#he leaves out words and uses acronyms and shortens the words

[hbdttg]

“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

[transfemlogan]

Texting Headcanons

Patton: using emojis 24/7. Literally every text will have some sort of emoji, even if it doesn't fit the original message. Texts like a dad & a mom combined. Uses grammar occassionally. Usually types in all caps, because he doesn't know how to turn them off. Sends the laughing emoji when he laughs at something. Prefers talking in person if he can.

"HEY, KIDDOS 👋 YOUR HAPPY-PAPPY PATTON LOVES YA ALL! 🥰💙😻"

Roman: uses emojis occassionally. Types in caps when he's excited. Uses capital letters when necessary and never any time else. Shorten words and uses popular acronyms. Says "ROLF" and "LMAO" when he laughs at texts. Uses the sparkle emoji constantly. Loves to facetime. Double texts like CRAZY

"Helloooo~ ✨️✨️ romans here!! A REMINDER for all of u 2 tell me what u thought of the script ASAP bcus thomas NEEEDDS it by tmrw!!!!"

Virgil: shorten every word ever even if its not readable. Types in all lower case with 0 grammar. Sends 💀 or "lol" when he inhales through his nose at something. Keysmashes when he finds something really funny. Prefers to text above all else & will cry if you try to call him. Spelling mistakes all over the place. Hard 2 tell if something is supoosed to be an acronym or if its a mistake?

"im not rding ur stpjd script roman also twll thomas not 2g2 that dumb party on sat or i swear 2 god ill bloqk all of u ok bye also hi pat"

Logan: proper grammar all of the time. Probably ends his messages with "sincerely, logan" (he knows theyre not letters or emails, but he can't help himself.) Says "that was funny" when he finds something funny (very rare). Prefers in person communication or calling, as he is usually busy working and can't text if he's using his hands. Doesn't use emojis ever & finds them so so stupid but will SOMETIMES use the heart emoji if he's comforting virgil or trying to be nice. Learns about tone indicators after virgil tells him & now he uses them all the time. Will start to let loose if he's comfortable around you. Looking at his msgs with virgil is almost like an entirely different person.

"Hello, all. I have read your script, Roman, and will be sending you my edits soon. I find it to be very long and wordy and full of mistakes. /neg You are lucky you have me to help you. Also, Virge, I'll try to get Thomas to not go to that party /srs, as he has many responsibilities that day, such as: cleaning his room, recording, and doing his laundry. Here is a link to my plan for next week. Please let me know if there's any complaints. Sincerely, Logan."

(Virgil: thnk u L . m not reading ur plsn ethr

Logan: Hi Virgil. That is alright. I'll just let you know next time we "hang out". Sincerely Logan.)

Janus: also texts all lower case & never uses commas but does use periods. Loves to use ":)" and "<3" (<- in a mean sarcastic way most of the time). Doesn't express laughter anytime anywhere. Prefers facetime or in person communication. Doesn't text often. Also doesn't respond often. Will leave you on read, he has other things to do. Uses tone indicators only if he is personally texting logan and no one else. Will sometimes not even respond to what you said in the first place.

"oh of course logan let's have thomas work all the time and never ever get any rest. sounds very healthy :). roman i read your script. hi patton".

(Roman: aand jan? What did u think??

Janus: Read 2:43 pm)

Remus: sends nudes in chat. And the most random gore vids he can find. Types in all caps willingly. Sends very strange emojis that dont match up with anything. Responds lightning quick but also ignores everything you say in order 2 send what he wants 2 talk abt so it doesnt even matter. Homestuck speak. Has never read homestuck.

"H3Y0 🦿🍒🛝😝 CHECK OUT TH12 PHOTO I JUST T00K RN. (Sends a dick pic)"

(Patton: 😨 REMUS, PLEASE DELETE. ❌️

Roman: THIS IS WHY WE NVR LET U IN GROUP CHATS !!!! I WISH I COULD WASH MY EYES OUT. 🤮

- Virgil has left the group chat -

Logan: Hello, Remus. That does not look very healthy. We should send you to a physician to get that checked out. Sincerely, Logan.

Janus: read 2:48 pm)

[cosmicpandaaa]

ok but like… izuku’s notebook being as indecipherable just like his mumbling

[silenthillmutual]

pride month - day 4 - identity shenanigans kind of short but uhhh anyway

They’re painting up a couple banners for their bake sale when the question finally comes up. “So, guys,” Makoto says, voice breaking a little in anxiety. “I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask.” 

