with modern tech thrown into the mix.

“Wifi,” said the dark-haired woman, holding a small tech-looking box out in front of her like it was some sort of birthday present. “Got any?”

Giles missed the British Museum, where his request for a lock on his door had been processed and accepted. “The library’s closed,” he said, in the annoyed-academic voice that generally got most of the children in this school to leave immediately. “If you could perhaps come back later—”

“Oh, no, this is totally a necessity,” said the woman, breezing past Giles as though the word closed wasn’t in her vocabulary. “See, the principal’s under the impression that this—” she blinked, squinting around in the dim light, “—musty old cave of antiquities is lacking a basic Internet connection, so I figured, hey, why not be a good neighbor—”

“Neighbor?”

“I’m in the classroom across from yours,” said the woman, giving Giles a small, bewildered frown. “I see you all the time. Are you telling me you’ve never noticed me?”

“I’m a bit busy,” said Giles, gesturing around at the books he had been shelving, “and I do not appreciate my work being interrupted.”

“Well, aren’t you just a laugh and a half,” said the woman, looking—amused? Giles was insinuating that he didn’t want her there, and she thought it was funny? “Anyway, you being a stuck-up snob totally isn’t the point right now—”

“I beg your pardon?”

“—my point,” said the woman, verging on impatience, “is that I brought you a wifi router. In this day and age, an actual internet connection is a total necessity.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want people to unplug themselves from their smartphones and actually read a book, now, would we?” said Giles waspishly. “Forgive me, Ms—whatever your name is, but I’m afraid I cannot condone adding a potential distraction to a place of studying. Please leave.” With a wince, he realized that this wasn’t very decorous of him. “I appreciate the offer,” he tacked on somewhat unconvincingly.

“You so don’t,” said the woman. Her eyes were narrowed. “And for the record, computers aren’t a distraction. They’re a tool. Have you ever used one, or do you just cast aspersions on anyone who does?”

“Oh, absolutely the second one,” said Giles, pulling out his flip phone for emphasis. “I see no need to muddle my mind with poorly sourced information and exorbitant amounts of social media.”

“Oh my god,” said the woman disbelievingly, “have I somehow stepped back into the nineties?”

“There were computers around then,” Giles began smugly.

“The 1890s, Rupert,” said the woman, giving him an extremely attractive grin. Giles very hastily replaced the revealing adjectives with annoyingly smug and glared back. “You know, you can rot your brain from academic elitism just as fast as you can from—ahem—” She cleared her throat, then said in a horrible British accent, “exorbitant amounts of social media?”

“I don’t sound like that,” said Giles indignantly. Then, “And my name is Mr. Giles, thank you—”

“I’ll cut you a deal,” said the woman. “I’ll call you Mr. Giles if you let me install wifi in your library.”

“Absolutely not!” said Giles immediately, infuriated. “How dare you blackmail me with informalities!”

“Well, how dare you insult me and my chosen profession!”

“You came into this library when there was a clearly marked CLOSED sign on the door—”

“I was trying to be friendly!”

“BY BRINGING IN THE INTERNET?”

“Okay, what is going on?” came Buffy’s voice.

Giles turned. Buffy, Willow, and Xander were standing in the open doorway, all of them watching the spectacle with expressions that suggested they’d been here for longer than he would have liked them to be. “She was attempting to install better Internet in the library,” he said, “and I told her that I wasn’t having any such nonsense.”

“Wait, the Internet is nonsense now?” said Willow, frowning.

“Rupert here thinks that everyone uses good wifi for flash games, dating sites, and Instagram,” said the woman, patting Giles on the shoulder. He jumped away and knocked over two stacks of books. “And I attempted to inform him that actually, the Internet is used for a lot of things when you’re not a dinosaur.”

Buffy looked extremely happy. Xander looked like he was trying not to laugh. Willow’s frown had deepened. “Well, Giles isn’t a dinosaur, Ms. Calendar,” she said, “and I don’t think it’s very mature of either of you to be acting like this. You two are my favorite teachers.”

“Her?” said Giles.

“Him?” said Ms. Calendar.

“Work it out,” said Willow, and led a beaming Buffy and a giggling Xander out of the library.

Giles considered this turn of events. Awkwardly, he said, “I—suppose I was a bit abrasive, initially. If Willow likes you, you can’t be as intolerable as you initially seemed.”

