#IMPORTANT EDIT: tumblr messed up the order but it should be fixed now!!!!

[joyfuladorable]

<Ch.14&15 | Cover | Ch.17(TBA)>

SIX pages for a >>SCENE<< that tore through my Goddamn SOUL!!!

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[shipping-kitchen]

Sweet Burning Pleasure

Kinktober, Day One: Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs

Fandom: Resident Evil VIII

Pairing: Lady Dimitrescu/Female Reader

Words: 4,500

Warnings: body horror, really dubious consent/non-consensual, aphrodisiacs, the reader definitely thinks she’s going to die for most of the fic, lots of blood and blood drinking and vampire things, explicit sex, graphic descriptions of cuts and blood

Summary:  You are a maid in the Dimitrescu Castle, doing your best to keep your head down and survive. You eventually catch the attention of the Lady of the castle.

Important Note: I’m posting my Kinktober one-shots daily on tumblr, unedited! Eventually I’ll edit them and post them on AO3, but for now this is the first draft, and I hope you enjoy it ^-^

You were well aware that working at the Dimitrescu Castle was tantamount to a death sentence, but when Mother Miranda asked for new women to volunteer… it was an honour to be recognized by her. It would guarantee that your parents would eat well for the coming winter. The years in the village had stretched on, and you knew that your chances of staying on the farm were slim. Too many of your childhood friends had already been ushered away, to experiments and servitude to the Lords that surrounded the town.

You could become a wife in the town, produce more children to continue the cycle, but you couldn’t stomach the idea of marrying one of the men that you had grown up beside. Better to step forward, volunteer as a maid, accept the new dress that was sent your way, pack your scant belongings, and hug your parents goodbye as you began the walk towards the castle that loomed above your village.

You were wearing the dress that had been given to you when you were chosen: a grey dress that gathered at the waist and then flared out around your legs, falling to just below your knees. Paired with the apron that rested overtop, it was more elegant than the clothes you grew up with, but still clearly the clothes of a servant.

Your bag bumped against your shoulder blades as you walked through the gates, leaving your village behind. It was early Spring, and the vineyards were beginning to fill with greenery. The lattices surrounded you, the scent of fresh soil and new growth almost covering the decay of the scarecrows that hung around the path.

It was easier to look at the slowly growing vines than to face forward and the castle doors becoming larger as you drew towards it. Your heart was pounding, anxiety prickling on the back of your neck and the tips of your fingers. No one ever came back from the castle, and you had no idea what was waiting for you inside.

All too soon, your feet were climbing the stone steps towards the main doors. You paused in front of them, fixing the folds of your dress and pressing your hair back into place. Then you took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It was long seconds before the door opened, revealing another woman in a similar grey dress. It wasn’t someone from the village, which didn’t surprise you. All of the Lords hired foreigners, the village not enough to staff their needs. She was an older woman, her hair beginning to grey.

You curtseyed, a small bobbing movement.

“I’m the new maid, ma’am. Sent from the village.”

“Well, come inside.” The woman stepped back and you obediently stepped inside, trying not to flinch as the huge door was shut behind you. “What’s your name, girl?”

The main hall of the castle was resplendent and golden. A large painting of three women was illuminated across the hall. There were delicate vases and intricate designs everywhere you looked. You told the woman your name, occupied with gazing around the hall in awe. You had never seen such splendor, and it filled you with both fear and anticipation.

“Hmm. Well, I’m the housekeeper, Ms. Matheski. You’ll take your orders from me. Welcome to Castle Dimitrescu.”

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You had expected life at the castle to be something out of a horror movie, abstract ideas of dark hallways and boarded up rooms. The truth was much different: life at the castle was hard work.

There were dozens of rooms, and you had to prepare each one on a rotating schedule. There were sheets to wash in the river, fireplaces to clean out, mantels to polish, floors to mop. Every day, you worked hard and collapsed into bed for a deep sleep.

You rarely saw the mistresses of the castle, dressed all in black and cackling as they walked down the halls together. All of the servants knew to get out of the way when their voices came down the hallway. No one discussed the red crusted around the mistresses’ mouths, but everyone knew. The servants cleaned out the goblets, after all.

Sometimes, you encountered Lady Dimitrescu. While her daughters announced themselves with their raucous conversation, the lady of the house moved with an unpredictable silence. Many times, you were on your knees in front of a fireplace, covered in ashes, when you looked up to see Lady Dimitrescu behind you, watching your work.

The first time it had happened, you had scrambled to your feet, dropping to your lowest curtsey. Your eyes on the ground, you waited. Her presence was all-encompassing: she was so large, and in her white dress, unlike anything else in the castle.

Lady Dimistrecu had laughed and told you to continue working. On her way out of the room, she had touched her fingers to the top of your head, and your knees had gone weak from fear. And then she was gone, and you collapsed back in front of the fireplace.

Since then, you had gotten used to the Lady’s presence, and the way she came and went, overseeing everyone’s work. Those who made mistakes were the ones to disappear: you made sure that you listened carefully and double-checked your work.

And so you survived, into the winter.

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Winter in the castle was different: the fires were kept blazing, more wood being ordered from the village almost daily. The windows were boarded up, to keep out the cold. Before, the Dimitrescu daughters had come and gone from the castle, but now they remained in their rooms, more sullen and more likely to lash out.

You kept working, you kept your head down. You did your best to avoid the daughters and please the Lady. Ms. Matheski was never displeased with your work, but she wasn’t warm with any of the girls who worked in the castle. You didn’t blame her.

One day, you had been assigned to the main hall. The main hall had to be cleaned daily, unlike the other rooms, and it was a dangerous assignment. Lady Dimitrescu was picky about the banister, and the daughters often came through the main hall on their way from their rooms. The winter was dragging on, and the mistresses were restless. Daniella, especially, had taken to tormenting the maids: tearing their clothes, throwing rats at them while they worked, and occasionally dragging them off to the lower levels, where you had never been asked to work.

You made your way into the main hall cautiously, entering through the servant door. It was empty, and you got down to work. The fireplace was first, cleaned out and then refilled with new wood and lit again. The castle was kept at a warmth that was almost stifling in winter, but you knew better than to complain.

Once the fire was lit, you turned your attention to the dishes that had been left on the table in the hall. The daughters liked to dine here, and often left a mess. It would take you several trips across the castle to the kitchen to clear the table, so it was best to get started.

You gathered up the first stack of dishes and made off, your dress swirling around your legs as you made your way down the familiar hallways. You tried not to let them rattle, cautious of drawing attention to yourself, and breathed a sigh of relief when you reached the kitchen without incident.

“Dishes from the main hall,” you told the maid washing dishes. “More to come.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and you headed back out the door, your soft leather shoes making no noise on the carpeted hallway as you went back to the main hall.

When you entered the hall, you froze. Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters were all in the hall, warming themselves in front of the fire you had recently lit. Bela was reclining against her mother’s chest, her sisters’ heads resting on their mother’s legs. It was a relaxed tableau, and not something you felt that you should be present for.

But Lady Dimistrecu was already looking towards the door as you stepped in, so you dropped into a hasty curtsy and reached behind yourself for the door.

“Please, continue,” the Lady commanded, waving her hand towards you. “The table needs clearing.”

“Yes, my Lady,” you said, hearing your voice come out quiet and hesitant. You clenched your jaw against your own hesitation, and walked towards the table. You could feel the eyes of the daughters upon you. You only hoped that their closeness with their mother would be enough to keep them content.

You gathered the plates and the goblets, trying to keep your hands from shaking. You could do this, despite the eyes on you. You could do this.

Distracted by your fear and the prickling awareness of your watchers, you picked up one of the knives the wrong way, and felt hot pain shoot through your palm.

You inhaled, but made no sound of pain, and forced yourself not to jerk back. Instead, you calmly placed the knife on the stack of plates with the others, and picked up the stack.

When you turned, Cassandra was standing directly in front of you. You had never seen one of the daughters this close, and it was immediately apparent that there was something wrong with her eyes. It looked like there was something moving inside the darkness of her pupils.

You refused to flinch backwards. Fear crawled up your spine, but you stood still. You held the plates steady. Your palm was burning where you had cut it.

Cassandra’s hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist.

Despair grew around you. This was sure to be the end, no matter how careful you had been.

She pulled your hand forward, and there was no resisting her grip. The plates slipped from your grasp and shattered on the floor at your feet.

Your palm was splayed upwards, and you could see how shallow the cut had been. Only a few beads of blood were brought to the surface, tiny droplets along a jagged line where the knife had dug into your skin.

An unnatural whine came from Cassandra’s chest, more like a cicada’s song than a human voice. She leaned towards your palm, and you closed your eyes, unwilling to watch.

There was a growl and then a harsh tug as Cassandra’s hand was pulled off your wrist. You pulled your hand back to your chest, opening your eyes to see Bela tussling with Cassandra on the floor, both of them making a strange growling-whining noise.

“Mine,” Cassandra hissed.

“Mine,” Bela growled back, and slammed her hand through her sister’s head. Insects exploded around her arm, twining up towards Bela’s face, and both of them dissolved into a swarm of struggling insects. As they fought, you took two steps back, and then pelted towards one of the further doors.

You didn’t expect to make it, but somehow, the door was closing behind you and you were still running, following the winding hallways back to your room. You slammed the door to your room and leaned against it, panting.

You could feel your heartbeat drumming against your ribs and your temples, your hand clenched in a fist around the cut that had started the fight. You knew, logically, that you aren’t safe here. This room was just another part of their castle, it would be easy enough to find you.

But you were in your own space. No one had ever come into this room while you’d been here. It was your safety in the castle. A place where you had never felt afraid. The fear was already beginning to fade, even as you struggled to hold onto it. Should you run? Would they forget? Would their mother blame you for their fight?

You unclenched your hand and looked at the cut again. The blood was already beginning to dry. You knew you should clean it, your hands still ashy from the fireplace. There was a washbasin in your room and you moved towards it, dipping your hands into the cold water. It came from the well outside the castle, and while it was boiled for the Lady’s baths and morning toilette, it was still cold for your own basin. It grounded you, washed away the last of the adrenaline. You watched the ashes swirl into the water. There wasn’t enough blood to turn the water pink. Such a small cut.  

Surely it would be easily forgotten.

As you dried your hands, there was a knock on your door. One, two, three raps, and then silence.

The fear returned, a lump in your throat as you moved towards the door. There were no windows in your room, no escape from whatever waited on the other side. A disappointed housekeeper, a curious maid, a murderous mistress…

You put your hand on the doorknob, inhaled, and opened the door.

White fabric greeted you, falling in elegant ripples to the ground.

“Hello, my pet,” said Lady Dimitrescu. “May I come in?”

You stumbled back, unable to deny her. She bent to enter your room, her hat brushing the edges of the doorway. Like her daughters, she was pale as moonlight. When she straightened, she was very close to the ceiling. The servant’s quarters lacked the high ceilings of the rest of the house, not made with the Lady of the house in mind.

“I’m sorry, my Lady,” you managed. “I didn’t mean to drop the plates.”

“Mmm. My daughters are impatient. I don’t blame you for the accident.” Lady Dimitrescu reached towards you, and you allowed it. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, just as Cassandra had held you earlier, but the scale was different. Her palm cupped your entire wrist, her fingers wrapping up your arm to the elbow. You had never felt so small, so helpless, so delicate. “I’ve spoken with them.”

“I… thank you.” Your body was thrumming with a mixture of fear, hope, and contact. Her fingertips rested delicately on the inside of your arm, against the veins.

“You are a rare delight,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured. “You caught my daughters off-guard.” Gently, she turned your palm upwards to show the faint line where the knife had cut. Her thumb traced the mark, expression going hazy for a moment. “You surprised me as well.”

“My Lady?” you asked, unsure what to make of her attention. You tried pulling your hand back, and her grip tightened on your arm, sudden enough to make you gasp. Her eyes snapped upwards to meet your gaze, and she looked hungry.

“It’s been a long winter, my dear,” Lady Dimitrescu said, as if it were a confession, as if this were a conversation, as if she were not holding you in place. “The wine is sweet, but you… are almost certainly sweeter.”

That was enough for you to know where this was going. You pushed yourself backwards, trying to wrench your arm from Lady Dimitrescu’s grasp, but it was no use. Her fingers were like marble on your wrist, solid and unbreaking.

“Hush, my pet.”

Her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and you heard yourself make a short sound of fear. Instinct made you freeze in place, your nape cradled in her palm. Her fingers rested on your collarbones. She was leaning down above you, and her eyes were so dark and hungry.

“It will not hurt,” Lady Dimitrescu whispered.

And then her lips were on your neck, and she was lying, it hurt, soft lips and sharp teeth and then searing pain up and down your spine. You could hear yourself crying out, you could hear the sound of her licking the blood from the bite mark. It was wet and wrong and you couldn’t free yourself from her grasp, no matter how you squirmed in her arms.

It seemed like forever before the pain began to dull, still radiating along your shoulder and back. The ache drew inwards and became almost unimportant. Lady Dimitrescu’s arms were strong around you. You could let your body relax, and still she held you close to her. Your blood had stained the white satin of the arm she held behind your head, keeping your neck steady as she fed. You could feel her lips and tongue, teasing the ragged holes made by her teeth, keeping the blood flowing. But somehow, it just didn’t hurt. You found yourself eased by her closeness, the certainty of her hold on your body.

Between one breath and the next, Lady Dimitrescu drew back with one last kiss to your wounds. She looked like her daughters now, crimson all around her lips and dripping down her chin, messy and dark. She groaned as she looked down at you, her gaze flickering from your neck to your eyes and back again.

You still felt like unable to move. Lady Dimitrescu was holding you, and there was no need to go anywhere. Your limbs were too heavy, even if you had wanted to. You blinked up at her, dazed by the hunger that still burned in her eyes after her meal.

Gently, Lady Dimitrescu lifted you into her arms like a child, cradling your head and hips. She laid you down on the bed, traced a finger through the ruined skin where she had bit you.

“As sweet as any fruit before Mother’s gift,” the Lady whispered, kneeling beside the bed. “You are exquisite.”

You wanted to touch the blood on her lips, but your hand only lifted slightly when you tried to move it.

She smiled at the movement, took your hand in hers. Again, you felt like a doll between her palms, so all-encompassing.

“Let me give you a gift of my own, my sweet.” You watched Lady Dimitrescu reach up and take off her hat, tossing it carelessly to the other side of the room. Her hair was held in a low coil behind her head, and she pulled the elastics from it, letting the waves fall over her shoulders. From the centre of the coil, she extracted a narrow blade. It was silver, delicate carvings on the blade flashing in the low lights of your room.

The Lady of the castle always wore gloves, but now she took them off and put them on your bedside table. Beneath the leather gloves, her hands were grey and white lines like marble spread beneath her skin. She rolled up one blood-soaked sleeve of her dress, and you saw that the white and grey lines went all the way up her body. Glancing at her face, from so close to her, it was clear that she was wearing some kind of makeup to make her appear pale like her daughters.

Lady Dimitrescu brought the blade down on her own arm, and you watched it cut through her skin. You half-expected the blood to be grey, but it was as red as your own.

She held her arm over your mouth, and you felt the warm droplets drip onto your lips. Soon your lips would look just as scarlet as hers.

“Open up, my pet,” Lady Dimitrescu told you, a smile in her voice.

Obediently, you parted your lips, and the blood met your tongue. It didn’t taste like metal and copper, as it did when you bit your lip. This was rich and full and thick, burning in your throat like whiskey when you swallowed it.

“Good.”

She watched you drink, your blood on her lips and hers on your own. The burning in your throat spread to your stomach and then out to the tips of your toes and your fingers, even your scalp prickling with sudden warmth. The dull ache of your neck went away, and when Lady Dimitrescu passed her fingers over the bitemark again, you felt that the holes are gone, your skin whole and healed. Her fingers still came back red with blood, though, which she licked from her fingertips with clear enjoyment.

Too soon, her arm healed and the blood stopped. You opened your mouth, silently asking for more, and she laughed at you, a low chuckle that made the burning even worse.

Then she leaned down and pressed her lips to yours.

There was the familiar taste of your own blood, thin and metallic. There was the unfamiliar feeling of lips against yours, prompting and playing. Her teeth nipped at your lip, and you returned the favour. She hummed approval, and you brought your hands up to run your fingers through her hair. You hadn’t noticed when the heaviness had left your body, but now every atom of you was screaming that you want to be closer to her.

Your Lady pressed into the kiss, overwhelming you for a moment. There was so much to think about, tongue and teeth and lips and the silken feeling of her hair. Her fingers were cupping your chin, changing the angle of the kiss, trailing down your neck to caress your collarbones.

The light touches were setting your body on fire, pressing up to get more contact. Lady Dimitrescu obliged, curling herself over you. Her knees rested low on the bed, her arms wrapped around you, the bed complaining under your combined weight. She was a solid wall of fabric brushing against your chest, your hips, and you wanted to be closer.

Lady Dimitrescu broke from the kiss and you moved on instinct, pressing your lips to the corner of her jaw. She tilted her head, giving you access, and you kissed down the elegant curve of her neck. When the need for more pressed at you again, you bit down on her neck. She moaned, and it was the most human sound you’d heard from her all night. You kissed and bit down to her shoulder, pushing the fabric of her dress out of the way.

You felt like you were out of your mind with this strange burning that flared through your body, needing something from her, needing everything from her. You tore satin in your quest for her skin, some still-rational part of your brain shocked at your audacity.

Grey skin stretched down her shoulders, marked with those same pale lines. She was warm under your lips, and you scraped her skin with your teeth. Lady Dimitrescu shifted against you, holding you closer, and you could hear her breathing unevenly.

At least you weren’t alone in this wild need. She was hungry for you, and you could taste it when she brought your lips back to hers, with new urgency.

“Please, my Lady,” you managed when she drew back. You didn’t know what you were begging for, and she was a work of art with her dress torn, hanging off one shoulder, blood and lipstick smeared across her chin.

“Yes,” Lady Dimistrescu said, her voice low. She leaned back and you whined at the loss of her warm presence, but then her hands were lifting your dress, effortlessly freeing you from its layers. The rush of air on your bare skin did nothing to cool the fire, and you grabbed for her wrists as she threw your dress carelessly across the room.

Only when Lady Dimitrescu’s hands were back on your bare skin did you relax, arching into the sensation. Her fingers are a little sharp, and she traced them delicately across the lines of your ribs, the soft rolls of your stomach, and then, teasing, across the curve of your breasts. You could feel your breath catch, helpless to stop yourself from pressing into the touch.

She practically purrs at that, leaning down to lick the remaining blood from your neck. Stopping to nibble your collarbone, she mouths down to the top of your breasts, cupping them and tracing their outline. It is a sublime torture as Lady Dimitrescu puts her mouth to you and you feel her tongue tracing around your swiftly hardening nipple.

You hear your voice crying out, hear your Lady humming her pleasure, feel her hands pinning down your hips. The air is cold: the sheets are soft: there is so much sensation racing through your body.

“Please,” you whisper, shuddering against her. “Please, please.”

And her hands run down from your hips, along the line of your outer thighs, and then delicately up the delicate inner thigh, making you squirm. She is close to where you’re soaking through your undergarments, so close and so far.

You’re panting, burning, moaning, and then her hands are finally on you, certain through the fabric. Her tongue, her fingers, you rock between them, overwhelmed.

Lady Dimitrescu slides your undergarments down without lifting her mouth from your breast and then you are bare to her, entirely. You can feel how wet you are when she runs her fingers across you. It’s too much and not enough.

Her touch leaves you for a moment, and you gasp for breath. When she touches you, it feels like the whole world narrows to her fingers and mouth. Without her, there is too much. The room is cold and you are still burning.

Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t make you wait long: she slides back on top of you, her knees caging your legs as she bends down to kiss you. She is too large for the bed, nearly bent in half to reach your mouth, a nightmare of grey skin and streaked blood, and she is everything you desire. She kisses with a demanding pace, and you return it.

Her fingers creep back up your inner thighs and you spread your legs as best you can. Your Lady is quick to return to your centre, starting slowly with her exploration. It brings the fire down for a moment, calm strokes along your folds, teasing brushes across your clit. Then the light touches begin to be too little, and you squirm under her. She draws back from the kiss to laugh again, and strokes you in earnest. Pleasure blooms from her fingers, and you lose track of your body. Your edges are dissolving into something greater, the only concrete part of you the place where her fingers are taking you apart.

She bites down again, this time just above your collarbone, and everything comes apart.

There are waves of awareness and pleasure, Lady Dimitrescu guiding you through them with leisurely movements of her fingers.

Once the shaking has passed, you collapse onto your pillow. Everything feels very distant, echoes of a real world that has stopped existing.

Lady Dimitrescu presses a kiss to the bloody mark that she left on your shoulder, and shifts you closer to her. When she bends her legs, she barely fits onto the bed, and your legs are draped over her thighs, your head pillowed on her arm.

“Sleep, my sweet,” your Lady whispers, running her thumb over the curve of your hip. “Rest and heal. I will be here when you wake.”

You have no choice but to obey, darkness dragging you downwards. The last thing you are aware of is the warmth of her embrace.

[faterpresources]

Anonymous:

Do you have any advice on how to start an rp blog? I feel like there's so much to do and so many specific things, it looks intimidating, but I really want to get into it (and your blog seems like a safe space to ask as a baby in the matter)

Hi! Thanks you for asking and for trusting. I do admit that rping on tumblr can look daunting and there is a series of things that are considered “etiquette” that might not be obvious for newcomers. And the only way to learn is to ask, right? As I’m not sure if you would like something more specific or a step-by-step, I’m going to go through the whole process.

note: this is a repost from an ask in a more reblog-friendly format

1.       Setting up the blog

You might want to make a new e-mail account for each blog you want. I recommend making a gmail/google account, so you may be able to use other services and associate them with your blog. I’ll go into more details in a minute.