Mahiru doesn’t even look up from what she’s doing, just says “Go ahead. Shoot.” 

Makoto looks at Kiyotaka, and he takes up the question from there. “We have been wondering if this club’s name is proper.”

He can hear a groan that’s probably...

Well, no. Actually, it’s several groans. Mondo’s just the one who voices the opinion. “Just say it straight out, asshole.” 

Sometimes, Makoto really feels like hitting that guy. Or he would, if he didn’t scare the shit out of him. “What he means is - we have both been wondering if we can really call this a gay-straight alliance.” 

“Well, that is what we are,” Hajime says, propped up on the desk at the front. He’s not actually contributing to the banner decorating, just kind of hanging out like most of them are. 

“But I don’t believe anyone in here is straight,” Kiyotaka says. 

“Hifumi’s straight,” Mahiru says.

“Excuse me, but no, I am not.” He actually takes a break from the shading he’s putting on Kiyotaka’s stenciling to look up. “I’m asexual.”

“It’s the same thing,” Hiyoko jeers. “And you probably just say that ‘cause you’re too fat for anyone to have sex with.”

Hifumi isn’t usually one to embrace conflict, but he looks ready to take this one on. Chihiro cuts him off before he can, snapping “That is more than enough! It is not the same thing, a-and you don’t need to be - to be rude about it!” 

“Well done,” Kiyotaka whispers to them. They smile back, eyes a little watery but not quite in the tears they had been at the start of the year. Mondo slaps them on the back to show his pride, and Hifumi mutters his thanks.

Not that it’s enough to stop Hiyoko, but Hajime does know her well enough by now to say “One more word out of you and I will physically punt you from the room” before she actually gets her next bite in. She looks to her girlfriend for help, and Mahiru ignores her. 

Hajime turns back to freshmen, legs swinging under the desk. “Alright, so if none of us are straight, what do you suggest we call this then? Taka, Makoto?” 

Makoto and Taka share a look again. They hadn’t actually planned past this, and it’s starting to show. “We could do something along the lines of...Organization of Sexual Minorities and Allies?” Taka suggests.

“I think that’s a little long,” Mahiru says. “Even if we shortened it to OSMA, I don’t think people would really know what that means. GSA is more well-established as an acronym.” 

“Why don’t we do something that sounds less...I don’t know, clinical?” Makoto suggests. “Something like - Queer Council? The alliteration makes it sound kind of fun.” 

“Nah, that word’s too loaded,” Mondo says. “Say that in the wrong places ‘n people’ll lose their shit about it.” 

“Let’s just cut it down to the basics and embrace the future filled with hope -”

“Nagito,” Hajime says, pointing his phone at him threateningly, “I love you, but for the love of God. Don’t start that shit again.”

He frowns. “Let’s just call ourselves the Gay Agenda.” Mondo snorts. “Do you have a better suggestion?”

“Nah, I like that. It’s ballsy. Kinda has a ‘fuck you’ air to it.” 

“Do you really need to be so crass?” Kiyotaka asks. 

Mondo sneers at them. “Hey, hall monitor: suck my dick.”

“Keep the flirting for after the club, please,” Hajime says, once again cutting off the no doubt snide remark Hiyoko was planning. “Is everyone here okay with that name change, or at least proposing a name change at the next meeting?”

“I think ‘the Gay Agenda’ would work well as a headline, so I’m all for it,” Mahiru says.

“I could care less,” Hiyoko offers.

“Then why are you here?” Taka asks.

“Mind your own fucking business, you ugly shitstain!” 

“HEY! YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH WHEN YOU’RE TALKIN’ TA HIM -” Leon drops his paint brush, physically grabbing Mondo by the back of his jacket to keep him from going after her. 

Hiyoko shrieks in a combination of laughter and anger. “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? HOW FUCKING STUPID ARE YOU?”

“Guys! Knock it off, or both of you: leave!” Hajime orders. “Now, I’m gonna guess Nagito votes yes on his own idea - no, don’t speak, please - and that Mondo agrees. So: Chihiro, Leon, Hifumi. Any input?”

“I think it works well, but I wouldn’t want to make a decision without the other members here,” Chihiro says. “I think we should leave it until we have the full group around to make a decision.”

“Yeah, what they said,” Leon says, still rubbing Mondo’s back to calm him down. 

Hifumi tries not to look at any particular person as he says, “Well, I would prefer to have something that includes the members of our club who may be gender minorities as well. Maybe someone at the next meeting will have a suggestion that’s all-inclusive?”