“Way to apologize,” said Ms. Calendar, looking completely unimpressed.

Giles snorted. “Am I supposed to grovel for reacting poorly to you forcing your way into my library?”

Ms. Calendar tilted her head, glaring at him. “You do know that the reason a school library needs Internet is for things like online research papers and collaborative study groups?” she said.. “A lot of the work that these teachers assign is done almost entirely online, and a lot of students are going to turn to the library for a good place to study between classes. The least you can do is make the library more accessible for the kids who are going to be using the Internet responsibly.”

“Or,” said Giles, refusing to feel guilty, “the least I can do is make the library more accessible for the children who want to come in here and read books, undisturbed by YouTube videos and, and, Myspace.”

“Have you ever touched a computer, or have you just read a lot of instruction manuals from 2009?” said Ms. Calendar.

Giles didn’t want to answer that.

“Anyway,” said Ms. Calendar. “I do not accept your apology, I think you’re a total asshole, and at some point, when you aren’t paying attention, I am going to sneak back in here and put the wifi router somewhere you will never find it. Kudos!” She patted Giles on the shoulder again (she had graceful fingers with sparkly, painted nails, not that Giles noticed) and headed out of the library without a backwards glance.

“I hate her very much,” said Giles to the books. It didn’t sound all that convincing.

The wifi router turned up seventeen times within the next two days, regardless of his attempts to remove it from the library. Giles had no idea how she was doing it, and strongly suspected that the children were helping her out.

[spr1nkletop]

my history in online social / quasi social spaces has gone:

- 2003-2006: aol/aim chat rooms, forums (celebritycd, lisiharrison.net, random user generator invisionfrees), Web Sites (neopets, dressup dollz, barbie nails, flash games like impossible quiz, etc)

- 2007-2009: facebook, more legit forums (ultimate guitar lmao), msn messenger, too scared of myspace but definitely going on people’s pages, photobuckets, flickrs, etc.,

-2008-present- twitter (starting off with irls then migrating in 2011 to the then novel “alt”, me personally starting in “alt lit” / “weird twitter” where all the early “alt” viral tweets were coming from)

-2010-2015- tumblr (i think i left when they first banned porn in solidarity with the sex workers and also my blogs kept getting stalked by people from my past)

-2012-present- instagram

-2016-present- reddit (i was lurking r/nosleep for ages, found some subs with high pops of women & found out i could easily avoid most of the unsavory corners)

-2023- bluesky, apparently??? and now back to tumblr, plus the rest.

the landscape of it all has changed so much.

but i know in my heart i will always find somewhere to poast and find my fellow weirdo freaks who hate capitalism. and also obviously are disability, poc, and lgbtqia+ allies if not members of those communities in any and all intersecting ways.

[violetbeachpod]

1x01 / twelve oh one

TERESA:

Okay, so–it’s recording. Cool .

Um. It’s Wednesday. It’s been nine days since–eight days, maybe? –well, if you’re listening, at this point, you know what it was–Benji says we’re gonna publish this, but, like, no. That’s–that’s ridiculous. This is for science.

Or our memoirs. Whatever.

We’ve–the seven of us have decided to keep a log. Of what’s been going on.

Um. So. Cool. Name and deets, just in case some more weird memory shit goes down–My name’s Teresa. I’m eighteen. I’m an Aries, I like bowling and shitty pop music, and only mostly ironically. That enough fluff? I’m a freshman at, ah, Lands College, here in town, and. Studying journalism, with a minor in women’s studies, uh–anything else–I feel like this would be a better story if I start showing, rather than telling.

Or, like. Telling stories rather than just reading out my dating profile. Because that’s lame.

My dating profile’s actually–it’s a lot more detailed than that. I’m on, like, seven different sites, and every profile is. Very Different.

(text notification sound)

Anj, stop–stop listening in! You–you–dude, take a nap.

So. Anyway. Here’s what we know.

(long beat)

That was good, right? A good joke? That’s something. Um. Cuz we don’t know very much at all. There’s something there, I swear, like, I rehearsed that bit in the bathroom mirror this morning, and I was thinking, no, I won’t pull that, but–

But. Back to the point.

Y’know how, in movies, people are always like, “Nobody knows except for us?”

