#but also yeah the more i think about it something definitely screwy happened with the dragons

[navree]

Who do you think would've tamed Sunfyre after Aegon's death (Sunfyre lives in this au) i think it would have been Daeron the young dragon or Daena

I think it depends on how injured Sunfyre still is, since while it was his injuries from the battle against Moondancer that ultimately killed him, he was already pretty badly torn up from Rook's Rest (which is why the fact that he still made his way to Dragonstone to find Aegon is so incredibly insane to me that's Love babies), so it's entirely possible that he wouldn't have lived very long even without the second set of injuries as well. If Sunfyre's just regularly healthy and lives after Aegon dies (and again assuming this is a world where the extinction of the dragons doesn't happen because there was definitely something magical involved in that, why the Hell else did Morning only live to age 24 when dragons can live into their hundreds, something went On with that), then Daeron might be a good option, since I view Sunfyre as sharing a lot of characteristics with Daeron. Aemon the Dragonknight would also be a good option, I could see that happening for the aesthetics alone. And I don't know how much Targ blood she has in her or how much that's even required, considering Nettles was able to tame Sheepstealer, but if I get to be fully self indulgent I want Daenaera to claim Sunfyre next. Mostly because she's my angel girl and he's my baby boy and based on the personality I've assigned to Sunfyre I think they would mesh incredibly well.

There's also the real possibility that no one ever claims Sunfyre again. We know that some dragons just don't end up being claimed for a while, like Vermithor, and anyone in the royal family might have been a bit wary of claiming Sunfyre because, well, again depending on how AU this is, Sunfyre killed Aegon III's mother right in front of him and really threw his entire fear and hatred of dragons into overdrive, and if that's your husband/dad you don't want to be triggering his PTSD every single day. Not to mention Sunfyre himself was significantly closer to Aegon than most dragons are to their riders, almost to the level of Dany and her children, and we know that even ordinary dragonbonds can produce strong emotions (Vhagar's grief for Laena and her rage on Aemond's behalf, Dreamfyre nearly breaking out of the Dragonpit when Helaena died). So when you add that to the fact that Sunfyre and Aegon were definitely closer than the average dragon and dragonrider (and in my head they're basically so incredibly connected and loving to each other it's borderline mystical/telepathic), Sunfyre just wouldn't accept another rider after Aegon, he's too upset and grieved and he doesn't want anyone else, he won't entertain the idea or let anyone try.

[bionicle-ramblings]

The animatic you shared gave me chills! Also it left me thinking that one possible route to push Vakama down the Makuta path could be the fear of his visions? Esp if theyre the terrifying ones of the comics/books, rather than their tamer film counterparts.

Nokama was the only one to really trust Vakama's visions (at least at first) but if she hadn't? If the other Toa had decided his visions were bunk? That would definitely drive a schism between him and the other Toa, one that might cause him to break away in pursuit of trying to stop his visions coming true

He might even approach Turaga Dume, since he doesn't have anywhere else to turn, and Vakama's commitment to duty means he has to do something

And by the time he realises that Turaga Dume/the Makuta is the catalyst for his visions, welll... Vakama has travelled down this path this far. Maybe the visions aren't warnings, but are guides instead. (A theory Dume/Makuta pushes.)

Maybe this is his duty

It might as well happen

Omg! YES!!!

I feel like seeing the future is already something that would be screwy to deal with, but the VERY terrifying and disturbing visions Vakama has? Yeah, they're going to be an absolute nightmare

I feel like it at first Nokama would be on his side, but as he had more visions that show destruction and he starts to show that he is along up and staying to lose it, believing there are events he HAS to stop, the entire team starts to put distance between themselves and him because he is becoming unreliable as both a teammate and more a leader

He does go to Turaga Dume, so he can both see if there's anything that can be done about his visions, if he can stop having them or if there's a way to somehow show them down, and to see if he can still be recognized as a Toa even if he's alone. Dume is intrigued by such requests, but soon he's more intrigued when he sees Vakama have a vision right in front of him

And Vakama sees the Makuta Teridax in the guise of Turaga Dume

To keep Vakama from putting the pieces together, Teridax, disguised as Dume, plays him like a fiddle and has him think Dume and the Matoran are in danger and only he can keep them safe, though when the rug is pulled out from under him and Teridax reveals himself to Vakama, Vakama essentially snaps and ultimately does not join Teridax or reconnect with the other Toa

Fr, the idea of Vakama essentially causing the events he sees to happen regardless of what he does is so good and I can only imagine what kind of force he could be if he was driven to he a loose canon thanks to his visions and from both having his team slowly turn against him and Teridax using and manipulating him

[cloud9in]

The Half of It - 2 (Poppy x MC)

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

HIGHLY recommend you read/re-read part 1

No warnings this chapter

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 2: How to write a love letter 101

 “In love, one always starts by deceiving oneself...and ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls romance.”

- Oscar Wilde

I was tasked with what was probably the hardest piece of writing I’ve done in all of my years of highschool, and I wrote eight different versions of the analysis on David vs Goliath my freshman year. That’s besides the point, it wasn’t like any normal research essay. No. For some reason I found that my one and only letter to Poppy would have to be the best thing I ever wrote in the entirety of the universe. Too bad I had to make it sound like it was written by Carter, that big stupid jock. You can guess how severely depressed I became after reading what he had initially written…

 “Dear Poppy, I think you’re really beautiful. Even if you were ugly, I’d want to know you, because you are smart and nice, too. It’s hard to find all those things in one girl. But even if you were only two of those things, I’d be into it. But you’re, like, all three, just to be clear.”

 Bea reads off the paper, turning her head with cringe and confusion at the confident jock sitting next to her. Carter smiles, “She’s all three, like you know all three backs of football. The running back, the fullback-”

 “Thanks for clarifying...:”

 Carter stares awkwardly, waiting for her to continue on. And Bea does, with a big ass sigh.

“...About me. Some people think I’m the cutest one in my family. Those people being my grandma...who’s dead now...Never mind about my dead grandma. All I’m saying is that I like fries. I like dipping them in my milkshake. Is that weird? It’s actually really tasty. Would you like to try that with me sometime?

 CJ, school quarterback.”

 Bea takes a good five minutes to compose herself. Yeah this was definitely gonna be a long week. She lowers the paper slightly and turns to Carter, a puzzled look in her eyes. “So what you’re trying to say is-”

 “I’m in love with her.”

 That confession definitely would have sent her sprawling a few feet back if she hadn’t been sitting. Love? What was love? And why does she despise it now that Carter has mentioned it. 

“...Have you ever spoken to her?”

 “Well...no, I’m not good with words. Besides, would I be here with you if I did talk to her?”

 Bea rolls her eyes and huffs exhaustingly. “Carter, you're not in love. You’re just stubborn.”

 “No I’m not! It’s love, I know it’s love. Love feels different, it doesn’t feel...real. It almost feels impossible. But we indulge in it because of the thrill, the adrenaline of chasing someone mindlessly...and wanting to be present in everything they do. There’s that ‘what if?’, the question that could make or break that love. Even if the ending isn’t what you had hoped for, at least you know how it felt to feel so much joy, so much want.”

 Carter stares up at the ceiling in thought, his eyes seem to be unfocused, staring at nothing and everything. Bea gazes over at him in part shock and part admiration, a smile painting her face. “...Wow.”

 “...Hm, yeah. I heard it in a dating app commercial once.” 

 Bea gasps and smacks Carter repeatedly with the letter in her hand, clearly disappointed. 

 “Wha- Ow!”

 “And here I was thinking you were being original.”

 Bea eventually sits back in her seat, her shoulders slumping as she reads the letter over and over again, trying to make sense of it. That was the problem though, it didn’t make sense, well maybe the fries part did, but the blonde had a lot of work to do. Carter watches her silently until he can’t hold back the lingering question in his head. “...Haven’t you ever felt it? That screwy feeling that love gives you? Poppy makes me feel screwy.”

 Bea continues to read, her eyes glued onto the words that are slightly falling out of the printed lines of the notebook paper. But her mind is fully elsewhere, she heard his question loud and clear. The only thing she could muster was an annoyed “no” in efforts to not become vulnerable.

 He intertwined his hands together, leaning back on the bench. “...Oh I get it, you’ve never been in love have you?”

 Bea’s legs were already one step ahead of her mind as they sprung her out of the seat. She grabs her bag and swats the papers in Carter’s direction, a scoff leaving her lips. “You want a love letter? I’ll give you a love letter!”

 “Yeah but will it be something that makes her fall in love with me and not walk away like you’re doing right now-” Carter’s voice rings out hurriedly yet Bea can’t hear anything except the pounding of her heart getting louder as she stalks out of the church. Love, love, love, what even is it? Will I ever feel it? There is nobody who could make me feel-

 The blonde was cut abruptly out of her thoughts as she crashed into someone, who was most likely on their respective part of the sidewalk. All of the materials in her arms fell to the concrete and Bea rushed to pick them up, “I’m sorry I-”

A familiar blonde set of locks and porcelain skin came into view and she immediately stopped and looked up. Poppy’s eyes were already boring into hers, a look of slight concern, and maybe annoyance? on her face. 

 “...I’m-I’m Bea Hughes…” She could only stutter, all those moments that she pretended to talk to Poppy in her room were definitely not paying off. 

 But maybe it did pay off because a small smile, masked with sparkly pink lip gloss started to form. Poppy bit her lip as her eyes crinkled with amusement, “...Yeah I know. You’ve only been playing my dad’s services on Sunday for, like, four years. He does favour you...even if you are a heathen.” Poppy peers over at the church that Bea had just come out of and raises an eyebrow in curiosity. She picks up a stray book from the ground and grins with an impressed look. “Remains of The Day...Loved it. Mr. Stevens is quite the character.” Okay, so Poppy has great taste in literature, that’s another thing to add to the list that Bea totally doesn’t have stored in the notes app of her phone. Listen, she has to write a love letter to Poppy Min Sinclair, so every piece of information is vital. 

 Poppy hands the book to Bea, their eyes never leaving each other while standing up. Say something Bea. Anything. It’s almost like the strawberry blonde was waiting, hoping, for her to speak . 

 But she said nothing. No, all the insecure blonde could do is stare into Poppy’s eyes, almost as if she wasn’t afraid to turn to stone. 

 The sound of car tires scraping against the pavement caused Poppy to break eye contact before smiling one last time at Bea. “This is me.” Bea watched the shorter girl stroll past her so casually, the complete opposite of what she was feeling in the moment. She didn’t speak until Poppy closed the car door and the driver took off, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “I’m Bea Hughes? Really?”

 ***

Bea sat in front of her tv, a pen and notepad in her hand. She couldn’t think of anything to write down. How do you write a love letter, or a confession? This is the one thing she had trouble writing. The tv blasted on with 1987’s “Wings of Desire”. Bea cocked her head to the side when the man started to profess his love. She put her pen to the pad and started writing. 

 Poppy,

 You don’t know me, and truth be told I see that as a good thing. You know that saying, there are plenty of fish in the sea? Well I am not a fisherman, nor do I think you are a fish. Letters are not the form of communication that I would personally prefer, but I am the one writing to you. So no more complaining. I think you are interesting. Like a book I want to read. I’d even read the author’s notes at the end just to get every bit of you. I don’t desire a lot of things, but I long for a wave of love to swell up in me. That’s what makes me so clumsy: the lack of pleasure.

 Yours, 

Carter 

***

Bea pushes down on her pedals, pacing her breath with each turn of the wheels beneath her. The voice of Carter appears as he races behind her, careful not to send her flying last time. Then she’d never write a letter again.  “Bea! She wrote back!”

 The blonde pulled the brakes on her bicycle so hard a wheel might have popped off. She was out of breath but suddenly the reason for it was different. Bea grabs the letter from Carter’s hands and makes haste to read the words she imagined would sit on the paper. 

  Carter,

 I like Wim Wenders too. Wouldn’t have plagiarized him though.

 -Poppy 

“Who’s Wim Wenders and why’d you cheat off of him? Bea I looked up what plagiarism meant.”

 “I didn’t cheat off of him!...Okay maybe I did but this is a good thing!”

 “HOW?”

 “It’s...it’s like a game. She’s challenging us..but in a good way.” Bea nods to Carter but also to herself. There was a response. She didn’t think that Poppy would write back but she did and it has changed Bea’s outlook on everything. She was in, and there was no way it could stop now. 

 “So...are we back in the game?” Carter’s words jumble Bea out of her thoughts and she stutters, “Yep..yes we are.” No you are. “We are definitely back in it.” Nope just you Bea. 

 Bea leaves Carter with an awkward fist bump before peddling away, her mind racing with a million thoughts. But they always seem to close back into one familiar blonde who danced and did everything Bea couldn’t. She sighed, the adrenaline pumping its way out of her lungs. 

 “Game on, Poppy Min Sinclair.”

***

 Bea spent the following days perfecting her next letter to Poppy. This one would be more heartfelt, and less cringe and plagiaristic like her last one. It would come from her and only her...but for Carter of course. The thing is, when Bea started writing again, she didn’t think about the fact that Carter would take credit for everything on the paper, and that he would be the one that develops a *possible* relationship with Poppy. Maybe she didn’t want to think about that part, but the other parts brought just the right amount of serotonin to make her shitty day better. Everything she read, everywhere she went reminded her of the strawberry blonde, and of the unfinished letter. Bea attempted to step into the life of Carter’s and speak like a jock would, without making him seem like something he is not. But that was hard. Because it was her words, her mind. Carter would take that from her, even if it was unintentional. 

 It didn’t help that Carter didn’t want them to be seen together in public. He would slide to the opposite end of the bench in the church when his football buddies would come in. Bea didn’t take it personal. She of course had other things going through her mind. 

 It took 7 days. One week. To finish the second letter, a very short one. Bea wouldn’t describe herself as a perfectionist, but every word that Poppy would read had to be perfect.

Dear Poppy,

 Okay you got me…

 Now that that’s done, let’s start over yeah? I’ll start by saying that I sometimes hide behind other people’s words. For one thing, I know nothing about love. I’m 17 and I’ve lived in Farmsville my whole life. I hang out with my friends, I keep my head down. I’m a simple...guy. Which is to say, if I knew what love was, I would quote myself. But I don’t. I have a question for you, please answer it in any way you want. Are you happy where you are right now?

 -Carter

Bea sat in the church, silently tapping away at the keys of piano, a simple soft melody following the nod of her head. Carter had found her like that but didn’t want to disturb. Except, Poppy wrote back again, so this was big news. They both sat in confession booths as Bea read the letter quietly, her hand gripping the edges a little too harshly. 

Dear Carter,

 You know that it takes eleven muscles to yawn? This is the sort of weird fact I find myself recalling to keep myself from...well yawning. Or showing anything I feel really. And I find myself doing that a lot. So yeah..believe it or not, I turn to other people’s words too. 

 When you’re a pretty girl, and I know it makes me sound conceited, but sometimes I am, but that’s why you’re even writing to me right? I mean my image is what gives me attention, I’ve grown used to that fact. When you’re a pretty girl, people want to give you things. What they really want is to make you like them. Not like them as in, “i like you”, but like them as in, “i am like you.” You may think I’m different, but I’m like a lot of other people. Which makes me kind of no one. It looks like I’ve found my place but I really haven’t. Just a girl who’s lost in the mix. I don’t know why I feel like I can tell you this, but you provide the sort of safety I always craved. You’re interesting Carter, I like you. 

 -Poppy 

Bea read the last sentence more times than she should’ve. Carter watched her silently as she stared into the lines of the paper, maybe hoping that more words would magically appear. The blonde couldn’t describe the feeling in her chest, but it hurt. Physically. 

 “Uh...can I text her now?”

 “Too soon.”

 “No, I'm gonna do it now.”

 Bea felt herself starting to get frustrated, but calmness always overtook any other feeling she had. She was taught to be rational.

 “You do that and she’ll think you’re just like everyone else.” You’re not like anyone else Bea, she needs to know that. 

 Carter lets out a heavy sigh and pulls out his phone. Bea felt a buzz in her pocket and pulled hers out as well. A message pops up alerting Bea of another income of $50 being sent to her. 

***

 Bea slogged through the crowded halls trying to find the exit but before she can walk any further, a firm hand grabs her and pulls her into a familiar classroom. The blonde turns to scowl at the perpetrator which was probably Bradley, but instead she sees bright red lips and black glasses. Ms. Kingsley. But she doesn’t look too happy.

 The older woman holds up a paper which Bea recognizes immediately as her letter to Poppy. How in the world did she get that? 

 “So...this is why half my class is failing their essays?”

 Bea could make a snarky comment back to her, but the sight of the letter sends her thoughts spiraling once again. She lets out a defeated sigh. I mean how did this woman know she’d  written that letter? Ina Kingsley knew everything. “Look...I’ll be reopen for business soon enough.” Bea starts to turn to leave and looks at Kingsley one more time. “I can’t do this for much longer.”

 Bea couldn’t hold in her feelings for much longer as well. But not even Kingsley knew that. She walked out of the classroom with her head down, hoping to avoid eye contact with the one she wanted to see the most. 

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

End Note: Part two is here woah. Thought it would never come. 

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii  @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy @cloakanddaggerthings @straightlikewetspaghetti 

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 314 Quick Analysis: All My Homies Hate The Hero Safety Commission

Another week, another case of depress espresso and just overall busy real life stuff.  Also, The Strongest Hero gatcha addiction.  Still no Shoto Todoroki in sight 😭.  But yeah, that’s why there was no Spoiler Analysis on my end again, so I apologize for that.  Doing these quick analyses on the day the official chapter drops does make my life easier, so we’ll see if that sticks.  Anyway, here are some of my thoughts on this chapter:

This was a really cool chapter overall with some good action, great Deku moments, and a good backstory on why Lady Nagant became who she is now.  It all went by so fast too and I was entertained by every page!  Bravo, Horikoshi!