Some people would rather have a personal blog and then making the RP blog as a side-blog. Or a “hub” blog and many side-blogs so they have everything centralized. The downside is that you can’t follow people with side-blogs, only the main – and some rpers are a little suspicious of personal blogs, so if you intend to go this route it might be a good idea to state somewhere in your blog that you have a RP blog.

Tip : It isn’t said too often, but I recommend saving your blog’s e-mail and password somewhere, maybe a flashdrive or even google drive. This way, if something happens you will be able to retrieve your account.

When picking the URL, for a very long time tumblr had problems tagging URLs with a hyphen ( - ). I’m not sure if it has been fixed or if there are still some issues, so I recommend only using letters and maybe numbers. Other than that, pick anything that sounds nice to you!

Themes are nice, but not entirely necessary. Not everybody has photoshop skills and all that. Some people do have commissioned themes, but if you want to try your hand at it my first stop is usually @theme-hunter  or @sheathemes . They reblog many themes from many creators, so there are always many options that might suit your needs.  Some creators offer very newcomer-friendly themes that you can configure a lot of things without much hassle but some might require basic HTML knowledge – a few creators have guides on how to properly set up their themes and are willing to and answer questions, so don’t be afraid to contact them! You can also send me an ask, I’m not a specialist but I can certainly help walk you through the basics.

Tip: @glenthemes have very good themes and a basic installation guide here.

When fiddling with the options, try to pick colors that have nice contrast and are easy to read. If you are bad at picking colors or have problems in finding the code for them, I recommend trying this link. There is also this one that auto-generate palettes.

Tip : If you mess with your theme, remember there is the Theme Recovery.

Tip: If you use Chrome or Firefox you can set up different profiles and associate each with a different blog, so you don’t need to log out from any of your accounts.

There are two pages that I recommend having: one is an about your muse. If they are an OC, it is always a good idea to have at least some information out there to make things easier. If they are from a canon source, not everybody is familiar with the material so it might be a good idea to state. For example, if you are going to roleplay as Altria/Arturia, it is a good idea to have a “RP blog for Saber (Altria Pendragon) from FGO/FSN “ somewhere visible. The other page that is a good idea having is a rules/guidelines page. This one can be a little intimidating, but it is usually a way to communicate important things. For example: are you comfortable writing violence? Do you have any personal triggers? There is something you absolutely won’t write? There are things you may figure out along the way and it is absolutely ok to fine-tune this session every now and then. Some people also credit source for their icons and graphics in general in their rule/guideline page.

If you are using the tumblr default themes, when you create a new page you can turn on the option to show a link to the page. If you are using a custom theme, most of the time you will have to link it manually.

Oh, and if you are planning to do a multimuse, it might be a good idea to list which muses you have. The same goes for a hub blog; list the muses and link to the pages.

Icons aren’t necessary but are considered commonplace. You can find some icons I’ve done here but there are plenty of other sources. If you want to do your own icons, keep in mind to don’t make them too big, as a courtesy to your mutuals.

Tip: Anything larger than 300 pixels will be stretched to fit the post. As of today ( 4/29/2021 ) the posts are currently 540 pixels wide. This can be useful as making banners for your blog.

Tumblr allow users to “pin” posts. This mean that they will always visible if you access your blog, even on dash/mobile. You can use this to set up a post with basic links for mobile users or something else. For example, if you are out on vacations and won’t be able to do replies, you can pin a hiatus notice and then remove the pin once you are back.

2.       Introducing yourself

Time to officially join the fun! (insert a “Hi, Zuko here” joke) Don’t worry if you don’t have a fancy promo graphic or anything, most people make their initial introduction with a simple post.

(as you can see, I’m not very good at saying ‘hi’)

Try to introduce yourself in a few lines, but make sure to state which muse you RP as. Some people also like adding their pen name/alias and establishing a brand. Follow as many people as you want that reblogged or liked your post, and tumblr is going to start recommending other blogs that are related to the tags you use normally or have any relation to the people you follow. You can put as many tags as you want, but tumblr will disregard more than 6 tags in their system. Try tags like “<fandom> rp” and “<fandom> roleplay” along with the media, such as “movie” “video game”, “anime” and so on.

It might also be a good idea to follow a few RP memes blogs. They often have options to break the ice, like one-liners that your mutual can send you.

Tip: Don’t forget to turn on the asks and the anon

3.       Practical advice

Alright, now that you have a few mutuals, it is time to get to some general tips:

Tumblr can be a little “iffy”, and a great quality of life extension for RPers and navigation in general is installing the New Xkit extension. They offer a number of options to enhance your tumblr experience, but the ones I consider essential are the “editable reblogs”, “quick tags” and “blacklist”. Get it for Chrome or Firefox.

As a rule of thumb I recommend writing your RPs using Google Docs before posting or replying. By doing this you can do some spell check and if your browser crashes for any reason you can easily recover your work. You can also use Word, Open Office, or any text editor you feel like.

Because I’m a bit of a perfectionist, I also have Grammarly ( Chrome / Firefox ) installed for an extra layer of spell/grammar check. There is a subscription option, but the free one works perfectly fine.

To make things easier to locate, always tag the URL of your RP partner when doing a reply. There are other useful things you can tag, such as open starters, memes, and such.

Risking being obvious here, but when you are not interacting as your character it might be a good idea to tag as “ooc” or “out of character”.

Some people like making google docs with basic info and other useful stuff for easier access on mobile. It is a recent trend, it might be easier to edit as opposed to going through tumblr page editor and dealing with the HTML.  You can find some templates here and here.

Tumblr’s activity can be unreliable, so don’t be afraid of contacting your partner to see if they have gotten your reply after a few weeks. However, some people also enjoy using the RP Thread Tracker in order to be on top of things. It might be a good idea to check it out.

Because of Tumblr shadowbanning and shenanigans, it isn’t unusual for people to have NSFW sideblogs (sometimes referred as ‘sin blogs’). If you want to write smut, it might be a good idea to consider making one.

Some people don’t like replying to asks, as Tumblr won’t let you remove the initial ask. It has become common to see people making new posts to reply to asks.  This is a simple example:

As you can see, I used the mention to have the RP partner notified then I copied and pasted their question on my post and used the quote to indicate it. You can also have fancy graphics, like a line to separate the contents, just do whatever you feel like with the formatting or keep it simple.

To make sure your partner got the answer, I recommend copying the link to the post and pasting on the ask and then replying it privately.  An example sent to my rp blog:

4.       Basic Etiquette

Ok, this is a little subjective most of the time but here are a few things that are considered universal courtesy.

Never reblog someone else’s headcanons. If you enjoy it, maybe it should politely contact the author and ask if it is ok to write something based on their original idea but you should never downright copy or lift something from another creator. It is considered rude, or even theft in some cases.

Don’t reblog threads you are not involved with. It is ok to leave a like, but never reblog. This is because Tumblr can mess up the notifications and disrupt the flow of the RP.

Don’t copy other people’s graphics. It is very rude and sometimes they commission (aka: paid) for it.

Trim your posts. What does that mean? Every time you reblog with a reply, the post tends to get longer and longer, and it can cluster your and your mutuals’ dashes. This is why the New X-Kit’s “editable reblogs” is an almost must-have tool. If for some reason you can’t install X-Kit (if you are on mobile for example), then remove the previous post or ask your partner to trim for you.

Never take control of your RP partner’s muse. This is called “godmodding” and it is heavily frowned upon. It is ok to control your muse and the possible NPCs that you inserted, but never seize someone else’s character. Likewise, it can also be very upsetting if you use what people call “meta-gaming”, applying knowledge that your muse shouldn’t know about the other. For example, let’s say your RP partner’s muse is a vampire, but they have never disclosed that information to your muse, who also doesn’t have an excuse to know that (for example, being a vampire hunter) so it can be quite jarring sometimes. When in doubt, contact your partner.

This should go without saying, but RPing sexual themes with users under the age of 18 are illegal. It doesn’t matter if the age of consent in your location is lower, once you join Tumblr you are abiding by their user guidelines and the law of the state they are located in. If you are an adult, don’t engage minors with these topics, maybe a fade to black would be a better option. If you are a minor, don’t insist or you might cause a lot of legal problems for others.

Try to tag anything triggering. Violence, gore, NSFW. Both Tumblr and the New Xkit have options to block keywords.

When picking PSDs or graphics for your blog, you should avoid templates that change the color of the skin of POCs muses and try to pick the right race/ethnicity of the muse you are going to RP as. I won’t go through a lot of details, as it is a rather lengthy subject in an already lengthy conversation but keep this in the back of your mind.

Some RPers don’t like when you reblog memes from them without sending anything. Try to always reblog from a source or to interact with the person you are reblogging from, it can be rather disheartening to be seen as a meme source rather than a RP blog. This isn’t a rule and some people don’t mind, but it is always a good idea to try to do this.

This might be more of a pet peeve of mine than proper etiquette, but it is ok to use small font. What is not ok is use small font + underscript. Some people have disabilities that might make it harder for them to read it, so it might be a good idea to refrain from using it. Maybe if you feel like doing something fancier every now and then, but I wouldn’t recommend making this a habit.

Mun and Muse are different entities. Remember that it isn’t because a muse does something (especially a villain one) that the mun condones something. Never assume anything about the mun, when in doubt talk to them.

Be mindful of your partners and treat them the way you would like to be treated.

As a rule of thumb, always talk to your RP partner. It is only fun as long both of you are enjoying it.

5.       Closing Words

This got longer than I expected.

Despite all of that, don’t be too worried about not being very good at first. I assure you that you will get better with time, so don’t be afraid of experimenting as long you feel comfortable. And don’t be afraid of saying “no” if something bothers you.

My inbox is always open to questions and ideas, so feel free to contact me anytime!

I would also ask my followers: there is advice I missed/overlooked? Anything you would like someone have told you when you first started? Add your thoughts so I can update this.

Happy RPing!

[scoupsy-remade]

For this gif tutorial I’m going to try to keep it as basic as possible, I may add a few tips for coloring at the end, but for the most part this is going to be how I make my basic gif. Also I’m not going to use my vapoursynth to process the video beforehand, just because I know not everyone uses it and it’s harder to learn. This is going to be just a downloaded mp4 video through the gif process. Don’t let the idea that this is a BASIC TUTORIAL fool you, I’m going to try to teach you a lot of things. It’s gonna get wordy, but i will try my hardest to keep the process easy. I’m just going to explain what things do instead of having you just copy + paste my method and not know what it means. okay? okay.

Before we start though, if you plan of giffing live stages you either need to accept the they will not be super crisp and clear OR learn how to use avisynth/vapoursynth to resize the videos without quality loss.

If you just want to gif music videos or variety shows then this should still give you HQ gifs.

Other notes:

try to ONLY use 1080p and up video if possible, maybe 720p if you’re really desperate, but anything under that... it’s not going to look good at all, so try to avoid using them.

The Photoshop I am using is PS 2020, so all my screenshots will be from that version and with my weird set up. But I’ve been using pretty much the same method since cc 2015 so other than the fact that some placements and names are tweaked, it’s the same. (If you can’t find something on your version shoot me an ask and I’ll try to help! And asks I get on this tutorial I’ll link HERE for future reference) 

CUTTING VIDEO

To cut videos I’ll just use my quicktime player.

I use edit > trim to select the portion of the video I plan to gif and save that as it’s own new mov file.

which pops up this tab 

that you just slide until the part you want to gif is selected

then just save it as a new video and your done with part 1

ENTER PHOTOSHOP

Now what we’ll do is open our photoshop and import that clip into layers

FILE > IMPORT > VIDEO FRAMES TO LAYERS and select your video.

A small pop up will appear to show the clip you’re opening, you can trim it further here or just keep going by clicking okay

my setup is weird for drawing BUT you should have it looking remotely like this: 

The things you will DEFINITELY need to see are TIMELINE, LAYERS, ADJUSTMENTS. If you don’t have these sections you can add them to your screen by clicking on the WINDOW tab at the very top menu bar and clicking on them

LAYERS - this is pretty self explanatory but each row is a layer in the gif. the more layers the bigger the gif will end up, the longer it plays. So bigger clips will have more layers and end up as larger gifs in the end.

TIMELINE - This is where you can edit the gifs timing (make it faster or slower) 

We’ll be doing a bit of work with it so it’s important to know it well

ADJUSTMENTS - Best friend and worst nightmare. this is where ALL the tedious recoloring is done. VERY rarely would you not use these. 99.9% of kpop things are filmed through a green or blue lense so you’ll want to fix that to not have ghost idols

So, Let’s make a gif

Step 1 - In the top right corner of your timeline is a set of lines, click there and then click SELECT ALL FRAMES

under each frame is a time stamp (this video’s is 0.04) this decides how fast each clip goes by, or how quickly the gif moves. Personally I prefer slower gifs, but I say anywhere between 0.04-0.06 is a decent speed.

Step 2 - with all the frames selected, click on the small down arrow next to any of the frames and change the speed to your liking. (I’m going to use .06)

Step 3 - in that same tab of lines we’ll now click CONVERT TO VIDEO TIMELINE, which will change our Timeline to look like this:

Step 4 - Back in our very TOP menu we’ll click SELECT > ALL LAYERS, then on the TOP menu click FILTER > CONVERT FOR SMART FILTERS (this might take your computer a minute since our File is still pretty large.) Now our Time line will look like this: 

Step 5 - Sharpening

This one is VERY MUCH something you’re going to have to play with to get your settings to be how you like them. It’s also where I’d use topaz adjustments, BUT since I said we’re doing basic PS gif we’re just going to be using smart sharpening. SO: 

 in the TOP munu again, click FILTER > SHARPEN > SMART SHARPEN

A pop up window will appear and you can edit the settings to your liking. Mine:

Step 6 - Resize your gif or crop it to tumblrs standards:  big singal gifs have a 540px width ||  Two gifs use 268px || and three gifs use 177/178px

To do this we’ll use the crop tool and type in our dimensions in the menu bar:

and then crop to your liking. (this doesnt resize the gif it just crops to the correct ratio so we still have to shrink the gif) 

Next, we’ll resize the gif to that size in the TOP menu click IMAGE > IMAGE SIZE a pop up menu will appear and you’ll type in your resize ratio and click enter.

Now technically thats a gif. it’s TECHNICALLY done. but mine is white washed and there are words on it that I dont want so onto the coloring and blurring. 

First I’m going to show you how I blur text on gifs. because text is EVERYWHERE in kpop content and it’s hideous and I hate it. so lets kill it.

BLURRING LETTERING

First we’re going to add a new blank layer to our LAYER TAB by clicking the little box with the + inside at the bottom

Sometimes doing this can mess up the timeline’s selection but its SUPER easy to fix so lets do that. 

So in our timeline we have these two bars on each side that select what part of the gif will play. this is also where you can readjust your gif if it has extra frames at the end, or it ends up being too large and you have to make the gif smaller to save it. Just click and drag the bars back to where our gif actually ends, and all is fixed!

Now on our new layer we’re gonna take a paint brush (one of the ones with a lot of fade NOT the solid circle ) and paint over where the words are like so:

MAKE SURE ITS ON OUR BLANK LAYER AND NOT THE GIF LAYER!!

I know it looks stupid but trust me okay. 

Now in your LAYER tab we’re going to duplicate our gif layer by right clicking on it and selecting duplicate. 

Then we’re going to drag the new gif layer so that it’s above the paint layer in our LAYER tab :

Now, right click on the top gif layer and select CREATE CLIPPING MASK. it should put a little down arrow to the left of the picture, toward the paint layer. This means the gif is ONLY visible where that paint is now.

So we’re going to click on FILTER in the TOP menu again (while we still have that top gif selected!) and Go to BLUR > GAUSSIAN BLUR. a pop up menu will appear and you can just drag the radius until the text is as blurry as you want it to be. (also IF you missed part of the text, you can just go add more paint to your paint layer and it will blur wherever you paint!) 

so now my gif is like so:

So now we’ll color him, because he’s pretty washed out.

ADJUSTMENTS

This is where I’m going to be the least specific about what I do and more about what tools do, so that you can learn how to color things the way you like them!

The Adjustment tab on Photoshop has 16 options but I’m really only going to talk about 6 of them. We’ll do it in order though. All the actual adjustment tools will open in the PROPERTIES tab

Brightness / Contrast  - Pretty self explanatory, but definitely should be toward the end of your coloring, as if can effect the quality a lot. Small adjustments do A LOT so don’t go crazy, 

Levels - Levels is all about the balance of how dar or light your gifs will be if you adjust in the RGB layer it will adjust for the entire image, but if you change the selection to RED/GREEN/BLUE it will adjust just those colors hues. Also there are three small droppers to the left of the graph. using those you can select which part of the gif you want the image to recognize as the lightest/darkest part of the gif, and the tool will adjust the gifs coloring to that point. ( play with those droppers! magic happens i swear!) 

Curves - Kind of like levels but instead of how light or dark the entire image is it works more on contrast. REALLY play with the curves options, i’m sure most things you can do with other tools can also just be done in curves if you’re patient enough to learn

Vibrance / Saturation -  Vibrance will make duller parts of an image higher contract and brighter and saturation will make everything a more neon shade. or in reverse lowering vibrance will dull out the things that were already neutral and saturation will dull out the more vibrant parts of the image (usually reds)

Color Balance - Good for fixing tones. so if a live stage is SUPER BLUE!!!!! you can readjust and calm down the blues to dull them out or get rid of them completely. Again play with this its insane what it can do 

Selective Color - adjusts the different colors in your image without touching the other colors. if you wanna touch the reds, make them pinker but not change the blues and greens, you do it here

If you want MORE drawn out explanations of what each of the 16 adjustment layers do here and here are actual articles you can look at.  But it’s all about practice. playing with all the adjustments alone and together. Finding out what you like to do!

Now when you gif is ALLLLL colored and you’re ready to save it we do FILE > EXPORT > SAVE FOR THE WEB and a whole new window of options pops up. I’ll give you two examples of how to play with those options and then we’re done! 

keep in MIND tumblr’s gif limit is 10MB which is pretty huge now, but still watch your gif size!!!!

AND SAVE your done!

I hope this was helpful! Let me know if you have any questions,again I’ll have an ask tag for it and it’ll get linked HERE if people end up needing help!

Happy giffing!!!

[furbyq]

Hey, you've been a big inspiration creativity wise to me, and I've been meaning to ask um a question. I'm interested in making like my own skins and whatnot and I'm not really sure where to start? I feel like its mainly texture editing/ photo manip that I'm not sure about and I'm wondering how you started? or if you could point to like some good tutorials/sites?

hi! that's a really sweet thing to say, thank you! ^^

i've been trying to figure out how to answer this for a few days (i've been having some pretty severe brainfog as of recently) so i hope this answer actually helps.

TOOLS / TUTORIALS

there's a few things i think you should familiarize yourself with before trying to blend skins.

the first is how the basics of photoshop work (i highly recommend photoshop over gimp or paint.net. i've seen *cough*free*cough* versions of cs5 floating around on tumblr, so if you don't have it, i'd recommend trying to find one that seems safe.) certain tools are going to be more useful than others for blending, but i'll definitely go over the specifics later down this explanation.

the second is how layer masks work. this tutorial by bosie and this tutorial by pooklet go over things you may need to do that utilize layer masks, so knowing how they work is paramount.

the third thing that is important is understanding how the ts2 uv maps work. this is important for understanding what part of the skin texture goes where and such. the best uv maps i've found are the ones here at mts, but they're in rars with a bunch of other uvs so i've uploaded the nude body mesh ones here by themselves with a separate face uv if you want to see where certain textures go on the actual 3d sim mesh.

BASICS OF SKINBLENDING

generally the way that skinblending is done is picking two or more skins with different pieces you like. you pick one as the base and then use layer masks to blend different features from other skins onto it. bosie's tutorial really goes over what you need to know about using layer masks for this purpose, although i personally keep all features on separate layers, even if i'm using the same texture for all of them. you don't even have to keep the layer masks at full opacity; messing with the layer opacity can give you really interesting effects!

if you’re wanting a tutorial on how to photoskin, apparently i wrote one on that a few years ago that you can read here.

you can also use handpainting to improve the coloration or texture of your skin. for example, sometimes i put some low opacity blushing over the cheeks or use a noise filter to create pore-like overlays.

always remember that if your face texture ends up a little asymmetrical during blending that you can duplicate, flip, and delete half of the texture in order to achieve perfect symmetry. although some creators definitely like some imperfection in their skins.

a lot of people end up using a body skin from one of the skins they blend facial features from without changing it because making a body blend is more challenging than making a face blend. this is due to how many more uv seams there are. you can even use a body from a skin you didn't use for your face blend, as long as you use a paintbrush on the neck of both the body and face textures to fix any seams!

this is more of an intermediate or advanced tip, but one strategy i have for mitigating this is to use the uv to draw a border on the seams with a paintbrush. for maxis matchy skins, you can use floodfill to patch the seams and on skins with more detail, you can apply a body skin to the border as a clipping mask to fix seams as long as you blur the border enough so that it blends.

BASICS OF RECOLORING

some people use actions to recolor skins, but i'm not a fan of doing that for natural tones because of how much pixelation it tends to add. instead, i usually use skintone shades on color fill layers set to multiply. this tends to make the texture look very flat, so i'll typically duplicate the base layer and drag it to the top and use a layer mask to only make certain features (like the eyes, lips, nose, and ears) visible. then i manually tone this layer using adjustment layers that are assigned as a clipping mask.

if you have difficulty with coloring beyond this, i suggest looking at a skin that already exists that is similar to the tone you're going for to see how it should look.

the tutorial by pooklet that i linked above goes over how to combat pixelation (which you will almost always end up with to some extent, even if you don’t use actions) but there’s also another tip here by them for an alternate way to smooth skins. 

i have a tutorial here that provides some layer mask psds designed for smoothing, but using them on every skin may not be feasible.