That’s so exclusive. So presumptuous. We don’t know if people are lying. We haven’t spoken to every person on the planet–we haven’t even spoken to anyone outside of Maryland. Outside of town. Like. We’ve watched news, but God knows, some of those conspiracies about hypnosis through CNN are real, or whatever. Y’know? Like–those conspiracies are almost exclusively believed in by, like, flat-earthing racists, so, like, they’re probably, definitely super wrong, but–I was making a joke and I’m overthinking it now. Cool.

Anyway. We don’t know who knows. Maybe someone in, like, Caracas, knows? Maybe someone in–you get my point–knows.

Or maybe we’re being Truman Showed. Wouldn’t be the worst theory to have come out of this.

I would–well, I’d hate it, but one time, back in middle school, the public library did these–these movie nights for teenagers, right? And, so, uh, a bunch of us were there, and I was sitting with Angie, cuz she was–she was the only person I knew there, of course, and she was sitting with these kids, like–uh, from the hippie school she had taken in, and–one of them was AJ, I know, and one was Charlotte. but the others, I don’t see anymore.

But anyway, she was, like, starry-eyed at the idea of her life being a TV show without her knowing. At the idea of unintentional stardoms. So maybe she’ll get a kick out of that theory.

Here’s something: I was working on my campaign notes earlier, cuz the group’s meeting tomorrow, should meet tomorrow  and I didn’t really–I didn’t like a few of the potentials, so, whatever. Irrelevant.

I checked the time, and–well. It was twelve oh one. And two minutes later, it was still twelve oh one. And now, it’s still twelve oh one.

I thought maybe my laptop was being bad again? But it said the same on my phone, and on the wall clock.

The app says time is passing. It’s been longer than fifty-nine seconds.

It’s still twelve oh one, though, is the thing. Which isn’t great, all things considered.

But, we’ll catch up on that later.

Here’s the big thing. I went back to the beach last night to see if I could recreate what happened alone, and, uh–at least. I think I did. I don’t remember going, but, uh, Angie says I did, and AJ said that when he was closing at work, he saw me walking towards it. But I didn’t–I didn’t go.

There are sixty-nine–which, yeah, nice, that’s the sex number, whatever–sticky notes on the bathroom mirror, and, like–I can make out letters on some of them them? Individual letters? But not words. And I know that they’re making words, and I know that it’s my handwriting, but my brain just–it goes somewhere else.

And other ones, that I can read, they have dumb stuff. One of them’s just a doodle of David Hyde Pierce with a caption that just says “HELL YEAH. LOOK AT THE MOON WEDNESDAY.”

It’s, like–in fairness to me, or the person I assume to be me, it’s a fairly good David Hyde Pierce. And there’s–there’s a new moon tonight, so–well.

Whatever.

It’s still twelve oh–oop. Nevermind. Twelve oh two now. Nice.

Benji wants me to take off work until this whole thing’s sorted out. Says he’ll still pay me, but, like–being yelled at by awful dudes about trivia that nobody knows is kind of the only constant in my life right now? So I said no. Obviously. Like. It sucks, but it makes me feel normal. Like the beach out by Angie’s place did, before–

Well. Maybe some recollection would be nice, I guess. Just so, like, Danny and company–like, if we end up showing them. Cuz I’m better at sticking to the facts than, say, Robin or Charlotte. So. Yeah.

So. Uh.

Most folks know that she transferred in after a semester at–well, I’m not allowed to say the name of the school in front of her, anymore, and she’s, like, giving me death-eyes out of the bedroom door. But. A certain Ivy League school. This is relevant–

Okay, maybe not, but it’s a nice set up to our establishing shot, which is, of course, her New Year’s party, nine days ago. At her parents’ place. Or, eight days ago, at her parents’ place, I guess. She told us on New Year’s Eve that she was starting at Lands on the fourth, and I offered her a stay in my dorm, cuz I had a single, and, uh, it sucked? But. Whatever.

So I said, “You know, I have a single.” And she said–wait, lemme find my journal–yes, I do write down conversations, Angie.

Alright. She said, “Oh, really, is it on–Bandcamp, Soundcloud, iTunes, MySpace? I didn’t know you–” And I said, “I meant dorm room, dude, you mentioned–MySpace?”

She said, “I still use it.” I laughed, “Of course you do.”

But, anyway. We agreed to live together, but. It was one AM. Robin Cabell dropped by with her new fiancee, said hi, and–well, like, our babysitter’s getting married, to, like, this gorgeous girl from DC, and the high school kids from the hippie school were there, and Benji was there, cuz he’s everywhere, and–

As folks left–Angie started playing Wonderwall around 3AM, so, uh, a little bit before then–it ended up just being the seven of us. Her parents are out of town–as always. Well, not always. But frequently.