“Alright, it’s settled. Next week we decide on a new name.” Hajime slaps his hand on the desktop. “Impromptu meeting adjourned.” 

[trickstersantana]

[Para] A Name to Fear

Who: Santana, Dave @knockonkarofsky Location:  Sciron Square Time: 18 December 2018 Summary: Santana has Plans TM and maybe she doesn’t choses the best person for executing them but you know how she is. Triggers/Notes: Violence, probs some murder mention I don’t remember this is Santana

Santana walks around the hall of Sciron until she catches the person she wanted to talk to. "Hey, poison guy! You know we still need more food and stuff than what Brody brought, right? Because I have another mission for you to make this barricade stay strong." She tells him casually when she gets close to walk alongside him.

David sighs when he sees the trickster approaching him.  Any other day, he would be happy to be the guy others go to ask for help. But he was starting to notice people didn't see him as the reliable, helpful guy he wanted to, but just as a guy who said yes to anything. "Don't take missions from ya." Echoes of the words from the man who looked like him resonated in his mind, and he gave a glance to his shoulder, looking at Martin Frog. He knew this was important, more important than people’s perceptions of him or his feelings on the matter. "What?" He ends up asking, unhappy.

Santana is unamused. "Oh, so you can take missions from Dani Hot Guns, but not from me? Is this because I'm a trickster or because that one time I tried to shoot you with a gun? Because god damn it dude, get over it already!" She was sure it wasn't for the gun thing. "Anyway we need one witch to get out of here in secret, and pick up the food I'm going to order, put them in grimoires and bring it back. It's actually super easy, barely and inconvenience. I can help you get out and Brody can summon you in, so the only thing you have to do is arrive to a certain place in time."

"It's Danielle 'Dani Hot Guns' Harper for ya" David stopped walking when he heard the most difficult petition someone asked him to do in his entire life. Not getting lost in the city. "You sure there's not a better witch to ask? Why not Weston?" Even city witched called him city witch, clearly the most citiest witch of all.

Santana is so tired of witches not following her fucking very flawed and really bad plans without questioning how bad and flawed they are. "Oh, there are thousands of better witches to ask. But here is the thing, all of them may take this chance to drop the barricade and visit their families at christmas time and forget about the barricade because it's not a problem that affects them directly, and you know how people are super selfish and self-centered." Asking Brody for a favor always feels like making a bet. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. And she has won everytime and still Brody didn't ask her for something in return, but she didn't want to risk her luck much. The other options were Ryder, who was perfect until she remembered he was a werewolf now so if they catch him outside there would be trouble. Elliott, who could teleport but it was Illegal TM in every sense and he had to do a lot of travels to carry all the food and supplies, wich was more risky. Tina, Santana didn't like to ask favors to Tina because she never did them unless they were small and easy and no life was on the line. Matt, was thinking about dropping out and was more at risk of encountering problems. Sam, who was Sam. And more random witches she didn't trust. She didn't trust Dave either, but he still had not fail her yet. Not like he had the chance, but it was something. "Like c'mon dude, what's the problem?"

David decided to be honest and hoped the trickster didn't make fun of him for it. "Keep getting lost on campus. Would need time to find the place."

Santana though for a moment. "The place is at 40 minutes walking, 20 minutes on bus. We can get you 2 hours before so you have time. You can ask for directions. Or use googl- oh, you don't have a phone, don't you?" Why won't the useful witches be willing to do shit without betrayal. "Alright, we can make a deal so I illusion you the equivalent of google maps for you." She says, showing her hand.

David isn't going to make a deal with a trickster. It was one of the things everyone knew, because they had been told since they were little. Don't hurt the trees, don't disrespect the Aetherling, don't confuse Agaricus bisporus with Agaricus aurantioviolaceus because the first one doesn't heal, and don't make deals with tricksters. He wonders why Dani didn't tell him herself. Probably because she was busy. "Give me six hours. Seven."

Santana puts her hand down. "7? Really?" She rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright, we'll get you out 7 fucking hours before, holy shit." Maybe giving a 1 hour job to the witch who needed 7 hours to do it was making things more complicated than they needed to be. Geez I should just had told Matt to fucking do it, or send Brody. But, going to tell them now? Explain the really short plan again? Nah, too much work, the problem wasn't hers anymore. Unless Dave failed, then it would affect her actually. "Alright we will keep in contact, I think you have one of those crystals phone things right? Now. I have another proposition for you, but this is an after-barricade plan." She hoped she didn't need to actually do it at all after the barricade, but it was like leaving a last goodbye little present to the LN community. "We talked about this before but, the conversation turned into other shit. But, heard me out, from bully to bully. We know our fear methods worked, right? What if...we used that for good?"