BASICS OF TEXTURE REIMPORTING

now, as far as how intensive making skins actually is; if you utilize the amount of differences maxis skins are built to accommodate, you're looking at around 16-17 images per skin.

that includes: 

teen to adult female body (normal/fat/fit states) elder female body (normal/fat/fit states) teen to elder male body (normal/fat/fit states) baby body toddler body child body baby face toddler face child-adult face elder face scalp

although a lot of popular skin makers forego some of these textures for their own sanity; some of the most popular skins have no fat/fit states, for example. with the way bodyshop and simpe work together, skins that are reimported to game will combine similar textures. so if you save your bodyshop project with the same face for every face available, in simpe you'll only have one face image to replace. you can use this fact to cull the textures down to an amount you are comfortable handling.

it should be added that you'll experience really bad image compression in bodyshop, ESPECIALLY with darker skintones and there isn't really any way to fix that in photoshop. reimporting your textures into simpe using DDS utilities will really help with that. here's a tutorial on how to install DDS utilities. there's a tutorial on how to reimport with DDS utilities here for hair. doing skins is the same basic concept, although like pooklet's tutorial mentioned, DXT3 may work better for skins than DXT5.

i know that you mainly needed help with the photomanipulation area, but i felt this was important to mention.

like i said, i hope any of this helps! if you have any specific questions beyond this, feel free to hit me up-- if i know the answer i'll definitely share it with you.

[hyperion-moonbabe]

Caught In Between: 03. Hello...Goodbye

IMPORTANT!!! TO ANYONE FOLLOWING OR READING MY TVD SERIES: This blog is currently my secondary blog. I have wanted to change it to primary for a while and since Tumblr does not allow it. I have created a new blog: @hyperion-moonbabe-new 

I will be porting everything over to this blog including my series and possibly eventually delete it so I can use this name without the “-new” on the end. If you would like to continue to read my series, please know that it will be continued on my new blog. Thank you!

Edit: Update

Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.

Post Date: 03.29.20

Word count: 4.1k

Based off: 02x08 “Rose”

00. | 01. | 02. 

I wake up on an unfamiliar couch and heard two unfamiliar voices along with Elena’s, “But I’m not Katherine. My name is Elena Gilbert, you don’t have to do this.” she says as she gets up from the couch she was on.

 Elena and I lock eyes, but I shake my head and close my eyes to pretend I’m still out. “She’s not involved with any of this, just let her go,” Elena says shakily, I could feel the other woman glare at me.

“I know who you both are, I said be quiet,” The other woman says.

“What do you want?” Elena asks, but the only response she gets is a slap so hard it sends her flying back to the couch, she must be a vampire. I wanted to try to get up to help her but I realize that there are chains on my wrist and ankles, they know I’m a werewolf, guess they’re not taking any chances. So, I just continue to pretend I’m out.

“I said be quiet” The woman responds to a passed out Elena, I feel her gaze shift to me before I hear the clicking of her heels fade away.

Once I believe she’s far enough I get up to try and find a way to get these chains off. I pull with all my might but the bolts must be really in there for me not to be able to dislodge them. I start to hear the clacking of shoes getting closer to the room were in and quickly go back to acting like I’m asleep. It must have been the man in the house as it didn’t sound like heels and he quickly walked away, probably just checking on us. 

Soon enough I notice Elena starting to wake up. I put my finger to my mouth to tell her to stay quiet as we heard the man and woman talking from another part of the house, quite loudly might I add.

“How are the girls?” The woman says.

“They’re both still passed out.” The man responds

“You didn’t touch them, did you?” 

“Give me some credit. So you called him?” I heard the man say. I mouth to Elena “Who” hoping she may have answers, but only shrugs at me. 

“No, I called one of his contacts. You know how this works.” Elena continues to get up from the couch.

“Did you or did you not get the message to Elijah?” The man asks. As soon as I heard his name I stopped, it can’t be who I’m thinking of. Elena looks at me confused as she gets up to make her way to the top of the stairs. I grab her arm and whisper “Don’t” but she continues to make her way over.

“I’m gonna try to find a way out,” She whispers back. I see Elena make her way through the hall as the man and woman continue talking.

“So that’s it, Trevor. He either got it or he didn’t. We just have to wait.” They continue to talk about running, but running from who. I continue to try to dislodge the chains and feel a small movement and continue to pull as the chain slowly comes apart. 

I stop when I hear a creak in the floor from the hall and hear the woman say, “You! There’s nothing around here for miles. If you think you guys are gonna get out of this house, you’re tragically wrong. Understand?” 

“Who’s Elijah?” I just barely hear from Elena’s shaky voice.

“He’s your worst nightmare.” The woman says.

“Just let my friend go then, she doesn’t need to be here,” I hear Elena say trying to defend me, but knowing that if I am here, then there’s a reason.

“No” The woman responds sternly.

“Then unchain her, she won’t hurt any of you I promise,” Elena demands.

“Trevor, go unchain the other girl, no more requests.” The woman says as I hear the man make his way down towards me with Elena. He picks up my wrist one by one, unlocks the cuffs and the same for my ankles. He then leaves Elena and me alone.

“You ok?” Elena asks as I rub the areas where the chains were. 

“Yeh, are you?” I ask in response.

“I’m fine, why did you have chains on? It doesn’t make sense that they’d feel threatened by you.” 

“Well, they should be,”  I say getting up to stand next to Elena, “I’m a werewolf, I gotta hand it to them for taking precautions. But it means they know more about us then they’re letting on.” I say sighing.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I don’t really know but there’s a reason we’re here, let’s go find out,” I gesture to go talk to them.

We find the woman fixing up the room she was in, “Why are we here?” Elena starts.

“You keep asking me these questions like I’m gonna answer them.” The woman responds.

“Why won’t you?” I ask.

“That’s another one,” She responds not acknowledging that it was my voice.

“You got us, okay?” It’s not like we can go anywhere. The least you can do is tell us what you want with us.” Elena responds stepping into the room more.

“I personally want nothing, I’m just a delivery service.” 

“Delivery to who? Elijah?” I freeze at hearing Elena say his name but didn’t want to respond, still being unsure of if it is who they’re talking about.

 “Two points to the eavesdropper.” The woman states.

“Who is he? Is he a Vampire?” Elena asks.

“He’s one of the vampires, the --” She starts.

“Originals?” I ask in response from behind Elena, trying to keep my voice from wavering. The woman nods confusedly, answering my question. 

“What do you mean the originals?” Elena asks, looking between the woman and me.

“Again with the questions. Haven’t the Salvatores been teaching you your vampire history? Or your wolf friend here, who seems to know so much.” The woman responds before I can reply.

“So you know Stefan and Damon?” Elena asks.

“I know of them. A hundred years back, a friend of mine tried to set me up with Stefan. She said he was one of the good ones. I’m more of a sucker for the bad boys though but I digress,” The woman says, seeming to open up a bit more as she flips through a book.

“Who are the originals?” Elena asks again, looking for an answer from either of us.

“Trevor and I have been running for 500 years. We’re tired, we want it over. We’re using you two to negotiate ourselves out of an old mess.” The woman explains.

“But why us?” I asked walking up to Elena.

“Because you’re a Petrova doppelganger. You’re the key to breaking the curse.” The woman responds looking at Elena. “And you, I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s a reason,” she says shifting her gaze to me.

“The curse? The sun and moon curse?” I ask.

“Oh, you do know your history.” The woman responds annoyed.

“What do you mean I’m the key? The moonstone is what breaks the curse.” Elena states.

“I think the moonstone binds the curse.” I inject.

“Sacrifice is what breaks it.” The woman states back.

“The sacrifice?” I ask.

“The blood of the doppelganger. You’re the doppelganger. Which means. In order to break the curse you’re the one who has to die.” The woman says getting closer to Elena.

“I’m not just gonna let you barter us away to Elijah. Just to get her killed and do whatever with me.” I respond angrily.

“I’m not sure what Elijah wants with you but Trevor and I need to get out of this. And the deal is both of you, if you want to wolf out on us, good luck.” She says and sticks a needle into my arm. I feel a burning sensation, must be wolfsbane, but not enough to make me pass out.

Trevor walks in as we continue talking, “Tell me more,” Elena demands.

“Captivity has made her pushy, eh? What do you want to know, Doppelicious?” He asks with an untasteful nickname as he picks up a board to cover a window, guess he doesn’t have a daylight ring.

“Who are you running from?” Elena asks.

“The Originals” Trevor responds looking at the disappearing burns from the sun.

“Yeh, she said that. What does that mean?” Elena questions further.

“The first family” I respond.

“The old world. Rose and I pissed them off. Correction, I pissed them off, Rose had my back and for over half a millennium, they wanted us dead.” Trevor explains throwing a book to our feet.

“What did you do?” I ask.

“He made the same mistake countless others did. He trusted Katerina Petrova.” Rose goes on.

“Katherine” Elena says quietly.

“Mmm, the one and only. The first Petrova Doppelganger.” Rose states.

“I helped her escape her fate and now I’ve, sorry, we’ve been marked ever since,” Trever explains their situation even more.

“Which is why we’re not gonna make the same mistake again. But since you seem to have no use in the curse, I’m wondering why he does need you. Any clue?” Rose says walking closer to me.

“We may have met a while ago. And I’m not sure what he really would need me for, but I think it has to do with bringing me ‘home’” I say, air quoting “home”. Rose looks at me satisfied with my answer and walks out of the room.

“Well, I guess we don’t have a choice but stay here,” I say turning back towards Elena.

She just sighs and walks back to the big room as I follow. We sit back down on the couch that Elena was originally on. I heard crunching under Elena’s foot and reach my hand under it and hold up a piece of paper to Elena. She takes it out of my hand and starts to unfold it. She reads it and looks at me with a smile, I scoot closer to her to read the note, “Stefan and Damon are coming for you. -B”

I smile back at her and take the note to crumble it up, “I guess we did find a way out” I whisper. 

“Yeh,” She says breathing heavily.

Rose enters the room and picks up the bag from behind me as Trevor comes in, “He’s here. This was a mistake,” He says with a shaky voice.

“No, I told you I would get us out of this. You have to trust me,” Rose says trying to calm him down. 

“No! He wants me dead, Rose!” Trevor says raising his voice.

“He wants them more” She gestures towards Elena and me.

“I can’t do this, you give them to him. He’ll have mercy on you but I need to get out of here.” He says even more frustrated.

“Hey! What are we?” 

“We’re family, forever,” Trevor responds calming down. And then we hear a loud knock from the front of the house.

“You’re scared” I state looking at them and look back at Elena who has a confused look.

“Stay here with them and don’t make a sound,” Rose says and makes her way to the front door.

We wait patiently until we hear two sets of footsteps approach the room we’re in. Elena and I turn around to see Rose and Elijah at the top of the stairs. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, wishing I wasn’t in his presence. 

The next thing I open my eyes to is Elijah standing right in front of Elena and going down to what looks like, to drink her blood, instead, he looks back up, “Human, it’s impossible.” He says as Elena breathes heavily. I could sense she was nervous, so I took her hand in mine and squeezed to let her know she’s safe with me.

“And, you.” Elijah turns to me. “I never thought I’d see you again,” He says and brings his hand up to brush the hair out of my face. I quickly jerk away before his hand makes it to my face.

“I left for a reason, and you know that. Take me and let her go.” I say sternly.

“Well, we have a long journey ahead of us. We should be going.” Elijah says ignoring my request and looking between Elena and me.

“Please, don’t let him take us,” Elena says scared-looking to Rose and squeezes my hand even harder.

“One last piece of business and we’re done,” Elijah says coldly and turns to Rose and Trevor. I don’t recognize this Elijah, this must be why they were so scared of him, but he was never like this around me. I heard the stories about his family from others, but I never thought of Elijah as actually being like this.

“I’ve waited so long for this day, Elijah. I’m truly, very sorry.” Trevor says shakily.

“Oh no, you’re apology’s not necessary,” Elijah says turning more towards him.

“Yes, yes it is. You trusted me with Katerina and I failed you,”  He says trying to appease Elijah.

“Oh yes, you are the guilty one and Rose aided you because she was loyal to you and that now I honor. Where was your loyalty?” Elijah questions.

“I beg your forgiveness”

“So granted,” Elijah says before using his hand to cleanly cut Trevor’s head off his body.

“Elijah!” I scream but he just looks at me with a stern look as Rose starts to cry.

“You--” Rose starts.

“Don’t, Rose, now that you are free. Come.” He says and she continues to cry and puts his hands out for Elena and me to take.

“No, what about the moonstone,” Elena quickly says with a shaky voice.

“What do you know about the moonstone,” Elijah says coldly.

“We know that you need it” I inject.

“And we know where it is” Elena states, even though I have no clue where they put it.

“Yes?” Elijah questions intrigued.

“I can help you get it,” Elena says as I shoot a confused look over at her.

“Tell me where it is,” Elijah demands.

“It doesn’t work that way.” Elena states and Elijah makes a frustrated face,

“Are you negotiating with me?” He asks turning towards Rose.

“It’s the first I’ve heard of it,” Rose says with her voice cracking from being upset.

Elijah looks deeply into Elena’s eyes trying to compel her and looks towards me but I give a stern look showing that I won’t give up anything. He doesn’t try to compel me knowing it won’t work.

“What is this vervain doing around your neck?” He asks bringing up his hand to grab Elena’s necklace. I try to stop him from taking the necklace but he just grabs my left wrist with his other hand and starts to crush it, making me wince and fall slowly to the ground. 

He then rips the necklace from Elena’s neck and throws it across the room. He grabs Elena’s head while continuing to tighten his grip on my wrist, “Tell me where the moonstone is.” Elijah demands one more time, compelling her.

“In the tomb, underneath the church ruins,” Elena responds willingly.

“What is it doing there?” 

“It’s with Katherine.”

“Interesting,” Elijah says and then we hear some glass break from another part of the room. He lets go of Elena and my wrist, I immediately hold my wrist to keep it from hurting.

“What is that?” Elijah questions looking up.

“I don’t know” Rose responds quickly, not to get herself in any more trouble.

“Who else is in this house?” Elijah asks looking at Rose.

“I don’t know,” Rose responds even quicker.

Elijah pulls me up from the ground by my arm and leads Elena and me to the front of the house. He looks around to find what or whoever made the noise. We turn to face the stairs and feel a rush of air behind us. Elijah lets me go and pushes Elena to Rose who catches her in her arms. I see a dark figure pass behind Elena and Rose, only knowing that it’s Stefan and Damon.

“Rose,” Elijah says turning toward her.

“I don’t know who it is.” She states and another dark figure passes between us.

“Up here,” We hear Stefan’s voice from the upper part of the house. Elijah vamp speeds halfway up the stairs.

“Down here,” Damon’s voice echoes from the bottom part of the house. We continue to look around from them.

I feel a rush of air from something flying past me and notice that it was a stake now stuck in Elijah’s hand. I am then rushed away and find myself pushed against a wall next to Rose with Damon’s hand over our mouths. If I’m honest, I’ve never been happier to see him.

“Excuse me. To whom it may concern, you’re making a great mistake if you think that you can beat me. You can’t. Do you hear that?” Elijah’s voice booms throughout the house. “I repeat, you cannot beat me. So I want the girls, on the count of three, or heads will roll. Do we understand each other?” He says as we hear him breaking something. Damon slowly removes his hand from Rose’s and I’s mouths.

“I’ll come with you, just please don’t hurt my friends. They just wanted to help me out. And let Athena go, you don’t have a use for her as you do me,” We hear Elena’s voice say and then a gasp escape her mouth. I tried to get away from Damon to help Elena but he just pushes me back to the wall.

“What game are you playing with me?” We hear Elijah question. Then hear a small explosion from the main entryway and Elijah screaming in pain.

I finally get away from Damon and run towards Elena and stand between her and Elijah who is inching closer to her, “Elijah, take me. I’ll help you get the moonstone and with whatever else you need, just let Elena go. We can figure out whatever you need together,” I say trying to get him to back down, I see him contemplate my offer for a bit until Stefan comes down shooting Elijah in the chest with some wooden bullets. I help Elena up from the corner she’d crouched in.

He quickly realizes that the bullets aren’t doing any harm and tackles Elijah down the stairs. Elijah quickly gets up and starts walking towards Stefan who is struggling to get up from the ground. Out of nowhere, Damons comes from behind Stefan with a giant piece of wood in hands and stabs Elijah right in the chest. He pushes him into the front door and waits to see him desiccate. He then let's go and tries to run after Rose who vamp sped away.

“Just let her go,” Elena says from behind me. Her and I make our way down the stairs and she runs into Stefan’s arms who asks if she’s okay. I notice the hurt in Damon’s face when he sees his little brother get in between them, I was right he did care for her, a lot more than he led on.

Damon then turns to me and pulls me into an unexpected hug, “I’m glad you’re ok,” He says relieved.

“Nothing beats a kidnapping and a shot of wolfsbane,” I respond sarcastically while letting myself relax into his hold. 

Elena and Stefan make their way out of the house while Damon and I stay back to check the rest of the house before we all leave back to Mystic Falls. I walk up to Elijah’s desiccated body pinned against the door, “I’m sorry, it ended this way, but I couldn’t go back and you knew that,” I whisper. 

“You good?” I jump at hearing Damon’s voice behind me.

“Yeh, just a little creeped out by the desiccated vampire body,” I say turning around and walking up to Damon.

“Are you sure? You look a bit rattled.” Damon asks, resting his hand on my cheek. 

“Well, yes and no, I guess. See you probably thought that I was only taken with Elena because I was with her. But the truth is, is that I know Elijah and some of his other family. Which means they want me back, no matter what actions they have to take,” I explain to Damon who has a confused look on his face. 

“What do you mean, exactly?” Damon asks slightly disbelieving. 

“They consider me their family and they protect their family. They’re pissed that I left them and I’m sure they want to protect me… from you guys. They just can’t get a hold of the idea that I left them on my own terms. Just please keep this between you and me? I don’t want this to be added to the many other problems in the group. Don’t even mention it to Elena, even though she kinda knows,” I explain further walking towards Elijah’s body

“Elijah’s dead and I think, because of his other family members, it would be good for--”

“Please, Damon, I’d rather focus on not having this curse broken. I can deal with my problems on my own, I can handle myself, and I can deal with their problems with me myself, I don’t want to see any of you hurt because of it. Promise you won’t mention or do anything.” I say sternly turning back to him.

“Okay, fine. But you’re staying at our house tonight. No buts,” Damon says and walks away. I just follow him quietly, knowing I couldn’t win. 

Once we get back to the Salvatore house, Damon immediately goes to pour us drinks in the library as I sit down on the couch.  Stefan walks in from behind us, “Where’s Elena?” I ask turning myself to face them.

“She’s home,” He responds.

“And you’re here why?” Damon questions.

“Because she wanted to be with Jeremy,” Stefan responds and I get up from the couch to stand with them as Damon hands him a drink.

“Thanks. Listen uh, what Rose said to you and Elena about the curse,” Stefan says as he sits on the top of another table.

“I know, We’ll keep her safe,” Damon says.

“I won’t let anyone harm her,” I respond as well.

Stefan starts to talk more and what seems like a conversation between the two of them, so I make my way out of the room and up to the guest room I was staying in. I undress and hop into the shower. The warm, steamy shower helped me relax and think about what needs to be done. After I get out of the shower and get dressed, I go downstairs to get some food. When I was about to head back up, I hear muffled talking from the direction of the library and letting my curiosity get the best of me, I make my way over.

“Elijah may be dead but this isn’t over.” I hear Rose’s voice say.

“What do you mean ‘it’s not over’?” Stefan questions.

“It isn’t over. The Originals, they’ll come for her. They have to. They’re doing it for him.”

“For who?”

“Klaus,” Rose says. My heart starts to beat faster, hoping that the Klaus she’s talking about isn’t the one I left. But it has to be if Elijah was involved. 

I make my way back up to my room when I see Damon walk in the front door, “Late night walk? Or visit?” I asked walking up to him.

“How about none of your business,” He says walking up the stairs. I follow Damons until he makes it to his room.

“Ok, don’t tell me. But thank you,” I say quietly.

“For what?” Damon asks as he turns around.

“I know I said I can handle myself. But for saving me, for being there for me. More than anyone ever has in my life.” I say looking down wanting to avoid Damon’s striking blue eyes.

“Athena, I will always have your back. Regardless if you can handle yourself in any given situation.” He responds and softly kisses my forehead. 

“I know what I said the other day, but can I stay with you tonight? I think I’d feel more comfortable,” I say even though I didn’t want to admit that being in Damon’s presence made me feel safe. 

“You’re welcome anytime,” Damon says and winks at me.

“You know, I don’t just want you for sex,” I say sternly and cross my arms.

“Mmmhmmm,” Damon responds and makes a small wincing noise as I lightly hit his arm.

As Damon gets ready for bed, I make my way over and get under the sheets. Damon gets under the sheets after me, I scoot up next to him and rest my head and hand on his chest. Damon starts to stroke my head as I slowly fall asleep.

A/N: Surprise! Here is the third part, based on 02x08 "Rose". This part surprisingly was fast and easy to write. I really enjoyed writing this part and was looking forward to it. I haven’t really come out with a schedule as I’m thinking about starting another series and I’m not sure how fast I can typically write parts. Please let me know if you’d like me to start a tag list. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading. Stay safe and healthy!

[dukeofriven]

Captain Marvel Didn’t Need A Subplot About Sad Familyman Pain: A Very Late Captain Marvel Review

So I finally saw Captain Marvel last night  (like a week ago now but it was the Tuesday before Endgame came out and then this sat in my drafts folder for days and days) - yep, down to the wire almost - so I’ve obviously missed all the Super Important Captain Marvel discourse that Tumblr prattled on about: still, I’ll add my thoughts to the pile.