I really love how crazy Deku is drawn this chapter!  He’s making all these wild and crazy badass faces as he tries to take down Lady Nagant.  Some people have been comparing them to some of Bakugo’s expressions and I can definitely see why.  Deku is fully into this battle and he is out to get his answers no matter what.  The big panel with is face declaring why he has to lend out a helping hand to those who need it most is amazing.  You can actually see a small glimmer of light in his eyes that was missing since this arc began.  Deku truly believes in what he believes in and his ideals are still as strong as ever.  It’s just really good to still see that old spark still alive in Deku.  I just wish he would show it more often because I am genuinely worried for his wellbeing.  

Deku’s recklessness is backfiring a little bit here since his parallel thinking is getting screwy due to using so many Quirks at once.  He’s using OFA, Blackwhip, Smoakscreen, Fa Jin (still don’t know exactly what it does, but it has something to do with unleashing kinetic energy), and maybe Float, but it isn’t directly explained if he is using Nana’s Quirk.  Anyway, that’s a lot of Quirks to be controlling at once, so he’s becoming strained.  Also, Lady Nagant managed to hit one of Deku’s medical bags, so there goes some of his supplies.  His costume’s getting ripped up in general.  Hope he has a backup.  Or maybe Best Jeanist can repair it for him.  

So, Lady Nagant.  God, I feel bad for her.  Both she and Hawks got turned into soldiers against their own will.  They were both promised better lives only to get that turned on their heads.  The Safety Commision really is corrupt.  The President was willing to kill Lady Nagant on the spot if she turned down their mission.  Who knows who else they probably killed to make sure they hid the ugly truth about Pro Hero Society in the shadows.  I understand Lady Nagant better now.  They turned her into an assassin when she just wanted to be a Hero.  I’m not saying this justifies either them or Nagant killing anyone, but this whole thing is just one big mess.

There’s a few panels of Lady Nagant when she was young when she was  just being recruited by the Safety Commission.  She had a longer sleeve covering her right arm where her Rifle is.  She’s holding it like she’s insecure (?) about it.  Then she’s becomes this excited little girl as she’s recruited.  I maybe looking too far into this, but maybe people were scared of her Quirk because of how dangerous it is so she put on the longer sleeve to hid it.  And maybe the Safety Commission were the first people to see her potential as a Hero, so they took advantage of that hope.  You know, I’m definitely reaching with that one, so I’ll call it a headcanon right now.  

Ultimately, I do feel really bad for Lady Nagant.  She didn’t deserve the treatment she got by the Safety Commission.  She should’ve never been turned into a soldier.  She was just a kid/young adult.  She also shouldn’t have killed the President in cold blood, but I can at least understand why she did what she did.  But yeah, that would definitely get you sent to Tartarus.  I wonder how they covered that story to disguise it as Lady Nagant killing a Hero instead.  Despite all that, I think she’s naive in following AFO.  He does want world domination and his world wouldn’t exactly be better than what we’re dealing with now.  We don’t know how “transparent” AFO’s world would even be.  She might get treated even worse in AFO’s world.  We know how scummy that man is.  I wonder if she’ll start to realize that.

Finally there’s Overhaul.  Deku finally recognizes him after Lady Nagant starts using him as bait against Deku.  She’s willing to kill him to get a chance to capture Deku.  I really do wonder what Deku’s going to do with Overhaul now.  We know how much of a piece of shit he is.  He tortured Eri, a 7 year old child, for years by literally tearing her apart and putting her back together again MULTIPLE TIMES!  HE KILLED HER MULTIPLE TIMES!!!  And he had no remorse doing so either.  That’s why Overhaul was such a great villain because he was written in a way where he has basically no redeeming qualities and it actually felt good to see him get his hands chopped off.  Even Deku went sicko mode and kicked his ass to the stratosphere and back.  So, I’m curious as to how Deku’s going to handle this.  He has 3 options as far as I can see: 1. Let Overhaul get shot and probably killed, 2. Attack Lady Nagant as quick as he can so he can spare Overhaul’s life, 3. Outright save Overhaul by getting him out of Lady Nagant’s line of sight.  I think he’s going to go with option 3, but I’m REALLY interested in how Deku’s going to interact with Overhaul.  I think he’s going to take this chance to finally try to understand Overhaul and his ambitions, but I wouldn't blame Deku if he decided not to because it’s Overhaul.  The man tried to kill his surrogate little sister.  Again.  And he nearly ruined Mirio’s life too, so there’s that.  I kinda want Deku to punch Overhaul again for good measure.

But yeah, that’s it.  Really great chapter and I’m so curious to see what happens next.  Having Overhaul come into the fray is interesting in itself.  I wonder if he’ll get his shit together again when he sees Deku.  I also wonder what Deku’s going to try to do with him.  Horikoshi’s really got my attention now.

Horikoshi during this whole arc:

[ducktracy]

You’re probably already aware of this, but I think Clampett’s “Scalp Trouble” is the first cartoon in which Porky and Daffy are friends. I noticed it also features a more toned down Daffy. He’s not as screwy as in Avery’s cartoons or Clampett’s earlier works and the screwy stuff seems to happen to him, not because of him (for instance, he did not intentionally eat the ammunition). A very dated cartoon, but an important one nonetheless. Maybe that’s why they remade it?

HMMM… you have a lot of good points! i actually think Porky & Daffy is the first short where they’re actually friends (er, manager and boxer in this place) but you’re definitely right about Scalp Trouble daffy being MUCH more toned down! Porky & Daffy he’s about as shrill and hysterical as ever.

i think the first short to really tone him down would be The Daffy Doc—he and porky aren’t exactly friends but aren’t mortal enemies either (or at least not until late in the cartoon.) though daffy is still VERY screwy, he’s also pretty bitter/has enough awareness to grouse about not being able to perform surgery, and we actually get to hear a little bit of his thinking (“he can’t do that to me! […] i’ll get a patient of my own! so there. HOOHOO!”) as opposed to just doing something for the sake of doing it.

but back to Scalp Trouble, as unpleasant of a cartoon it is you’re definitely right. it certainly hones in the fact that porky and daffy are a team. i mean:

it just goes to show that they were at least popular enough to warrant a title card (and tons more to follow in the coming years!) which is something that bugs and daffy never even had—not sure if the ‘50s were “too late” for that sort of thing, but i’m always gobsmacked in regards to that.

AND, this would have been porky and daffy’s 5th cartoon together, and the second where they’re amicable towards each other. that’s a lot of faith to have to make a flashy ol’ title card penning them as a dynamic duo so early on!

and you make a great point about the screwball antics happening to daffy rather than him spurring them on, i never really thought about that!

AS FOR Along Came Daffy… who’s to say why it was chosen to be remade. around 1944 when all of the remakes started happening (Tick Tock Tuckered, Wagon Heels, Along Came Daffy) they proved to be easy cartoons to do with a short budget—bob clampett was notorious for blowing up his budget on certain shorts and then having to compensate on others, and tracing over footage/remaking shorts is a good “cheater”.

FRIZ remaking Scalp Trouble is an interesting choice, considering all of the cartoons being remade were clampett cartoons… but then again he remade Porky in Wackyland, another clampett short, so who’s to say. Along Came Daffy is also the least altered out of any of the remakes and the footage was traced directly, rather than being fashioned to the current models like T.T.T and W.H. food for thought indeed!

so yeah, you’re right, The Daffy Doc sorta laid the way for a tamer daffy to come to fruition and this one really hit that home. The Henpecked Duck is, to me, when daffy is recognizably himself in looks, voice, and demeanor, which would still be about 2 more years yet. it’s a gradual progression for sure!

[vancampemily]

Emily VanCamp On Reprising Her Role As Sharon Carter And Those Power Broker Theories

Sharon Carter’s dark, bitter, and vengeful return in ‘The Falcon and the Winter Soldier’ could mean many things—or nothing at all.

You’re always one decision away from a totally different life, and that rule applies doubly in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. A simple choice in the heat of the moment can have grave consequences for our beloved heroes; Peter Quill punching Thanos just as Iron Man and Spider-Man almost pull the Infinity gauntlet off the villain’s hand is a hotly debated Twitter topic every other week. The current Marvel conflict on everyone’s tongue? Why on Earth is Sharon Carter (Emily VanCamp) an enemy of the state, when the Avenger who got her in this mess in the first place is roaming his past life worry-free?

Last we saw Sharon, she was the wide-eyed, determined Agent 13 of S.H.I.E.L.D. and a CIA operative whose loyalty to Steve Rogers/Captain America (Chris Evans) prompted her to defy the Sokovia Accords and steal Cap’s shield and Falcon’s wings from the government. Her allegiance to Steve landed her a kiss from the Avenger but not without controversy: Sharon is the grandniece of Peggy Carter, Steve’s true love and the woman he traveled back in time to be with at the end of Endgame. Sharon’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it romance with Steve was just as short-lived as her residence in the MCU timeline, but thanks to the newest Disney+ series, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sharon gets a second life—just not the one the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent envisioned.

When we meet Sharon in episode 3, titled “Power Broker,” the glow of the woman who longed to live up to her grand-aunt’s accomplishments is eclipsed by a dark cloud. She’s traded in her button-up shirts for hoodies and operates as an art thief out of a sprawling mansion in the eerie fictional town of Madripoor. She hasn’t spoken to her family members in months. When Sam reminds her he was also on the run, she reminds him, “Was. Is. Big difference.” She’s cynical, bitter, and vengeful, which apparently turned her into a stone-cold killer. She murders three bounty hunters with a steel bar and darts a knife into the shoulder of another. Sharon Carter is long gone, her one driving force the desire to be pardoned. Who is this new person? Well, Marvel devotees have their theories. Ahead, Emily VanCamp talks reprising her role as Sharon Carter, those Power Broker theories, and more.

Let’s go back to your Marvel introduction. What qualities initially drew you to the character of Sharon Carter?

I loved her dedication and devotion to Cap [and] to the cause. She was in this bloodline of agents, and this kick-ass woman who was a little bit more idealistic at the time. Now some of those qualities have been stripped away, unfortunately, based on her circumstances and the sacrifices she made. She’s wondering whether or not it was all worth it. She feels abandoned.

Knowing what she knows now, especially with Cap out of the MCU timeline, do you think Sharon would have made a different choice in Civil War?

I don’t think so. One of the things I love about her is her integrity. And to her, that’s what she believed in and that’s what she thought was the right thing to do. So I think it’s less about Steve and more about her devotion to the cause at that time. No, I don’t think she would go back and do anything differently. Do I think that the character would have liked a little bit of help, with all these other characters being pardoned, and she’s just sort of been left on the run as this fugitive? Yeah, I think her reaction to it would have changed. But I don't think she would have changed her choices.

At the end of Avengers: Endgame, Sam and Bucky were able to get closure from Captain America. Do you ever wonder what closure would look like for Sharon, had she had the opportunity?

I’m sure she would have wanted that, but I think that she's moved on from that. Now she just wants to be pardoned to get her life back. That ship has sailed in so many ways for Sharon, and we don't even really address [Steve and her] in the show. It’s so much more about where she is now and how to move forward and make that deal with Sam: Listen, I’ll help you out if you can get me out of here. [Sam and Bucky] are on this mission and she's reluctantly helping them, and that’s what the dynamic is now. Does she want to? Probably not. But is it her ticket out? Probably.

What did you have to understand about her mindset now in order to play her in this new phase?

I think it was just important for me, one, that we address all this time that’s passed and kind of discuss, “Where has she been? What has she been doing?” And we talk about it a little bit in episode 3, that she’s been hustling and dealing in stolen art and living in Madripoor. You get the sense that things have not been easy on Sharon. And she’s definitely made her way and she’s thrived in this environment, but it’s not an environment she would have chosen. She was sort of, in her mind, left behind, so there’s a chip on her shoulder that I think it would be really hard to get rid of at this point. And she even says at one point, “The superhero thing is a joke.” She’s definitely lost that kind of idealistic, young agent mind.

How did you prepare for that change in her?

I think it’s great to dig a little bit deeper into all these characters and their perspectives. And with Sharon, it’s so much about her resentment and her tenacity. She’s thrived in this new environment, even though it’s not ideal. So that’s something that’s carried through in her personality. She didn’t lose that. But I think just her goals, her thoughts have just changed.

What is a Marvel training session like? Sharon killed so many bounty hunters by herself.

It was months of prepping even for that sequence in episode 3. Sharon doesn’t have superpowers, so everything is just with her bare hands. We wanted it to look as gritty and raw and real as possible, so we trained a lot. Every day that I wasn’t shooting Falcon or The Resident, I was in that training center going over choreography, doing the footwork, doing boxing, doing jujitsu, all the things that I need to do to prep my body and mind for those sequences. You hope that when you get there to shoot it, that muscle memory and that adrenaline kicks in, and off you go. But Marvel is amazing at preparing you for those moments. I was welcomed to go and train every moment I could, and I did. But to have that available is just such a gift, especially when you've got a sequence like that, where you can't really hide from anything. It’s just you.

Sharon’s dark return reminded me of your Revenge character Emily Thorne. Do you prefer these darker roles over characters like Nicolette in the soapy drama The Resident?

They’re all so different. I think that’s part of what I like—just embodying totally different characters. Revisiting Sharon was very cool because we get to see her, as you said, in this totally different light. I don’t have any sort of preference. It was definitely difficult because last year I was doing Falcon and Winter Soldier and The Resident at the same time, so sometimes getting home at night I was a little bit screwy in my brain as to where I was headed the next day and what mind frame I should be in. But it’s not to say I enjoy playing one more than the other. It was fun to get back to Sharon, though, and see this new, kind of hardened version of her.

What was it like shooting both The Resident and Falcon in the middle of a pandemic?

Even before the pandemic, it was hard because it’s two different characters, one of them being very, very physical, so even that in itself was a challenge. Then the pandemic happened, and luckily I didn’t have to do both at the same time. We only had about a month left on Falcon and Winter Soldier, and I finished that up and then went straight into The Resident. It was nerve-racking going back to work after months of being isolated and at home, but also really nice to have a sense of normalcy. Even though it’s not normal at all on set anymore, it’s nice to be around my colleagues, to be at work. We’re kind of lucky to be able to do that and just to deliver new content. Everyone’s streaming everything Marvel. It's made our jobs a little bit more challenging, but also more rewarding in many ways because we’re able to deliver that joy.

When you pay close attention to Falcon’s episode titles, they’ve been very descriptive of each episode. So when the third episode was titled “Power Broker” and we see Sharon return, Marvel theorists ran with it.

We see Sharon return. We see Zemo return. It’s kind of like, yeah, episode 3 was always a big blast of so many things. There’s a ton of theories going around.

Have you ever envisioned Sharon going to the dark side, going against the heroes? What do you make of those theories?

Sharon’s always been this kind of idealistic personality, but I also think there are so many gray areas now between heroes and villains, and that’s something these Marvel shows are really exploring more in-depth. I think anyone at this point is capable of anything. There are so many characters that haven't even appeared yet. There's a lot going on in these six episodes. So for me, I don’t want to say too much because there’s just so much more to come.

source

[beaflower77]

An Atmosphere Of Sorrow

“I’ll be back soon. I promise,” he insisted, “I have to investigate the fit and finish issue they stuck me with at the Assembly Plant. These damn build issues are a nuisance.” And he walked out, forgetting behind the black tattered briefcase he always carried. He kissed her lightly. She frowned. She had no choice but to let him go to work, and her back to that house. She sulked. 

Her mood being dark and uneasy, Dove crossed her arms, huddled herself further into her thick blue sweater and began dubiously walking back toward the front door. The harvest air was getting increasingly crisper each day, and her faculties more scattered. As he backed the old ‘72 Pinto down the gravel drive, the muffler backfired. Black smoke puffed behind. She hoped it wouldn’t burst into flames as old cars did, it seemed to be an impressively sturdy old car. For its age. 

“I wish you wouldn’t keep pouring money into that old crapper of a car,” she said against the chilly air. “One day Franklin,” she threatened the wind, “You’re going to find all those parts fallen off that rust bucket and lay scattered on the drive come morning. And no car for us to drive. Or blown up and burnt to a crisp.” Slowly Dove procrastinated walking back, stopping to smell the remaining magnolia on her way. Outside it was crisp, but still pleasant. Outside. 

Furnace had gone off. Again. She was lightly bundled in a tee, another shirt and sweater on top of that. House was still cold. Squinting at the out of date thermostat in the hall, Dove suspiciously tapped several times hoping to make the little red arrow move in a more positive direction toward 72. Today, maybe 82. No such luck. The thermostat still registered 58, and it wasn’t gonna budge. Sighing against nothing and feeling downcast Dove decided to check her luck with the furnace downstairs. It was the third time this week the power had gone out.

Tossing her slippers aside, pulling on last years christmas combat boots which Franklin had gifted her, Dove tromped loudly down, pulling against the chain attached to a bulb for some illumination. “Oh, that’s right. How quickly I forget. There’s nothing,” she said annoyingly. Forgetting the power outage, she fumbled through the dark, fiddling round to locate the flashlight. Her fingers finally found it. Clicking it on, looking around, she saw nothing out of place. However, sensing a shadow from her peripheral vision, Dove froze. She felt a fluttering of tight sensations inside her chest. Her skin prickled. With chest pounding, throat tightening, Dove’s psyche shrank. It was so much colder down here she noticed. Slowly turning her head, staring long into the dim, was a figure. A slim male figure standing against the bricked basement wall and dirt packed floor. Battered old brown hat on his head, waistcoat buttoned nicely, tan suit, hands by his side never moving. But his eyes, his eyes were sharp. And they stared directly back at Dove. Opening her mouth, Dove could taste the staleness of the basement’s air, she also knew she was breathing it in, and just knowing that made her chest constrict more rise and fall in rapid silence. The man continued to stare, she continued to stare. Too frightened to move, Dove almost forgot to breathe, and parts of her reasoning went out the window. 