They’re mad about–Blarvardgate.

I–I didn’t say it! I said something mildly close alluding to it. Stop texting me!

But. It was just the seven of us there, Angie still playing some terrible 90s song, and–Benji says, “I brought fireworks. Forgot about that til now.” Elaine, uh, Robin’s new fiancee, asked, “They legal?”

Benji said, “It’s New Year’s Day and I’m a–a bit of a town celebrity,” he said, because his podcast gets, like, seventeen downloads per episode.

“You are?” asked Elaine.

He got really proud, real fast, and he said, “Yes, absolutely, and also, I’m at some rich people’s house and it’s New Year’s Day, so, like. We’ll be fine.”

Which, fair.

And that’s about when things blew up?

Ironically, not literally, cuz he went to his truck, and brought out the fireworks, and he was–well. It was New Year’s, he wasn’t sober, so, he tripped, and those things went flying, landing in the water. It was a bad fall, he hit his head on a rock. And Charlotte was laughing, and she was wading right where the waves were breaking, and she fell backwards, so–AJ panicked, and he jumped in after her, cuz she wasn’t coming up.

And AJ came up, holding Char so she could stand, and she was coughing up water, looked like she was about to pass out. I was checking out Benji’s wound, even though, I’m, like,–blood? Not my thing, ever, at all, it’s–it’s weird and red, and Angie was getting up to check on me, and Rob and her fiancee were trying to help out the kids, and–

And the sky went bright purple.

Not, like, when it’s a sunset, and the sky’s kinda magenta? And that’s blending into the night-sky color, but–

Like, highest saturation on photoshop, highest brightness, makes-you-almost vomit cuz your eyes are burning, that bright purple.

And my skin, it felt like it was burning. I smelled salt, felt a breeze, and I tried to close my eyes, to breathe out, but I couldn’t.

And then there was nothing.

And then I woke up on the beach. I could smell salt, I was totally clear-headed–and Benji’s cut? It was gone.

My watch said it was around 4AM. My phone was dead, but–it was the first, still. The sun was rising, in–in normal sky colors.

And I woke up second. Elaine was already up.

She asked me if I saw it too.

I said I that did.

Neither of us needed to clarify what. But we did. Obviously. Because “it” could be, like, anything, like–could be that new reality show that everyone’s super into where eliminations are decided by arm wrestles–it’s, like–it’s got compelling storylines, I swear.

My phone died, Angie, so if you’re trying to communicate, I can’t help you.

Oh! Time’s passing normally now. That’s nice. That’s good.

The plan was to recount the past week’s events, as well as their psychological effect on us. That’s what we agreed on.

So. Time stopped for a little while today. That was weird. That’s important.

I guess–I’m first, so I should talk about my other big experience too.

I was the fourth of us to see something, after it all? It was the third. After work, I was walkin’ to Ramon’s? And as I passed the custard stand, I saw this woman.

She was shorter than me, uh, long sundress on that was way too summery for this weather, but she didn’t seem cold. I offered her my hoodie, cuz I at least had long sleeves, but she didn’t answer. Dark hair, big sunglasses. I’d wager maybe thirty.

She took off her sunglasses, yeah? And the sky flashed purple–the same purple, the same burning feeling all over me–

And then the same nothingness, same smell of salt, same breeze, but–

I was still standing. And we were in this space, this–this purple nothingness, no ground, no sky, no nothing, that’s a double negative, you get what I mean, and–I was still standing–more floating, which was–not as pleasant as you’d expect? But not unpleasant, either. And this woman, she looked at me,  dead in the eyes, and–

And she said–

(beat, uncomfortable)

What did she say?

(laughs)

It’s–it’s in my head, like. Tip of my tongue. I wrote it down, but it’s–it’s another individual letters making out a word I know but can’t–type situation.

But whatever.

What I’m most concerned about is my going to the beach. About the sticky notes. Like, that’s some sci-fi bullshit. Or some horror bullshit. Either or. Probably both.

Again, Truman Showed. Viable theory, here.

Or it has something to do with the Groundhog Day thing. Maybe.