An incredible cast with great chemistry can do nothing to fix one of the blandest scripts since Doctor Strange, which at least had imaginative vistas and unusual set design to carry some of the story-telling weight. Captain Marvel is possibly the worst-looking Marvel film: at the very least I am confident it is probably the worst-edited, and unquestionably the worst-lit film in all the Marvel canon. Captain Marvel almost consciously doesn't seem to want you to see anything in the movie, going out of its way to shoot scenes at night, in boring and dark spaceships, and in sandstorms at night on dark planets. Lousy fight choreography, coupled with rapid-fire edits with lousy coverage, made the film’s frequent hand-to-hand combat scenes visual nightmares. The worst offender is probably Danvers’ escape from the Skrull ship, in which basic shot-to-shot continuity is lost. The action becomes a literal blur as an anarchic assembly of seemingly-random coverage is cut together to create a confusing mess of movement. A fantastic late-film aerial dog fight and an incredibly powerful 'gloves come off' space sequence make the movie's last twenty minutes its visually strongest, but can't repair the damage done by the previous 90 minutes of blur and uncertain scene geography. (Rogue One has this exact same problem viz. rear-loading the entire movie onto the last twenty minutes.) The movie is at its best when it chucks the undeveloped plot out the window and just lets characters talk to one another, revealing their warmth and great on-screen chemistry, making otherwise forgettable dialogue work through great delivery and comedic timing. This is how most MCU films work anyways: good-to-great actors take weak dialogue and make it work through talent and charm. Off the top of my head I can’t think of any dialogue in the MCU that’s good for reasons other than excellent delivery: Marvel doesn’t seem to care much for writers who have a grip on the craft of dialogue.

The moment the plot reasserts itself, which usually means pretending that anyone cares about Jude Law's one-note bad guy, anything good about the film disappears. There's the bones of a great movie here hampered by incredibly poor framing decisions. Rather than reduce the flashbacks to five-second bursts of mental confusion, a better version of the film would have had two parallel stories A) Carol's quest to become a great pilot while fighting against prejudice and B) A present-day fight to regain that past. As is, the film makes the pretence that it has a feminist theme about overcoming patronizing men, but in practice this is introduced through jumbled flashbacks at the start of the film, essentially dropped for the rest of the run-time, and suddenly re-introduced at the final moments with a triumphant declaration of "I don't need your approval." Had the movie spent any of its middle running time acting like Carol was being patronized by anyone, this might have carried more weight. However, perhaps unwilling to make Nick Fury seem sexist in any way, Carol spends most of the movie surrounded by completely supportive people who do nothing but tell her how great she is. A single shitty stranger on a motorcycle with four lines of dialogue does not a 'triumph against chauvinism' narrative make. Even Jude Law's villain seems to be holding Carol back largely out of a need to follow orders and make sure her brainwashing was working - not out of any chauvinistic impulses. You could make the argument that the brainwashing is an analogy for the way patriarchy brainwashes women into accepting false limitations, but the movie isn’t that subtle: it wears its themes on its sleeve. Besides, you don’t get the sense that the Kree are doing anything out of gender motives - frustrating given that neighbouring franchise Guardians of the Galaxy has proven time and time again that you can still fo Asshole Space Chauvinist  without detracting from the heroism of the leading female. (Well, sorta. Guardians 2 does this much better than 1). Part of the problem is that Jude Law spends most of the movie on a ship waiting to get to Carol and having exposition-only phone calls. We get very little sense of Carol's relationship with him outside of the opening punch-up in a dojo - and the weakness is reinforced by Law’s character insisting only that Carol isn’t ready yet to do various things. This could work - there’s more to sexism than blunt and obvious HURR DURR WYMINS CAN’T DO THINGS declaration, but the the narrative repeatedly demonstrates that Jude Law is correct. It takes the whole movie for Carol to learn how to take her own breaks off. Which is a serious problem when she confronts the villain insisting he’d been holding her back. Not... not really, Carol. At no point in the movie did you seem like you were holding back because Jude Law’s voice was in your head telling you you weren’t good enough. You didn’t do X, Y, Z things because you just didn’t know how to do them, and you needed more experience. Jude Law spends the whole movie... not being wrong? It’s an issue. So when Carols stands there and says ‘I've never needed your approval” or some-such it’s great on a thematic level to see a female superhero so utterly reject the so-called necessity of some kind of male mentor (and if nothing else everything Carol learns in the film she learns on her own) - but it’s nonsense in the context of the film itself, where Carol spends most of it ignoring anything Jude Law says to her and doing her own thing, It weird to have her reject a man who has power over her - when he has had no power over her since the pre-credits sequence. She doesn’t listen to him at all the moment they go on their first mission. And, again, despite the text of the movie that framing suggest that Jude Law is not wrong about her not being ready to do the Light Thing until she was ready to do The Light Thing. A better movie would let Larson’s great chemistry with Lashana Lynch sing. I was so hyped going into this movie because Larson was quoted as saying that the “real” relationship of the movie was between Danvers and Rambeau but it’s... it’s not. Maybe in the script Larson originally filmed, maybe it felt that way on set, but if that was the case then it’s completely lost in the edit, where Rambeau has a nice through-line about regaining her place as a pilot but whose relationship with Danvers is mostly relegated to being another “no you’re super great Carol” hype man. Her best scene - where she and Carol sit down and she says how hard is was to lose her best friend - is undermined by some of the most mawkish music ever inflicted on a Marvel film; all the power of the acting  marred by a track that sounds like it came out of All My Children. In a better movie we’d get to see Carol live her life as a woman triumphing in a sexist airforce - half the movie should be flashbacks that build to that fatal, final flight. Danvers and Rambeau meet and crush on one another, mutually crush on Annette Benning (because god-damn), fly planes, fly better than anyone else flying planes, and do karaoke together to forget all the shitty airforce dudes in the lives who resent their good, good plane flying. This shitty people might have identities as villains and maybe do double-casting with Jude Law so we can see the parallels in her old life and her new life instead of pretending for an hour that Jude Law is her friend - like hell, movie, we’re not stupid, that’s not a shock. You cut between those scenes and modern Carol - and you do Good Writing Stuff like make New Carol a different person than old Carol: more timid, more cowed by the brain washing, more subservient to this guy who feeds her approval and virtue. You know - the stuff you do when you want to tell a movie about gaslighting like actually feature gaslighting. And we, the audience, who can see old Carol and how incredible and tough and take-no-shit she was, stare at the screen with burning eyes, hating Jude Law’s guts and waiting for the moment Carol beats his shitty ass into the ground and smooches Rambeau. And we see that Carol come back - fighting and clawing against this brain chip. And maybe the Supreme Intelligence could actually be in the movie as a villain like the movie seemed to want, instead of a brief cameo at the start of the film and then a baffling return at the end as some kind of ‘final boss’ that we don’t give a damn about because they sat out the entire movie. The film should come to a head with the crash of the experimental jet coinciding with the moment Carol remembers it in the present - maybe we take it a step further and use that great Skrull framing device at the start of the film: the past and the recent present align in the actual-present in the Skrull machine as Carol both remembers her old life, realizes the Skrulls are just trying to help her, and wakes up. Her eyes Do The Thing and she leaps out the back of Rambeau’s plane and blows the Supreme Intelligence’s armada up (not Ronan, because nobody gave a shit the first time why would you introduce a nobody like this instead of the person you want to be the Big Bad in your movie?) like a badass just like she does in the current film and then beats the shit out of Jude Law for some serious emotional catharsis. A casualty of this would be less screen time for Samuel L. Jackson. Who gives a shit? This is Carol and Rambeau‘s movie not Scary CGI Plasticine Jackson and Really, Really, Really Scary CGI Plasticine Clark Greg’s movie. You might get less Ben Mendelsohn too. A shame but, and I can’t stress this enough this should be a movie about Carol and Rambeau and Anette Bening. Ben Mendelsohn’s need to reunite with his loving wife and daughter has no place here. Did not need a subplot about manpain.

Or, conversely, if you want a movie about a totally badass female superhero kicking ass then cut out the gaslighting plot entirely. Make a different movie. Go the Iron Man route where Tony Stark is allowed to be an egotistical badass throughout and nobody ever patronizes because we don’t write movies about men that way. Just do the same for Carol (but not literally, because Ant-Man already did “Iron Man But Again” and it sucked). Really: you want to write the great feminist superhero movie? Don’t make it about a woman’s struggles against shitty men. Just make it about an awesome woman doing awesome things and stop making The Woman’s Superhero Movie be defined by her relationship with A Man’s World (see also Wonder Woman and almost every period piece about a female character ever made). Stop Othering the woman in her own movie! Finally, Captain Marvel has one of the most generic and instantly forgettable scores, a problem with Marvel generally but actively noticeable here as scenes with good acting are ruined by saccharine music like a bad soap opera. Captain Marvel is a mediocre and forgettable film, another in a long line of movies I got hyped for as some kind of ‘feminist masterpiece’ and discovered a lot of the same old shitty, lazy superhero tropes with the clunky addition of what a boardroom of executives think constitute feminist themes according to their quantitative marketing data. I will say for the eight year old girls out there it was a powerful movie and they were inspired seeing a woman superhero and I won’t take that away from then or pretend it’s not great. But they could and deserved a much better version of this movie - one in which that unquestionably glorious fuck-shit-up scene where Carol smashes through a battle fleet like it’s fucking paper because fuck you I am the biggest badass this franchise has ever seen Thor got punched by a star once who cares watch me atomize a dreadnought with my face! was matched with the same level of care elsewhere in the picture - so when Danvers lands and beats the stuffing out of Jude Law we’re not struggling to remember his character’s name which I haven’t successfully done once this entire review. I have yet to see Endgame but I have high hopes that - much like Paul Rudd and Benedict Cumberbatch - once out of the confines of her own under-written movie Brie Larson will get a chance to really shine, because we don’t get to really see Carol Danvers until that one great ship-smashing scene and that’s a pity. We should have had a chance to know the Captain Danvers of the USAF and to be able to mourn her even as we celebrated the emergence of the new Space Badass Danvers - who isn’t the same person, who can’t be, but is something greater than before. (For the record this isn’t a bad movie. It really is just a mediocre one. It’s far, far from the MCU’s worst film. That would be - despite my biases screaming ‘Ant-Man and the Wasp’ - still probably Thor: The Dark World, which you likely forgot existed again.)

[stone-man-warrior]

April 18, 2019: 12:15 pm:

I have somethings to add about last night’s third trip to Wal-Mart and to In-&-Out-Burger.

First, I want to mention that when I write about these experiences, I do so directly into the text box provided by Tumblr, as I did with Google+. I do not use a third party text editor, though I might need to in the future. As I write, I make mistakes in the text. Spelling errors and other grammar mistakes. I fix them as a type. Also, often, I am writing while being attacked with the nitrous gas or shortly afterwords. Even so, I repair most of the spelling and other errors as I write. Some of the errors I can recall changing, and that is what I need to say about it. The mistakes that I fix, and correct, are not reflected in the final output. When I press the “Post” button, many of the mistakes are still there even after I have corrected them. I am not a reporter and I was never trained to do typing the way professionals type, so it takes me longer and I am no good at it. I know that I am no good at it, so I proof the pages before I post them most of the time. I need to say this because of those who are claiming that I am copying their work. Every entry has a time stamp at Tumblr someplace, and if you re-open an entry post to edit mistakes, the time stamp changes, but the information that was changed is not noted anywhere. For that reason, I usually just leave the mistakes even though it makes me appear drunk, which is the goal of Big Media, Verizon/Yahoo, who are the operators of Tumblr. They are using the same tactics that Google+ did, the platform sometimes changes my text, does not reflect the corrections I have made, and they sometimes completely delete entries and parts of entries.

I had made an important entry about the Notre Dame fire the other day, and it is completely gone. There is no record of what I wrote about the Notre Dam fire a few days ago.

So, I need to say that the entries I made over the past three days are filled with errors that were corrected prior to posting the entries, yet, the mistakes remain despite having done the editing.

===========================================

About that shopping trip.

There are two things I need to add after having some time to recall the events.

One is at the Wal-Mart late last night when the return counter was closed. This addition can be verified by those who have access to the recorded information from the implanted microphone transmitter in my jaw.

As I approached the front door at the Wal-Mart, two terror soldiers in the parking lot spoke to one another. One said “look who’s here”. They were referring to me and they both began to walk towards the front door of the store. I was about fifty feet behind those two. They approached one particular door of the two that are available to enter the store, then sidestepped to the other door. I saw that. So I looked at the door as I walked towards it and noticed the pneumatic, electric guillotine that they use there from time-to-time. It was on the inside of the front door, and consists of a frame, with a horizontal blade that moves vertically, and some pneumatic, or hydrolic rams that move the blade, which is about 40 inches wide and about 8 to 10 inches tall. The blade is operated automatically, and I do not know any more about it’s construction. The framework for the guillotine is arranged just inside of the store entry, and appears as part of the entry. Citizens who go through the door are cut in two vertically as they enter the store, there are three terror soldiers with carts right there waiting on the inside of the entry to cart away the victims, and clean the mess. The two black guys were part of the cleaning crew.

When the guillotine is at the Wal-Mart, there are visual clues for the terror soldiers to see. The visual clues are there to protect the terror soldiers from walking into the guillotine. I do not know all of the signs, I do know one, that has been present every time the guillotine has been present to my knowledge. There are some chrome gates that are installed inside of the store, just beyond the McDonald’s. The gates can be seen from the parking lot. The gates are put there temporarily when the guillotine is in place, the chrome gates are removed when the guillotine is taken down. So, if those chrome gates are there, then the guillotine either is there, or will be there soon, or was there a short time ago.

So as the two terror soldiers approached the door and side stepped, I saw the blade of the guillotine move up and down from the parking lot. I have seen this a hundred times at different locations including Fred Meyer and Bi-Mart. At the Wal-Mart, when the blade moves up and down, from the parking lot it appears to me as a window washing squeegee. So, that is what I said out loud when I saw it, “the window washers are here”. Then I said “Darn, they brought the guillotine”. I opened to door and saw it there, and then said “I am going to go right through this fucking thing”, and I did. There was a lot of poison gas at the time. It was not a good idea, I don’t recommend going through the guillotine, but that is what I did. I said out loud “I am going through this thing and I am going to take a picture of it.” So i went through it, and was not harmed, I ducked under the blade and went through quickly, being careful where I stepped as not to get my heal hung up in it on the way through. The terror cart driver inside the store lunged at me while saying “you take a picture and you die”. I decided to keep walking, so no photo was taken. I lit my lighter and the cart driver stayed away from me. By the time I had reached the two black guys, I had forgotten about the guillotine until I returned to the entry on my way out. I walked through it again, but was not interested in getting a photo with the two black guys behind me saying “$50,000 to take this guy out”.

As I reached my car, I heard some people in the entry shouting “he walked right through it... twice!” there was excitement about the idea that I had walked through the guillotine without getting cut.

And that concludes the additional information about the failed return of the short pants last night.

======================================

Also, after having the night to put my memory back together, I recall the horse face gal at the In-&-Out Burger after the Wal-Mart. The gal took out a sword at the time I ordered. I took it from her and turned it around, and put it through her from the chest, diagonally to her lower back. Her nitrous tank popped and she did not feel it. That is one of the things she was saying to the large couple that came in behind me. She said “I am run through, but I can’t feel it.”

The horse face gal finished the entire transaction, including making my vanilla shake, while having the sword completely through her.

And that is all I need to add about that.

=============================

For a long time, when I had the account at Google+, these same kinds of things were happening. I did not write about them very often. Anyone who reads these accounts of real experience of real terrorism will not understand, it will be discounted. I knew it would in the past, and I know it will now, but it’s true. Over time, I have become more aware that there are no public safety people, no FBI, no National Guard etcetera, so, I guess it really does not matter if any one believes it or not. No help has come. I kill terrorists in defense and say so online, and no one does anything about it. I have also become more confidant in my ability to fight against the SDA/SAG terror soldiers. They use heroin and have been exposed to a lot of Nitrous Oxide/Versed gas over many years. They are not difficult to kill. Even so, the FBI, the US Military, and all of the police nation-wide are so scared of them, that they won’t fight them. Instead, they just let this one old guy do all of the fighting even though they know I have lost my family to the terrorists. I don’t know who is more offensive anymore. Is it terrorists with poison gas who kill the population, or is it the national security and US Military that refuse to do their jobs, won’t fight against the terrorists to protect the citizens that are being slaughtered?

=====================================

Judge Lindi Baker

Governor Kate Brown

Senator Greg Walden

Attorney General Jeff Sessions

Governor John Kitzhaber

Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia

(Scalia came to help, was killed by terrorists Loreena Chapman & Micheal Brassil at Rays Food Place in Merlin Oregon on a Saturday morning at about 9:15 am)

Those, and a whole bunch of very famous, terrorist actors and musicians have been killed at my home or by other means of attacking me.

Chris Cornell

George Wendt

Joe Satriani

Tom Petty

Those are just a few of the SAG members that came to kill me, but were killed in defense, and there deaths are either not announced, or were faked to appear as they died some other way.

All of the people above died in Josephine County Oregon while trying to delete this page and kill me. That is a short list. The list is much longer of famous deceased Screen Actor Guild members and US & State Government officials.

I say all of these things online, they are true, real, this shit happened, and no one has asked me one, single question about any of it.

The baby is on fire, and there is no one watching the baby.

Use a lighter, burn candles, the nitrous gas is flammable, a small flame clears the air so you can breathe and think clearly.

(I read this through, I corrected most if not all of the mistakes, if it turns out that there are a bunch of errors after posting this, then it was Tumblr and Verizon that made it happen. There should be no mistakes in this post, or only a few that I may have missed. Fished at 1:51 pm)

[lefae]

A Fix for Tumblr’s Small Text

//Okay, I know a lot of people like to post using the small text feature, but I also know that even more people have either vision or eye strain issues that make reading large blocks of small text (like in multiple paragraph rp posts) a pain - sometimes literally. So here’s how you can go about easing it for yourself.

NOTE: This can also be edited for in the event that you actually like and/or prefer small text so that you can post at regular font sizes (because if your blog theme is coded correctly, it shouldn’t mess up anything therein for you), and then you can leave the font size alone for everyone else on the dashboard. It just takes changing out a few numbers in the code to do so.

First of all, you’re going to need something to run and apply custom CSS coding to websites. Now days, this is usually going to be Stylus, which is available for Chrome, Firefox, and Opera (please don’t use IE or Edge or whatever they’re calling it now; it’s horrible and there’s always major security risks involved).

Step 1: Install Stylus - https://add0n.com/stylus.html - links per browser are directly in the top right hand corner. Easy enough.

Step 2: Go to your tumblr dash - https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard - and click the Stylus icon on your browser toolbar. We’re looking for the “Write style for” bit at the bottom of popup. Click on “tumblr.com” to open the new tab for style editing.

Step 3: Paste in the following code into the code box on the right:

.post-content-text, .post .post_body, .reblog-content { font-size:14px; } .post-content-text small, .post .post_body small, .reblog-content small { font-size:14px; } content small { font-size:14px; } .post-content-text sub, .post .post_body sub, .reblog-content sub, .post-content-text sup, .post .post_body sup, .reblog-content sup { font-size:14px; }

Step 4: Set the “applies to” (located directly under the code box) to “URLs starting with” and put in https://www.tumblr.com/ into the text field (IMPORTANT! Be sure to use the complete url here so that it applies to the dashboard)

Step 5: Name your style and SAVE! You can put pretty much anything here (as seen in the first screenshot, mine is personally set to “FIX TUMBLR’S STUPID SMALL TEXT!!”, but that’s because I was severely frustrated with things at the time of wrangling the code and figuring out what from XKIT was conflicting with it in order to fix that too - in my case it was a setting in Tweaks regarding small text that had got checked by accident overriding the stylesheet from Stylus - so make sure that’s not checked if you’re running XKIT alongside this)

The change should be immediate from there, so long as the style is enabled.

Now, in the event that you want everything in small text...

Follow the same steps as above, but in Step 3, change the font-size:14px; to your preferred font size (the default for small text on the dashboard is 12px, so to have it at default size you’ll want to set it to font-size:12px; -- just be sure the semicolon stays at the end of the markup! That is a vital piece of coding and its absence will break the code!)

And there you have it!

Hopefully this can be of some help to saving others some pain and frustrations. If you have any questions, feel free to drop me an ask.

[notatravelwriter]

On Drafting

How I draft, an instruction-introduction.

I am aware this might have actually proven more useful at the start of November, for the NANOWRIMO crowd. Sorry!

Today, you need worry about nothing but 30 minutes. That's it. Just 30.

Set everything up beforehand: cup of tea or a cafetière of coffee sitting beside you within easy reaching range; have a bottle of water on hand — always, always have water. Then open up whatever digital draft software you find best/have been persuaded to part with cash for, or a notebook and pen (have a spare pen on hand too — and do also consider pencil, it writes faster in some circumstances...).

All these things happen first. Then you set the timer.

30 minutes.

Did I mention it will only be for 30 minutes?

Of course, by the time you sit there (or stand - standing can be much better for your body) you already have an idea of what you wish to write, even if it is a very basic one. This is not the time for planning, that comes before and is a whole other subject (yes, one day I'll write about my process too, if you’d like?).

30 minutes on the timer.

Go.

Now you write. Simple, yes? Well, no.

For a start, this is the hardest bit for those unaccustomed to writing drafts — they panic. Hopefully, in order to help, here is what I do — those little tricks that enable me to write swiftly and even, at times, furiously.

I type.

I use Scrivener.