Coming to terms there was truly something there, or rather someone, Dove’s gut clenched, and trying very hard not to embrace this realistic idea, Dove tried concentrating only on her breathing and forced her legs to move past his image, the scattered boxes, the washer, and look for the correct heating pipes on the ceiling. Making light of a squeamish situation, Dove insisted, “I don’t think you’re there.” And she exhaled just a bit while trying to calm down. Perhaps this was just a trick of the eye to convince herself it was from lack of sleep. A very large lack of sleep. Her breathing didn’t get any better, but her eyes felt so horribly heavy and tired and sore. She rubbed them. It didn’t help. “I really don’t like this house. I hate this house. I hate it here,” Dove grumbled. “Where is the stupid furnace?” She sense the apparition still there watching, “Don’t look at me!”, she forced out, not too convincingly. A headache began. And a frightening, horrid idea came to her mind. What if it were actually real? 

As Dove walked past, she considered was she just visualizing something that really wasn’t there, or was it actually real? Perhaps it was time for her annual eye exam. No, she had one just last year. Truly it was not easy to tell the difference anymore Dove thought, as her stomach lurched and her throat’s saliva dried. Feeling queasy and nauseous she put her hand to her abdomen. The smell was thick and swollen, it was enormous and it lingered. It smelt putrid, like rotted eggs broken and left sitting too long on a stove overnight, or maybe even a year. “Oh, my god,” Dove whined. “It stinks down here.” And lifting her tee, Dove covered her mouth and nose. “I’m going to tell Franklin there are dead rats down here. It’s his family’s house, he can look for their dead bodies. Not me.” 

Next she looked, which Dove had claimed she wouldn’t, the old man was still there. He watched. This time his mouth turned a slight smile. She turned quickly away, “I’m not talking to you,” Dove mumbled lowly, “I’m not looking at you either. You don’t exist. Just don’t be there, go away,” and she refused to look in the spectre’s direct path again. Just thinking this was all too real made Dove sick. Going about her business, finding the furnace, rattling the large overhead pipes into life or heat, nothing happened. Avoiding looking at the back wall, tromping back upstairs, Dove decided on a different tactic. Sleep. That usually solved all the world’s problems. 

Still his eyes followed. Still his smile remained. And Dove’s feelings of the macabre and fear increased and doubled with each creak the basement steps made against her weight. She turned her flashlight off. She wanted to heave. 

Heading back into the kitchen, Dove tossed aside her boots in lieu of warm slippers and checked the electricity again. Instead of flipping the light switch, she stuck the power cord of the toaster into the socket. All she received back was a phfist and a puff of black smoke. “Eww”, Dove said sourly. “Wonderful. Thanks a bunch. All I wanted was a piece of toast. Dumb toaster.” She pulled on the cord and a little blue zip of lightning came from the socket. “Ouch!” as she yanked her fingers back wrapping them protectively with her other hand. She grabbed a bag of chips and a half eaten donut left on the counter instead. Taking out the last of the juice from the warm fridge, Dove could now confirm the electricity was definitely out. Fridge warm, no light inside either. Complaining as she walked towards the bedroom, “Yeah thanks electric company for turning everything off. Again.” Yet for all her whining, Dove felt enormously better up here, than down there. 

Still things continued to plague her senses. But at least, the smell had lessoned. 

That blue electric zip should not have been there without electricity, Dove thought, but she didn’t let this fact invade her brain, for to do so was admitting defeat, admitting something screwy was happening in the house. Or with her sense of normality. This house, for all its newer additions and older rooms, with the old pully windows and creaky floor boards was unsettling, sad and distressful at best. Each time Dove walked into the foyer the sadness, the gloom hit her like a pile of bricks. Each room entertaining its own depth of sorrow, its own magnitude of heartache and woe, made such a dent in her emotional heartache sometimes causing her to tear and cry for no particular reason anymore. 

She sensed shadows of loss, of tears, tossed away dreams of love. And the regret, despair and gloominess enveloped her more each day. “Such a horrific combination. So dismal, so mournful,” Dove caressed the void and a sorrow unlike any she had known enclosed around her. “I feel so, so dreary and miserable, yet there’s nothing truly wrong or empty in my life, I just..” However during the lonely, desolate days she would roam, roam the halls, the half dusted, half empty rooms, feeling abandoned, nostalgic and soppy. “I wondered who lived here before. Or what they did, what words they used. How they lived, how they .. died. It’s just .. creepy here sometimes. It’s too overwhelming and disappointing.” Such despair and anguish was almost completely unbearable for Dove to fathom each day. 

Looking around, wandering each room, touching a doorframe here, stair banister there, looking over the intricate cornucopia of ceiling designs and motifs above, she tried not letting her emotions pool around her as her sweater did. Returning down to the kitchen sink, sticking her burnt fingers again under a cool stream of faucet water, “At least the water is still on.” When looking out the kitchen window, Dove couldn’t see any other house across the gravel drive. Was it just this house, this area? Did any other house have power outages as well, and as often? She decided it was too cold to walk down the drive and look. But then looking twice, Dove thought she saw a flicker. A flicker of something, or someone moved past the kitchen window. Pulling quickly back, eyes wide, a panic intruded her mind. Dove escaped to her upstairs bedroom and decided to isolate herself. Her mind which often played tricks here went with her, and stayed there till late afternoon.

When Franklin returned with a large order of take out, thoughts of a basement man, flickering images and her sad, despondent lingering thoughts had long left. Having her mouth load up on Chinese lobster with rice had not only filled her stomach but her heart as well with a well stocked amount of peace she hadn’t realized she had missed since morning. A steamy conversation took the place of uncomfortable feelings that night. 

But the next day arrived too soon.

By the morning the heat was back. “Hey, furnace is back,” Franklin sang out from a too hot shower. 

Dove was still under the heated mess of covers. “Hmm,” she sighed. She breathed in deeply, stretched, and rolled right back over. Hopefully they could go out tonight, at least that was her anticipated plan. Today she was not going to let any shadows intrude. Dove had work to do, and she had no plans to plunge into that basement again. But as she rolled over, she wondered, could Franklin sense these feelings, these shadows and imaginings, or was it just her? Probably not. Maybe she imagined. No, not. And fearing to ask, Dove would only hear in return, “It’s just your imagination”, or “You’re just tired, You’re working too hard.” “Perhaps it is just too real,” she might say back. Her eyes closed and sleep drew her back for more dreams. 

“I should be back early tonight,” Franklin whispered, kissing her lightly before walking out the door. “We’ll go out tonight, if you’d like,” came his suggestion. Dove smiled. The car backfired. And nothing was what Dove heard, deep in Rem sleep for once. Fragrant, slow steamy coffee with hot toast and jam filled her dreams. All reminders of the ethereal were long forgotten. For now. 

A solo steamy shower over, Dove vigorously rubbed her body, and proceeded with launching her wet hair down in front of her curled body and frisked it back and forth saying to no one in particular, “I’ve got lots to do today. No time for nonsense or nothing. Today we’re going to crack those eggs and get moving!” And a frisky, happy tone toward work began. She hummed along to her playlist. 

Straightening back up, flipping her damp hair over, something stood out from the corner of her eye. She spun! She started! Dove froze! Someone was standing there! Dove saw someone standing right there, in front of her! Right next to her, and she could see it clearly reflecting back in the mirror. “Ahh!,” backing up too suddenly, clinching, grabbing at her towel. Dove’s heart lurched, she felt it double thump loudly and even stop. Her breathe came rapidly, and a tiny dribble of urine escape down her leg. Dove almost fell into the toilet. The vision was gone rapidly.

The electricity had gone out again. The electric clocks blinked on and off. The sky outside cloudy, revealing hardly any sun made the bathroom gray and dismal. This was the third time in a week. And more than enough times to be caught off guard.

As Dove started freaking out, she went about gathering her clothes, flinging them on and called Franklin on her cell. As he stated answering her call, “Davenport here”,  heavy machinery noise collided with delicate cell coverage. He put a finger in his ear. 

“I can’t!” she claimed. “I can’t do this anymore! Franklin! Franklin, please come home! I want to go home! I don’t want to be here anymore!” Dove was emphatically blunt and direct. 

“Do what?!” he questioned, not hearing her clear enough. “Dove? What’s the matter? Where are you? What’s going on?!” As too much noise drowned Dove’s pleas and pain out, “Wait! Let me move out of here. Hang on!” And he walked away from the noise. “Turn off those cylinders! Make sure you leave those plugs on,” Franklin announced as he backed out of the plants’ all too clamorous building. “Ok Dove, what’s the problem?” He sincerely wanted to understand, for he too had noticed eerie things happening. He needed clarity, a definition of understanding, and of course she was there all day alone. 

As she waited for him to move, Dove rammed herself onto their bed and stuffed her body on top of the covers while trying to keep her head together. Her heart raced as she looked around, promising no more frightening shadows were in sight. Or listening to her conversation. “Franklin,” she tried first appealing to his intellect, “I don’t want to be in this house any longer. It’s uncomfortable.” When that approach didn’t get an immediate response, “Franklin,” Dove continued more forcefully, “It’s looking at me. The house is looking at me. It’s watching me,” she pleaded. “There are shadows, things, noises! I can’t stand it! I see them everywhere, I don’t like it, I don’t like it here.” 

“Dove,” was all he could strangle out. 

“No. No Franklin. If I stay another minute in this house, I will go mad.” She let that tidbit sink in. The phone connection was silent. “Franklin? Frank?”

Franklin went silent. “Dove, it’s just a house,” he tried convincing her. But he knew, he knew she also knew. He had sensed something creepy as well, just didn’t think he’d noticed it, maybe didn’t want to acknowledge it, but yeah, something wrong was going on. Something was wrong with that blasted house. He had promised his Uncle they would fix up. That was the plan. Fix it up as a favor, sell it, split the proceeds 80/20 for a better place. That made Dove happy originally knowing then they could afford the little place they had dreamed of last year. That was the plan. It was a good plan. It was.

“No!” Dove repeated firmly. “It’s not just a house! It’s, it’s everything, it’s everywhere! Franklin! This house, it watches me, everywhere! In the basement, in the kitchen! Franklin, in the god damn shower!” That got his attention. That was as close to creepy as it would get for Franklin. As much as Dove was concentrating on the phone, she also scanned the room. “No more. I can’t do this anymore. It’s creepy here, something’s wrong here. This place is not right.  It’s beginning to get like a shi  .“

“I’ll come home. It’s okay,” he cut her off. “Give me a couple hours to sort things out here. I’ll be home. We’ll talk. It’ll be okay.” Promising and calming Dove, getting her to subside a bit, Franklin ended the call, closed his eyes, breathed in heavily, finally admitting the house, that house was indeed a problem. A huge freaking problem. A problem he had to deal with, just like everything else right now he had to deal with. Making more calls, signing off on orders, rearranging and arguing with production managers, Franklin made it clear he was going home for the day. Early. To deal with that house. Maybe not. He would check Dove’s current mood, talk with her, then make a decision. Filled with fear of making a dreadful mistake, Franklin waffled. Still he had to go home, to that blasted mess of a house.

Dealings of that day dealt with, Franklin and Dove settled into a calmer, steadier albeit slightly downcast mood. Franklin took the rest of the week off, and both arranged themselves into a swift routine of mutual breakfasts, restoring and refinishing older sections of the house, and carry out for dinners. Still with menacing and threatening shadows lurking around corners, a much needed quieter unity now settled over the place, and both Dove and Franklin as well. 

It didn’t last long enough. The electricity went out again. Too often it seemed.

“Franklin, turn the heat up! It’s freezing in here!” Dove yelled from the kitchen.

“Heat’s off again!” he yelled back. “Grab a sweater! Get one for me too, would ‘ya!”

Hammering away on loose boards against a tight stairway, Franklin reached behind him for the remaining nails. Should he use the flooring nails, or the cut nails? Instead, he just reached for whatever was behind him, and as he did, so too did the icy hand which reached out to touch his. Feeling the instant frostiness, instinctively knowing it couldn’t be Dove’s, Franklin yanked his hand away, while alarmingly pivoting his head. As he did so, his balance was so severely lost and Franklin spiraled and tumbled down the cracked stairs to land with a thud! The crash was heard five miles away. His hip, elbow and side leg was going to pain him for an entire week or three. And he tried to right himself  while unclenching his jaw. “Oh, what the hell, for crap’s sake was that about?” he groaned. His movements slowed, and his vision spun and blurred.

“Franklin?!” yelled Dove from the kitchen. She ran, spilling the coffee off the counter. And slipped. Or rather was pushed. Gently of course. “Ugh. Son of a ...,” Dove began. Then remembering, “Franklin?!” Slowly she turned, picking herself up and wiped her wet coffee stained palms down her jeans.

“I’m okay,” he guessed dazed, simply too stunned to think of anything else to say, and looked up the stairs. A shadow drifted off. He thought he saw a shadow drift off. Between witnessing himself move off the ground, cradling his hands, and gazing toward the top of the stairs, “I guess I’m ok,” he reiterated. Looking at her soiled, wet pants, “What happened to you?” he asked

“I fell.” 

Franklin could only look on in befuddlement, with a slight dawning of dread.

Looking him over, “Now do you believe me?” Dove asked for confirmation. She wrapped her wet blue sweater closer. “Franklin?” He continued to look up the stairs. “It’s this house Franklin. It’s something here. Here. I feel so, so..” Dove could not continue her strange thought, only to relay to the cool, dispassionate air, “So much sorrow. So much loss and regret. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.” Franklin stopped his upward gaze and simply stared at her aghast. An atmosphere of sorrow? He tried fathoming what she was talking about. Dove continued to stand and stare into nothingness. Franklin continued to stare at Dove. 

He felt somewhat, perhaps all was already lost. His thoughts now had turned into a confirmation of sorts. This was not the Dove he knew and loved. His Dove was strong, bold and independent. This Dove was becoming frail, skittish and scared. Her thoughts were turning inward lately, while trying to retain some control over her life, her mind. But her sorrow, yes her sorrow was akin to breathing in an atmosphere of sorrow. Franklin tried rescuing her. 

Making light of the situation, “Yeah, yeah,” Franklin admitted explaining. “Something touched me.” His speaking aloud made Dove to suddenly turn toward him snapping out of her own dismal thoughts. He continued, “It was something icy cold but I knew it wasn’t you. I guess I just freaked and moved too fast, and fell. I, I don’t know.” He rubbed his neck and back of his head for soreness. His leg hurt the most, a lump was forming. But he knew otherwise. It was definitely the house or whatever remained of its’ previously previous owners. Or something to that effect. He couldn’t sort it out. Didn’t want to. A feeling of direness overcame him, and again Franklin changed the subject, grabbing Dove’s hand. “Let’s eat. Indian? Italian? What do you feel like? You like sushi right? Let’s get that. I’ll order your favs, you get changed. It’ll be here in no time.” 

He was too afraid to ask how she fell.

Another day, another night. More shadows, More noises, more of the same upsetting, unsettling feelings passed between them and the house. They both had thought this night or that night would be their last night here. Neither made any attempt to move. Until one particular night late in the evening.

“Franklin?” whispered Dove. They had just settled in bed for an hour or so. “Franklin?” and she gave his arm a little nudge. Nothing. She waited. Dove cuddled down further in bed, squeezing herself closer to the heat of Franklin’s sleeping body. Try at she may, sleep wouldn’t come. Hearing noises, ticks, rattlings and other sounds she couldn’t place, Dove tried in vain to reconcile her restlessness with something other than the obvious. The house was unhappy. Rather quite unhappy. The emotional feeling was solid and freely roaming throughout.

As Dove nervously lay there listening to the unpleasant noise of unhappiness, of sorrow and dread, she twisted her body in such a way to look behind herself. A foreboding darkness surrounded her. And again she pleaded whispering, “Franklin?” while bumping him squarely on the arm. “Franklin.” Slowly his eyes opened. “I feel like there’s a big ball of badness coming.”

Upon seeing Dove awake and in a half crouching position, “What?” Franklin was half asleep and confused, however sensing her direness, her grief, pain and doom. “Dove?” again her asked. Turning, twisting and sitting up to touch her face, her arm, Franklin noticed what she was looking at. “What the..” He had to twist around in bed to look up and behind. 

Franklin always had the witless idea to place the head of any bed nearest the door. It was a dumb idea, a dumb thing to do. They always say never place your back toward the entrance of a door, you can’t see what’s coming. Well, again he had placed the foot of the bed facing the opposite wall and the head toward the door. Brainless. Dorky she would call it. He would admit for a long time the idea was dumb. 

Looking behind and up, Franklin could swear a pitch solid black silhouette of a man stood by the head of the bed. Only about three feet away. And stared down. There were no eyes this time, but they knew a stare even when it couldn’t be seen. Dove stared back parting her mouth just a little, letting her frosty breath come and go of its own volition. In, out, in, out. She dragged the covers closer forward, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the silhouette. 

“Close your eyes,” Franklin ordered. “Dove, close your eyes.” She couldn’t. Franklin felt her emotional dread, heartache and sorrow accost him all at once. He suddenly what it was to breathe an atmosphere of sorrow.

Grabbing Dove by both arms, “Look at me,” Franklin sternly directed. “Only look at me. Dove!” She did. “Don’t look at it,” commanded Franklin. “Keep your eyes on me. Only on me.” And Dove did. She never looked again in front of her. Continuing to stare only at Franklin however, Dove would never let go of the panic, the fright, the pain of the apparition. She also would never see the shadow blink, the unseen eyes glow, fading in and out of the dark, and never would see the shadow emit such loss, such wretchedness and torment of remorse. She never saw when it dissipated and left. But she did see Franklin, she saw his eyes, the bright gray light reflecting back everything which was good, kind and connected to her own. And she stayed that way for a very long time. 