I think what bothers me about this is how easy I’m accepting all this–that, like, I’m fairly sure all this is real. I know it’s–it’s weird. I know that this is sci-fi-esque, but, like–I never saw myself as a protagonist, or–any kind of tagonist, I guess, in those stories. But this–now, I think that I am.

So. Cool.

But why do I think that’s cool? I’m the–I’m the socially-stilted nerdy girl who either dies second or gets really good at guns, and I’m very afraid of guns.

So, therefore? I’m dying second.

Or, or or or, I’m Lois Lane. Charming and tough young journalist, swept off her feet by a charming stranger. Hopefully not a Superman, though, cuz–he’s not my thing. But. Yeah. I can deal with Lois.

I feel like I should know what happens next. Me or Benji, we gotta, we’re the ones who know genre like the backs of our hands. That’s why we’re friends, but–

This isn’t supposed to happen here. Like, I grew up here, and I’m–I wasn’t planning to stay here forever, obviously, but–This town, VB, it’s–it’s comforting in its boringness. Sure, it’s not– the people here are always cycling in-and-out, cuz tourism and school, and all that, but–Violet Beach is a normal-ass town. We don’t have ghost stories, we don’t have cryptids, we–we don’t have lore, or whatever. I don’t think there’s ever been a murder here, for God’s sake.

Okay, well–the hippie school’s headmaster, uh, the rebrander guy, Andrew Corielli, or–his son’s the mayor, right?–Shot that grocer, like, in the sixties. But everyone was a serial killer back then, if I can trust every true crime show ever.

But–my point is. What’s going on is not what happens in this town. What’s going on is what goes on in, like, Roswell, or–or Twin Peaks, or something.

I’m–I don’t have much else to say. That’s a conclusion if there ever was one. So. Uh.

Okay. I’m signing off. Thanks, guys. Hope to see you soon.

[theemperorsfeather]

This is a good essay but reading it was also like having my heart ripped out repeatedly.

Like many people my age and older, I miss the pre–social media internet. The new internet knows this, and it capitalizes on my nostalgia as it eats away at the old internet. It amounts to an unforeseen form of technological cannibalism.

Admittedly, the phenomenon of the self-eating internet may not be obvious when we think about it in the abstract; we need to break it down into its constituent operations. For example, I open my Instagram account to post on my Instagram Story feed that I’m writing this essay about internet nostalgia. There I can attach kitschy gifs to my story like fancy stickers—I look at my options, and the offerings remind me of various moments from my online past. There’s an image of sparkles that takes me back to the flash-based dress-up games I once played as a tween. There’s another gif with glitzy text that reads “Don’t hate me cuz I’m beautiful,” recalling the emotional trials of my Myspace days. And there is yet another gif that features a computer that bears a suspicious resemblance to the “My Computer” icon from Windows 95. These gifs come from Giphy, which has been integrated with Instagram for years. They’re lo-res, imperfect, and entirely decontextualized. These disembodied ghosts—ancient in computer years—blink back at me because tech companies know that, based on my age, I like them. And I do like them. I miss where they came from—it’s a place I’ve found is no longer there.

The Hell of Beautiful Interfaces

The internet is perhaps the most potent and active delivery system in history for the thesis “capitalism will obliterate everything you know and love”—online it happens in real time. Considering the average website is less than ten years old, that old warning from your parents that says to “be careful what you post online because it’ll be there forever” is like the story your dad told you about chocolate milk coming from brown cows, a well-meant farce. On the contrary, librarians and archivists have implored us for years to be wary of the impermanence of digital media; when a website, especially one that invites mass participation, goes offline or executes a huge dump of its data and resources, it’s as if a smallish Library of Alexandria has been burned to the ground. Except unlike the burning of such a library, when a website folds, the ensuing commentary from tech blogs asks only why the company folded, or why a startup wasn’t profitable. Ignored is the scope and species of the lost material, or what it might have meant to the scant few who are left to salvage the digital wreck.

The reason the tech literati don’t wring their hands more is obvious: the artifacts of internet life are personal—that is, not professionally or historically notable—and therefore worthless. The persistent erasure of what are essentially frozen experiences, snapshots of our lives, nakedly demonstrates how tech monopolies value the human commonality and user experience so loftily promoted in their branding—they don’t. And this is especially true in an era where involuntary data mining, as opposed to voluntary participation, is king. 