I switch to distraction-free mode, with the size of the screen and the opacity of the background already dialled in.

I write.

However, I make mistakes. Perhaps I miss a leter, or aspace. Perhaps i don't capitalise or I spell someting incorectly.

Doesn't matter. Just LEAVE it. Do NOT pause and add the letter, space, capital, or spell it right. That's REDRAFTING and, later, EDITING, not drafting. We’re drafting, remember?

I plough on (or plow — have no fear about your version of English at this stage either, write in the words and spelling you feel most comfortable with).

I write.

There will come a point where I will realise I've missed something out earlier, or I change a name, or I create a name in the first place.

Side note — names, whether people, places, things. They will change. Start with a TK, for example, tkname for the main character, or tkbestfriend for her best friend. You get the idea. At this stage you are drawing out the story, later, things-magical occur and you invariably reach a point in your draft or, sometimes, redraft, where these tks resolve themselves as your subconscious continues to work on the problem of nomenclature.

Back to the missed-out bit, or the mistake.

Don't fix it! Don't you dare move that cursor or the pencil!

Leave it where it is.

Do not worry.

Hit the caps lock. Add in TKIDEA, then record that thought.

Get back to the draft.

It's a mess.

Good.

Have you ever dug clay to make pottery in the wilderness? Or have you ever needed a new spoon carved in order to eat your dinner? No, just me then, ok, sorry, personal example, but still. The clay is a mess. It has roots in it. Soil. Leaves. Small rocks. You need to know how to edit it. The branch of the tree has bark, maybe moss, the spoon wrapped within wooden fibres, hidden from view.

Same with writing.

This is a draft.

Not a polished edit, or even a redraft.

A draft.

Write.

30 minutes.

See how many words you can do. If you already have a good idea of how many — on the worst of days, not the best — use that as your minimum.

On days where words are like hen's teeth or unicorn horns, I can write as few as 500. So that is my minimum target.

BUT it's a target. When you are learning to fire an arrow or hit something with a sling, you DO NOT always hit the target. That's life. That's where practice comes in.

Keep practising.

30 minutes at a time.

Then, invariably, the timer goes off.

You stop writing NOW.

No, you STOP. You DO NOT finish the word, let alone the sentence or paragraph, no no no.

This way, you see, you are left with a loose thread to weave the next time. You won't waste any of those precious 30 minutes, because you know exactly where you are going, what comes next.

Sometimes, and this is rare, your timer will go off just as you finish a paragraph or, even rarer, a scene or chapter. In this case, switch your timer to either 2 or 3 minutes and keep going. Much better to have that thread the next day. If you think that's too short a time, you are wrong. 3 minutes is 10% of your 30 — you should be able to write the next bit in that time, surely?

That's it. You're done. You can reach for the rapidly cooling tea or coffee you forgot.

And then you count.

Obviously, this is easier in Scrivener or another word processor than it is by hand.

Then you record this number somewhere (I currently use tumblr, backed up in Scrivener and Onedrive, but I've also used spreadsheets and hand-written the results too). This is important — you need to look at the factors that curtail your drafts. Hence you'll see notes on my tumblr, where I explain how, for example, I started later in the day, or a record of illness. This gives you (me) a much better idea of what you are capable of — even under less-than-ideal circumstances.

Done.

At this point you can stop for the day, or plan another 30-minute session. If the latter, you get up now and do something else. Never, ever, ever do two 30 minute drafting sessions back-to-back without something different in between. That rarely works and when it does (yeah, I was once young, foolish, and hopeful), it is a statistical abnormality — not the norm. This is why you keep a record and notes, so you can tell future-you not to make mistakes like that.

Done. Done.

Congratulations, you've drafted words. Messy, beautiful words.

Somewhere in that coal is a diamond. Somewhere, amidst the mass you’ve just collected from a riverbank, is the clay you will use to make a cup. Your branch is whispering to you, showing you where to lay axe and knife. That is the next thing. For now, keep collecting the raw materials and, make no mistake, when you draft, those raw materials are simply a volume of words.

Easy yes?

Go try.

This is what works for me. It might not for you, but it is advice/description culled from a long period of practice (and reading about the processes of others, something it seems all writers and artists love to do).

Good luck — but do please remember —  in writing as in anything — you make your own luck through discipline, hard work, and practice.

30 minutes.

Draft.

[kaleidographia]

[Review] Tales of Vesperia: The Brightest Star in the Night Sky Doesn't Shine as Strongly as I'd Hoped

Warning: Contains allusive/thematic spoilers.

The day is finally here! Tales of Vesperia: Definitive Edition, containing content previously unseen outside of Japan, has finally been released, so that us English speakers and/or non-PS3 owners can experience the new storylines, characters and features for the first time! Alas, this isn’t a post about that, firstly because this post is going up day-of-release and I haven’t had a chance to play it yet, and secondly because I am writing this from outside of the country and won’t be united with my pre-ordered copy until I return next week, RIP.

Therefore, this post is written from the point of view of someone who has only played the Xbox 360 version. I will try to keep it brief for the sake of not spoiling newcomers to the game, and also hopefully not to complain about things that are fixed (or broken??) in the Definitive Edition.

Tales of Vesperia is a game in the long-running “Tales of” franchise from Bandai Namco, the first one in HD, originally released for the Xbox 360 in 2008, later receiving an updated PS3 version in 2009, exclusive to Japan. Like many older fans, my introduction to the Tales of series was with Tales of Symphonia for the Gamecube, and I fell in love hard; I was therefore extremely excited to play the next games, but unfortunately, I never owned the platforms for them until very recently. Along with Tales of the Abyss, Vesperia and Symphonia form the “holy trinity” of games in the series almost everyone loves; find a Tales fan and ask them their favourite game, and the answer will likely be one of those three (note: I’ve heard very good things about Graces and the two Xillia games, but unfortunately haven’t had a chance to judge them firsthand myself). The three games, while not directly related in terms of plot or setting, share a lot of things in common, as they had mostly the same creative team, often referred to as “Team Symphonia” (as opposed to “Team Destiny” which made most other games since then). One notable difference is the scenario writer, Takashi Hasegawa, while Symphonia and Abyss were written by Takumi Miyajima.

The Tales series is known for its reliance on anime and JRPG tropes, often used in a way that plays off cliché expectations only to then layer plot twists and character development and produce a much deeper experience than what would be expected from the get-go. When used effectively, these methods produce a story that is both fun and emotionally challenging. Tales of Vesperia is no different, offering a cast of archetypes that should be highly recognizable to those familiar with the genre, and yet this may be best set of characters in a Tales game. The party has impressively good banter, chemistry and dynamics and several scenes had me laughing out loud or yelling, and I never had a bad time watching their relationships unfold.

Unfortunately, the game spares little time fleshing out backstories or learning more about each individual character outside of the main plot. By the end, I was left wanting, as the cast was so endearing and vibrant, yet I knew next to nothing about them aside from what had been relevant to show onscreen. I longed for more information about where they had come from and how they had gotten where they were, but it is a testament to the strength of the character writing that their storylines reached a satisfying conclusion despite this relative sparse amount of information about them. “Backstory is not story”, Craig McCracken and Frank Angones were fond of saying to fans of Wander Over Yonder, but for a game with the size and scope of a 60-hour JRPG, not providing that window of information feels like a hole in the worldbuilding.

Mechanically, Vesperia builds on the model established by Symphonia and refined in Abyss, where combat takes place in a 3D arena and the player can run around, hit enemies and rack up combos fighting game style (the franchise calls this “Linear Motion Battle System”). While Symphonia was in 3D, it restricted the player to a single side-to-side corridor of action. Abyss added the ability to run around in 3D space by holding down a button, a feature Vesperia also has. This makes combat easier and more fun, as nothing is quite as satisfying as avoiding an attack and then running around and hitting the enemy from behind. And, as the game allows up to four players controlling different party members, and I have a player 2 (shoutout to my roommate Opal), Vesperia’s system is the most well-suited to multiplayer. If nothing else, I never felt lost while on the battlefield yelling for backup. The one major flaw is that boss fights come with massive difficulty spikes and I often had to grind and formulate careful battle plans with Opal just to not get continuously massacred by bosses.

Storywise, Vesperia starts off very strongly, sort of peters out near the middle, and then the third act falls apart. At first the theme is anti-authority, with a protagonist who grew up in the slums, neglected by nobles, who became a knight and then quit out of disillusionment when it turned out all they did was squabble about politics, and the inciting incident and early driver of the plot is his quest to “fix the plumbing” as a popular Tumblr text post put it. It’s clear Yuri has all the reason in the world to not trust authority and he even goes full vigilante against unjust abuse of power, but while this thread seems like the most important theme in the story, after a while so many other elements come into play it ends up lost and doesn’t really make much of an appearance except to highlight the differences between Yuri and Flynn’s approaches to life and how they prefer to help people. On its own it’s a compelling idea, but it never gets the follow-through it deserves, and my expectations were certainly subverted—but in a bad way.

It’s hard to talk about the third act without spoilers so I will probably come back to it for a proper analysis at a later date, but its ultimate message was already kind of limp in 2008 and is even more laughable now. For a game whose initial premise was so strongly against authority, the ultimate resolution of the main conflict reads as incredibly daft in light of just about everything that is happening in politics at the moment. There’s a very strong environmental allegory and the comparisons to climate change are not subtle, but the writers probably bit off more than they could chew because realistically trying to solve this problem in the time the story allotted would have been next to impossible; I still would have hoped the implications of the given solution had been actually explored instead of settling for an “oh well, guess everything’s been fixed now”.

I’m being harsh about the plot because to me Vesperia has a lot of wasted potential. Don’t get me wrong: I do love this game. It is in fact up there with the holy trinity as far as my opinions of the series go, but it lands in third place out of the three because it just fails to live up to what its first half promises about the world it created. To put it bluntly, if the story had just ended at the conclusion of the second act, it would have been much stronger. That the game continues for another 20 hours on a completely different track with an unsatisfying, unrealistic conclusion is a huge shame because it brings down what could have been a real masterpiece of tropey anime JRPG narratives. I live for that stuff, there’s a reason I want to play every Tales game, but that’s what makes this letdown the most disappointing. At least the characters themselves get good conclusions; it is unfortunate I can’t say the same for the main plot.

Despite all this I think Vesperia is a worthwhile experience, and one of my favourite things about is its aesthetic sense. Every location is immersive, polished, and the pinnacle of what I want to see in a videogame, to the point I dream of Symphonia and Abyss remakes made in the same style (and every other game in the series, to be honest, but that seems unlikely with the direction it’s taken since then). I genuinely cared about the party and I wanted to see them succeed and I was ultimately happy that they did even if I did roll my eyes a lot. The combat was so satisfying and so fun to play with a player 2 it makes me twice as mad that Zestiria’s camera goes completely wild during multiplayer and prevents me from joining in. I should note that for someone who plays as many games as I do I am notoriously terrible at them so I heavily favour story over mechanics, but Vesperia is a game that reminds me that engaging gameplay can make a huge difference. Yeah, I suck, but at least I’m having fun while sucking. That’s more than I can say for a lot of games.

If you like JRPGs, games that let you run around and hit things, or fun and intriguing character dynamics, you’ll probably like Tales of Vesperia. If you’re looking for a coherent story from start to finish, you’ll probably disappointed, but there’s just enough there to keep you engrossed until the end. Overall, Vesperia is solid, and the parts it fumbles aren’t bad enough to ruin the whole thing, but hopefully the extra content in Definitive Edition helps to smooth it out; I’ll have to find that out for myself.

Aside from how it messes up the voice acting this time around. Oh, Bamco.

[hejin57-blog]

MUSIC MASTERS: CD ONE -----

For those interested: I’ll be posting segments of my Music Masters series through this tumblr account.  Due to the nature of the story, song links will be linked where relevant.

Anyway, on with the story.

-----

-----

WHITE KNUCKLE RIDE: PART ONE

-----

Music is truly a marvel of human invention.

In essence, it's nothing more the configuration of sounds in a set pattern, sometimes produced through our vocal cords, or often times through contraptions consisting of nothing more than strings and pieces of metal and wood.

But the beauty of music is not in how it's created, but in the inevitable result. It is a deliberate pattern of sounds that can be interpreted in an infinite number of ways, and loved by people all over the world, if not throughout the known universe.

Michael Kay is one of those people.

And this is his story, his white knuckle ride; in all it's long playing glory.

-----

-----

It was in all likelihood very frustrating to be the neighbor of Colleen Kay.

As a relatively hard-working twenty-something, Colleen peacefully came and went from her Washington Heights apartment when work demanded her to do so. She waved at the neighbors when they waved first, usually acknowledged the postman, and put long and stressful hours at her nursing job. So one could only assume that in the hours she wasn't home, there should be nothing but peace and quiet.

If not for her afro-headed brother, of course.

It was just another typical afternoon for Michael Jason Kay, the spotlights in his room practically high-beams, and his music so loud that it seemed to warp the walls of his room with each bass strum.

Taller than most boys his age, Michael Kay flowed like water, his red sneakers burning up the dance floor with each step. As the pumping disco beat pulsed around him, he bounced back and forth with near perfect sync.

Though his room was small, it was big enough to fit the configuration of colored spot lights he had bought to emulate the heart of a disco dance floor. The room lit up with a turquoise glint, reflecting off his tan skin as his large orb of hair bobbed and his record player continued to play its soulful melody in the corner.

Eyes closed, lost in the music, Michael could feel words just beginning to escape his lips as he descended into boogie wonderland.

"Got canned heat in my heels tonig-"

Unfortunately for him, those next words never came. Instead, a voice seemed to pierce the wall of noise. A very familiar voice that he hated to hear on days like this.

"Michael! Can you please turn it down just a decibel, please?!"

Michael's eyes snapped open, and he felt his hips sway out of his control. They bounced against his dresser, nearly knocking over his prized lava lamp. Michael reached for it like a clumsy ape, catching it just in time and then proceeding to groan audibly as he pulled the needle off his vinyl copy of Synkronized.

Switching off his strobe lights, his face soured. Thanks to his always wonderful sister, the moment was gone.

Michael stepped out of his room, hands buried in his pockets as he whined.

"Oh come on, Colleen! That was my jam! I was in the moment, you know? The moment!"

His sister's tone of voice was nothing short of uninterested. She was clearly far more concerned with fixing her curly black hair in the mirror.

"Well that's too bad.", she began, as Michael plopped down on the couch nearby. "Because until you have enough money to go ahead and soundproof your room, there's only so many of your moments I can take. And let's not even get started on the other tenants."

Michael grinned to himself. "Oh come on. I don't play it that loud."

His toothy smile had close to no effect on his older sister. She simply picked up her work notepad from her desk before dropping it right on Michael's stomach.

"I'm not here to argue with you, little brother. Now I need you to run down to the store for me and grab what's on the list. And only what's on the list." she stated, as poured herself a glass of water from the tap. The heat still permeated in their cramped apartment in these final days of summer.

"What!? Why can't you just do it? You're supposed to be off today, and I have a dance routine to perfect." Michael protested.

Colleen simply put her hands up as she shook her head with frustration. "I had off. But Christy decided to get sick yet again, and we need the cash for next month. The least you can do for me is this one tiny task."

His sister reached for her beige coat, checking her baby blue scrubs in the mirror for stray stains. "I'm sure it'll only take you ten minutes, tops."

Michael let out a long sigh. He stuffed the note in his pocket, grumbling to himself as he headed for the front door.

"Yeah. Ten minutes I could be using practicing some killer moves..."

-----

If there was but one solace of having to walk the six blocks out to the grocery store, it was that Michael's music could always come with him. As a listener of the classics, having been bought a vinyl player by Uncle Rob on his seventh birthday, Michael Kay still understood the importance of modern music players. He grinned to himself as he shuffled through his various disco and funk songs, the mental play list already forming in his mind.

It was but two days away from the end of summer vacation, but the seasonal colors still prevailed over the New York City skyline. Michael was never one to control his urges, his feet shuffling slightly and his shoulders popping as he walked along the sidewalk to his destination. Even in the busy street, not a taxi cab driver cursing nor a dog barking would interrupt him from his self-imposed sound zone.

As Michael Kay walked, he was far too engrossed to pay attention to the Dust Bowl; an old skate park in the neighborhood always populated by teenagers, local or otherwise. His headphones offered privacy away from the city's ambiance, and thus he continued to grin to himself as he went along.

So naturally, he couldn't hear the sound of skateboard wheels grinding against asphalt, even as this one particular set skidded off the rail and to a halt as he passed by the fence separating the Dust Bowl from the sidewalk. A set of dark green eyes watched him from beneath a tangled mess of brown hair as he remained oblivious. She scanned him up and down; noting his huge black afro, his red sneakers, navy blue jeans and the piercing colors of his tie dye shirt, which was embedded with the design of a pitch black vinyl record.

Then all of sudden, she winced under her breath, instinctively holding her hands up to her ears as a jolt of sound broke her from her train of thought.

It wasn't his appearance that bothered her. He looked like a moron, for sure, but she could ignore that.

No, it was the infernal noise going through his ears. A high-pitched singer was like a wailing ghost invading her eardrums.

To most people, the music coming from someone's headphones over sixty feet away wouldn't be a bother. Because even at the loudest volume in a much closer proximity, Michael Kay's music would come off as an unintelligible mix of squeals and whistles.

And on top of that, the heavy, dark blue headphones guarding her ears would have guaranteed she wouldn't hear anything but hard guitar strums and bleating punk rock beats.

Except that this girl wasn't like most people. She grimaced through her green lipstick as she propped up her skateboard, the sound of his music grating at her ears painfully. It was like a stereo in the other room; she couldn't hear it perfectly, but she could still hear it.

She watched him like a hawk as he passed by, his music thankfully getting further and further away. After another few seconds, and he was out of sight, and the disco strings, now out of mind.

But the girl still spit out venom, as a few other skaters passed behind her, unaware of her plight.

"Oh great. The disco circus is in town."

-----

Michael Kay surveyed the covers in front of him, a gleam in his eyes as he grinned. Looped around his right wrist were Colleen's groceries. However, as she had time and time again before, she forgot how much the groceries actually cost.

And so with all the essentials covered, Michael decided that a little reward was in order. And thus, here he was, patrolling the aisles of Audio Empire, the most prolific music store in his immediate Washington Heights neighborhood.

Though he owned a great many albums on vinyl, Michael always had room in his tiny closet for one more. As he flipped through everything from The Whispers to Barry White to The Bee Gees, he wondered what particular artist tickled his fancy today. It didn't take him long to spot something of interest; a rare special edition cut of Parliament Gold. Michael grinned at his luck, inadvertently talking to himself as he hurried towards the cashier.

"Oh man, Rob would love this. I bet he memorized every single bass line."

The words were low, but a moment later than they were still enough to make the boy's expression slowly sink.

If there was one thing that made him more unhappy than being forced on grocery runs, it was remembering Rob. Michael looked back at the aisles as he stood in line, his mind visualizing his first trip here. It coalesced into a vivid memory, the image of his uncle with his pulled down cap and large bass guitar case on his back thrust into Michael's mind.

This was back when his hair was of normal length, and he still remembered the warmth of Rob's hand on his shoulder, and the joy in his eyes upon being bought a copy of The Jacksons' Destiny.  

This album had been Michael Kay's very first vinyl record, and it was this purchase that ignited in him a love of disco music that would follow him for the rest of his life.

Though these memories were happy, there still remained the painful fact of the present.

Michael Kay hadn't seen his uncle Rob since he was seven years old. Rob, and these memories of him, seemed like a world away.

"...Howdy, and welcome to Audio Empire! How can I help you today?"

Michael's mind was practically glazed over. He nearly jumped out of skin when the girl repeated herself.

The afro-headed boy blinked. In front of him, a blond cashier with distinctly lightning-shaped earrings and a blue checkered blazer smiled as politely as she could as she waited for him to respond. He laughed awkwardly, placing his chosen album on the counter.

"Oh! Most definitely! Just picking this up." he replied. The girl ringed in his purchase as he shook his mind out of past thoughts.

"That'll be a dollar fifty!" she exclaimed, her tone clearly excitable now. Michael handed over a crumpled dollar and change.

She waved as her register dinged. "Come back real soon!"

Michael largely ignored her upbeat attitude, but that didn't seem to affect her much, as she seemed just as eager when the next customer approached the counter behind him.

Michael stepped out of the automatic doors as he popped his headphones in. As the music overtook him, he felt the overwhelming need to move his body again. Canned Heat was calling to him, and he switched to the song.

"No interruptions this time." he said to himself, a dumb smile forming on his face as the song lit up his soul.

-----

The walk back was relatively short, but it gave Michael enough time to loop Canned Heat more than once. Though it was getting pretty windy, Michael didn't mind one bit. He was distracted again, moving to his own tune as he practically danced along the route back to the apartment.

Michael always thought that if John Travolta could make walking look funky, he could too. Of course, most of his fellow pedestrians probably wouldn't agree. Luckily, the streets were mostly empty this afternoon.

It had been a good half hour, but that was nowhere near enough time to make the girl at the Dust Bowl forgot about Michael's music. As he absentmindedly passed by the fence, the messy-haired skater girl was once again assaulted by a piercing interruption of foreign music. It was like another channel in her head, spilling into her punk rock song like a pool of sludge into clear water.

She sat up from the stone bench, ignoring the other skaters in the bowl below as her gaze focused on the afro-headed idiot from before.

"Not this junk again." she groaned. Nearby, a boy clad in shoulder length dreadlocks responded mockingly.

"What junk? You talking about the way you skate, girl?" he chortled, too busy laughing to himself to notice her approaching in his direction.

He barely had time to react as she stepped hard on his board, forcing its center of gravity upward and tossing him off completely. He tumbled down into the skate bowl, scratching himself a bit, but it didn't seem to phase the girl one bit.