David was a little embarrassed. "Wanna be sure to don't screw it up!" He defends himself. "Got one." Says showing his communication crystal, which looked like a normal cell phone. He listened, doubtful. He didn't trust Lopez, and has no idea what she wanted. If Elliott trusted her, he could listen, at least. "Think you assume lots of stuff." She wasn't wrong, but she has no way to know she was right. This was about a skill he has and not a mission of great difficulty. "How?"

Santana feared this could Go Wrong in many different ways but still was Hopeful. She looks at the phone, then at Dave. Then back at the phone. "That's a fucking phone you piece of lying shit, but ANYWAY..." She starts to explain her idea, trying to summarize it, and starts making illusions of the things she was speaking of, to add effect She starts with a little small model of campus. "NYADA. Their whole security system is shit and favors witches above LN, specially bloodlines. And the one in charge of it is ugly." She says illusioning the face of Dustin Goolsby. "So, if those fuckers aren't going to protect LN, why not do it ourselves? I'm the strongest bitch here, you have poison, I have illusions and people fear us. Let's use that fear and make our reign of terror a good thing! Let's become the real security sytem of NYADA. Better, fairer, in both the reasonable way and the hot way, because I'm way more attractive than Dustin Boolsbieber. And we will be wearing berrets." She says illusioning themselves with red uniforms and red berrets. Because you are going to eat your words Kurt Hummel I look great in red!

David looks proud at his communication crystal. "Looks just like a phone, but isn't." His mom made it like that, it could trick anyone, even when he said it wasn't a phone. She was so good at making those things. He looks at the illusions and tries to touch everyone of them and pass his hand for them like it's the most fun thing in the world. He wasn't going to comment about Mr. Goolsby attractiveness. He suspects it's a trick of the trickster to call him gay. He prefers to focus on most important parts of her explanation. "We have to wear berrets?" He knew Lopez wasn’t as strong as she think she was. She was strong, but not the strongest.

Santana rolls her eyes at Dave trying to touch her illusions. They weren't toucheable, he just pass his hand through the picture as if nothing was there. "Yes. The berrets stay. I'm not going to compromise my vision." She said, very seriously, this decision was unamovible. Unchangeable. "We are going to have cool badges I designed myself and all. And now, I was thinking of calling ourselves the LN Defense Gang, but are you going to fucking call this by it's name or you are going to skip over saying LN?"

David shaked his head.  "Not gonna call it that. Told ya makes no sense to me." He already has the same problem with Elliott's club. When he answered he was in the Elliott's club, people usually didn't know what he meant. He had really long conversations until people got it right. "What 'bout the Aetherling and others defense gang?"

Santana illusioned the words LNDG and AODG just to look at how the acronymons looked. They didn't look right. "First, Defense Gang doesn't actually look good in short. And second, we aren't going to call a fucking term only you and your grandma knows also I'm starting to think it's kinda discriminatory actually, so, no."

David wonders why Lopez complains about her own idea to him. "Isn't. Most Fae don't like getting called what's used here. Ones back home are okay with Aetherling. Most don't have a problem" Must be a situational issue. "What 'bout Fae, Faun, Satyrn, Lamia, Melusines, Shedim, Nephilims, Djins,  Shapeshifters, Undine, Sylphs, Selkies, Giants, Drakainas, tricksters, changelings, selkids, vampires, weres, doppels and commons force of security?"

Santana talks with a mocking voice. “Oh, poor fae they don’t want to be put in the same bad as the other dirty LN” Then she glares at him and feels the five stages of grief one by one in just 5 seconds after hearing all that crap, and STILL she makes an illusion of the acronym. "That's longer than Elliott's dick and FFSLMSNDSUSSGDTCSVWDCFS isn't really catchy."

David tries to react like a normal heterosexual to the comment, but he doesn't know how it should be. He simply answers angry. "Show some respect for Elliott Farrohk Gilbert. Don't need to shorten it to letters.” He wonders how she said it outloud. “Isn't that long. Back at my clan we have people with longer names and titles. Isn't a problem. 