... countless hagiographies and histories have been written about the technology of the internet and its “inventors” hailing from the FAANGs (Facebook, Apple, Amazon, Netflix, and Google). But the users of those technologies and services can only be found in the data point or the footnote, transformed into an anonymous bleating mass a world below the visionaries who built the platforms that now alchemize our consumer preferences into chunks of fool’s gold. Meanwhile, the genuine experiences of users are ignored, despite the fact that the internet has always been deeply and irrevocably personal...

...

In the age of smartphones and apps, our agency is only more limited; even what we see is limited, restricted by the proprietary designs of a small handful of companies. As for customization, it’s even worse: I can’t change how Twitter or Facebook looks on my phone. Hell, I can’t even undo what I just typed on my phone. This in part is because apps, though they may be connected to the web, are not websites. As tech writer Christopher Mims noted in 2014, apps and app stores are all about throttling the competition; unlike the web they aren’t built on a universal open platform. They are thus completely misaligned with the earlier ethos of the internet as a place for the open-ended exchange of ideas. Mims adds, “The Web wasn’t perfect, but it created a commons where people could exchange information and goods. It forced companies to build technology that was explicitly designed to be compatible with competitors’ technology.” That accountability, everyone knows, has disappeared. And this helps explain how the FAANGs grew so enormous so quickly: they got in easy and quick and held a gun to everyone else’s head. Today, roughly 90 percent of time spent on our phones is devoted to apps—not the web. The web didn’t adapt fast enough, and companies these days don’t bother wasting time on mobile browsing. They prefer to nag us into “downloading the app.”

Because websites had to either become apps or self-optimize for mobile, web design declined from its creative, more variegated heights to become flat, highly minimalistic, and multi-platform, and the results are, frankly, fucking boring...

... Flash’s relegation to the trashcan of internet history highlights one of the more daunting tasks for internet users and preservationists, upon whom the onus of responsibility for reacting to the sometimes terrifyingly sudden decisions of huge tech conglomerates and their ensuing monocultures is placed. These companies and platforms operate in part by devouring, appropriating, monetizing, exterminating, or burying on the 112th page of search results anything on the web that is even remotely interesting—especially anything amateur, anything ad hoc-ist. There is more and more an ethic of false equivalency between virality and substance (and I say that as someone whose blog went viral). Hence, they think, because this stuff isn’t profitable, it must mean nobody wants to see it; and so nobody does. Non-virality and false obsolescence, when combined with link rot—the natural atrophy of links across time—have led to the quiet erasure of entire swaths of the internet.

[justfcrkicks]

01. what’s your name/alias you go by ??

it’s not my real name but i go by cody online, usually.

02. what’s your age ??

nineteen, almost twenty. i feel 12 tho

03. what’s your zodiac sign ??

aries! i added the exclamation point bc we’re supposed to be assertive but i didn’t get the memo.

04. what’s your ethnicity ??

umm what ISN’T my ethnicity is a better question haha. but no i’m mostly italian/sicilian, lots of different other european countries too, and also part native american, but sadly the only person that even knew what tribe was my grandmother who never really shared those details with anyone before her passing.

05. what’s your nationality ??

i am a US citizen :)

06. what’s your favorite band and/or musical artist ??

i can never answer this because i like pretty much every genre of music and my “favorite” is constantly in flux but right now i’ve been listening to a lot of greta van fleet, eminem, harry styles, joyner lucas, tenacious d, and also one specific willie nelson song has been on a constant loop when i’m not listening to the other stuff.

07. what’s your dream job ??

i don’t really have one tbh. lots of people do and that’s awesome, but sometimes people don’t believe me when i say the only thing that matters is that i don’t hate the job and it earns me enough money to live comfortably, maybe own a small house, reasonably priced car, etc. 

08. what’s one place you would love to visit ??

alpha centauri

09. what’s your favorite tv show ??

another one of those things where i can’t pick a favorite. i’ve been enjoying arrow, riverdale, titans, the ranch, sabrina, supergirl, the flash, legacies, and legends of tomorrow lately though. i’m also a big fan of general hospital, the 100, izombie, lucifer, and stranger things.

10. what’s your favorite movie ??

um... tough one but i have always had a soft spot for Joe Dirt, or The New Guy. Also, I really liked Why Him with James Franco, Bryan Cranston, and Zoey Deutch. I mean, not the greatest movies ever but they’re what come to mind when asked, so... lol

11. what’s your favorite song ??

as of the past couple weeks? “cruel cruel world” by willie nelson, or “unshaken” by d’angelo. for weeks before that it was “lucky you” by eminem & joyner lucas. but i really, unironically love “only in america” by riff raff. the video is hilarious and it just puts me in a good mood.