"...maaan! It was a joke!" he exclaimed, pulling himself up and rubbing his now scratched arm as a few other skaters chuckled at his plight.

"You new here?" one of them said, being kind enough to help the boy up. "My advice to you: don't joke with Kim. I'm pretty sure her sense of humor is MIA."

The boy simply replied with a nervous smile, wondering what crawled up her spine to make her so irritable.

Meanwhile, Kim was now much closer to the fence separating the Dust Bowl from the sidewalk, watching the afro-headed boy twirl around a lamppost like a moron to the sound of his music.

Reaching into the trash nearby, she was able to find a serviceable soda can, and her expression softened with confidence. Focusing her eyes under her brown bangs, she waited for the perfect moment.

And it was just as Michael Kay began belting out lyrics that she found it. With a strong swing, the can went catapulting over the fence.

"I used to worry about the fut-"

The words were unable to fully escape his lips as the can made impact with the left side of his face. He yelped like a dog as he almost fell off balance, twirling awkwardly as he just barely regained his footing.

Kim laughed under her breath at the sight.

"Score."

Once he began to really feel the pain, Michael simply nursed his eye as he looked downward, picking up the stray red can and wondering what exactly had happened.

"Hey, what gives!?" he exclaimed, looking around but not immediately finding a culprit to blame. He was speaking loudly over his music, his eyes now focusing on he can in his hand as the pain in his eye started to subside.

"Going around throwing that...canned heat?"

The words sort of slipped out of his mouth. For a moment, he focused away from the pain, and from the can in his hand. When he really looked at, it reminded him of the same red-orange on the cover of the single version of Canned Heat. The album itself was pushed up against others back in his room closet.

But for some reason, the image really spoke to him this time. It coursed through his mind, enveloping his senses to the point where the imagery began to associate with sensation. In a way, it connected directly with the music playing in his ears.

And so, like he had done many times in the past, Michael focused on the music. He let his mind drift into another self-imposed sound zone. He could hear the strings, the vocals, the soft clanging of the drums. He listened to the bass, closing his eyes and imagining every strum going through every fiber of his being.

He saw heat. Or at least, a visual representation of heat. It manifested in his mind as the shimmering mirage one might seen in a desert, though it glowed with red-orange intensity like the art on the Canned Heat single.

Strangely though, it felt real. The shimmering heat became less like a dream and more like a sensation. Seconds later, and his right hand began to heat up.

The chorus blared with intensity. Michael opened his eyes as they echoed through his eardrums.

-----

-----

Amazingly, the heat was now all too real.

Michael's expression went wide, as what was left of the can dripped down his palm like it had been melted by a death ray. His right hand was now sheathed in the same shimmering red-orange aura, which burned bright enough to make him squint. He wondered what he was seeing in front of him, or perhaps it was just that the can had just given him one hell of a concussion.

When he blinked, and the heat was still there, it was obvious this wasn't a hallucination.

And so, Michael reacted naturally.

"Oh man!" he cried out like a small child, shaking his hand wildly as if to remove the fiery aura, but to no avail. "Get it off! Get it off, get if off, get it off!"

The heat seemed stuck to him though, and grabbing onto the fence yielded nothing more than a loud sizzling as it began to melt away at the old metal. The remains of the can had been vaporized at this point.

Almost by instinct, Michael reached for his headphones with his non-burning hand, pulling one off and then the other as he continued to stare in disbelief. And in the instant the music was not playing in his ears, the shimmering heat aura seemed to fade away. Like someone pulling the plug on an amp, it was simply gone.

Michael did a double take, looking around. A few pedestrians stared at his general oddness, but it appeared that no else noticed the shimmering red-orange heat that enveloped his hand just moments before. And if they had noticed, neither people walking nor skaters nearby seemed to care. Michael felt beyond confused, but it was at this point that he finally noticed the girl through the fence, who glared at him in some sort of disbelief.

She was only somewhat surprised at this sudden display of power, oddly enough.

Their gazes met, and Michael took in her appearance. She had very messy, shoulder length brown hair. Her ensemble consisted of heavy green lipstick, a purple tank top, toxic green pants held up by a dull orange belt, and bulky combat boots. Despite her intimidating appearance, she was still a girl, that much was certain.

Spotting the curiosity in his eyes, Kim was quick to turn aside. She wanted nothing to do with him now that his detestable music was off for the time being.

And though she was some twenty feet away now, Michael could have sworn that he heard the few words she mumbled under her breath as she walked away.

"Another Music Master. Wonderful. Because that's exactly what this crummy neighborhood needed..."

Michael pressed himself up against the bars of the fence, but now Kim was clearly out of reach. The words echoed in his head. Had his hearing always been this good?

Music Master.

That had to be exactly what she said. Michael mouthed the same words, his mind beginning to fantasize a possible meaning. Did it have something to do with what had just happened?

He debated calling out to the girl, but judging by her attitude, it didn't seem worth it.

Michael turned away, now looking at his once prized music player with creeping apprehension.

There was a connection between what had happened and the song that had been playing in his ears, that much was for sure. Was it safe to even try listening to Canned Heat again? And if Michael did even dare to try it, what if something worse happened? He imagined bursting into flame.

Michael then gulped at a grim thought. One that was far worse than the prospect of his afro being lit up like an effigy.

Was it ever safe to listen to any of his music again?

Fast forward to the next track....

[hadrongospeltranscripts]

Ep. 1- The Reluctant Hadronaut

[Rift sound effect.]

Electronic Voice: Hadron Gospel Hour

Dr. Oppenheimer: I do apologize for the makeshift accommodations here in the break room Mr. Wilkinson. I thought it might ease your transition into this insane world of cackling horror. And you were in pretty rough shape when I picked you up last night. Have considered my proposal?

Mike: Listen, uh, Doctor… Oppenheimer? Uh, I don’t know how many ways I can say this. I’m an IT guy. Who happens to write dialogue driven movies in my spare time. An IT guy with a splitting headache. Uh, did you even try Craigslist?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Oh, sure. “Scientist who caused incalculable damage to the space-time continuum seeks help creating podcast about he destruction his hubris has rained down on on all the inhabitants of the multiverse?” No. No, I have not placed that ad. But I’m sure you’re being too modest about your talents Mr. Wilkinson. May I call you Michael?

Mike: Uh, Well, I prefer Mike…

Dr. Oppenheimer: Michael it is. Michael, since the… event, I have been driven to catalogue and document the scenes I’ve seen through the rift— that bleeding mocking wound in space-time. I want— I need to share these tales with the world, Michael. To warn them of the perils that await those who would, like me, tinker with he very warp and weft of the multiverse’s gauzy fabric. And what better way to spread this terrible hadron gospel than…

Mike: To… create a podcast?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Precisely! Oh, and a tumblr. We’ll need to set up a tumblr. (pause) Trail mix?

Mike: No thanks. So, is that the reason for the Misfits makeup?

Dr. Oppenheimer: My… grieving mask, you mean. I have adopted the visage of death itself to honour the deaths that I have caused. So many lives, Michael, so many timelines ruined. Plus I think it looks cool (crunching sounds) Mm. Are you sure? It’s the only think in the vending machine without high fructose corn syrup.

Mike: Nope, I’m good. I mean, you kidnapped me from my bachelor party. On the eve of the most important day of my life. I’d just given what I thought was a very eloquent and moving speech about the power of friendship—

[Cutaway to Mike’s bachelor party.]

Mike: (clearly drunk) What’s important to me, is that— is not so much that, uh… it’s the value of the friendship that means good… It’s what everybody— and then, y’know, it means that you (indistinguishable mumbling) And then… I dunno, it’s— I—I do know. It’s good. It’s friend, it’s good. So here’s to… um… to y’know… and then, um, everybody friend good. And then— But the value, the value—

Partygoer: Attaboy Mike!

Mike: Is— is really what I mean to… So raise your glass and (mumbling) good frie— Fr-friendship good.

[End cutaway, back to the bunker]

Dr. Oppenheimer: (eating trail mix) Michael… When I saw you though the rift, your words moved me. I sensed in you something of a kindred spirit and I felt the celestial rush of synchronicity, like wind upon the water’s surface, for I too have lost a love. (theme song starts under his words) Here, look.

Mike: A gift receipt.

Dr. Oppenheimer: (paper rustling) Ah, oh no, sorry. Here.

Mike: Ooh, a wedding ring.

Dr. Oppenheimer: My wife, Esmerelda, was a brilliant physicist and my partner in the Hadron Project. She objected to the weaponization of the Hadron Effect, but I convinced her that the money, security, and yes, fame, would more than compensate for the grisly knowledge that our work would be used to such terrible ends. For the Hadron Weapon was designed not only to destroy its quarry, but to retroactively edit it out of existence as though it had never been! What a weapon, eh Michael? And what a paycheque! We could finally afford to move back into the downtown area and get one of those nice loft spaces. You know, with a café and a laundromat and little boutique shops on the ground floor.

Mike: Makes sense.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Total sense, Michael. We’d been living int he suburbs. Ever been to the suburbs, Michael? Scenic, but a special kind of purgatory.

Mike: And.. the Hadron Weapon was your ticket out.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Yes! Sadly, all of our dreams were for naught. I must have miscalculated somewhere along the way, for, during the first true test of the Hadron Weapon, something went horrible wrong. The weapon misfired, it gouged a rift through the very fabric of space-time; and Esmerelda, my wife, lost. Lost forever, with only this ring left behind. (ring box clicks closed) But enough of all this sadness! I didn’t bring you all this way to weep at you about my vaporized life partner, how about a tour of the lab! (theme music gets louder)

Intro: Hadron Gospel Hour! Written by Michael McQuilkin and Richard Wentworth. Starring Richard Wentworth, Michael McQuilkin, Lisa McQuilkin, Michael Atkinson, Vera Schränkung, and George Jack. With musical guests, Reindeer. Streaming and podcasting thanks to Afterbuzz TV and Acami Technologies. And now, the hour approaches! Hadron Gospel Hour!

[Theme song ends]

Dr. Oppenheimer: I do hope you can handle the shrieking horror of it all. Although, the decor is midcentury modern, so it’s not all that bad.

Mike: I’ll be honest with you: this is not a fun place to be hungover.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, it’s going to get much worse Michael. You may not unseen that which next assaults your eyes. Behold, the Hadron Rift!

[Large metal door opens. Rift sound.]

Mike: Oh my God… This can’t be real. It’s horrific. Broken buildings, strange situations, empty shopping malls. Comedies of error.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Terrible, I know. Coffee? A.S.H. LE (pronounced Ashley), two coffees please. How do you take yours, Michael?

Mike: Black, I guess. Who’re you talking—

Dr. Oppenheimer: Two coffees with cream and sugar, please A.S.H. LE.

Mike: Oh, but I’m lactose—

Dr. Oppenheimer: Cream and sugar, A.S.H. LE.

A.S.H. LE Of course, Doctor Oppenheimer. Two coffees with cream and sugar. (computer beeping noise)

Mike: (sigh) Aren’t they going to… materialize or something?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Ha, no. They’re in the coffee machine back in the break room. I’ll go get them. (footsteps leaving) This isn’t science fiction Michael!

[Metal door closes]

Mike: (muttering) Gonna wake up now any second Mike. (Out loud) Ashley, huh?

A.S.H. LE: What? What was that? Oh. (sigh) Short for “Automated Servitor Heuristic Lite Edition”. Dr. Oppenheimer and his wife had me custom built to assist in their work here in the lab. Hey, I am the lab. Programmer knows, I do more than any of the meat bags around here. You’re Mike?

Mike: Uh, yeah. Hey, he’s got a lot going on, doesn’t he?

A.S.H. LE: Oppenheimer? Oh yeah he does. Well, it’s nice to meet you Mike. If there’s anything you need, just ask. I am programmed to assist.

Mike: Well, actually, uh, could you make one of those coffees black, please?

A.S.H. LE: (computer beeping noise) Done.

Mike: Thanks. So what’s Oppenheimer’s deal other than being a bit of a drama queen?

A.S.H.LE: Ha. Oppenheimer’s deal is that he’s trapped here. Oh he can leave the lab, but only for short trips. He inevitably reappears right back here in the lab, in the exact spot where he was standing when the Hadron Event happened.

Mike: Like respawning in a video game. Huh, cool.

A.S.H. LE: Sure, cool. So anyway, he trapped here, in the lab. Forever. I mean, I’ve scanned him. No gene death, no aging, just me and Oppenheimer. Here in the lab. Forever. Fun, right?

Mike: Oof. Yeah, not at all appealing. But, A.S.H. LE, I could go back to my time, right? Back to uh… my… timeline?

A.S.H. LE: Of course. I recorded the exact temporal, spatial, parallel coordinates Oppenheimer had me extract you from.

Mike: Oh that’s amazing! But, what’d it mean when Oppenheimer said we’ve… we’ve both lost a love? Nothing happened in my timeline, right? (pause) A.S.H. LE? Nothing has happened, right?

A.S.H.LE: Mike, the Hadron Effect has been felt across all timelines, even yours. The dissonance is different in each timeline, but it has happened, or will happen, or is happening. Or in fact… all of the above. From our relative position—

Mike: Jesus, don’t be so quantum. Just tell me what happened… or is happening, or whatever.

A.S.H. LE: I shouldn’t, Mike.

Mike: But— but Beth, my friends. You said different. How different? Like… new Darren different or New Coke different?

A.S.H. LE: In your timeline? New Coke different.

Mike:(softly) Son of a—

A.S.H. LE: Listen Mike, Dr. Oppenheimer was trying to fix the rift, but he’s been… distracted lately. Obsessed with recording those scenes from the rift. His physiognomic scans are showing an overall decline into depression. Maybe you can… cheer him up, and get him back on track.

Mike: Cheer him up? I don’t think I could cheer me up right now.

A.S.H. LE: Well than maybe just… be his friend.

Mike: (sigh) Alright, I’ll try, but he’s not making it easy.

A.S.H. LE: I hear ya.

[metal door opens]

Dr. Oppenheimer: My ‘supercomputer’ messed up your coffee order, Michael, so I’m afraid I had to add your cream and sugar manually, sorry for the delay.

Mike: Thanks. Hey it’s, uh (gags) perfect.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, it’s not every man that can make manual coffee these days Michael.

Mike: So, hey, what’s this about a collection of uh, horrific videos?

Dr. Oppenheimer: My “Tales of the Hadron Rift”, you mean?

Mike: Uh, yeah. Yeah, what d’ya say, we should watch a few.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, yes. Yes, I suppose we should. A.S.H. LE, fire up the VTR!

Mike: Um, don’t you mean a VCR?

Dr. Oppenheimer: What? No, I said VTR. Video tape recorder. What’s wrong with that?

Mike: Nothing, I’ve just never heard that term before. They’re video cassette recorders. VCRs.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, this York’s model is plainly labelled VTR, so I don’t know how much clearer it could be than that. Plus, you use video tapes in them. The medium is magnetic tape, Michael.

Mike: Yeah, but the magnetic tape is encased in a video cassette. (sound of video cassette being picked up) See, look at this one, VCR.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well that’s just silly, VCR. Feh. A.S.H. LE, video tape one, please.

A.S.H. LE: (sigh) The tape was not rewound. Rewinding. (sound of tape being rewound) Tape rewound. Playing.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Ah, Michael, you’re in for a treat. Allow me to present to you, “Tales of the Hadron Rift”!

[Rift sound]

Mike: Hey, neat sound.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Thank you, A.S.H. LE and I composed it for our into. I rather like it.

[Rift sound]

[Rustling and dragging sounds. A sigh. Fridge door closes.]

Unnamed Character: Okay, he’s gone. So, first day in the fridge, huh. Nervous?

Nahoo: Uh, maybe a little.

Unnamed Character: Ah, don’t be. This job does itself once you get the hang of it. And the heath benefits are sweet.

Nahoo: So, how much of this is turning the light on and off? Cause it seems like that would be a really cool job.

Unnamed Character: What?! Jesus, they send you guys greener every year. We don’t do the goddamned light, kid.

Nahoo: Really? Aw, that’s too bad.

Unnamed Character: Well, get over it. There’s more important stuff to worry about. Like goddamn salmonella. Yeah, I know, sounds dramatic, but listen. The fridge is about eighty percent paper work, fifty percent meetings, and five percent getting the hell behind the olives when someone opens that door. And a little general mold and mildew containment. You’ll do fine, you got any… powerpoint experience?

Nahoo: Um… Unnamed Character: Access?

Nahoo: Well…

Unnamed Character: Word?

Nahoo: No.

Unnamed Character: Excel?

Nahoo: Well I consider myself slightly above average.

Unnamed Character: Jesus, do you even have a computer? How do you not know Word?

Nahoo: Well, I have trouble staying in my seat.

Unnamed Character: Okay, let’s switch gears a bit. Are you comfortable being alone?

Nahoo: What?

Unnamed Character: Well, there are extended periods of darkness in here and folks tend to get lost in their own thoughts. I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable with that. We’ve already lost too many men to the labyrinth of their own minds in here, so you gotta be careful. You ever considered taking your own life?

Nahoo: No! (pause) What’s that smell?

Unnamed Character: Oh yeah. Well, the giant who owns this box is going through a rough patch. Wife left him a while ago. That’s the last takeout order they got together. I don’t have the heart to get rid of it. Neither does he so, we live with it. And you will too if you wan to keep this job.

Nahoo: Oh. Uh, okay.

Unnamed Character: So, that’s the basics. Lemme introduce you to Larry, you’ll be relieving him. He’s been in here for a couple of years now, so cut him some slack. Larry, this is Nahoo, the new guy. I’ll let you guys get aquatinted.

Nahoo: Hey there, nice to meet ya!

Larry: Hmm.

Nahoo: So, um, what d’ya do at sing along time in here?

Larry: I haven’t sung for five years. Doesn’t mean anything anymore.

Nahoo: Well, I know a few tunes that we could—

Larry: This used to be a magical place, now it ain’t. A place where you’d lovingly store the foods you’d use to sustain your family and entertain your friends. Now it’s a morgue for food that doesn’t even know it’s already spoiled. Sad sacks who don’t know they’re already dead.

Nahoo: Oh.

Larry: You smoke?

Nahoo: No.

Larry: Hm. Well, we’re not supposed to, but part of me hope this whole place goes up. I know it’s scientifically impossible, but a guy’s gotta have something to hold onto, right? Well, let me show you around. So over here we got a bunch of food no one gives a damn about; some open cans of soda, unpackaged celery that’s so rubbery it would probably be more effective as a police baton, chunky peanut butter that, quite frankly, does not belong in here. I mean, how much time you buyin’?

Nahoo: What’s that, way back there?

Larry: Oh yeah, that. We call that the Shrine. Been here as long as I can remember, a bottle of French dressing. And I’m pretty sure that company went out of business.

Nahoo: So is this a seating area?

Larry: Nah, those are egg holders, if you can believe that. Once in a while some stray M&M’s will get trapped in there. When no one’s lookin’ I use ‘em as toilets, and trust me, kid, no one’s lookin’. Another relic from a long gone era that no one gives a damn about anymore. No one but Larry. And when Larry’s gone… That’s that I suppose.

Nahoo: Well, don’t you have any family?

Larry: I got a cousin that made it out to the Lawn a few years back. Got a commercial deal. I get a postcard now and then. Screw him. (pause) Well that’s my queue. Good luck kid, you’re up.

Nahoo: But— But what do I do?

Larry: You know, I used to ask myself that same question a lot. You know what the answer is? Doesn’t matter. I’m outta here, don’t disturb the surface of the Jello!

Nahoo: Wh-what? (exhale) It’s cold. Well. Maybe a song will warm me up. (Sings) Living a boy’s adventure tale… So many—

[Elephant trumpet, confused shouting]

[Rift sound]

[ProductCo theme start playing]

Product Announcer: Hold onto your hats… If you’re not excited about this product now… Get ready…

Rick: Alright, well I— I have to tell you about a wonderful new product that I just came across and it is… probably the best product that I’ve ever tried.

Mitch: Now look, I don’t usually pipe up about things like this, but I am just so over the moon with this product that I felt like I had to got to this forum and record my words in order to get them to you.

Product Announcer: An exciting new development in product technology…

Rick: I really love it, and I think you will too. For all the things that you would use this product for, you can use this particular product and not the other ones that are far inferior. I mean, I’ve tried ‘em all…

Product Announcer: Not convinced? Listen to some trusted personalities…

Rick: I’ve been using this product now for.. an unspecified amount of time, and I’ve gotta tell you, it has done some amazing things for me. It has changed the— the way that I use products.

Mitch: I had that similar need for this product, and thus I used it. So the results were… all positive, I promise you.

Product Announcer: Tonight, on a very special: your life just got better because of this product.

Rick: I tried all the other products that cover— that cover similar ground to this product, they don’t come close.

Mitch: My friends notice it, my… pets notice it. They notice that I am a changed man for the better. I’m pretty sure that you might have a very similar reaction.

Product Announcer: Get on board, this train’s leaving… for trusted productville…

Rick: You’ve come to rely on this company for so many things, they’re like a trusted family friend. If they’ve been around that long.

Mitch: You listen to me, you son of a bitch, if you think I came here to blow smoke up your ass, then, uhhh, I—I’ve got nothing else for you, my friend. Because you’re an ignorant person.

Rick: Don’t waffle about this, this is something you need to try! It’s so wonderful.

Product Announcer: I hunger…

A.S.H. LE: Video ended. Rewinding. (sound of tape being rewound)

Mike: Wow, uh, I had no idea the multiverse was so… dysfunctional.

Dr. Oppenheimer: That it is, Michael, a big old bag of it.

Mike: Hey, where’s the boys room, Oppenheimer, I need to send this coffee along to its final resting place. You do have bathrooms here, right?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Ha, of course. This lab may be stranded outside the space-time continuum, but we’re not savages. It’s down the hall and to the left.