After what seemed like a perpetual eternity, Dove’s eyes closed. And when they opened again, she was cradled against Franklin’s body, wrapped up warm in a multitude of blankets. And Franklin, still awake and alert. 

Smiling up at him, the phantom boogieman of last night long from her mind, Dove had the mindset to get up and make them both fresh coffees. “How about some coffee? I”ll make so .. “

“Pack your things,” Franklin earnestly stated. Dove’s look of surprise began a panic anew which was long forgotten again. Again he reiterated, “We’re leaving. Now. No coffee, no nothing. Pack your things, and whatever you want. We’re going.” Dove’s slow apprehension turned quickly to a fluster.

“But,” she stammered. “Raphael? What about Raphael?”

Flinging back heated covers, “I’ll tell my Uncle we don’t have the funds anymore to fix this place up. It’s no big deal. It’ll be fine.” Franklin leaned forward pressing his palms into the mattress, “Look Dove, I’ve been thinking. I thought all night. There’s something up with this place. Shadows, cold spots, unexplained noises. Actual spectres now? It’s getting to both of us. It’s weird. This place is too weird. I don’t want to say haunted, but. We need to leave.”

So he could tell, he could feel it too, he could. It was a welcome confirmation to Dove. A little elation, a little excitement, both permitting her mood to swing in a more positive direction, her cheeks heated, face and neck seeming to flush. With renewed spark of energy, Dove almost fell off the bed while detangling her feet from the mess of covers. “Ok,” she settled on. Just, “Ok!” And her mood rejoiced. Dove sprang into action.

No noise from downstairs that morning, no shadows popping round corners, no visions of strange basement men in beige suits smiling after her, Dove set about dumping clothing into duffle bags, folding towels and bagging up toiletries. Sifting through unknown drawers. Franklin boxed up books, kitchenware and car paraphernalia. The day jubilantly went by. Dove was even more blithe and enchanted while setting aside little trinkets and jewelry from the house she had found which agreed with her clothing choices and suited her mood. But the day also dragged on ‘till almost dusk.

The car packed full, bottles of water settled in cup holders, Franklin shut the trunk of the Pinto with a slam. Dove being almost elated, had just one last look behind her as Franklin encased himself within his seat belt, shutting the car door and turned over the engine. “Franklin,” she stated. He didn’t want to hear it. He knew what she would say. He himself had felt the pull from the house behind him. The pull and weight of anguish and distress the house sent off. He felt it come hurtling towards him, towards them. He wanted to get away now.

“Franklin,” Dove mentioned merely as a fact, “The house, there’s a something in the window. Franklin? Do you see it? Should we stay?” And as Franklin refused to look back, “Maybe we should stay,” Dove mildly suggested. It wasn’t a question. 

“No.” was the firm statement Dove was handed. “Buckle up. Let’s go. Don’t look back.” She didn’t. But still she was frightened not too. The car’s motor sputtered and sparked then finally thundered to life. It sped off. The road underneath tires crunched and battered noisily.

The driveway wasn’t long, just filled with dust and gravel. Their hearts weren’t breaking, just tired filled with regret, but also the need to escape and break free. The dusk encased them, twilight loomed, the house beckoned. The dusk, twilight and all encompassing night turned into ...

“Franklin look out!” screeched Dove, “Ahh!” as the vision swiftly bolted in front. “Franklin! It’s!, Its! No, Franklin!” as she shrieked over and over and over. She desperately tried to free herself from the strangling belt buckle. By now Dove was lost in her own screams and howls as night, cloud, dust and mist enveloped her. Those beautiful screams mingled and mixed with the beautiful vintage jewelry she carelessly stole and packed away.

Gritting his teeth, Franklin forcefully cranked the wheel to the left, while slamming on the brakes careening the front end into a pile of thickly placed trees. The sound and squash of the hood was solid and deafening. A flash blinded him. Hands grabbed for him. The smell of densely packed dirt and night and sulfur and decay splayed around them.

“Dove!” Franklin shouted, “Dove! Where are you?! Dove!” He was blinded for eons. “No!, No!, Dove!” he screamed over and over till there were no more of his own screams left to hear. 

When calls were left unanswered, when the ringing of the doorbell issued no response, when their car was later found, there were no answers to a multitude of questions. The sturdy little Pinto smashed against trees, woods extensively searched, unfinished house remodeling left abandoned, Franklin’s Uncle had no choice but to give up, and let the two young starlights go. 

No one would ever find the result of their screams. Ever.

[dramallamadingdang]

I never liked TS3, but your recent gameplay pics makes it seem so fun. How many packs do you have? Do you play with any mods? This is unrelated, but I was wondering what are your opinions on Sims 4? I am asking because I love sims, but don't enjoy anything beyond sims 2 and it is becoming increasingly difficult to play the game on modern computers. My playstyle seems to match yours, so I would like to know your thoughts.

You know, I didn’t like TS3 for years. I think it was because I really wanted it to be TS2, only better. Like, the same exact game only with better graphics, more freedom with the open world, etc. When I tried to play TS3, I was spending so much time comparing it with 2 that I couldn’t appreciate it on its own merits, as a completely different creature. Which it definitely is…

And I babbled a lot (What a surprise!), so I’ll cut the rest. I just woke up, so pardon my incoherent rambling. :)

Once I finally accepted that TS3 isn’t TS2, I started to enjoy 3 a lot more, and then I started to discover its own unique strengths. Because it does have strengths over TS2 – gardening and its tight integration with cooking, for one, plus the adventure-vacations and, oh yeah, HORSES and the other pets that, annoying routing aside, are just better than TS2’s – although there are many things that I like better in TS2, of course. Primarily building. I love building neighborhoods from the ground up in TS2. Doing that is why I got the game in the first place. In TS3? I HATE BUILDING WITH THE FIRE OF A THOUSAND SUNS. (So I’m really thankful for the people who enjoy making custom worlds! :D ) I just want to open up a fully-built, ready-to-go, but unpopulated world -- and if it’s populated I just nuke everyone with Master Controller -- and play TS3 because its gameplay is actually really fun, IMO, once you stop expecting it to be TS2. Now, to be fair, I haven’t gotten tired of TS3’s gameplay probably because I haven’t been playing the game for a solid decade, so I haven’t done all the stuff a million times yet. But in TS2, I’m starting to find the gameplay really tiresome, even with all the mods to make it more interesting. So, I break up the tedium with building, while my “playing batteries” recharge. I can see me coming to a point where I’ll stop wanting to play it, though, and just want to build in it and make stuff needed for what I build. But I still have fun playing TS3, so...yeah.

Anyway, I have all the TS3 EPs, and I kind of consider all of them essential because they all add bits (or large chunks!) of gameplay that I like. I only have one of the stuff packs – High End Loft Stuff or something? – because the base game I bought had that bundled with it. I have also *ahem* acquired *ahem* all of the store worlds and the interesting-to-me store items. (Like the canning station and the gardening/greenhouse/farm stuff and the glass-blowing/jewelry-making and the bakery set and the OFB-like stuff and…Well, you get the idea. :) )

And I have many, many mods. I have more mods than anything else, when it comes to third-party content for the game. I have pretty much all of the NRAAS mods, some of which – like Master Controller, Error Trap, and Overwatch – are essential for keeping the game running smoothly, and some of which add fun stuff. Like Traveler, which makes it so that you can have Sims living in multiple worlds in a single save (sort of like a neighborhood + subhoods in TS2), and you can bounce between them. It’s probably my favorite mod of them all. Other non-NRAAS faves involve gardening/cooking, whole packs of new plants for growing new ingredients that are needed for new recipes for the game, including cuisines for different cultures. (Greek, Indian, Mexican, etc.) Still others add more abilities and interactions for children, toddlers, and babies. 

And then there’s the “adult” mod, “Kinky World,” which adds realistic animated sex and various sorts of stuff for grown-ups. I have much of it disabled because I’m not interested in having things like rape and incest and bestiality in my game, but I’m OK with drug use and sex work and especially the customizable menstrual cycle that makes baby-making far more realistic, in addition to various services added to the hospital rabbithole (sterilization procedures for both sexes as well as some sex reassignment procedures), and…Well, I confess that the flashers amuse the hell out of me, specifically different Sims’s reactions to them. *laugh* The “Kinky World” mod certainly isn’t for everyone and it does throw errors and such and the admins on the NRAAS forum really poo-poo its shoddy coding, so you probably shouldn’t use it in a save that you really care about keeping around long-term, but if you’re into that sort of stuff and you’re just screwing around (pun intended :) ), it has some interesting features. I wish I could have the menstrual cycle from it all by itself because that’s mostly why I use it.

Overall, when it comes to TS3, I think you sort of have to find your bliss with it. Go into it with an open mind, explore the game unmodded for a while, try out various aspects of its gameplay, and then decide what you don’t like and look into how to fiddle with it with mods and CC and such. Like, I thought I’d hate the whole Story Progression thing – and I would hate it, in a TS2 context – but in TS3 I actually enjoy losing (some) control over my playables when I’m not playing them. It adds randomness, sort of like things like ACR does in TS2. That said, EA’s story progression sucks in various ways. Get NRAAS’s Story Progression. It’s huge and has a scary-looking learning curve but also has extensive documentation on the NRAAS site as to what everything does, and once you get used to it, it’s really cool. You can basically decide, on a very detailed level, which things you’re OK with the game deciding as opposed to you deciding, so you can get rid of the annoying things about EA’s progression while still keeping the general idea of it.

So…yeah. Play the game with an open mind, with a “I’m just testing” sort of mindset. Find out what you do and don’t like about it, on its own merits, and don’t just assume that the things you like in 3 will be the same as the things you like in 2 because they very well might not be. Then spend time exploring mods and CC (and prepare to be enraged by Adfly and such! :P ) to change how the game works and what it looks like and stuff like that.

I did a lot of experimenting over the course of various stabs at the game over the years, trying to find something to like. I quickly discovered that the “build-a-city-esque” way I generally play in TS2 was out because I hate building in TS3, but I also discovered that, like in TS2, I’ll get bored if I only play one household all the time. So, I do still like a rotational set-up. Happily, it is pretty simple, with NRAAS’s Story Progression’s “caste” system, to do rotational play in TS3. (There’s a “how to set this up” tutorial of sorts here.) This is what I found that I like best; I’m still in the process of fiddling with the Story Progression settings for non-active playable households, to determine what level of control over them I really want. (Turns out, it’s less control than I thought I’d want, but there are still some things that I don’t want to happen without my consent.) Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is to, at first, play some “throwaway” saves in the game that you just experiment with stuff, to find worlds you like (I highly recommend My Sim Realty’s worlds because they’re CC and store-content free as well as well-constructed – no lag – and attractive) and to find out what you like in terms of gameplay. For you, it might turn out that you like nothing…or you may find that you like a lot of things. And, yes, TS3 still runs well (when modded to fix some of its inherent flaws) on modern machines. I mean, EA still sells it, after all, so it kinda has to. :)

And finally, speaking of inherent flaws… I think TS3 is the proverbial red-haired stepchild of the franchise mostly because of two things:

One, while it has grand ideas – i.e., the fully open world – it’s just not executed well. For instance, there are many construction errors in the EA worlds that cause Sims to get stuck, and when a bunch of Sims are stuck but the game still tries to make them do things, it gums up the whole works, resulting in lag, lag, lag. There are fixed EA worlds out there, though, so if you try out the game and want to play an EA world, I highly recommend finding a fixed version, so you don’t get frustrated by the world’s EA-created issues. They’re all a bit screwy in this regard, but the worst offenders are Bridgeport from Late Night and Isla Paradiso from Island Paradise. Basically, EA tried to do it all and so did most of it half-assedly. The game pretty much requires fixed worlds (if you use the EA worlds) and the error-fixing NRAAS mods in order to run smoothly. IME, custom worlds tend to run better. Not always, because some creators are just better/more experienced than others, but generally speaking. It’s probably because world creators are crafting labors of love rather than operating under pressure and a strict time-deficient production schedule. :)

Two, people were like me: They wanted TS3 to be TS2, only better, but it's not that at all. It’s a completely different game in many respects, and it seems to me that many people just couldn’t accept that. I’ve never played TS4 (so I have no opinions about it, I’m afraid), but from what I’ve seen it seems a little more 2-like, and it’s more cartoon-like (whereas TS3 was going more for realism, the pudding-Sims aside) in a way that’s more reminiscent of a “Maxis-match” TS2 game. And it’s also not the resource hog that playing a huge world in TS3 can be. So, I can see why a lot of people play TS2 and TS4 but skip TS3. I always have a tendency to zig when everyone else zags, though, and I kinda really like TS3. Go figure. *shrug*

[shadowofthelamp]

I Think We Might Be Related

Summary: Johnny gets a call from a kid who claims he might be his nephew. He decides to see for himself.

(Rated teen just for a few brief gore mentions and language, pretty in line with the comics)

Based off my theory that Membrane is either Johnny C’s brother or that Johnny’s plasma donation was used to help stabilize and differentiate the Dib clone.

Wordcount: 2600

Read on ao3

Reblogs/replies/tags/likes are all super appreciated, I love hearing what people think!

The phone rang. In most houses, that’s not a very unusual occurrence. Number 777 was not most houses.

The owner of 777, (or rather, the occupant- if there was a landlord, they’d either been dismembered or made otherwise defunct a long time ago) was currently laid out on the couch, watching an old-timey show about cowboys when the loud ring rattled his eardrums. He sat up, long limbs running into each other like spaghetti in a pot before his hand curled around the phone and he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, are you…” There was a shuffling of papers. “Johnny C?” The voice sounded young.

“Is this the library- did you get my submission? Your voice is high-pitched, are you an intern? Selling your hours and youth for no pay is only killing your soul on the inside, you know. Although the library does provide the public with comic books, so I guess-”

“No, I’m not with the library. I live a little further in the city, and… I think we might be related? You might be my uncle, or something like that.” The kid’s voice quirked up the same way Johnny’s heart started doing a kickline with his lungs.

“You think?” Uncle. Uncle implied a sister or a brother. A family. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought of family, other than turning around the soaked marshmellow of his brain that revealed jackshit about who he was.

“Yeah, it’s a… really long story, but the short version is that I was rummaging around with my DNA, and your name was one of the few on file. The others were all dead ends.”

“In your DNA?” Okay, this kid was definitely fucking with him. Served him right for even thinking about hoping for a clue. “Right, and I’m the muffin man, running off and leaving his kids in a place called dreary lane. Seriously, who does that?”

“I promise this isn’t a prank, don’t hang up! Are you still living in 684 South?”

“No.” Was that his old address? It sparked recognition that then died smoking like a match in a tray of water. It was probably a good sign, though, unless this kid was a stalker.  “777 Offmain.”

“Okay. Can I… meet you at some point? I just want to get to know you. As a person. Like me. Okay, wow, this is coming out weird. I promise I’m not an axe-murderer.”

At that, Johnny cracked up. He ruffled a hand through his hair- he liked how the longer spikes flopped over his eyes. Sometimes. Sometimes he wanted to hack it all off, not feel the grease and salt the congealed when he didn’t move long enough that his body made itself disgusting again, but then he just stuck a beanie on it and forgot all about it until the urge passed. He’d cut part of it off once and it had just sat in the kitchen for a… week? Time was funny.

“Well, we can’t both be, can we?”

“I’ll... man, my self-preservation instincts have really started going down the toilet since I started following an alien with an arsenal strapped to his back, but can I stop by tomorrow at around three?”

“Happy Friends is on at three. Make it four.”

“Alright! Sounds good. Gosh, this is exciting, I’ve never met any real family besides Dad- okay, that was oversharing. Oversharing’s bad, especially to strangers.”

“If we’re family, we’re not strangers.” Johnny’s grip on the phone tightened, and he could see the tendons and veins on the back. Hmm. Maybe he could pick up sculpting, see if he was ever any good at that. The human body was properly horrifying in mere existence.

“See you then- should I call you Johnny or what?”

“Johnny is fine for now, but if we really are related, I’ll go with Nny. So, how are we related anyways?”

“I’m not sure. I’m hoping it’ll click when we meet.”

“So, what’s your name, anyways?”

“Dib.” And with that, the line went dead and Johnny went to see if he could make anything good enough to hang up on the wall out of fingerpaints.

If his leg bounced and his chest felt vise-like, he blamed the coffee patches and the 30 hours of no sleep.

______________

Dib knocked on the door at 4:10. Johnny pulled it open, staring down at him.

“Geez, you got a water balloon pumped up inside your head or something?” He had really big glasses, the kind that said when he didn’t have them on he probably couldn’t see half a foot in front of his face without tripping over something. His skin was the same shade as Johnny’s, he was pretty sure, but he had some faint freckles. Duh, he was a kid, he probably had to go outside to go to school and stuff.

“Well, that could have been a better start.” The kid had a briefcase- what kind of kid had a briefcase? No kid that should have existed, kids should be dragging around teddy bears like Squee or grimy dolls filled with teething marks. Oh wait, he was holding out his non-briefcase hand. “I’m Dib. I’d say it’s nice to meet you but now I’m not so sure about that.” He craned his head. “Oh, wow. Your house is a mess but I’ve been in our living room when Gaz is on one of her marathons and this is only moderate compared to that. Did you try and paint your own walls?”

“Gaz? That’s a fun name. Who's she?”

“My- you know what? I’m not volunteering any more information until I get a little more on you besides your name and height. Looks like weight changed. Wow, you’re a stick.” Dib rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out a wrapper with a big grinning mascot on it and handing it to Johnny. It was a chocolate protein bar. “You can have that one, I’ve got dozens.”

Johnny tore open the wrapper, stuffing half of it in his mouth. Damn, it was good, actually. Who would want a protein bar that tasted like sawdust when you could make it sweet? “So, is there any magical connection? I like the coat, though.”

Dib beamed. “Really? Everyone says it’s too much, but I say that there’s nothing like twirling around in a good coat and feeling the wind snap on the fabric when you run.”