12. what’s your favorite sport ??

is watching tv a sport? haha video games is a sport, right...?

13. what’s your favorite food ??

pizza. or cereal. i have difficulty picking favorites if you couldn’t tell.

14. what’s your favorite face claim to use ??

chris wood or paul wesley, usually. i’ve just used them a lot and gotten used to them. i tried to justify chris wood for john but he’s way too buff to be john and his skinny gifs don’t look nearly enough like john to make any sense.

15. what’s your least favorite face claim ??

andy ballsack biersack. emma roberts. those two bring up bad memories. dylan o’brien. idk why, i like him well enough as an actor. i’m not necessarily opposed to rping with any of them though

16. what’s your favorite canon character to play ??

i played kai parker for a while. that was fun.

17. what’s your sexuality ??

heterosexual. i legitimately cannot remember a time i wasn’t into girls. as a toddler i’d play with barbies to take the clothes off lmfao

18. what’s the last movie you saw in a cinema/theater ??

batman v superman i think. it’s been way too long.

19. what’s the worst injury you’ve ever had ??

i’ve had some bad ones. i broke my wrist/hand in a few different places, which wasn’t too bad. had a sprained/fractured ankle which didn’t heal for like a year. but the worst was when i got assassin’s creed brotherhood as a kid and laid on my stomach across the whole couch, propped up on my elbows for like 7 hours straight. my back was in a u shape the whole time and when i finally moved, that was the moment i realized i fucked up lol

20. what’s a random or interesting fact about you ??

um.... idk i’m boring but maybe that i have lost 120lbs 

21. do you listen to music while you write ??

sometimes. if i find a good playlist (i’m too lazy to make one) that’s not too distracting then sometimes i’ll use it for a while but other times i just like the silence.

22. are you a morning, day, evening, or night writer ??

night. no matter how hard i try my sleep schedule always gets turned upside down eventually to where i get up at like 6 pm and go to sleep at like 10 am, so i usually only write while the skies are dark lol

23. have you ever roleplayed intoxicated ??

nope. i’ve never had a drink or done drugs so that’d be a neat trick. lol

24. what language or languages do you speak ??

only english. i’m probably too dumb to learn another language tbh. though for a while after playing assassin’s creed 2 i’d say random italian sentences and call people “stronzo!”

25. how long have you roleplayed ??

i mean technically i’ve been rping since i was 8 on myspace, but i didn’t move on to legit rp until i was like 11 or 12, then i went to rp.me for a while, then finally got to tumblr around 2012-2013. 

26. favorite roleplay genre ??

i don’t really have one, but i was once in a scifi rp that changed my view on what groups can be, and i think it was my favorite experience ever. everyone was so close and friendly and that made the rp even more fun, so now a good scifi rp brings up those memories for me and makes me enjoy that genre even more.

27. one sound you hate & one you love ??

ok so the sound i hate is nails scratching cotton. not a chalkboard, oddly enough that’s tolerable to me, but nails scratching up against cotton... i have no idea why but it sends chills down my spine lmfao

i love the sound of a crackling fire though. or rain. or rain and a crackling fire. 

28. do you believe in ghosts ??

hell yes i do. pls don’t hurt me ghosts i believe in u

29. do you believe in aliens ??

do i think aliens exist? yes. do i think we’ve been visited by aliens, or that we’re even close enough for them to know we exist? not necessarily. but i do like the ancient alien theory that we were visited by aliens a long time ago and taught stuff. especially when you consider that so many cultures, even those that had no way of being in contact with each other are so similar, have similar thought processes, and progressed at similar rates.

30. do you believe in true love ??

yes & no. i believe that initial attractions can be very powerful in producing a “love at first sight” feeling, but no one is just meant to love another person. i believe you can grow to feel “true love” for anyone assuming the right circumstances.

31. do you hold grudges ??

i’d like to think i don’t but i know i do, at least in the back of my mind. sort of forgive but not forget, but also never 100% forgiving either? idk.

32. do you have any obsessions right now ??

red dead redemption 2. big shock, i know haha. i just can’t get over the ending, the characters, the music, the world, etc. 