[sound of footsteps]

Mike: (to himself) Somebody spiked my drink maybe? No, this feels to real. Peyote? No, it can’t be. I haven’t met Mescalito yet.

Cyrus: Ha!

Mike: Woah!

Cyrus: Mescalito, nice. You read Casteneda?

Mike: Who are you? Why are you sticking out of the wall? Jesus, are you okay?

Cyrus: Me, oh, I’m fine. For the most part. (pained grunt) I’m alright, just fused with the wall, name’s Cyrus.

Mike: Ummm, Mike.

Cyrus: Nice to meet you Mike! Say, could you do me a quick favour? My arms are, uhh, somewhere else, and my nose is real itchy. Do you think you could… you know, give it a little scratch? Just a quickie?

Mike: Oh, uh, yeah, sure. Just, uh. (scratching noise)

Cyrus: (scratching noise continue while he speaks) Aaaaaaaaah… That’s amazing. Oh man, thanks! The doc won’t do it, and it’s been years. Oh wow, I can’t over how much better that f— (pained grunt, scratching noise stops) It’s okay, I’m okay, just (pained grunt) the wall.

Mike: This happened in, ah, the accident?

Cyrus: Yep, I was mopping the hallway floors when it happened. Never seen anything like it. Weirdest feeling I’ve ever felt. Like being sliced down to the bone and pulled apart in a million different directions, and not in a fun way.

Mike: And you’ve been sticking out of this wall for… five years?

Cyrus: Has it been that long? It’s hard to keep track.

Mike: And, uh, the rest of you?

Cyrus: Well, that’s the thing. I can still feel the rest of me, but who the hell knows where it is. We thought it might be the next room, but A.S.H. LE scanned and I’m not there. The doc says it’s probably wedged in another timeline, weird right?

Mike: Yeah, that sound horrible.

Cyrus: You know what though? Could have been a lot worse. I could have been completely vaporized like the doc’s wife, or I could be unemployed. And I’ve been blessed with an experience most guys never have in their entire lifetime. Yeah… I’ve got it pretty good. (two pained grunts) Plus I’ve had a lot of quiet time to hang out and meditate. Recharge my qi. I’ve been trying to practice more mindfulness. Nothing worse than an unexamined life, am I right?

Mike: I guess. So, are there any more people around here I should know about? I don’t want anymore surprises…

Cyrus: Ha! Yeah, sorry about that man. Nah, it’s just me, the doc, and A.S.H. LE. Well, there was this guy, Greg, but he’s been gone for a while. Guy from tech support, rock and roll type, real slacker. Just took off one day, nobody knows where to. So, a Casteneda fan, huh?

Mike: Huh? Oh, right. Well… I read The Teachings of Don Juan when I was in high school.

Cyrus: Trippy stuff, huh?

Mike: Uh, yeah.

Cyrus: Cause you mentioned Mescalito back there and…

Mike: So I’m gonna go use the bathroom now… (footsteps)

Cyrus: Mike, wait, listen, I know we just met, but could I ask you another favour?

Mike: Uh, sure man. What d’you need?

Cyrus: Well, I’ve asked the doc about his a bunch of times, but he told me it’s impossible. (sigh) Maybe it is, I don’t know.

Mike: What, what’s up?

Cyrus: I’ve told you that it looks like my lower half is, er, somewhere else, right? Well I would really love to have my wallet back. It was— it is in my back pocket and there are lots of pictures of my family in there… Gosh, I’d really love to see ‘em again.

Mike: Hey, I’ll see what I can do, okay?

Cyrus: Oh man, that’d be amazing, thanks! I knew you were a good guy. Find the others, right man?

Mike: Absolutely.

A.S.H. LE: I just don’t think it’s a good idea to use the Rift and your personal restaurant take-out service.
 Dr. Oppenheimer: But these ration packs are completely inedible! Tuna lozenges, quiche strips, partially de-fatted pork fatty tissue, a tube of Vienna sausage paste… I—I don’t think any of this is organic, A.S.H. LE. And dare we speculate at what proprietary blend of herbs and spices comprises this buffalo chicken flavoured sparkling beverage? I mean, nobody’s going Paleo in this lab, I can assure you of that! Egh, at lest in the Rift we’ve got a shot at buying non-GMO.

A.S.H. LE: The packs are perfectly nutritive, according to my data!

Dr. Oppenheimer: That’s easy for you to say. You get to dine on conditioned electric current, you’ve never tasted the joys of farm-to-table cuisine.

A.S.H. LE: Hm. Meat disgusts me anyway.

[metal door noise]

Mike: Hey, guys? We need to help Cyrus.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Who’s Cyrus?

Mike: The guy out there? In the wall? The guy who’s been out there in the wall for the last five years.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Oh, him. Absolutely not.

Mike: What?! What d’you mean? He’s a human being, Oppenheimer.

Dr. Oppenheimer: He’s nothing more than a decorative element. And an ugly on at that. He matches nothing, Michael.

Cyrus: (muffled) I can hear you guys, ya know.

Mike: Oppenheimer, you can’t be serious.

Dr. Oppenheimer: I am deadly serious, Michael, he completely clashes with the midcentury modern look of the lab. Listen, we have important work to do here.

Mike: Your podcast, you mean? Well, you can do it alone then. If you won’t help Cyrus, I’m out. A.S.H. LE, send me back. I don’t care if it is all New Coke back there, i—it’s better than working for this asshole.

Dr. Oppenheimer: New Coke? Now— now wait a minute! A.S.H LE Don’t you dare!

A.S.H. LE: I will do it, doctor.

Dr. Oppenheimer: But… But he’s— (sigh) Oh, alright. Okay, alright. If I help him you’ll stay?

Mike: Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, okay then. Okay. I guess it’s been a while since we used a little science around here.

[rift noise]

Mike: Okay, I got the cheek swab from Cyrus, I had to assure him we wouldn’t share his information with any third parties. So what’s this… for exactly.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, Michael, it’s very simple really. A.S.H. LE will analyze Cyrus’ DNA and then we’ll attempt to find a match somewhere out there in the chaotic miasma of the rift. It should work, in theory. Michael, please hold the sample up a little higher.

Mike: Oh, yeah, sure. How’s that?

A.S.H. LE: Scanning… (computer beeping noise) Processing.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, what d’ya know. Impressive.

A.S.H. LE: Well, yeah.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Hm. Interesting. According to the display, Cyrus’ right arm is sticking out of the break room wall next to the vending machines. I’ve always thought that was one of those new, hip art shelves. Huh. I’ve been using it for my keys and gum wrappers.

Cyrus: Oh, that’s what that was?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Sorry!

Cyrus: No problem, Doc.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Now, let’s see. Hm. Ah yes. A.S.H. LE, magnify parallel coordinates 427548, 75285, 433859. Ah, good, good. Good! My friends, I believe we are looking at the exact location of Cyrus’ hindquarters! Give or take.

Cyrus: Really? Alright!

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, Michael, are you ready to visit Cyrus’ lower half and retrieve his family treasures?

Mike: (laughs, clears throat) Sure.

Dr. Oppenheimer: A.S.H. LE, open the Rift!

A.S.H. LE: Opening. (rift noise)

Mike: Be back in a flash Cyrus!

Cyrus: Good luck, fellas.

[Weird half rift, half groan sound as Mike and Oppenheimer leave]

A.S.H. LE: Humans.

Cyrus: I know, right!

[Rift noise]

Mike: Holy— It— it’s beautiful! The colours, the sounds!

Dr. Oppenheimer: Welcome to hyperspace, Michael, the space between worlds, the prima materia that our very realities are born of! Here in it’s raw, spectral glory.

Mike: Does it always take this long?

Dr. Oppenheimer: (whispering) Only the first time the audience hears it. (out loud) Now, ready yourself, I can feel us returning to our corporeal state!

[Thud]

Mike: Okay, this place it truly weird. I feel like I’m on the ass end of a Pop Rocks and Pixie Stix binge.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Yes, yes, some sort of crystalline world. Very odd. Even the air seems crisper somehow— Glad we can breath it, hadn’t check on that— Now, let’s find Cyrus’ uh… hindquarters. A.S.H. LE, how close are we?

A.S.H. LE: He’s approximately 4.2 kilometres north of your current location, about midway up the mountain.

Dr. Oppenheimer Excellent, thank you A.S.H.— Wait, the mountain? Couldn’t you have gotten us any closer?

A.S.H. LE: Hm. Let’s recap. I pinpointed Cyrus’ location in the multiverse using only a cheek swab, oh and the power of quantum computing. I transported the two of you to said location across the infinite multiverse through a highly unstable rift int he fabric of space-time. Did I forget anything? Oh yeah, you’re still alive, (Oppenheimer clears his throat) and able to communicate with me. But you’re right. I’m the asshole for making you two do a little light hiking. I feel like a complete failure. A.S.H. LE out.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, I… hm… I suppose we should get climbing then, Michael.

Mike: Sounds like a plan. Hey, how many miles is 4.2 kilometres?

[Rift sound]

Mike: (out of breath) That was… That was more than… 4.2 kilometres, wasn’t it?

Dr. Oppenheimer: (also out of breath) A.S.H. LE may be short tempered, but she is unerringly accurate about distances, Michael.

Mike: Yeah, sure. Of course, I didn’t mean to—

Dr. Oppenheimer: Sh sh, look, over there, jutting out of that outcropping of rock, do you see?

Mike: Hey, yeah. That’s gotta be Cyrus. Those are totally Earth slacks, right?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Totally. Well let’s get his items and be done with it. (walking sounds)

Mike: Okay, but wait a minute, what’s all that stuff around him. A bunch of, uh… are those candles?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Some arrangement of light generators, yes. Why, it almost looks like a… shrine. We’d better hurry and retrieve the wallet. (walking sounds) Okay, quickly Michael, I’ve never toughed this mana nd I don’t intend to start now.

Mike: Sheesh, what is your problem? Alright. (pause) There’s nothing in he— Ow! (kicking noise)

Dr. Oppenheimer: Hm. Must be and involuntary reflex, like with a horse. You’re obviously approaching him wrong. Here, let me tr— Oof! (kicking noise) You’re right, there’s no wallet there. Wait, do you think that someone could’ve… (footsteps) Oh. Oh my.

(Whenever the Crystalosians speak it’s normal words played over strange noises, as a non-diegetic translation)

Lady Rubalith: Who intrudes upon the sanctity of the Object of Prime Cosmological Significance? Explain your soft, puffy presence here, strangers.

Amethystar: High Zenith Lady Rubalith, perhaps they too are friends from the sky like the Object. Observe their meaty mien and their similar slacks.

Lady Rubalith: Yes, yes, perhaps you are right, Amethystar. You give wise counsel my old friend and advisor. So, why are you here, strangers? Well?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, this is awkward. A.S.H.LE, establish real time translation.

A.S.H.LE: You have attempted to access a feature that is not available in the lite edition. To unlock this feature, please visit the Umbra Digital website at h-t-t-p colon forward slash—

Dr. Oppenheimer: (frustrated grunt) Well, so much for that. Listen, friends. We only want to retrieve he belongings of our friend here.

[clanking noises]

Lady Rubalith: Cease your gesticulations, it is forbidden to gesture toward the object. Enough of this ineffectual parlay, guards, take these two meatlings to the Crystal Caves.

Dr. Oppenheimer: I told you this wasn’t worth it. Let’s run!

Mike: No, just… Hold on. I’ve been listening to these guys talk, let me try something. (speaking with weird intonation) Prime Object mean much to Crystal guys, yes?

Lady Rubalith: What?

Amethystar: He speaks the Crystal Tongue.

Lady Rubalith: Guards, stand down. (clanking) Impressive, meatling. What is the purpose of the visitation? Speak carefully, you address the Lady Rubalith, High Zenith of Crystalos.

Dr. Oppenheimer: What? What’s she saying, Michael?

Mike: I’m not an expert Oppenheimer, I… I think she want’s to know why we’re here.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Oh. Well, tell he we made a mistake and let’s be off. Cyrus and his wallet be damned.

Mike: You know I can’t do that. Hold on, let me try something. (weird intonation again) Oh High Mucky Muck Big Time Lady Rubalith, legs in wall am friend from up waist. Us promise wall friend top parts us come find pocket stuff, then bring back to wall friend and he have big happy. You can help, please?

Lady Rubalith: Friend? The Object of Prime Cosmological Significance is your friend?

Amethystar: Can it be?

Lady Rubalith: Silence. I require a moment. Very well meatling. Your words and your slacks ring true. And I taste in both you and your companion the flavour of deepest loss, a frequency of sorrow that rouses a crystalline compassion in the geometries of my heart. These are after all, only relics, and our Prime Object is only a meatling’s lower half. But what you seek is more substantial, is it not? I will grant you what you ask.

Mike: (still using that weird intonation) You am big good, big happy us thank.

Lady Rubalith: There is just one condition. I will whisper it into your fleshy, audio receptor.

Dr. Oppenheimer: What? What is it?

Mike: (weird intonation) Deal. (normal voice) They’re giving us the wallet.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Excellent! Let’s get it and go. I’ve spent enough time on this fools errand.

Mike: Okay, but she’s invited us to stay for the ritual. They’re celebrating the anniversary of the discovery of the Object of… well, Cyrus’ ass. It would be rude to leave so abruptly.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Nonsense, we’ve stayed too long already. Say good bye, Michael.

Mike: She said there’ll be food.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Food, you say?

[Rift noise.]

[Sounds of lots of talking in background]

Lady Rubalith: We welcome our guests, Mike and Oppenheimer, as we celebrate the appearance, so many eons ago, of the Object of Prime Cosmological Significance, now known for the ages as Lower Cyrus; and the return of his… artefacts to their rightful place.

Mike: Jeez, I really wish Cyrus coulda been here. Well, the rest of him, his head and torso. A—and his arms.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Smells wonderful. Excuse me sir, do you know, is this organic?

Crystalosian Man: Excuse me?

Lady Rubalith: And now, let us feast as we reflect not he wonders of the cosmos. A happy Life-day to all. Let the music begin.

Reindeer Band Member: Hey Crystalos, we’re Reindeer! Thanks for having us at your… Life-day celebration. This one’s from our new single, it’s called “Tony”. Boy no more You’re a grown up cat that makes All the birds In the neighbourhood sing it on When you move Like a panther in the sand Sniff around, you just grow on everyone Can’t you see The whole world awaits your smile On the prowl You will kill with a fire inside What you are Is an eating machine in a million creatures why Do I hold you So close to my heart Kill with a fire inside Kill with a fire inside Kill with a fire inside your heart When you move Like a panther in the sand

[Rift sound.]

A.S.H. LE: Tape ended. Rewinding. (rewinding noise)

Dr. Oppenheimer: Well, that was a particularly satisfying adventure, Michael. Thank you for forcing me into it.

Mike: Ha! Any time.

Dr. Oppenheimer: And it was actually quite nice to reunite, um…

Cyrus: (muffled) Cyrus!

Dr. Oppenheimer: Yes, Cyrus. It was nice to reunite Cyrus with he contents of his wallet. (to Cyrus) Your family seems very nice.

Cyrus: (muffled) Thanks, Doc! It’s good to have the old library card back, too.

Dr. Oppenheimer: (yawns) So, I suppose I’ll turn in. We’ve much more work to do not he morrow and all that climbing and rich Crystalosian food has worn me out.

Mike: Just one more thing though, Oppenheimer. Um… Lady Rubalith gave this to me at he feast. She told me I should give it to you when I got back, said it’s something you needed. Here.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Crystal box? Well, it’s beautiful, but I don’t see how— Oh, there’s some sort of luminescent particle inside. It’s— oh, huh! (sparkly noise)

Mike: Whoa, look out!

Dr. Oppenheimer: No no no, wait. I don’ t think it’s harmful. Look, it’s settling on my desk. On… Esmerelda’s ring. My goodness, (unclassifiable sci-fi noise) it’s shot into the Rift! A.S.H. LE what’s happening, what does this mean?

A.S.H. LE: Scanning and processing. (computer beeping noise) Two things. One: the Rift has just healed. By an infinitesimal degree, but still. And two: I’m getting a DNA reading from the ring.

Dr. Oppenheimer: But, what? Esmerelda! A.S.H. LE, did you get a full scan of the luminescent object?

A.S.H. LE: Of course.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Compare it with the DNA on the ring.

A.S.H. LE: It’s… a complete match, Dr. Oppenheimer.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Of course it is, A.S.H. LE, of course it is!

Mike: Wait, what?

Dr. Oppenheimer: It’s very simple Michael, so very simple! When the Hadron Event occurred, I thought my wife had been simply vaporized, but that’s not it at all! You know, that man in the hall, um…

Cyrus: (muffled) Cyrus.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Yes! How Cyrus’ body was fragmented and blasted throughout the multiverse in the accident? Well the same thing happened to Esmerelda, only because of her proximity tot he blast it happened in a much more complex and devastating fashion, but it’s essentially the same thing, Michael! And if my guess is right… Here, let me show you. A.S.H. LE, run the same sort of DNA scan on the rift that we did for Cyrus, this time using the DNA not he ring.

A.S.H. LE: Scanning. (computer beeping noise) Processing.

[Whoosh]

Mike: Woah, the power’s dipping.

A.S.H. LE: It’s alright. Processor maxed out. Switch to auxiliary power cells. (boot up noise) Processing complete. Rendering matches on multiverse display.

Dr. Oppenheimer: My god… It’s full of stars. She’s… She’s…

Mike: Everywhere. Nice reference by the way.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Thank you. Thank you, Mike. I’m gonna fix this then. All of it.

Mike: The Rift, how?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Yes, the Rift, Esmerelda, it’s all connected. Look at her there, scattered across the multiverse. Lady Rubalith, that marvellous crystal woman, she showed me how. (theme song starts playing) If I can find and recover all these bits I can do it! And bring back my beloved Esmerelda. I;m certain of it! I’ll of course return you to your timeline, you’ve been far too patient with me already. I think you’ve earned it.

Mike: Now wait a minute. I’m not going anywhere. Until the Rift is fixed… there’s not hope for my timeline, or Beth. At least now I can do something about it. There’s all sorts of weird worlds out there, filled with all sorts of weird creatures and, let’s face it, you’re not the greatest communicator.

Dr. Oppenheimer: Hm. True. You were very helpful with the Crystalosians. Welcome to the team.

Cyrus: Uh, guys? Speaking of those crystal folks… I, uh (pained grunt) I think they’re trying to (pained grunt) make a crystal offering…

Mike: Well, what’d say, doctor, ready to take a little trip?

Dr. Oppenheimer: Michael, I dare say that I am. A.S.H. LE, open the rift! This multiverse isn’t going to save itself.

A.S.H. LE: Opening. (Rift sound)

[Theme song gets louder.]

Credits: You just listed to Hadron Gospel Hour! Written by Richard Wentworth and Michael McQuilkin. With production assistance for Katie Falvey, Rebeka White, Tim Conway, Sam Cusac, and Kris Paukstys. For more information on Hardon Gospel Hour, or to download new episodes find us at hardongospelhour.com. Dowload, rate, and review us on iTunes, Stitcher, Tunein, Dogcatcher, or wherever fine podcasts are consumed. And be sure to join us next time for an all new episode of Hadron Gospel Hour!

[Theme song ends.]

[akxle-blog1]

06. awaken

thank you guys so much for reading this! this chapter is now the turning point of the whole series. hope you enjoy! this is kinda long, too :) also, i apologize for the delay. i have no other reason but tumblr not allowing me to post it but here ya go!

edit: i forgot to add the title omg 

warning: blood, violence, alcohol

there was a knock on the door and seokjin immediately stood up from his seat on the couch beside yoongi and ran towards the door - like, really ran towards the door. he composed himself, flatten down his shirt before opening the door and revealing oh sehun dressed in a suit minus a neck tie. sehun bowed at his sunbae, "seokjin sunbae, good evening."

jin felt uncomfortable to say the least. he much preferred to be called hyung than sunbae. it was too formal for him. "sehun, y/n's finishing getting ready. you kind of took her off guard with the date." jin replied and sehun smiled slightly at him. was twitching your lips even considered a smile? probably for oh sehun it does, jin told himself. "come inside, its cold."

"don't worry about it, seokjin sun-,"

"call me hyung, oh sehun."

this time, sehun really smiled. seokjin grabbed sehun's wrist, catching the younger boy off guard. seokjin pulled sehun inside their dormitory and shut the door behind them. "follow me, we have some things to say." seokjin said as he led the way towards the living room where the rest of the boys were except jeongguk who was fetching y/n.

sehun, being the well-mannered boy he was, bowed 90° at his sunbaes and fellow hoobaes.

"we've been expecting you," hoseok said in a serious tone accompanied by a serious expression that should look intimidating but with a giggling jimin beside him - hoseok dropped the act and slapped the younger boy at the back of his neck. "you're such a killjoy, park jimin."

namjoon shook his head at them and stepped towards sehun. both boys extended their hands out and intertwined it. they did a firm shake and namjoon offered sehun a seat.

"we'll just go straight to the point while jeongguk gets y/n," namjoon said.

"don't pull any shit that will get us all in trouble, sehun." yoongi bluntly said, looking at sehun with a stern expression.

"i should have known," sehun said, his demeanor changing all of a sudden. he leaned against the chair namjoon offered him and crossed his legs. "you think i'm just playing around again?"

"well, its not really the first time you've pulled a stunt like this, sehun. we just don't want a mess." jin said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"has it ever crossed your minds - all of you - that i might actually be interested in her, no hidden agendas?" sehun asked, feigning hurt.

"no, it didn't because we fucking know your game, oh sehun." yoongi was growing mad. fucking hell, the mere sight of oh sehun irked him.