“Oh, that is a good feeling. One of the best. Shame I can never keep mine, they always end up tossed to the void whenever something happens or I get particularly dramatic. It always feels excellent in the moment, but then you’re left with cold shoulders and regret for the strawberry grandma candy you left behind in the back pocket.”

“You know, I think I see the resemblance.” Dib said. “I’ve got your cheekbones, and nose. Maybe you’re my uncle? Do you know Professor Membrane?”

“That guy on tv? He’s kind of fun.” Johnny watched it when it was on sometimes.

“That’s my dad. I take it he’s not your brother if that was your reaction, though.”

“Dab-”

“Dib.”

“Dib. My head’s been shot to shit, both literally and figuratively. There’s scars on the back I don’t remember getting there. I had some serious garbage claw me up, and I wouldn’t be able to tell a brother from the easter bunny unless it slapped some chocolate eggs up my ass.” He ripped another portion of the bar off with his teeth.

Dib sagged a little. “Oh… Dad’s always been really tight-lipped about any other family. I hoped-”

Johnny swallowed the chunk of chocolate protein bar. “Look, I haven’t got the answers for any existential crisis you may be having. I’ve been through quite a few of my own, if we’re being honest. But I have some chips that are going stale and a TV that has colors that make your eyes bleed that tickles pretty feelings up your skull. I also haven’t left the house in five days. If you have anything interesting to say, we can talk about it over some cartoons.”

Dib perked up again at that. “You… want to listen to me?”

“Depends on what you’ve got to say.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a mouth on you, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I’ve got loads! I love the paranormal, and some parts of math but not all of them, and also no one ever listens to me about the alien that goes to my school-”

“Alien? I’m curious, tell me more.”

Dib made a squeaking noise so strange Johnny wasn’t sure he hadn’t just had his organs spontaneously combust.  “Hey? Kid? Kid, I don’t wanna clean up another corpse already, I’m running out of trash bags.”

“You really- wait, another one?”

Johnny grabbed the knife in his belt- he’d nicked himself with it a dozen times but it was nice and convenient and he liked that. “Just a joke. I mean, kids like jokes, right? How old are you, nine?”

“I’m twelve!” Dib tugged at the bottom of his shirt. “Anyways, so there’s this alien named Zim, he is the biggest pain in my butt, and I don’t know if you remember when gravity stopped working for a bit a couple of weeks ago and everything started freaking out and going screwy, but that was him-”

“Oh, huh. I was wondering why I made footprints on the ceiling. I figured the squirrels did it.” Johnny said. “Do I have to worry about him destroying the world? Because I’m pretty sure earth is the only planet with slushie machines and it would be just criminal if the universe lost those. Shame you have to deal with people to use them, but everything has a price.”

“Apparently, aliens have slushie machines too, I’ve asked.” Dib said. “Well, I stole a couple of Zim’s files, and he orders alien versions of them with his shipments of food. But that’s not what matters, he’s trying to take over the- wait, you actually believe me?”

Geez, kid, slushies always mattered. “Sure. I got abducted on a Tuesday once. Stuck a couple of needles in me, but tossed me back down hard enough to fuck up my spine when I managed to eviscerate one. Wish I’d brought a camera, those guts looked delightful- and it was so clean! No blood, they had robot insides!”

Dib took half a step back. “Uh-”

“And it was blue, can you believe that? Like one of those crabs! The horsey ones- hey, maybe those were aliens too.”

Dib blinked, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe. A friend of mine has a theory like that anyways. So… what do you do?”

Johnny stared at him. “Whatever I want. I go to the movies, I eat stuff, I kill people.”

Dib’s mouth twitched before he started laughing. “Pffft, you’ve got such a straight face!”

“Just so you know, if you hear any screaming, don’t worry, they’re all restrained.”

“Right, right.” Dib settled down on the couch. “Oh, nice, this is surprisingly comfortable.”

Johnny settled down next to him. He knew how to talk to Squee- poor kid barely said a word most of the time. He really needed to help him be more confident. Maybe he could get him a hampster. Pets made people more responsible, right?

Then again, Nailbunny hanging on the wall said otherwise. Although that could just be him.

But this Dib kid, he didn’t really seem at all phased. Which was weird- weren’t you supposed to be nervous around strangers? Especially ones that had houses like his, with blood splattered on the walls and a noose tucked in the corner. Maybe that big head’s meaty brain was stuffed with stuff from the aliens instead of common sense, or just figured that the new weird skinny guy was just joking. Squee had first seen him with blood splattered all over. He hugged his legs to his chest, watching the kid pull out a laptop that looked real fancy. Maybe he was rich. Oh, right, if his dad was on tv he probably was.

“Anyway this is Zim- and this is a couple sketches I’ve made of him without his disguise. I’ve seen it, but the pictures keep getting destroyed because the universe really hates me.”

“We’re in the same boat, then.” Johnny said. “If there is anything looking over the Earth, it always picks a couple people to just dump dookie on, just for shits and giggles. It’s a pain in the ass, let me tell you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dib mumbled. “This is his little robot in a dog costume.”

“That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, not so much when he’s also got lasers attached to him.” Dib said. “He’s not as bad a Zim, though, mostly he’s just kind of dumb.”

Dib started rambling on about routines and habits and skin texture, and Johnny kind of checked out, preferring to run his eyes over Dib’s face. He was little, for a twelve year old- but then again, it wasn’t like Johnny spent a lot of time around twelve year olds. Or anyone. Dib's glasses slid down and he adjusted them twice in a few minutes without a pause. Listening to him was almost like putting on the radio in the background to distract from the car crashes outside and the nothingless and everythingness of being a human being. His voice was kind of whiny, but the crescendos in it with the tides of how emotional he got were almost like music.

“And then he started raving about how cloning is far superior to filthy human breeding, and that’s when I started getting curious about checking out the rest of my family.” Dib was breathing hard. He had a look on his face like he wasn’t used to being allowed to talk for that long. Frankly, Johnny agreed with the alien kid that the way people reproduced was utterly repulsive, but they’d come back around to why he’d let Dib in in the first place.

“Well, verdict?”

“Huh?”

Johnny held out his arms, one leg slipping off the couch while the other loosened so his heel rested on the edge of the couch cushion and his toe pointed up at the ceiling. “On me.”

“Well. You’re kind of weird, but I guess my whole family is like that.” Dib said. “And you actually do listen to me, which is a really nice change of pace.”

“It can get boring around here, and you’re not nearly as irritating as some other people can be. At least you ramble on about fun stuff.” Johnny shrugged just as there was a shriek from the stairs. Dib’s head whipped around.

“What was that?”

“A ghost, probably. Or I need to add more electricity to the guy from the church picnic...”

Dib set a hand on his forehead. “Yeah… yeah, probably.” He patted at his pocket, then seemed satisfied by whatever was inside. “Want me to exorcise it for you?”

“Nah, I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Alright, suit yourself but the offer is open.” Dib said. “You said you had TV?”

Johnny grabbed the remote. “What kind of idiot wouldn’t?”

Dib left about an hour later after laughing at the hokey acting on some soap opera, and Johnny realized he was in good enough of a mood that he whistled over the begging when he he slid his favorite knife through a man’s chest cavity and carved him open, collecting the viscera in a bucket.

He’d give the wall monster some organ meat to go with the coating, he decided. Give it a treat. And maybe he’d invite Dib over again sometime.

[edenfalling]

i was gonna ask about trollstuck and then i looked at the date. holy shit 2013. ok, maybe something else then... >_>;;; ok then, naruto, summer camp & politics, ∞: something i wish i’d done differently

*looks at Trollstuck* *weeps* I swear I am going to finish that someday, in the mythic future where I have both enough time and enough energy.

Anyway, Summer Camp & Politics! There are... hmm... two main things I wish I’d done differently, in retrospect. The first is to make it clearer from the start that it’s not a completely mundane AU, because that definitely affects the feel of the world and also I could have done really interesting stuff with, I dunno, river spirits or whatever in the childhood incident where Sakura, Naruto, and Sasuke go canoeing.

The other thing is that the timeline is screwy. The main cast are too young to be where they are during the later fics. I can mostly handwave that for Naruto, Sakura, and the secondary characters, but it really bugs me with regard to Sasuke because military promotions don’t happen that fast unless you’re in the middle of a war. And while there IS a war in the worldbuilding, which is how Sasuke gets up to... I think major? yeah, major sounds right... he has no business whatsoever being a general before he’s forty, let alone the head of Fire Country’s equivalent of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

The reason for that is that when I was writing Hinata’s story, I was still dithering over whether Team 7 were in a romantic/sexual relationship or were platonic life partners, but I wanted to leave the door open for them to have kids later if I went the first route, which meant they had to be in their 30s rather than their 40s. (Also Hinata’s trauma still affecting her so strongly makes more sense if it’s only been 15-20 years rather than 30+ years since the whole kidnapping and murder incident. *headdesk*)

If I were writing everything over again, I think I’d move Hinata’s story earlier in the timeline and have Naruto be, I dunno, the equivalent of Speaker of the House rather than the equivalent of President/Prime Minister, with Sakura his chief of staff and Sasuke only a colonel, though an obviously rising star with a reputation for rooting out corruption.

As it is, I mostly handwave stuff to myself by saying it’s a world with active gods and minor magics, and also Great Bridge bills itself as a sort of revolutionary movement, and the old military command structure was rotten clean through, so it’s not completely implausible for the leadership structure of Fire Country to skew so young.

[koszmar-zycie]

All of the fun, random questions! Do it!

Oh lawdy! To quote Ace Ventura: “Aaaaaalrighty, then!” - Apologies for the janky post, since I can’t space them without the site making the numbers all screwy.

Do you have any “yeah I’m good at it but I hate it” kind of skills? - hmmmm. To be honest, leading. If you buy into horoscopes, I’m a Dragon. And maybe it’s natural, maybe it’s theatre experience. But when I apply myself as a leader, I do AMAZING. The issue is that I generally like to be a support. Sometimes I like leading, but usually I’m not into the idea of being this focus or figurehead guiding the way as the leader. Whether projects or even fun, I tend to fall into a like... intermediate leadership role at best. 

If you could make one type of food cease to exist, what would you banish? - To be honest, I can’t do that. Even foods I’m not fond of are foods, and I would be remised if I were to remove any.  

You’re allowed to know everything about one highly specific thing/topic. What would you choose? - Deep sea thermal based biology. The deep sea is my 100% very favorite place on Earth. If I die and there’s an afterlife, I want endless ocean of all kinds. If I’m reincarnated, I want to be a Dragonfish or something. At any rate, I would do anything to have such a wealth of knowledge. Especially about something as fascinating to me as the ins and out of how the deep sea creatures that survive and thrive around the *extreme* heat and pressure of the vents. 

What’s a fictional character who you want to be like? In what way do you want to be like them? - I would love to be like Nathan Ford from Leverage. I want to be able to live my life as freely and wildly as he (though maybe not as illegally lol), and also pursue what I feel is right for me. Live through and persevere through hardship as well as he, even if he struggled.

If you had to live in and not leave a city for the rest of your life, what city would you choose? - That would be a VERY hard call between Avalon on Catalina Island USA, or Sedona, Arizona. While Sedona overall has more of what I love, Avalon has the sea. And I’d probably die without my ocean. 

Do you tend to say what you’re thinking? What would people think of you if you did the opposite?  - Usually, yes. But in a careful way. It WILL happen periodically, because I’m also an emotional hunk of waste. But in general I do a decent enough job of being honest without being harsh about it. When I’m provoked or something really gets to me, then I can just vent without thinking.

Is there anything that you’ve done/experienced so much you hate it now? Easiest to come up with are like, food or music. - Hmmm. Not really. Halloween got SEVERELY killed for me, though. I still like it, but Haunt people are by and large the most obnoxious and hypocritical. Since I adore haunt, I HAVE to deal with them. Hatred for Christmas and other holidays while spouting about Halloween has drained my interest in Halloween. So yes an no, because that’s really OTHER people killing it for me. But I’m also sort of involved because of my love of the haunt business.

Were you afraid of anything “silly”/irrational as a child that you’ve since outgrown? - Deep water. As a kid I HATED the deep end of pools. Now I’m obsessed with deep water and the dark, unknown, crushing depths. Funny how things work out! I used to hate going near the slope in a pool if it was even a little dark (lighted pools were fine). Now, the only thing stopping me from just continuing to swim down if I go diving is my tank limits.

If you were to impart one moral lesson (think Aesop’s fables, Golden Rule, etc) on the world, what would it be? - Treat others as you wish to be treated. It’s SO easy to say, and yet nobody does it. 

If you were a DND character or a game character (or something like that) what would your highest stat be? What would you want your highest stat to be? What about the lowest, to both of those? - HA. I think about this way too much. I’d be a sea elf druid. STR 10 INT 12 CHA 16 DEX 12 END 18 WIS 18 - If I were to apply myself logically as an analog of myself, I’d have good durability and understanding and social capability (again, in specific regards), but my outward strength and dex would be kinda average. I like to think that I’m decently intelligent, as I LOVE books, learning, and figuring things out. But I’m also far from genius. Hence my focus on Wisdom. I’m also surprisingly dexterous, but in certain circumstances more than others, so that’s also pretty average. I don’t think I’ve really have any “bad” stats, but I’d definitely mix average with a couple high ones.

Is there anything you judge others for when you probably shouldn’t? - Probably. I have a huge mistake of expecting others to be courteous and offer a common decency/open perspective on things.

Who are “your kind” of people? - Goths and hippies, my friend. If you want to know my style? Goth Druid. lol 

If you had to come up with your last words right now… what would they be? - “Don’t regret not accomplishing what you set out to accomplish. Regret having not tried. I do not regret trying, even if I did not succeed.”

Do you have any “weirdly strong” opinions about things that don’t really matter? - This is VERY obscure (I have others, but it’s late and this came to mind first) But if you play Fate Grand Order.... SET YOUR GOD DAMNED SUPPORTS.

Your goal is to completely confuse the people around you in as short a time as possible– what do you say/do? - Honestly, just start quoting Lorne from Season 5 of Angel. Or act like a Malkavian. One of my VTM characters was a Malkavian who got in a fight with a parachute he had. Her name was Kitten.

What’s the most comfy place you’ve been in? - I don’t know, actually. Maybe the Luxe Hotel in LA during Anime Expo?

Did you have any “silly” beliefs as a kid? Where did they come from (parents, friends, out of nowhere, etc)? - Not that I know of. At least in terms of anything that’d have changed or something. I’m sure there’s Something, but I honestly can’t dig anything up in my memories.

If you were to add or remove one physical feature to yourself… what would it be? Can be from animals, can be from imagination… whatever. - Hahaha, I ALWAYS think about this one. Right now, I’d want maybe the electro-vision of sharks. 

What could you happily give a two hour lecture on? - Ocean conservation, and what’s correct and what isn’t.

What would a mirror opposite version of yourself be like? It doesn’t necessarily have to be an evil version– any feature can be reflected! - Someone who’s mostly optimistic. More bright colors than dark, short hair. Focused on socializing and extroverted. More than happy in one place forever, without an interest in travel. 

What’s an occasion you’ve done a double take? - Anime Expo a number of times. Seeing weird or unexpected, or legendary cosplays. 

If you could only see one color (and its varying shades– dark/light) for the rest of your life… what would you choose? - Blue. Guess that was probably obvious. But it’s a cool color and associated with calming. Between dark midnight and navy blues to vibrant aquamarines pressing towards green (without actually going into it), I feel like there’s a happy spectrum of all kinds that would be enough to get through without going too crazy.

Do your friends all share certain qualities? Major or minor! - Despite my.... unique personality, and preference towards quiet etc (INFJ), I have a lot of radically different kinds of friends. I honestly don’t think I could put any one thing down. Other than that I choose my friends carefully on who I think I can trust and is a good persona at heart. To a sufficient degree anyway. That’s also a huge part of my downsides, too. By being sensitive (and having certain conditions), when a friend does something that hurts me, it REALLY hurts.

How do you motivate yourself to do things? - Oh man, that’s funny. It is entirely circumstantial. As an artist/writer/creative (I use artist in the broad sense, but I figured I’d add that to help specify) I can VERY easily just have motivation on a moments notice. So it’s often pretty random. But if not, I jut need to think of why. I Looooooove gardening. Weeds need pulling? I think about what’ll happen if the roses or tomatos or lemon tree don’t get their water because of weeds sucking it up. Need to write? I’ll never leave my creation for *any*one if I don’t at least crack down on notes, and make slow and steady progress if nothing else. It’s usually just a small thing I think of to act as a spark, but it’s usually very effective.

What’s one of your favorite jokes? Tell it to us!  - Okay, so this isn’t a joke, but it’s seriously STILL making me laugh just thinking about it. I was going to reference an old comedian in a previous post (I didn’t end up doing it, but still). Anyway, I was really confused as to why I couldn’t find him in google. It turns out, instead of looking up “Groucho Marx”, I was googling “Marco Grouch”. LOL That’s probably not quite as funny to y’all, but for some reason it’s killing me. XD

Hooooooeeee! Well, that was long, but actually really fun! Thank you @scatteredstoryteller! That was like... an essay. lol But definitely fun. I love asks. XD

[prorevenge]

You threatened me? Good luck with being fired and losing your work visa. (long)

Ah, my mother, a wonderful woman she is. I love her to death, and she loves me just as much, back. But fuck with her two kids? You might find yourself losing your job.

This comes with a little bit of a backstory. Well, a lotta bit of backstory, if imma be honest. And the ever so loved, "Sorry for weird formatting, I am on my phone." comment, and TL;DR at bottom.

When I was 18 months old (a year and a half old), I was diagnosed with type one diabetes. It's a hard disease to live with, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, except for people who make those stupid "I'm gonna get diabetes if I eat another cupcake," comments, and similar stuff to that (plus those stupid jokes, too. I hate those with a passion). Because then they wouldn't joke about it, or make those smart fucking remarks.

