OOH YEAH BABY! PARTY TIME BABY! MUSIC! DRINKS! SOCIAL PRESSURE & A PSYCHEDELIC BREAK DOWN! WELCOME TO VAMPIRE SOCIETY MOTHERFUCKER! ARE YOU SCARED? DO YOU UNDERSTAND YET? ITS OKAY IF NOT. FIRE DISSOLVED IT! ITS ALL GONE NOW. HAVE FUN!
I dont know how people can hate on Mania. Patrick goes so fucking hard with the vocals that WHOLE album.
I dare u to listen to Heaven's Gate, Church, Sunshine Riptide, Bishops Knife Trick, and Young And Menace and tell me he didnt put his whole chest and pussy into those vocals. Spectacular. Show stopping. Nothing but bangers.
I fucking love Ryan Gosling in these Barbie interviews. Someone asked "hey what would Ken say in his bio on a dating app? what kind of person is he looking for?" and Ryan's like "uh... well before he even looks for a Type Of Person™, he's gotta be real up front that he's got no job... and no house... no real prospects of any sort, really, he just kinda sleeps on the beach, and -- you know what, he doesn't even have a phone? I... I don't know if he can even sign up for this app?" and Margot said "oh but he has abs. That should get him somewhere" and he said "no, no, I don't think he even has an email address, I don't think there's any way to contact him??"
and it's like three minutes of them talking about Ken not even having any pickup lines because his way of flirting isn't even flirting, it's him picking up something Barbie accidentally dropped (even though Barbie doesn't make mistakes) and saying "oh hey you dropped this 😳" and then offering it to Barbie and then when Barbie says thank you while making eye contact he's shaking and thinking "oh god what a perfect day Barbie looked at me" and then he'll ride that high the entire day. and the interviewer was like "but that isn't a pickup line" and Ryan said "no I don't... I don't think Ken does that, I think he just creates moments with Barbie and cherishes them" WHAT THE HELL SIR YOU'RE MAKING ME FALL FOR KEN EVEN MORE
Domestic Diplomacy II is turning out to be even more "splickedy gratuitously gets caught in the weeds of xenosociology and alien language barriers, the fic sequel" and tbh I'm not mad about it
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“Oh, your moirail!” says Jade, and bounces upright, ignoring John’s wary little soft human cautionary hiss. To your vague surprise, she’s apparently learned enough not to do the human holding-out-a-hand gesture they usually do when they’re introduced; she clasps her hands in front of her, nonexistent claws politely folded in, and ducks her head briefly forward and to one side, careful not to jab at him with her nonexistent horns.
It's a pretty passable greeting—for a social equal, which is its own bizarre issue, considering he’s a highblood. But relatively non-offensive, for a human, and fortunately for her she’s picked a highblood who isn’t likely to give a shit. Gamzee laughs out loud and gives his own lazy-ass version of a greeting back, a vague twist of his wrists and dip of his head, condescending to use an equal’s greeting back at her. When he says “Gamzee Makara,” there’s a hint of a threatening buzz to it, a testing you should know to respect me warning—you could have told him she’d show absolutely no sign of hearing it, which is exactly what happens.
“I’m Jade Harley! I meet you,” Jade says, a carefully neutral statement-of-fact greeting—not fawning or hostile. You don’t know if humans are out here just learning neutral address no matter what, or if this human particularly just doesn’t give a shit that your moirail’s a fuck-off mutant-huge highblood with horns that scrape the ceiling of the block—by the expectant way she looks up at Gamzee afterward, she wouldn’t give much of a shit either way. Out of all of the humans, Jade Harley might actually win the prize for giving the least shits, no matter what Rose and Dave like to pretend.
“Yeah, I meet you too, motherfucker,” says Gamzee, looking incredibly amused, and glances down at you. “She’s a rude-ass little motherfuckin’ toothful, huh? I like her.”
“Of course you do,” you say, pained. “Don’t take it personally, alright? You’re not a highblood here, they don’t get highbloods.”
“Oh, best friend,” says Gamzee, and kisses your nugbone again, embarrassingly. “I’m a highblood wherever the fuck I go. It’s cool though. Squishy-ass little motherfuckers won’t get any grief from me.”
“<Motherfucker>,” Jade repeats behind you, and switches back to English, in the bright, wide verbal tone you’re starting to learn means ‘smiling and happy’, weird interstitial ‘vowel’ breath-sounds further back in the throat through pulled-back mouth-corners. “Hmm, <motherfucker>… Oh, neat! Is that dialect? It sounds like, ahh, what’s that other word. Kk—kkkht— Uh, dammit. You guys need to learn how to use vowels— It sounds like <;brother>.”
“It is like,” you say, surprised despite yourself. “<Brother> is a troll, and <motherfucker> you put it all spots you want. It’s a thing, it’s a troll, it’s a, tss, a doing-things word, it’s a name. It’s bad, it’s good. Any spot you want. And he does want, for all those, all the time.”
Do you think Superman might envy Aquaman, from time to time?
I mean, think about it. They were both raised by humans, but with Vague Memories and Portents suggesting that something more was going on.
The difference being that when Arthur discovered the truth, it came in the form of a vibrant and living realm for him to enter, with people who had been searching for him and were eager to reach out a hand. Whereas Clark's discovery of the truth merely revealed that the night sky was full of corpses.
People see a one second toaster quality video of Charles Leclerc standing still and think he is the chill guy who is just vibing out of the Lestappen duo, as if this is not the same mother fucker who went after robbers in his Ferrari at night in Monaco Miami Vice style without thinking what might happen when he'd catch them.