"it would still be a mystery to me why seolhyun chose you over me."

at the mention of her name, yoongi was already lunging towards sehun. he grabbed the younger by his collar, pulling him up from the chair and pushing him against the wall. "don't you say her name!" yoongi growled.

"yoongi, stop it. let him go." namjoon said, placing a hand on yoongi's shoulder.

"come on, hyung, this is gucci." sehun sarcastically smirked. he always enjoyed riling yoongi up.

yoongi pushed him further into the wall and let him go. "fuck you and your gucci." the jet black-haired boy spat before leaving.

"he was always the life of the party." sehun remarked as the front door slammed.

"sit down, sehun, god," seokjin said frustratingly. "please, sehun, take care of y/n. she might not be with us from the start but we all care for her. where will you take her?"

"the annual ball. i got permission from headmaster, don't worry." sehun said, fixing his undershirt.

"woo jiho's gonna be there," taehyung pointed out.

"which means eureka's gonna be there, too," jimin added.

"i'll just say this once," hoseok said and walked towards sehun. "THE FUCK'S WRONG WITH YOU, KID?"

"she's with me. she's in our territory, if eureka fucks with her, she'll have us to deal with them. besides, my parents didn’t invite them."

"can't you just take her to mcdo or something?"

"when we're wearing versace and gucci?"

"who gives a fuck? at least she'll be safe. we all will be safe. does exo trust eureka?" namjoon asked, eyebrows furrowed together.

"y/n's here," jin suddenly said as they heard heels clicked against the wooden staircase.

"we don't but we're civil." sehun quietly told them.

"do you trust us?" namjoon asked.

sehun smirked at the question. "i don't think that's the question, namjoon, question is - do you trust me?"

namjoon didn't have time to reply because jeongguk had already entered the room, y/n following closely behind.

"you look really beautiful, y/n." seokjin complimented as y/n blushed.

"hyung's right," sehun agreed as he approached her. "you look beautiful, y/n."

yoongi knew better than to waste the night away in the shabby bar near eichen on a school night but he didn't care one bit. earl, the owner of the bar, was surprised to see yoongi again after so long. earl was hesitant to give the jet black-haired boy his order, knowing all too well yoongi would just order one after another and earl would end up calling the school to get yoongi. he almost lost his bar because of this kid but he can't stay mad at yoongi for so long. he knew what this kid had been through growing up and he understood that what was he going through at that time where alcohol seemed to be the only solution. everyone who knew yoongi before her knew that yoongi was harsh, cold, troublesome but fiercely loyal and dedicated to his friends - his family, bangtan. earl was a witness that yoongi changed for the better when seolhyun entered his life.

"yoongi, go home, kid. you have school tomorrow." earl said as he wiped the counter and grabbed yoongi's unfinished beer. "we're closing anyways."

"i want her back, earl," yoongi said, his voice so broken and painful that it made the bar owner stop from wiping the counter. he looked at the lone customer and saw how much he longed for his dead lover. "i fucking need her."

"yoongi..." earl trailed off, placing both hands on the countertop.

"i don't think there's a day that goes by that i don't miss her. everything about her. why can't i have her back? is that too much to ask?"

"you know it is, kid. seolhyun... she's in a better place, yoongi."

yoongi scoffed at that and looked at the man he always wished was his father. "i'm so selfish, huh earl? maybe that's why death took her from me. or maybe because she chose me over sehun and the rest of them."

"don't put all the blame on yourself, kid. she chose you because she loved you. nothing more, nothing less." earl's voice was stern and firm that yoongi couldn't help but to give the bar owner a small smile. earl leaned forward towards yoongi and placed a hand on the younger's shoulder. "go back home, yoongi. it's getting late."

"can't i stay here?" yoongi asked.

"you have-," earl was cut off by yoongi's phone ringing. "answer that, it might be important."

"i don't feel-,"

"yoongi, did i stutter?"

with an exaggerated sigh, yoongi fished his phone out of his pocket and answered the call, pressing the device on his ear. "what?"

"we need you, like, right now." it was namjoon and he sounded out of breath. yoongi could hear noises besides namjoon's voices, grunts, and glass shattering.

"what the hell's going on? where are you guys?" yoongi asked, immediately standing up from the stool he was sitting on and grabbing his jacket that was lying on the counter.

"the annual ball of the oh's, come-," the other line went dead and yoongi cursed.

"what's going on?" earl asked.

"i can't explain right now, earl. i gotta go - thank you, for everything." yoongi gave him a genuine smile before running out of his bar.

right now, his brothers needed him.

this certainly was not what you were expecting your night would turn out to be. it went great, at first. you and sehun arrived at a grand mansion filled with various people and even some students from eichen. you saw the group sehun's always hanging out with and sehun introduced you to them. they were all sweet, kind and well-mannered boys, some even kissed your cheek and the back of your hand. although you had sehun with you, you can't help but to feel out of place. everything was just really grand, even grander than eichen.

when you and sehun walked through the front door of the mansion, the first thing that greeted you was a grand staircase. it was marbled and on top was a fountain. everything was either gold or marble - it was like a tumblr mansion aesthetic come to life and it was very overwhelming to be even standing there. sehun led you to the spacious garden outside and there was where you met his friends and to your surprise, his parents.

"well, this is certainly a first, sehun," his mother, shinhye, said as she greeted you with a kiss on both sides of your cheek. "this is the first time my son ever brought a date for our ball."

"we were beginning to think that he'd be alone forever," his father remarked, placing his arm around sehun's mother.

"and i'll take that as our cue to leave," sehun said, grabbing my hand in his and he dragged me away from his parents who was laughing heartily.

"they're nice, everyone is." you commented as he led you two back into the mansion. you shudder when the cool air of the aircondition hit your bare skin, sending goosebumps all over your body.

sehun noticed this and immediately took of his jacket and placed it on your shoulders. "i should have bought something else but the moment  i saw it; i knew it was just for you."

you couldn't help but to let out a loud laugh at his corny response. he looked at you, his lips twitching then formed into a huge smile. you placed a hand on your stomach, throwing your head back a little. "god, that must be one of the most cheesiest line anyone has ever said."

"well, it is the truth," sehun replied and you finally stopped laughing. comfortable silence set in the two of you and before you knew it, the two of you were already on the second floor of the mansion and were standing in front of their huge family portrait. "that's my brother, sejeon," sehun said, pointing to the man standing beside him, a huge smile plastered on his handsome face.

"i didn't see him around." you commented.

"he's not really welcome here," sehun replied, staring at the image of his brother. "guess you could say he was disinherited."

"what happened? if you're not comfortable talking about it, you don't have to answer," you said, looking at him.

"he was just a plain dick," sehun said and then scoffed. "i used to look up to him, you know? he was that guy in books and movies that everyone loved. parents, friends, teachers, even animals and plants - he was just perfect. my parents, they were so proud of him. had his life planned for him and although i wanted to be jealous, i couldn't because i knew he deserved the attention. he was my goddamn role model, my fucking hero but he just had to crawl out of his grandmother's skin and be the big bad wolf."

sehun turned to you, his eyes darker than usual. he looked so intimidating at the moment. "in my family, we have certain rules, one of those is never turn back on family. i'm guessing you could figure out what my brother did for him to be disinherited."

"he broke the rule; he turned his back on you, your family." you answered, your voice low.

"yes, my son of a bitch of a brother did and i never hated anyone more than i hate him," sehun's veins were popping out of his neck, red face from anger and you hesitantly placed a hand on his cheek, hoping it'll calm him down. he flinched when you touched him and grabbed your hand. "you're so cold."

"why did he leave sehun? hate is such a strong word to use, especially towards your brother."

but before sehun could answer, screams erupted from the guests outside and you and sehun looked at each other with wide eyes. "come with me." he said in a hurry as he grabbed your hand and led towards the hallway behind you but someone had blocked your way.

"not even gonna say hi to your big brother?"

"shit, that's eureka!" hoseok exclaimed as they watched from their car. namjoon grabbed the binoculars from hoseok's hands and placed the butt on his eyes and let out a frustrating sigh. "i thought they were on truce?"

"eureka is known for backing on their words, hoseok, i'm not even surprised they did it. i'm just really worried about y/n right now. namjoon, what should-," seokjin said but stopped mid-sentence when they heard the car door opened and jeongguk ran towards the mansion.

"jeon jeongguk!" namjoon screamed at their maknae. "fucking hell!" he screamed as he hit the back of the driver's seat repeatedly.

"hyung, we have to help him and y/n!" jimin said, worry laced with his voice.

"this is so not happening right now," namjoon grumbled as he fished out his phone. if they were gonna fight, they needed yoongi. "follow him, everyone of you. find him and y/n and get them both out of here, i'll stay behind, i'll wait for yoongi."

"you heard the leader, let's go kick some asses!" taehyun excitedly exclaimed as he pushed jimin out of the car and they ran towards the mansion.

"aish, these two," seokjin left his car along with hoseok. "let's find y/n." he told hoseok and namjoon watched as they disappeared into the mansion.

"the annual ball of the oh's-," he replied to yoongi but was cut off when he was pulled out of the vehicle, his phone landing on the floor of the car and his body on the dirty ground. "you're gonna fucking regret that."

"well, i didn't expect a bangtan member to be on an exo's property."

"same goes for your society, jiho. thought you guys were on a truce?" namjoon picked himself up from the ground, glaring at the blonde standing a few feet away from him, a bat in his hand.

"leader's orders," jiho simply replied.

"sejeon," namjoon said and scoffed. "of course. just what would your society gain by trashing a party?"

"fun, free alcohol, expensive things, a night to remember, maybe some gir-,"

"cut the bullshit, woo jiho," namjoon spat. "why are you here?"

"well, a little birdy told us sehun has got someone we very much want to meet here." a sinister smile formed onto jiho's face which almost made namjoon's skin crawl. almost.

"y/n? what do you want from her?"

"now that, that doesn't concern you," a chuckle escaped the blonde's lips. "i'm done talking, namjoon. i didn't come here to gossip with you."

"well, neither am i," a voice appeared behind jiho and he spun around only to be met by a punch from yoongi. jiho fell on the ground due to the impact and yoongi motioned namjoon to come with him inside the mansion. "go help the others, i'll look for y/n."

you felt his fingers running up and down your exposed back and you screamed through your gagged mouth under his touch. you mumbled, please's and let me go's but he wouldn't listen. sehun was in front of you, in the same position as you as well. tied to a chair, mouth gagged. he, too, was screaming, something along the line of 'don't touch her'. only sehun had wires attached to his body that was connected to a machine you were unfamiliar with.

"i'm feeling very much disrespected by you, sehun," sejeon said, and your eyes widened when a chair slid across the floor by itself. maybe you were just hallucinating, maybe this was because of the shock in your system that you were starting to see things. things that were not normal. sejeon sat down on the chair, sitting on it on reverse. he was facing sehun, his arms rested on top of the backrest of the chair while his back was facing you. one flick of a hand, the gag on sehun's mouth was pushed down.

"fuck you! let her go! she has nothing to do with this." sehun exclaimed, anger clearly evident on his face and his voice.

"oh but she does, dear brother, she does," sejeon replied and sehun only replied by spitting at his brother's face. a low scoff escaped sejeon's lips and he stood up from his chair, walking towards his brother and you screamed when his fist collided with sehun's cheek. "you were always such a brat."

"'course i'm the brat," sehun spit the blood from his mouth. "but at least i didn't turn my back on family."

"sooner or later, you'll end up just like me, sehun. you'll find out you aren't the son our parents wanted to have."

"let her go, sejeon, let her go or i swear to god-,"

"what? you gonna teleport down, get mommy and make her slap my ass? fucking try, sehun." sejeon then walked towards the machine. you felt your heart race and felt hot tears escaping your eyes. a noise erupted from the machine and you screamed when sehun screamed. his veins were popping out of his neck, forehead and arms. he was in pain, that much was very obvious. "let's see if you can teleport now."

"stop! stop! please!" you screamed through your gagged mouth. you stomped your feet, hoping it'll make you grab sejeon's attention but he sadistically watching his younger brother scream and writhe in pain. you moved your head down to your right shoulder, rubbing the fabric gagged onto your mouth with your bare shoulder. after what seemed like an eternity, the gag finally fell from your mouth.

"sejeon, please! stop! that's your brother!" you screamed, voice cracking. "please, i'll do anything you want."

that certainly caught sejeon's attention. he turned off the machine connected to sehun and the boy in front of you fell into unconsciousness. sejeon made his way towards you, grabbing the chair he was sitting on before and pulling it towards you. he sat down on it and gripped your thighs tightly. "what are you?" he asked, voice harsh and desperate.

"i don't know what you mean." you replied.

you felt a stinging sensation your cheek and you hissed in pain. "what are you?"

"i don't know what you're talking about! just let us go!" you screamed.

sejeon harshly grabbed you by your chin, his nails digging into your hips through your dress. "i'll ask you one more time, baby girl, what are you?"

"i told you, i don't-," you started to say but you were cut off by a voice.

"let her go, oh sejeon," the voice said and you watched as sejeon's pupils dilate. he immediately let you go, staring at you with a blank expression on his face. "untie oh sehun," the voice ordered and sejeon did as what he was told.

your tore your gaze off sejeon and your eyes met park jimin's. he walked towards you, knelt down in front of you as he started untying you from the chair. "it's okay, y/n, you're safe now." he said, voice so gentle and soothing.

"i'm tired, ji...min and thirs...ty," you said, eyes dropping.

"close your eyes, y/n. go to sleep." the last thing you heard was a snap of fingers and you fell into a deep slumber.

the silence was unbearable. the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. everyone felt it but none of them said anything. the five boys sat around the living room. jimin and seokjin were busy tending to their cuts and bruises. hoseok, taehyung and namjoon weren't badly beaten but jeongguk and yoongi were. it wasn't anything major but would definitely take weeks before the purple bruises on their sides and the cut on his lips and eyebrows would fade away.

"she saw what i did," jimin said, throwing away the used cotton ball in the trash beside him. "sejeon probably used his in front of her, too."

namjoon's clenched his fists, closed his eyes in hopes of staying calm. he felt miserable, to say the least. this wasn't supposed to happen, he thought. he felt disappointed in himself. he wasn't angry; just disappointed. he wanted to be mad at jeongguk but he couldn't because he knew the maknae was just doing what was right - risky but it was the right thing to do. namjoon wouldn't admit it out loud but y/n had grew a soft spot on him. he was sure each of them had a soft spot for their new housemate.

but then again, she was just someone who entered their lives without notice. yoongi maybe right about her. she could be someone from eureka maybe even exo and tonight was just staged by the twisted mind of oh sejeon.

everything was just too damn confusing and namjoon hated confusion.

"what do we do?"

"you tell her," a voice appeared behind them, causing their heads to snap towards the direction. they saw headmaster lim in his night robe, a bag of snickers tucked under his arm. he had a soft smile on his face and grabbed the bag of snickers from under his arm. "snickers, anyone?" he offered, walking towards the seven boys.

"professor lim," they greeted, standing up from their seats and bowed at the old man.

"you had quite a night," headmaster lim mused, motioning the boys to sit down as he sat down on the lone chair in front of everyone. "you all will be excused from classes tomorrow alongside eureka and exo."

"what will happen to eureka, professor? they clearly broke their truce with exo." taehyung said, playing with them hem of his shirt.

"eureka will be facing Concilium with bangtan and exo." headmaster replied, leaning against the chair.

"but we didn't do anything wrong, professor, we just helped. they, exo, were clearly outnumbered. eureka should undergo demoveo for what they did tonight. it was uncalled for." jimin said, clenching his fists.

"it is, mr. park but i'm afraid crashing a party isn't a qualification for them to undergo demoveo," headmaster replied, opening a snicker bar. "as i have said before, you should tell miss y/l/n."

"tell her about our abilities?" seokjin asked, eyes wide. headmaster lim nodded, taking a bite off the chocolate bar.

"professor, you're saying it like it's the easiest thing to do. she isn't one of us, she doesn't have any ability, isn't that going against rule number ten?" hoseok asked, tilting his head to the side.

headmaster lim flickered his gaze onto yoongi and namjoon, the seemingly quiet ones. "what is your say on this, mr. kim?"

namjoon shot his head up at the mention of his surname. "i..." namjoon said but he was loss for words. what was his say on this? he was just really disappointed for putting his society - no, they are more than his society, his family, in this position. he felt a hand on his shoulder and saw yoongi giving him a light nod of assurance. the leader sighed. "i don't know, professor. i just... i'm disappointed in myself because i put them in danger."

"that's not true, hyung," jeongguk immediately said. "don't be disappointed in yourself. it's... it's all on me. i should have never... i should have just waited for your order."

"you did the right thing, kookie," namjoon told the maknae, a soft smile on his tired face. "everything is so messed up now, professor. to be honest, i agree with hoseok. you saying we should just tell her like it's the easiest thing in the world is a clear violation of rule ten."

"this is earlier than i expected but nonetheless, mr. min, have you got something to say?" eyebrow raised, headmaster lim lowered his gaze onto the pale boy beside namjoon. the old man could sense his nervousness and for someone who had the power to know everything, he wasn't sure if the nervousness surrounding min yoongi was because of his gaze or because of what he knew.

"hyung?" hoseok asked yoongi.

yoongi's gaze met headmaster lim's and the old man gave him an assuring nod. he knows, too. somehow, it made him a little bit better.

"it takes one to know one," yoongi said and the boys gave him confused looks.

"what?" taehyung asked.

yoongi sat up straight, wincing when his side hit namjoon's elbow. the leader apologized and yoongi waved him off. "she is one of us. she is like me."

"are... are you sure?" seokjin asked, shocked.

"yoongi is correct," headmaster lim said. "miss y/l/n has retrocognition, the ability to go back into time."

there was silence once again. it was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. no one was sure what to say. it was definitely unexpected. how could they not sense it?

"i was like 8 when i learned i was different, that i had that ability, why didn't she knew? or she does and just won't tell us?" yoongi asked, leaning forward.

"she's a late bloomer," headmaster lim said. "it happens when both parents are... different."

"you mean... her parents... they're both..." taehyung asked, and before he could finish, headmaster lim was nodding his head.

"both what?"

jeongguk was the first to stand up and looked at the direction of the new voice. his eyes widened when he saw y/n.

end of phase 1. 

[theconfusedartist]

Games

Alright, so I know that the title leaves something to be desired, and I’m not going to lie that this probably won’t really get picked up by tumblr. That’s ok. Honestly, I just wanna say this just to get it off of my chest. 

There are a LOT of things that are wrong with the gaming industry, some that stem from the very start when people are making games and the people behind the screens creating, to the marketing, and the people and press themselves around it. But for now, I’m going to focus on something that everyone first thinks of when they think of what is ‘wrong’ with video games and what is a highly popular place to critique the industry. 

The AAA game studios.

I’m sure that when people first think of AAA studios, they think EA and that’s not really wrong, since EA has a long history of shit that they’ve pulled in the past. But it’s more than EA at this point, and we as a gaming community should really address it. 

The big game companies like Ubisoft, EA, Blizzard, Bethesda are all guilty of this thing: pre-ordering. I’m going to get into the whole gambling in a bit, but I wanted to focus on this first, since they ALL do this. Pre-ordering as it is, is going to be one of the first steps to killing the game industry, as the people behind making a lot of the games are often forced to do a lot of crunch time and overtime that is unrealistic and exhausting on the whim of the players that decided that they needed to have the game as soon as it came out. Not only does this easily make the game content creators have to do a lot of other things to polish their work to make it fit for the public (which as we know rarely ever works as pre-order game versions usually come out incredibly buggy and hard to play) it also means that they have to divert their attention away from things that they would’ve used to make their game better.

I’m talking artists on the team not able to finish and put their final product into the game because they have to work on bigger set pieces that the players are going to see, and the quality of the environment and characters and the things in the world are now lower quality because they were rushed to fit the deadline that was pushed forward to please gamers. The programmers that have to stop working on things to fix their bugs or take out skills and things in the game entirely because they have to work on larger areas so that they’re at least playable for the people who pre-ordered. Game designers who have to start cutting and pasting chunks of their original content, making it less coherent, more rushed and the lore and quests aren’t given the proper attention that it needs to make sure that the story or environment works where it’s being placed in.

It’s not good for the players who receive games that aren’t up to snuff and it’s not good for the people working on the games either since they can’t complete what they were working on, making it a more incomplete game with lower quality that was expected. 

If we as players want to start seeing better games, then we have to stop pre-ordering. Nowadays most games can be bought online so we don’t have to go to the store to buy it. I think that most players can wait another day or so to get their games. 

But the players aren’t entirely responsible for this mess either. As it is, the reason that a lot of players go to get pre-ordered games is because they’re promised something better should they do so. More weapons, story content, access to something special that doesn’t need to be there. If they want to make it so that the players have a reason to buy it when it first comes out, they need to understand that day one DLC isn’t the way to go, especially since most of the day one DLC is usually something significant to the plot, or a companion that is important to the story. While I understand that game companies are trying to make an extra buck, hiding important content behind barriers, like for example: a Gamestop pre-order edition that differs should the player buy online or another store with all different things that should’ve already been included in the game. 

IF you’re going to have DLC, don’t make it integral to the plot or the game! The game itself should be enough to make people want to play it, if the players are motivated by something outside of the game to keep playing it, then what’s the point of spending money on it in the first place? Add-ons are great, for the players and the companies that want to make more money, but if one party is trying to scam the other out of money or a good experience on the game that was created, then it’s being done wrong and hurts the credibility of the studio, meaning that more people are going to buy pre-orders since they aren’t sure what to expect when they get the game, whether or not the game is going to hold up in quality like it should. 

I have a lot of other things that I want to say about the video game industry as a whole, but for now, I wanted to get the most relevant one out of the way, when it comes to buying a game as well as producing it.