When I was 11, I started sixth grade with an insulin pump. It did wonders for my bloodsugar and I! And, I was also diagnosed with celiac disease during the summer, so it kinda got all screwy when I started the gluten free diet, and I went from a child's medium, to a women's extra large in shirts in a little over four months. I was growing tall and fast because of the diet, and my pump was there, able to keep my bloodsugar levels from rising and falling way too often. All of my teachers knew of my diabetes, so I got exemptions and special privileges because of it (this is important).

In seventh grade, my school introduced this thing called "alternates." If your teacher, for that period, would be absent, they would leave the work they wanted you to do out on a chair in the hallway, while you and three other students went to a completely different classroom to sit in and do the work needed. And it was never the same teacher you had to go to, either. I remember my first class alternate was with the choir teacher, my third and fourth period alternate was with the 8th grade math teacher, and so on for all seven periods of the day. They didn't fix that problem until the next year, but we're focusing on 7th grade. And yes, even my alternate teachers were told about my diabetes, and they were lectured that if I wasn't allowed the special privileges that comes with being a Certified Dumbass Diabetic, then they can and will be put on Adult Suspension (a punishment less harsh for the alternate teachers because they're not my regular teachers). Which is just suspended from working for a few days, with no pay, I think.

My last period of the day was in social studies. The teacher was more likely absent than there, because of a lot of familial issues she was dealing with at the time, so I, and two other students, would take our assigned work and go to the French class.

The French teacher (who I will call La Garce, The Bitch, from now on) was an...engaging teacher. She was loud and funny and got her class to genuinely enjoy the lessons and what was taught, but she was also strict with rules. And she was an enforcer with the 'no phone,' rule. If she saw an outline of a phone in someone's pocket, she took it and held it until after class, and gave it back then.

So at the end of the day, after being all sweaty from gym class, climbing up two flights of stares, only to find my teacher was absent, grab the work and go to my locker (I was only one of a select few of students who got a locker at my middle school, but that's not important) to grab my Social Studies textbook, and hurridly walk down two flights of stares, yet a again, and through the hot March Sun to the area where the french classroom was, I was on autopilot mode.

My pump has a setting where it can vibrate if it alarms, but if you don't silence the alarm after a while, or if the problem it was facing wasn't fixed, it would audibly beep. And I usually kept my pump sites in my thigh/stomach, so my pump would stay in my pocket at school. But I couldn't really feel the vibration if it was going off, so if I thought it was vibrating, I'd check it to make sure what it was vibrating for, even if I wasn't sure if it did vibrate.

So on autopilot mode, I didn't feel my pump vibrating in my pocket, until the middle of the class. I don't remember the alert, but I think it was because the battery was low? I don't really remember.

Completely forgetting to press the button that acknowledges the alert, I raise my hand to ask if I could go to the nurse. La Garce says sure, just sign out first (it's to keep track of who enters and exits the rooms because of past lockdown problems revolving around guns), and I can go. I get up, and in the middle of signing out, my pump audibly alerts me, and I nearly fucking shit myself, because it genuinely scared me. I silence it, hoping to get out of the classroom without La Garce noticing, but wooo boy, did she notice.

La Garce: What was that noise?

Me, a dumb bitch who had undiagnosed anxiety at the time, and couldn't speak louder then Volume level 2, also holding my pump in hand as I silenced the alarm: oh, it was my pump. I'm sorry, it won't ha-

La Garce: if I had half a mind, I'd rip that thing right from your hands, throw it on the ground, and stomp on it until it is dust.

Me, shocked, but not really bothered: Okay, La Garce.

And so I leave the room, go to the nurse, fix my pump (she has spare batteries, extra pump supplies, extra insulin, a glucagon, and snacks in case of emergencies), and come back within ten minutes.

What La Garce had said really sunken in, and I realized, "Holy crap, did this lady just threaten me?" So I wrote a note asking if my friend (we had the same last period alternate, thank god) heard the same thing as I did, and she wrote back saying, yeah, she did. She even got it on recording, too.

Since our Social Studies teacher has a habbit of not slowing down or stopping her lessons, when she's there, my friend always sneakily turns her phone on right before she enters the room, and records the entire lesson so she can go back and fill out the stuff she misses in her notes. I guess in our hurry to get to La Garce's classroom, she forgot to stop the recording, so she was accidentally recording the French lesson.

I didn't really know what to do with this information, until ten minutes later, I'm in my mom's car at dismissal, and I tell her what happens. My mom slammed on the breaks, reversed back into the parking lot, parked her car, and drug me inside the school. We get to the front office, and everyone knew my mom, and they could tell she was pissed the fuck off, even though she was keeping a pretty neutral face.

I didn't even get to tell her that my friend had the interaction recorded until after my mom threatens to do something Court related to the principal if she didn't do something to punish La Garce. Then we had to wait an hour and a half until after the bus dropped my friend off at her house (she had to take the bus that day because her mom was working and her dad couldn't pick her up, and she was also the last stop for her bus), for my friend to get a ride back to school to show the principal the proof.

I didn't even want to tell the principal about this. I just told my mom, because I thought she would give me some advice with how to deal with the situation. My mom was the one who originally wanted revenge on La Garce, for, inherently, threatening my life. (We couldn't afford regular needles, and we definitely couldn't have afforded the long-acting insulin that I would have needed to take at night and in the morning if La Garce had, in fact, stomped on my pump until it was dust, like she said she would have).

My mom threatened to sue the school when she found the punishment that my principal would give La Garce unfit. My principal asked what she could do to prevent that, and my mom told her to fire La Garce. My principal said she would fire La Garce the following Monday.

She fucking lied.

La Garce searches for me during Lunch, and legit tells me "I'm sorry that you couldn't understand that I was joking."

She was not joking when she said she'd smash my pump to pieces. She was serious when she said it, angry even, to the point that when she said the threat, she was red faced. She wasn't joking, so she's fucking lying through her half-assed apology. I don't even say anything, I'm too stunned because La Garce is still here. Not fired.

I go to the bathroom immediately after the interaction, and call my mom with my phone. She's livid, but I begged her not to come to school, to not sue, and to not show her ass again, because I got it. She, obviously, reluctantly agrees, and she doesn't come to school.

The last week of March, the Social Studies teacher quits abruptly, causing her students to have to go to alternates for a week as the principal searched for a new teacher to hire.

So, I have to spend a week in La Garce's classroom. No biggy. I planned on making her life a living hell while I'm stuck there anyway.

If I unscrewed the cap on my pump, that keeps the insulin cartridge inside of it, it will alarm. Something I can do easily, and sneakily. I also took my pump off of vibrate, and put it on the loudest setting it would let me.

So, I caused my pump to alarm mulitple times in her classroom. She would get so angry every time her teaching was interrupted, but she couldn't do jack shit because she was already on thin ice with me.

Of course, her students suffered, but that was a small price to pay for the ultimate revenge on this woman. I didn't even want to get her in trouble in the first place, but for her to come up to me, unannounced, and called me stupid? Yeah, no. Only I get to call myself a dumb bitch.

Her classroom is outside, and when the bell rings for the end of the day, students pour out of the doors and have to pass by her classroom door in order to get to the buses, and so do the teachers who oversee the bus stuff.

So, on the third day of this, right as I walk out the door, La Garce tries to grab me by the arm and forces me to turn to face her so she can chew my ass out. But, what she really does, is she ends up ripping my insulin site out of my arm (one that I had just put in during lunch because some dumb fuck accidentally ripped it out of my other arm during lunch).

She doesn't realize she ripped the site out of my arm as she grabs me, until I started to scream. First of all, she ripped off a shit ton of tape that kept it inside of me, and second of all, this was back when I was using the actual metal needle pump sites, so as she gripped my arm, she drug the needle through my skin, before it fell out once it reached my elbow. I keep my sites, when they're on my arms, up closer to my shoulders, where I have more fat so it doesn't hurt when I have to put it on.

She drug the needle down from my shoulder to my elbow. It HURT. There was blood everywhere, because although the needles are kinda small, THEY STILL GO HAVE TO GO INSIDE OF MY SKIN!!!

The vice-principal (a man who's only complaint I have of, is that he almost gave me detention for forgetting to tuck in my shirt and wear a belt with our uniform on the last day of middle school), had just passed as this happened, so he saw the whole thing. I was screaming and crying, clutching my bloody arm, La Garce was stood in shock as she just...watched me as her hand was covered in my blood, my best friend was trying to stop the blood flow, all the students had stopped and were now watching me as the VP instructed one of the teachers to bring La Garce to the front office as he picked me up and carried me to the nurses office as he called 911.

The nurse had wrapped my arm up as best as she could before the paramedics arrived. I was rushed to the ER because I apparently needed stitches? Because it was a long, singular, cut, I guess? It wasn't that deep, so I guess got them to ensure that it would heal properly? I can't really remember, because my mom didn't arrive at the hospital until after I was giving some Good Shit and given stitches.

La Garce was immediately fired as soon as she reached the front office.

I was approached by police, because apparently it looked like she did it on purpose, but I didn't want to press any charges on her, much to my mother's disagreement.

That wasn't my plan on how to get her fired/get her to quit. I wanted to annoy her, make it harder for her to teach, to the point where it gets so bad, that the only peace she'd get was by quiting.

I was unable to write for the last two months of school, unable to carry my own backpack, unable to be apart of my band's end of the year concert (we worked on some extremely fast paced piece that was really troubling me, and I had practiced it so much that I memorized it, but all that practice went to fucking waste I guess), I have trouble raising my arm and carrying heavy things, even after physical therapy (which is a plus, because in one of my previous comments, I mention how one of my favorite parts of my day is after I shower, because my mom loves playing with my hair, so I let her blow dry it for me (which she also loves doing)). It's also really hard for me to insert sites now, because the needles make me have panic attacks and I even vomited a few times, because all I could remember as I got that pain of inserting a site, was the feeling of it ripping down my arm. A few years later, in my Sophomore year, after I went into DKA (long story short, a site needle somehow got kinked while in my leg, and my pump was unable to deliver insulin properly, so I almost died), I was given this cool new site that only uses a needle to insert the tubing inside of my arm (like an IV needle uses an actual needle to insert a plastic needle inside of your arm, and then removes the real needle), so I haven't had needle-related infusion site problems in a while.

Last week, I ran into the principal, and I was finally able to find out what happened to La Garce.

Since she was fired, she lost her visa, and she was forced to go back to France.

TL;DR, the french teacher at my middle school threatened to break my insulin pump because it went off in her class, mom threatened to sue if she wasn't fired, principal said she would fire her, but doesn't. Then, after basically calling me stupid, she accidentally cuts open my arm with my infusion site after she got fed up with my plan to annoy her till she quit, gets fired, and loses her visa.

i got my revenge, but not in the way I had originally planned.

(source) story by (/u/shiroagainstshaladin)

[sailor-cresselia]

Kamen Rider Zi-O 49: Finale

…You know what? No preamble this time. Let’s just do this.

Kamen Rider Zi-O episode 49: Season Finale.

Let’s go.

––––

We re-open with Tsukuyomi’s transformation into Kamen Rider Tsukuyomi!

Geiz is surprised, he didn’t see this coming. Woz and Sougo are both impressed, and Tsukuyomi… throws her hand forward… and… pauses everything…

Except Swartz.

Um.

She goes up to him, and.

Um.

Bows. To him. Dropping her transformation.

And says that she has obtained the powers of a Kamen Rider, and that she will be useful to her brother. That she’s royalty, too, and will do whatever it takes to save the world.

Um. Tsukuyomi? You are pretending, right? This is part of a plot to catch him off guard, right?

Because, uh, your expression isn’t one of, you know, devotion or satisfaction, or even resignation. You look like you don’t want to do this, so. Uh.

Please be faking?

Please?!

––––

If she’s not, and if she doesn’t transform again, this is the shortest Female Rider stint we’ve had. Didn’t think anything would beat Alia’s ‘literally one fight before becoming a prisoner’ run as Necrom-P, but…

––––

Woz’s recap – Oh HELLO.

The recap vault? You know how it has an appearance in the opening, with burning pages falling from the ceiling?

Guess what’s starting to fall around Woz right now.

The contents of his recap are simple. Thanks to Sougo’s efforts, Tsukuyomi’s become a Kamen Rider. And then she defected, which nobody saw coming. This is the last page until the end of the world.

––––

There are no opening credits today. We go right from Woz’s vault to the show title, to the sponsor segment, and to the episode itself.

––––

Tsukuyomi and Swartz stand on a rooftop at night, under a blood-red moon. He asks why they had her become a Kamen Rider.

Her answer? It was part of Tsukasa’s plan, because, according to him, her and Swartz’s world is trying to end because there are no Riders.

Swartz looks… I don’t know if that’s confused, frustrated, or ‘oh shit, I didn’t think of that.’

––––

It actually kind of works with Decade’s lore, too. If a world enters a Kamen Rider season, it has to have Kamen Riders, or it will start to collapse in on itself… even if that world isn’t supposed to have Kamen Riders. The Sentai-verse got a bit screwy when he crossed over with Shinkenger, to the point of the monster-of-the-day becoming Another Diend.

I wish I were kidding about that, but that MOTW was the OG Another Rider.

And we’ve only ever really visited one world that doesn’t, technically speaking, have Kamen Riders in the series that I can remember – during Heisei Generations FOREVER. At which point, Futaros’s actions in bringing Riders there started to mess with the fabric of space-time, to the point of old monsters just showing up, uncontrollably, with nobody there to stop them.

You know.

Like has been happening here.

––––

Okay, so I don’t think they told Geiz about this plan, but Woz and Sougo both knew.

Can… can Geiz just not lie? I mean, he’s super blunt about everything, and Tsukasa did say that his acting was horrible… Did they realize that he would somehow spill the Rider Tsukuyomi part of the plan, and not tell him that part? Because that’s the only reason I can think of for him to not know.

It does also allow us our exposition, though, so that’s something.

Tsukasa starts to detail the plan. By making Tsukuyomi into a Rider, her world could be restored. Thus, as Geiz points out, creating a ‘World of Tsukuyomi,’ not unlike the AR worlds in Decade, that they could use as a refuge from the currently-ending world they’re on now.

Woz says that she’s become a rider, so that means the plan is a success, isn’t it?

Tsukasa isn’t so sure. There are billions of people here. How could they all make it to another world?

(Sougo sort of slumps back at that. Geiz and Woz are still rigid, but Sougo seems resigned.)

Tsukasa continues. Right now, they’re in what could be called the ‘World of Zi-O.’ With Zi-O on one end, and Tsukuyomi on the other, the two powers could resonate, and create a bridge.

(Sougo draws in on himself. My ‘someone has to be there to close the door behind them’ theory is looking increasingly likely.)

There’s a visual of the plan, too. Two Earths, side by side, with a beam of light coming from each and meeting in the middle.

––––

Tsukuyomi is describing the plan to Swartz at the same time, saying that for it to work, both worlds would need ‘many Riders.’

––––

However, according to Woz, it’s all for nothing, because Tsukuyomi betrayed them.

Geiz wants to know why she would do that.

…Sougo looks like he’s thinking of something.

If they need one of them on each end, and the only people we know who can go between the two worlds are Tsukasa, Daiki, and Swartz…

They need some way to get Tsukuyomi to her World without Swartz constantly trying to kill her, now don’t they? What better way to do that then have her working on the inside?

––––

Swartz asks if she will acknowledge him as king, to which Tsukuyomi replies that his ascending to the throne is divine foretelling.

Toki No Ouja’s orchestral version starts to play as she kneels, while she has that same wide-eyed, almost hollow look as before.

––––

The music continues as Sougo stands up, and says that they’ll just have to hold them off, even if breifly.

Tsukasa points out that they’re speeding up the destruction of the world. Is he ready for that?

We cut briefly to the outside of the shop, and then to Junichiro working on cleaning a small gear of some sort. We don’t get to see what it goes to when the shot draws back, showing that he’s working at the front counter, with only the lights above him on. Whatever he’s fixing, it’s hidden behind the box he was holding last episode.

The music hits its final note as that shot closes.

––––

It’s daytime, now. There’s monsters everywhere.

I have no idea who this guy is that’s summoning a smoky cloud over a valley, but he’s got to be someone’s final boss… hang on… I have an idea… I saw this sort of cloud in Decade, during the World of Kuuga arc, so…

Yeah. Yeah, this is Kuuga’s final villain, N-Daguva-Zeba. This is fine. The world-destroying has progressed to end-bosses now.

That’s made all the more apparent by Evolt summoning a black hole and destroying three buildings in the process.

Geiz, in his Time Mazine’s mecha form, is beating up a giant crab…. YUP, same one from Hibiki that they fought off in Decade, a Bakegani.

Geiz is pissed, shouting that none of them are going to get away with this.

As he literally kicks the Bakegani away, those dragonfly like monsters start to swarm him, but he’s just shooting them down with… uh, okay, apparently the Time Mazines have missiles. This is fine.

Ah, and looks like I was right earlier, those dragonfly things are the swarm of mirror monsters that showed up at the end of Ryuki, Hydragoons.

––––

Woz and Decade are fighting against a plethora of mooks and named enemies, including Revol, the Katana Ganma (y’know, the one what did the thing in episode one), a Lion Inves, and Argus, one of the Phantoms.

They use a pair of finishers to defeat the mooks, but it doesn’t do any good – the larger enemies survived, and the mooks just respawned immediately.

A hail of gunfire comes from the other direction. Sup, Diend?

He’s all smiles right now, since he and Tsukasa get to ‘enjoy’ the end of the world together. Now that’s the greatest treasure he can imagine.

…

Rider-Time. Rider-Time, did. Did Tsukasa actually say ‘Enough flirting, and fight!’?!

Because. Uh. I don’t think he actually said that, but my Japanese isn’t good enough to pick up that sort of thing, but oh dear lord if this is how we get confirmation in-show that Daiki and Tsukasa are a thing…

He doesn’t reply to Tsukasa telling him off, and everyone just keeps fighting.