33. do you drive & if so, have you ever been in a crash ??

nope & nope

34. do you like the smell of gasoline ??

nooooo it makes me feel sick, honestly.

35. do you prefer writing fluff, angst, or smut ??

all of the above! each has its merits, and writing too much of one thing can get old and make the others feel more appealing. smut gets old the quickest though imo, even though i’ve run a smut rp in the past haha

36. are you in a relationship ??

are you? lmao

37. grab the nearest book to you and turn to page 23, what is the 17the line ??

well it’s a comic/graphic novel so there’s not 17 lines on that page but the second to last line is “and edward nigma... did you know that when the riddler was first transferred to arkham, they had to keep moving him from cell to cell to keep him from being able to formulate an escape?” it’s Batman Volume 10: Epilogue by Snyder & Capullo.

38. put your playlist on shuffle and list the first four songs that pop up:

1. Santeria by Sublime 2. Money Trees by Kendrick Lamar 3. Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana 4. Ladders by Mac Miller

[dritateacher]

Putty for mac os mojave

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Hold down the Control key and click the app icon. A popup will appear asking you to confirm this action. Click the “Continue” button, and then select “Download a Copy”.

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Type or paste one of the following commands in Terminal.

These assume that the installer is in your Applications folder, and MyVolume is the name of the USB flash drive or other volume you're using. If it has a different name, replace MyVolume in these commands with the name of your volume. * If your Mac is using macOS Sierra or earlier, include the -applicationpath argument and installer path, similar to the way this is done in the command for El Capitan.

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When prompted, type your administrator password and press Return again.Terminal doesn't show any characters as you type your password. When prompted, type Y to confirm that you want to erase the volume, then press Return.Terminal shows the progress as the volume is erased. After the volume is erased, you may see an alert that Terminal would like to access files on a removable volume.

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When Terminal says that it's done, the volume will have the same name as the installer you downloaded, such as Install macOS Big Sur.

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Plug the bootable installer into a Mac that is connected to the internet and compatible with the version of macOS you're installing.

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Ported from the Mac OS X Leopard, this colourful animated cursor set will bring flair to any desktop! To ensure the cursors load at every start-up, copy your new cursor pack to C:WindowsCursors. In fact, it’s best to think of a cursor as an entire theme with different images for different states that your cursor indicates for example, the pointer, the wait/delay, the caret, etc. Also our cursors work on Internet Explorer, Mozilla Firefox, Safari, and Google Chrome. You can even get Tumblr Cursors, Friendster Cursors, Blogspot Cursors, Xanga, Bebo, Orkut, Wordpress, Myspace and any other social networking profile site that allows CSS coding, here. We also boast an active community focused on purchasing decisions and technical aspects of the iPhone, iPod, iPad, and Mac platforms.

OS X Mavericks (10.9) MacRumors attracts a broad audience of both consumers and professionals interested in the latest technologies and products.

Forgive me if I am wrong, but doesn't removing Mavericks make every Mac on the market redundant? That 'recovery' download fails every time. Command-R or ⌘-R brings us to where we reinstall Mac OS X.

I have two words for this interesting thread: TOO SECURE.

If you are really want to use an app like Putty on Mac device then please get any one alternative of Putty for Mac from the below-provided list: Terminal vSSH Lite Chrome Secure Shell OpenSSH SecureCRT The extended Status bar for Firefox with a Putty.

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On Linux, OS X, and most other UNIX-y based environments, SSH is generally purely command line, but still amazingly powerful.

PUTTY FOR MAC OS MOJAVE WINDOWS

PuTTY is a great Windows frontend, not to mention the need for an SSH client in the first place.

[silva16boyd-blog]

Why purchasing Instagram site Visitors Are Helpful

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How to download youtube videos on mac for free

HOW TO DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON MAC FOR FREE FOR FREE

HOW TO DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON MAC FOR FREE FOR MAC

HOW TO DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON MAC FOR FREE WATCH ONLINE

HOW TO DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON MAC FOR FREE MAC OS

If you're using a web browser other than these three, you can use the Paste URL feature to download online video. It provides the same video download experience in these 3 main stream web browsers.

HOW TO DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON MAC FOR FREE FOR MAC

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HOW TO DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON MAC FOR FREE WATCH ONLINE

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HOW TO DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON MAC FOR FREE FOR FREE

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HOW TO DOWNLOAD YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON MAC FOR FREE MAC OS

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