(But seriously, Daiki, this is not the time to flirt. I get that it’s kind of a ‘now or never’ situation, but come on, read the room!)

––––

At 9-to-5… Sougo’s almost finished a meal that Junichiro’s barely started. (Oh no.)

He’s not… taking his time, but he’s getting all that he can out of it.

Junichiro asks if everyone is fighting, and Sougo nods.

He finishes, and thanks his uncle, formally, in a way that he usually doesn’t do.

… oh shit. Junichiro picked up on it, too.

Shit.

“Sougo, you weren’t planning on this being your final meal, were you?” The shot switches from a very justifiably scared uncle to Sougo. “First off, you still need breakfast.” Sougo nods, making an affirmative noise.

He’s definitely agreeing to the first part.

Sougo gets up, and starts heading out – but Junichiro gets him to wait for a moment, and goes behind the counter to get something.

…You know how Junichiro was looking at the broken Build Watch a few episodes ago? And how the stand was empty when everyone headed out last episode? And how I said that the box he was carrying was about the right size for a pile of broken watches? And how he fixes clocks for a living?

Tokiwa Junichiro pulls out a tray, with a soft velvety fabric as a cushion… and eighteen disks, with the mask of eighteen different heroes.

All in full color.

Sougo’s astonished – how?

His uncle is tense. Why wouldn’t he be? His nephew is going off to fight, and potentially die, and there isn’t anything he can do about that. But these are Sougo’s and his friends’ precious watches, and there is no clock that he can’t fix.

“Ask everyone what they’d like for dinner, alright?”

Sougo pauses, smiling. “Got it. I’ll be back.” He looks up at Junichiro, determined.

Sougo may or may not be planning to make it out himself, but… he’s going to make sure that his friends do, at least.

(Seriously, my ‘he’d hoped that they would all keep each other company after he was gone’ line from the 22nd wasn’t supposed to happen, come on…)

––––

With Decade and Diend, Woz starts a Ginga Planet finisher, which starts to rain mini-planets down- and everything freezes.

Tsukuyomi emerges from behind them, hand outstretched, telling them that they can’t avoid the worlds destruction.

Swartz, as Another Decade, comes on scene, calling Woz disappointing. Or calling what he’s doing disappointing, it’s a little unclear. Either way, he blasts all three riders; Decade and Diend being thrown off screen, and Woz being frozen mid-air.

There’s no background music what-so-ever.

Swartz readies an energy blast, the same type he killed Tsukasa with, saying that he’ll make sure that Woz dies.

A second hand ticks, and a golden gate opens to the side, labeled 2017.

Build!

Swartz gets blasted by the Fullbottle buster, as wielded by Build in his TankTank form.

Drive!

He gets triple-struck by Drive: Type Formula running past.

Ghost!

He takes an Omega Drive Rider Kick from Ghost, in his base form.

Ex-Aid!

Five hits from Ex-Aid in Maximum Mighty X.

“Impossible! The history of Riders is supposed to be gone!”

The four summoned riders pose in a line, before turning to light and being de-spawned, the lights going back to the newly-recreated Grand Zi-O Ridewatch.

Sougo, untransformed, wearing his Ziku Driver, strides forward. “It’s not gone.” He holds up the watch. “Erase history all you want, but Kamen Riders are forever!”

There’s one big ol flaw in Swartz’s plan. Well, aside from Sougo’s determinator status. He had all of the riders coalesced into one, saying that it took away their histories. But even Grand still didn’t, since Sougo summons them out of their shows. We could see one of the canyons behind Build when he was summoned just now, and there’s the ‘OOO being summoned along with the column’ from Grands debut.

They’re not gone. They’re just tucked away, nice and safe in a little pocket of time.

Slowly, Sougo activates his two watches, places them in his driver, and, after what feels like a slight hesitation, starts his transformation.

I can’t complain about them using the full Grand transformation. Not in the last episode, not when it counts this much. It’s not nearly as bad as Decade Complete, it gets to the point way faster. This? This is good.

“One last showdown.”

––––

The orchestral battle version of Toki no Ouja plays. I specify that, because it feels… important, this time. Toki no Ouja is used as a battle theme with the higher level Zi-O forms a lot, but here it feels… more significant than usual.

Grand Zi-O and Another Decade trade punches, and knock each other back. Furious, Sougo tells Swartz to feel the power of the Riders.

OOO!

OOO Tajador swoops in, taken directly from an episode. I think it’s the episode Tajador debuted in, too – they’re definitely using archival footage, with OOO flying down and using the medal shield to block energy blasts, before he uses a Scanning Charge and claws Swartz with the Condor talons.

Sougo goes in for a quick sword attack against Swartz, moving him into the path of-

Wizard!

Wizard Infinity delivers a Shining Strike, which I think comes from that forms debut, too. He gets some damage in, but the giant fucking axe is still shoved away.

Gaim!

Gaim Pineapple Arms (this is fine) delivers a kick, but since he’s not anything more than a mode change, it’s easily deflected.

Grand Zi-O and Double CycloneJokerXtreme team up for another, powered, pair of energy slashes, which break through the shielding that Another Decade raised, throwing him to the ground.

(Okay, that’s almost all of the phase two’s accounted for, now where’s our Fourze appearance?)

Two can play at this ‘summoning the past’ game, though! They’re not just fighting Swartz, they can feast their eyes on the… Rider’s Rogues gallery.

Okay, Rider-Time, I really don’t think that’s what he called the endbosses that he just summoned, but it’s accurate enough.

So he’s opened a wall, and pulled through… uh. Not sure who that first one is, then N-Daguva-Zeba, Gamdeus, someone else, and Evolt.

Oh, wait, hang on. Still can’t tell who the first one is, but the person between Gamedeus and Evolt is Saggitarius. I couldn’t tell until he started moving, and I could see the zodiac symbols on his belt.

So, everyone charges forward. Evolt versus Wizard, Saggitarius versus Double, N-Daguva-Zeba versus OOO, and whomstever the fuck that guy is against Gaim.

And it seems that the Riders summoned by Grand can stick around as long as they need to, since they’re actively fighting now. Not that it’s a surprise, we saw this happen with Drive sticking around during the Grand vs Oma fight a while ago, but it’s good to have confirmation.

Swartz and Gamedeus team up against Sougo, and start promptly kicking his ass, knocking his sowrd away. We cut to Kuuga end-boss and whomstever taking out OOO and Gaim, and then to Saggitarius and Evolt doing the same to Wizard and Double.

(Seriously,who is this guy?! Is he one of the Lords from Agito? Because I can’t find a picture of him there, but the belt and weapon style says he would be…)

All six villains start charging attacks, which merge into one huge purple fireball, which strikes Zi-O. He’s tossed back, to the ground, where his transformation breaks and he lays gasping in pain.

Swartz charges a sickly green-and-purple fireball. “Now, die!”

He fires, and Sougo curls in on himself, bracing.

Typhoon!

Geiz Revive Typhoon blocks the blast, holding it off for a moment, before it overpowers him and flings him backward… his visor breaks as he’s thrown back, before the armor dissolves.

I don’t know if his armor broke before or after he hit the wall in an explosion.

But either way… Sougo runs to an untransformed Geiz, who’s lying on the ground, and pulls him into his arms, begging Geiz to stay with him.

Geiz is having trouble speaking, but he’s still managing, somehow, even as he’s in obvious agony. “Zi-O...” (Use his name god damn it) Geiz forces himself to grab Sougo by the shirt, as the piano version of Toki no Ouja starts. “Become Oma Zi-O… become the king of time. You have what it takes… to become the most beloved overlord.”

Sougo shakes his head, barely holding back tears, begging Geiz not to die. (Rider-Time translated this as ‘don’t leave me,’ but he’s straight up saying ‘don’t die,’ come on, guys.)

“I was so happy… to have come to this time…” While Sougo is sobbing, Geiz is staying as stoic as he can, he doesn’t have the energy to have emotions and give his last words.

“Sougo…” (We see the first tear actually fall from Sougo’s eyes, and I start crying in full as well.)

“I’m happy to have been… your comrade… and friend.”

As Sougo (and myself) beg for this to not be happening, Geiz’s hand drops from it’s deathgrip on Sougo’s shirt.

Miyokoin Geiz dies in Tokiwa Sougo’s arms.

Sougo sobs, his whole body shuddering. He turns a cold, hateful gaze in Swartz’s direction…

As sparks envelop his belt, turning the white and black driver into gold.

––––

Another Decade watches as Sougo emerges from the smoke.

Glaring, Sougo crosses his arms, and screams in rage as he throws them down. A clock emblem appears on the ground, dark golds and reds and black, seeming to crack the pavement as magma surges around.

Oh, or maybe it’s not magma, or lava. Maybe it’s molten metal. It would be appropriate for the metallic armor, after all.

The haze of the heat can be seen rising up as Sougo growls the word. “Henshin.”

The transformation is dark metal circles, and shadows and smoke. A deep gong rings out when it completes, and the sheer force of the energy pushes all the villains back a few steps.

Woz runs up, just saying ‘my overlord...’

I don’t think Woz thought that Sougo would ever actually do this. Not this Sougo, the one he’s come to know.

Especially given his shock when Sougo… when Oma Zi-O orders him to rejoice.

It’s the voice of Tokiwa Sougo, but he’s cold and empty, there’s nothing there but a calm fury. And he ordered Woz to make his speech.

The final line of which is “We are now within the moment of history’s final chapter!”

Swartz starts to laugh. (Also, in the background, Evolt’s posing it up, one hand on his hip, and whomstever the heck that unidentifiable guy is tucks his staff under his arm, and is briefly clapping sarcastically.)

Swartz laughs, saying that he’s cornered Tokiwa Sougo for all this time, for this moment. Now he can claim the power of Oma Zi-O for himself. Sending out those energy waves, he starts to draw the powers to himself.

Woz runs back, the energy there is way too much for him, but Oma Zi-O… doesn’t move. He’s standing stock still, not reacting as Swartz drains him.

Swartz is gleeful as he does this, the golden light coursing over him, eventually glowing in the gaps between the ‘cards’ of his Another Decade form. Now, he can finally surpass his sister, now, he can take the throne for himself!

The power stops flowing to him, suddenly, with a burst of fire at his chest as it cuts off.

Oma Zi-O is fine, not even having to really shake anything off. “you think someone like you can take on my power?” Ridewatches start appearing in the air – Build, Ex-Aid, Fourze, Faiz, Wizard. “i have the power of every single rider!”

And he means it. OOO, Gaim, Beast, Decade, Ghost, Kiva, Necrom, Ouja, Drive, Baron, Blade, Zeronos, Kuuga, Agito, Double, Den-O… Kabuto, Mach, Eternal, Cross-Z, OOO Tajador, Genm, Knight, G-3… Sasword, Proto-Drive, Garren, Kaixa, Rogue… and even more that I can’t identify, and more that aren’t any more than multicolored lights in the background.

And each and every one of these Ridewatches turns to pure light and draws into him.

Oma Sougo has not moved a step.

Evolt and Mystery Villain charge him, but are immediately taken out with firey punches. He turns, and a swarm of bats from OG Oma Zi-O’s Kiva attack takes out the swarm of Hydragoons that tried to divebomb him.

Kuuga’s kick takes out N-Daguva-Zeba, and a single burning punch dissolves Dragblacker as it tries to bite him.

Gamedeus gets the ‘ticking golden ball of pain’ treatment that Sougo received from OG Oma Zi-O when they met, and Sagittarius gets punched into the sky, where he promptly explodes.

Oma Sougo has only turned in order to attack. He still has not moved from his spot.

Just like when he fought himself the first time.

Swartz is impressed. But he’s gotten some of Oma Sougo’s powers, at least. He’ll go back to his world, and rule as king. He summons a wall to escape-

“HYA!”

A white blade of energy pierces him in the gut from behind, running him through.

Kamen Rider Tsukuyomi is the one wielding it.

Oma Sougo makes a small sound of surprise, as Swartz makes little choked sounds of dying.

Furious, Tsukuyomi shouts. No one needs a king like him!

“You little wench. You’ve been after my blind spot…”

Swartz turns, shoves her into the air, and blasts her, point blank, sending her flying into the far wall.

Sougo screams her name, and, furious and shaking, activates a finisher.

Demise Hour

An ominious ticking noise accompanies him as he rises into the air. Not jumps. Rises, surrounded by gold light and black swirls of smoke.

Another Decade activates his own finisher, as Oma Sougo descends, screaming in rage and despair, the clock-hand cape spreading like wings as he attacks.

The Overlord’s Decimation

Gold light from Oma Sougo’s kick meets the purple light from Another Decade’s punch, and we circle the balanced attack twice, while the deep gonging of an old bell sounds in the background.

Oma Sougo’s kick breaks through, sending Another Decade flying back, and leaving a torn ring in the air just behind where they connected.

The scene freezes, cast in the green light of the usual freeze.

––––

Tsukuyomi, with her original outfit glowing a bright white, and Swartz, in his black-and-white outfit, smoke rising from him and staggering in pain, appear.

Tsukuyomi steps forward. “This world… is already mine. Brother…”

“Sister… Spare me your words!” He’s barely able to talk, as he’s slowly dropping to his knees, juxtaposed in his human form behind the face of his paused, soon-to-be-defeated Another Rider self.

She turns to face Oma Sougo, frozen in time, as she starts to fade to transparency, pink lights rising from her. “Sougo… the two worlds are now in your hands.” She smiles, sadly and fondly, as the two Earths pictured before are shown again, and merge into one.

The royal siblings both fade. Her by quietly turning to lights as she looks at her friend. Him by crying in pain as he is turned to smoke and what looks like ash.

––––

Time resumes, and the explosion of Swartz’s destruction creates a wave of time energy that engulfs the area, spreading outward and erasing the monsters that filled the sky.

Oma Sougo stands up, and Woz approaches, arms wide. “You’ve done it, my overlord. The world is saved, and you may now reign over it for eternity.”

“No. That won’t be happening.” Oma Sougo’s tone is just shy of despondent. “Because I’m going to be tearing down space and time.”

––––

“So, this is the path you choose.”

Tokiwa Sougo, bruised, bloodied, and burned, stands in a black void in front of his future self, whos face is still obscured in light.

“You have the right to rule the world, you’re the one who saved it.”

Sougo disagrees. It wasn’t him. We cut from the wide shot of the two, to just Sougo’s face. He’s absolutely dead inside, trying not to break down. “The ones who saved the world are Geiz and Tsukuyomi, and the powers of every rider.”

Shots from throughout the show, of their lives together at 9-to-5 – of Sougo, his uncle, Geiz, Tsukuyomi, and Woz. Not as heroes or soldiers, but as people. As themselves.

Tokiwa Sougo, who was so lonely before these three time travelers came into his life, won’t accept living in a world where he rules as king, but none of them are around.

He asks his future self again. “Can the powers of Oma Zi-O only be used to destroy?”

Oma folds his hands. “Destruction… must come before creation.”

(Sir, either you’re trying to give yourself a clue, or you’ve been reading too much Fullmetal Alchemist lately. Just saying.)

Sougo firms his resolve. He’s going to bring about creation, and rewrite history.

Leaning forward, Oma has one last point to make. “You’ll never be a king again.”

Sougo disagrees. “I think it’ll work out, somehow. After all, the hands of time can only move toward the future.”

Over Quartzer starts to play.

“It may seem to move back, but time only goes forward.”

Sougo smiles, real and true, as he reminds his future self of the advice his uncle gave him, way, way back at the earliest points of the show. You can move a clock backward, but it still advances.

Oma chuckles. It’s been a priveldge to see his younger self.

Oma Zi-O, his face still obscured by blinding light, fades into golden motes and disappears.

––––

In the real world, Oma Sougo raises his arms out, and a pale gold wave of light, encircles the planet, little golden clock faces accompanying it.

Tsukasa and Daiki stand on a hilltop, as the Fuuto and Yggdrasil towers, and the Skywall, dissolve.

Daiki comments that time’s being rewritten.

Tsukasa says that it looks like a new journeys starting, and they both smirk as he opens the viewfinder of his camera and takes a picture.

The one Earth is shown glowing, before diverging into 21 separate Earths.

(It’s still only one reality, Toei, nice try. But also nice nod to the fact that there’s a new rider in town. … oh my god is the World of Zero One also the World of Tsukuyomi nah i’m just kidding but that’d be hilarious)

The worlds glow, and the TV-size version of Over Quartzer ends on a shot of the outside of 9-to-5.

––––

There’s a sign saying ‘Rooms to let’ on the door.

Tokiwa Junichiro calls upstairs. “Sougo! You’re going to be late for school!”

…wait, what?

Sougo narrates. “September, 2018. Summer vacation’s over, and the boring school days have begun.”

Wait. What?

Sougo’s on his way, walking his bike down the stairs, when some of his classmates pester him about saying he’s going to be a king, as he always does. Three of them jog past, and the fourth…

Wait. What.

The fourth says he’ll wake Sougo up, just like the anonymous one from the first episode, and flips Sougo onto his back, just like in the first episode.

Except it’s not the student from the first episode.

It’s Geiz.

Or, as schoolgirl Tsukuyomi calls him, Miyokoin-kun. Please note that they do not use her name at all. Thanks.

She tells him that he’s always too rough, grabs him by the collar, and yells at him to just be nice… before flipping him onto his back. She didn’t have to get back up like he did, and flipped him over her, as opposed to how he sent Sougo below where he was.

Sougo is recovering a whole lot faster than Geiz, who is on the ground in pain as Tsukuyomi dusts off her hands and walks away.

Schoolgirl Hora – wait what – comments that they’re always like this, and schoolboy Heure – who looks happy and that makes me happy – says that he sure admires ‘Ou-sama-sempai.’ Or, as Rider-time translates it, ‘Upperclass King.’

Hora asks what that names all about. Heure replies that well, he’s always said he’s going to be a king, right? He’s kinda dumb, but Heure thinks he can do it.

“…Whatever.” Hora checks her watch, and incidentally reveals that she’s got a little toy rabbit keychan hanging from her bag. “I’ve got some bad news for you.”

“Eh?!”

“We’re going to be late.”

All five of them start taking off – and nobody helps Geiz up, because being Geiz is suffering.

––––

They’re all running into the courtyard, and Woz watches from on top of the building. Regular, brown coat, book-carrying Woz.

He says that for Ordinary High School Student, Tokiwa Sougo, a future where he becomes Oma Zi-O is waiting for him. …Or, maybe it isn’t. Time will tell. From here on, a different history from the one in his book will have to be written.

He closes the Oma Advent Calendar decisively.

Our closing shots are of Hora and Tsukuyomi laughing to each other, Heure smiling, and Sougo and Geiz running together.

The end screen has the Zi-O and Geiz watches… and the Zero One watch in the center.

––––

So. That. Sure was an ending.

It was going great up until that world-changing maneuver.

I’ll have to try and write up some proper thoughts on this eventually, but for now…

I’ve never been a fan of the ‘it never happened’ ending for stories. It cheapens the struggles, for me. I’ll have to find a way around this when I finally get there in ReUnited, but that’s beside the point.

This is… I don’t know if I like the decision of how to save everything that Sougo came to. But the others – Geiz, Tsukuyomi, Heure, and Hora – get to have normal lives now. That’s… that’s good. They never had a chance for that before. So I’m happy for them. But…

It still feels hollow. It feels wrong that they don’t remember what happened, that nobody but Woz is around who remembers, and that he can’t even interact with them. They aren’t the same people anymore, anyway. They may be better off, they have the same quirks, but… it’s not the same.

And time even reset back to before Sougo met any of them, so this entire year may as well have never happened for the World of Zi-O.

Hm.

That’s Kamen Rider Zi-O. 49 episodes. A metric boatload of cameos from previous seasons. Two metric boatloads of re-used monster suits. A second season for Decade, and possible confirmation that Tsukasa and Daiki are a cou- okay, sorry, disregard that last bit, it’s not relevant.

But this has been the 29th season of Kamen Rider. On to season 30, Kamen Rider Zero One.

(Toei, I am begging you, find a better naming scheme, and stop using hyphens in your season names. Please.)

EDIT, MANY HOURS LATER: UTOPIA. THE VILLAIN I COULDN’T FIGURE OUT IS THE UTOPIA DOPANT. IT’S KAZU FUCKING JUN. SCREW THAT GUY.

[believerindaydreams]

five things for OG MacGyver

...muse wanted a five things with Jack and Murdoc slash. 

beats me if there’s any thematic resonance going on here, I just write the stuff

i. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" Murdoc asks sweetly, leaning on the machine gun with elaborate poise.

Mac's got his impassive face on, Jack observes; the one he trots out only when very weary, or exasperated, or both. "Murdoc, this is Jack Dalton. Jack, this is Murdoc. Real name still unknown, despite Phoenix's best efforts."

"But I sort of know who you are," Jack says easily, gripping the assassin's hand. "Otherwise known as bazooka guy...that was a good cab of mine you wrecked, you know that?"

"MacGyver. Kindly tell your sidekick to stop thinking he can injure me, before I throttle him."

"Sidekick? Uh-huh. I'm the pilot, he's the mechanic, if anything he's my sidekick!"

Mac just shrugs, in response to Murdoc's glare. "Way I see it, you two might just deserve each other..."

ii. "...and what brings you here, may I ask?" The prison looms around them, harsh iron and harsh lighting.

"Phoenix sent me! And believe me, when Phoenix has to send me somewhere you know something's gone real screwy. But everybody more competent, they thought you guys would recognise-"

"You say competent," Murdoc says, in his pleasant open-faced you're-going-die-now fashion. "This is the heart of HIT's operations. I myself have spent the last eight hours formulating a careful infiltration plan for a facility I know inside and out, only to find myself beaten to the punch by a moonlighting amateur - how? How does that happen?"

"Cos Mac's in real trouble, I've always got his back.  And also jeez, get yourselves a better headquarters. I've had more trouble infiltrating an air hostess convention-"

"Jack, that's enough of that," MacGyver says, casually strolling out of the jail cell.

"He doesn't like me talking about it, cos with this mustache obviously I couldn't be the one in drag-"

Murdoc's eyes widen.  

Doesn't look half bad that way, Jack can't help reflecting.

iii. "Is that a wood-burning kit? Heck, I always wanted to try one of those."

"...hands off," Murdoc says, holding the equipment slightly out of Jack's reach. "How am I unfortunate enough to have picked the same night as you to break into MacGyver's houseboat?"

"Oh, I'm not burgling the place this time. Just crashing here, while I'm between apartments. It saves him trouble finding a boat sitter."

"He allows you to do that? I wonder-"

"Whoa, whoa," Jack says. "Don't go getting any ideas. Remember, I'm not the one who keeps trying to kill him."

"Stop trying to kill MacGyver," Murdoc muses. "No. An admirable notion, doubtlessly, but no."

"Huh. Well, tried my best...what were you actually planning to do?"

"Carve my name into the mantelpiece, leave a few threatening photographs...oooh, the usual agenda. You know how it goes."

Jack glances at the fireplace. "Ok. Carry on."

"You aren't even going to try and stop me?"

"Course not. Last thing I need is to end up next on your hit list...go ahead, make yourself at home. Beer in the fridge- do you drink American beer? No, I bet it's some snooty imported thing-"

"Considering the success I'm having with this assignment," Murdoc says, almost petulantly, "you're liable to find yourself enjoying a long, healthy life-"

"Will you guys shut up?" MacGyver growls from the couch (Jack jumps; Murdoc drops the wood-burning kit with a crash). "Three weeks in the Arctic basin, I'm bushed, okay? Both of you scram and let me get some sleep. We can fight this out in the morning."

Jack tilts his head at the staircase. "Guess we finish this conversation upstairs."

"...only courteous of us."

Mac puts a sofa cushion over his head as they go. Almost succeeds in not wondering what they'll do in his bedroom when they get there.

Almost.

iv. "I mean he drives me up the wall," Jack says, already a little slurred though the beer in front of him is only half-drunk. "I've tried jokes, I've tried kindness, I've tried leaving suggestive pamphlets from San Francisco on his coffee table...."

"I myself have attempted the most unsubtle approaches I could imagine," Murdoc says, dropping two steaks on the counter. "Not with any noticeable degree of success."

(Behind him, the cook whose grill he'd commandeered softly tiptoes out of the bar.)

"And next time when you're asked for a rare steak, you'll know what rare means," Murdoc adds. At a conversational yell.

(The door slams tight.)

"...figures you would have tried. Thanks but no thanks," Jack says, disconsolately pushing the plate away.

"It's not poisoned. Believe me, I'd select better fare for such a death than the mediocre ingredients available in an airport restaurant." Murdoc sits down, cuts into his own with his usual gusto for knives.

"Yeah, I just bet. But Mac's on some fad vegetarian kick. I figure if I stick to it long enough, maybe he'll realise that I'm actually taking him seriously? God knows I wouldn't for anybody else."

"In light of my own firmly-held belief in the right of all beings to be precisely what they wish to be," Murdoc says, licking blood off his steak knife, "I'll go ahead and tell you my opinion. To wit: this is an asinine notion, and what's rather worse it won't work.

"...maybe."

"Did I get a single word of gratitude, for insisting that HIT purchase weapons only from companies that provided a living wage and good health care benefits?" Murdoc pauses. "Well, actually I did, but a half-mumbled thank you from a man apparently practicing for a ventriloquist convention is not what you could term romantic. Even by my rather loose definition of the term."

Jack snickers. "Why do we want him this bad?"

"The pleasure of the chase," Murdoc says. "It keeps me in cheerful and most affable fettle- well, overcome your scruples already and eat something. It's bad enough finding that the pilot I wanted is intoxicated, don't make the situation worse."

"...you want me to fly you somewhere? What for?" He brightens, gets to work on the sirloin with considerable enthusiasm.

"MacGyver is, according to HIT's best intelligence, off on vacation with his grandfather. Precise location unknown to us, but presumably not to you...I feel that it's about time I met the family, wouldn't you say?"

"...be careful," Jack says after a moment. "Because Mac wouldn't kill you, but Harry sure might."

"Dalton, are you actually expressing concern for my welfare?"

"Hey. It'll ruin my buddy's vacation if anybody gets shot."

"You just keep telling yourself that," Murdoc says, distinctly coquettishly.

"That doesn't mean it's not true!"

v. "Bud," Harry says, pulling his rocker a little closer to the fire. "I figured you might have someone on the go, but two at once?"

"...I'm not with either of them, Harry," Mac protests. "It's just- well, these two idiots keep following me everywhere, that's all. And they're both more trouble than they're worth. I was sort of hoping they'd get together and leave me be."

"Could see that working," Harry agrees, looking at the couple snoozing on the hearth rug. "Can't say as I know what you mean about trouble, though. A more polite, thoughtful pair I haven't seen in a while."

"You live alone. On a farm. In the middle of nowhere."

"And not getting any younger. I never was the sort to carp, but it won't make me feel any worse if I knew you'd finished sowing your wild oats..."

Mac's not listening, which is rare unless he's seriously worked up. "-got no idea what kind of craziness they're into! I mean, one of them's an assassin for crying out loud. And the other one makes him look sane..."

"Frankly, in our line of work not being an assassin makes you the outlier," Murdoc points out. "If we're talking outliers."

"And I do not," Jack says sleepily. "Um. Do not...oh, who's sane when Mac's around, anyway?"

Harry nods and keeps rocking, while his grandson protests the point in no uncertain terms. These three certainly know how to argue-

"All right, enough banter," Murdoc says abruptly. "Sir. As the senior of the family, it would be my distinct pleasure and honour, to ask your permission for courting your grandson."

"What he said," Jack chimes in with a grin; a grin that fades somewhat, at Mac's expressionless face.

"Knock yourselves out, boys," Harry says. Leans back to watch the fireworks.

It takes a moment for the three of them to realise what he's just said, but when they do it's the funniest thing he's seen since...ooh, that race where the horse bucked off its jockey and ran itself, probably.

Well.

Almost as funny.

[caly-light]

Meet the Character: Calypso Daeberos

► Name ➔   "Calypso Daeberos, but please, call me Caly!”

► Are you single ➔ "Yep! And I’m not entirely looking right now. But maybe in the future?”

► Are you happy ➔   "I would think so! I am happy! I... Maybe things aren’t as great as they once were. I don’t know.”

► Are you angry? ➔   "Naw. I don’t get angry; I get even.”

► Are your parents still married ➔  "No, they are not. Mama passed away years ago, and I haven’t seen pops since I left. I hope he’s happy, truly. I hope I didn’t disappoint him again.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “I was born in Gyr Abania.”

► Hair Color ➔ “A mix of platinum blonde and sunrise orange.”

► Eye Color ➔ “Violet, or was it maroon? I’ve always gotten my colors confused, to be honest.” (Caly is color blind, but her eyes are a mix of maroon + violet.)

► Birthday ➔ “I was born on the 5th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon.”   (Oct 5th)

► Mood ➔ “I like to think I’m pretty energetic, and yet cautious all at once. Others might disagree on the latter of the two. But they’re not here right now, so I’ll go with both!”

► Gender ➔ “Definitely female.”

► Summer or winter ➔ “While I love the colors Fall brings, I sleep so much better in the winter. That cold chill totally knocks me out.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “I’m usually up pretty early in the morning, so I’d have to say the morning is my choice. But if I’m up early enough, I can sneak in a afternoon nap, and those are always the best!”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ "With life, heck yeah! ...Oh you mean romantically? No, no one has caught my attention.”

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ "If you knew the way my parents met, you would know that my answer is a definitive ‘nope’.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ "What ‘last relationship’?”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  "If I have, no one has told me.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ "...Sometimes.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ "I tend to hug a lot of people; so yes.”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ "I’m pretty sure the clan leader next to mine was interested in me since I was small. Not so much on my part.”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ "I... Yes.”

FIVE CHOICES

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ "Seeing as I’m not a fan of lemon, I shall choose iced tea.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ "I’ve got loads of energy, so I need a pet that can keep up with me. So dogs are the ideal for me. However, until my current events are taken care of, not pet is probably best.”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “While I love spending time with people, the smaller the group the better. If I’m surrounded by too many people, I can’t divide my attention properly without making people feel like they’re being neglected.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔  "I’m a mix of both, to be fair. Some nights I want to go out and dance. Other nights I would prefer cuddling in a blanket while reading a good book.”

► Day or night ➔ "As energetic as I am, I still prefer night. After all the chaos that happens under the light, I’m ready for a night of relaxation and cuddles.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ "Oh yes, plenty of times. My father has had to ground me a few times to get the point across. But... That point was never actually made, hah.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ "Pffft. A few times, yes. But I was still growing, and in my defense, my sisters loved playing pranks.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ "As much as I hate to admit it... Yes. And it almost ruined me. I refuse to do that again.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ "A few times, when things get dark..”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ "I prefer the eyes, but the smile is also a way into one’s soul. To see those smiling lines curling into their face, almost like it’s natural... That’s the type of energy people need. Even people like me.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ "I don’t really have a preference.”

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ "Intelligence completely!”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ "I would prefer a relationship.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ "We uh... We don’t really talk. They’ve reached out, but I’m still debating on if I want to return.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ "Weeeeeell, it’s kinda screwy, but not too messed up as many assume.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ "Yes. Long story.”

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ "I left before they could.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ "Hah. I could never hate them, but some do aggravate me at times.”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔  "Not all are good friends, but some are, and I cherish them completely. I would do anything to protect them.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ "I- Huh. I’m not entirely sure. J’zhet and I are pretty close, but we haven’t spent a lot of time together. When we do, it’s always a blast though. I miss him.”

► Who knows everything about you ➔ "J’zhet knows a good chunk about me, but some things are better left unsaid.”

STOLEN BY THE LOVELY: @the-antitower​ MENTIONS: @dragoncatte-ffxiv

TAGGING: Anyone and everyone! But please tag me in it if you do! I’d love to learn more about your characters! OH and of course, I’m tagging @dragoncatte-ffxiv cuz yes. ;D

[dafukdidiwatch]

Act 4 Overview

So I have come to the end of Act 4. Starting from Session 53 to Session 82. It took me 30 reads to get through this entire thing, and since we still haven’t reached post 2000 it is going to take even longer next time.

Overall, wow did we get to know more about the lore. Rose and Dave are in the Medium on their own planets, and we finally get hints and secrets about what the adults are doing/what happened.

The Trolls got to show off their beautiful faces, and yeah they are now endearing to me than just strictly trash. I now get why people like the Trolls, it just takes a while to get use to them. Of course, we only met 6 of them, so the other six might just be assholes, who knows. But I will give them a chance now.

So there were many, many reveals over the course of Act 4, but 4 of them really strike out in my mind.

1st: The Exiles

The fact that they are actual game pieces that got kicked off of the board definitely surprised me. I mean I figured they weren’t human, but I didn’t expect that. Each with their own lives/past as they try to thrive on the new planet. The fact that Mayor led a revolt to save his farm just kills me. He is such a sweet guy.

Of course when I saw the Midnight Crew in The Kid’s Server I thought there was something screwy afoot. Like multideminsional brainwash time deal. But nope! The Crew was the Exiles for the Trolls! And the people we saw was their previous life before being exiled. What a twist!

But now here I am thinking, there are 4 exiles in John’s Session, and 5 in the Trolls. So if it is 1 Exile per Player, that means there are still 7 more to find in the Trolls session, if they still matter.

2nd: Future Dave.

So I get that Time Travel is a big thing with the Trolls and Chat logs. Hussie must have had a hard time trying to come up with all of that to be honest. But seeing a world where Dave and Rose are just by themselves for almost a year, that just tears me up. It shows how deadly and serious this game is, they could actually die. (hell Hussie showed Dave’s dead body on screen to after this). But seeing him going back in time to save his friend and help them all, it is just so uplifting.

3rd: The Parents

So I had a feeling that the adults knew more than they let on, but this is something else. John making their existence plus his friends and his own really throws you in for a loop. They were probably individually researching the meteors that have lead them to this moment, whether by science, investigation, exploration, or whatever the fuck Bro does. I also wish we would get more interactions between the kids and their guardians, but that might happen later. There is still more to come, but this was a good set up for eventual answers

4th: Jack Noir

Listen, I had this guy pegged as a salty 2-bit side villain before meeting with the queen. And honestly? He’s great as that! A salty, jaded person who you know is a dick and an ass, but will 100% be ruthless with paperwork when needed. I thought Hussie was going to keep him in that role for a while, but what a twist when he rose to power! Now he is in control and things get bad. And I know that the imagery had set the mood for how much of a “big bad” he was, but now I have a better explanation for why I fear this guy.

We know now that Spade Slick was the Exile for the Troll’s Session, and Homestuck got it’s first introduction to him through that Intermission. I’m not sure if the intermission has a bigger part to play by pulling characters later on into here, but it definitely gives us an idea of who Slick was. He is ruthless, cunning, violent, hell we saw him bash someone’s head in with a pipe! And though I like him, I know well enough he is not a man to mess around with.

So since Slick is a copy of Noir, while not exact, I know that the same cunning, ambition, and ruthlessness still remains. And he is in control. Oh man, what a great villain!

There are probably other moments of Act 4 that I could touch up on, like the kids reactions to the game, the overall planet feeling, etc etc, but there was just so much to remember! I started Act 4 in November, that was 3 months ago!

But overall, Act 4 is like the the 3rd quest people do. You now know enough of the basics to get to the really good stuff, but there is still so much more to learn for the overarching story line