Santana smiles her evil smirk. "Oooh, so isn't as long as Elliott's enormous dongus, eeeeh? You know it well, riiiiight?" She said like a bitch. "Anyway I'm going to sell this idea to Figgins, obviously explaining it all pretty and not mentioning him our reign of terror. But uhm... talking about reign of terror...maybe we shouldn't name the people we protect. Maybe we should put a name that our enemies will fear." She said...plotting.

David was getting more embarrassed and angry. "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ, ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵘᵖᵎ" He wasn't ready to admit he was gay to most people. But he had toyed with the idea of stop denying it. He still did it, out of defense. Because he was used to it. He was getting too angry already. "Tired of this. I'm leaving." He said while trying to get rid of the sigh of the trickster.

Santana was still thinking about cool names. "The Bloodline Beaters. The Justice Makers, the Bringers of Pain, the... wait! Oh well, if you are leaving then the name idea is going to be all mine!!" She shouts from far away. "And don't forget your mission!"

[theculturedclicker]

How Social Media Alters the Way We Speak

As time continues to move forward, governments change, cities growing, so do people’s behaviors change. The way we live, the decisions we make, our way of communicating are all influenced by how we are shaped by the world around us. The way we speak tells a lot about how times are changing and with it comes the evolving of languages. From Shakespeare’s most notable sonnets, Virgilio S. Almario’s Ibong Adarna to modern day poets like Lang Leav and Juan Miguel Severo, you can definitely point out the astounding difference even with eyes closed. So now that we are in the 21st century where smart technology is all the rage and humans frequent the vast and bodiless realm on the internet called social media the question is, how does social media influence the way we speak?

The Power of Social Media

It’s a no-brainer at this point to say that social media is almost part of everyone’s daily routine. From the moment of waking up in the morning, to riding the morning jeep on the way to work or school, and even up until before going to bed, modern day people are on their phones scrolling through the endless pit of social networking sites namely Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, Tiktok, and many more. Technology has advanced to a point where information dissemination comes and goes before you can even finish snapping your fingers and so as more people spend time online on these areas of the internet, it is highly likely that social media has the most prevalent influence on our day-to-day conversations.

If you think about it, the rapid exchange of information would allow people to adopt new words faster than ever. One example of this is this new Filipino expression “Sana all” that is used as a compliment that connotes positive jealousy towards someone having something everyone would also like to have or to experience. No one knows exactly where this phrase came from or who started it but it has been used by a lot of people at some point and has been used much enough to be an actual expression and it has also undergone its own changes. From the regular “Sana all” turned into “Sana oil” as a joke, it has shortened versions like “Sanaol” and “Naol” and then finally another one which is not as popular as the ones mentioned and that is “Sabaok” which also started out as a joke because some netizens make typo errors attempting to type “sanaol”. It is basically a misspelled version used as a joke. It’s safe to say it’s a bit confusing to try and comprehend how a word or phrase comes to existence and go through many different changes, with some even getting lost in translation at that.

This is Only Just the Beginning

This way of speaking can be considered as “technospeak” which is a term coined by honorary professor of linguistics at the University of Bangor, Professor David Crystal. In his book Language and the Internet he says that

“The Internet is in fact enabling a dramatic expansion to take place in the range and variety of language, and is providing unprecedented opportunities for personal creativity. The Internet has now been around long enough for us to ‘take a view’ about the way in which it is being shaped by and is shaping language.”

He also notes that

“The readiness with which people do adapt language to meet the needs of new situations, which is at the heart of linguistic evolution is going to be fully exploited in the next few decades, with the emergence of yet more sophisticated forms of digitally mediated communication.”

Regular expressions and acronyms like LOL for "laugh out loud”, keyboard smashing as a way to imply that one is laughing so hard they can’t type well, and expressions like “Sana all” are just the start of the gradual domination of technospeak. As social media and technology continues to move forward and advance, expect that there will surely be more language-altering shifts to occur in the near future. It makes one think just how are we going to keep up?

References:

https://www.bbc.com/news/technology-10971949https://linguagreca.com/blog/2014/08/how-social-media-is-changing-language/https://www.newscientist.com/article/mg21628916-300-twitter-shows-language-evolves-in-cities/?ignored=irrelevant

[shadeops21]

Humans Are Weird - Language

Crew Recreation Room, SSV Eternal Grace

“Hey, toss the remote over here, will ya?” Chief Jesse’s accented voice was barely audible over the rabble created by the rest of the crew in the packed rec room of the spacecraft. His outstretched hand was waiting for a remote, which was thrown his direction by one of the human engineers across the room. “Cheers mate. Now, if I can get everyone’s attention!” He waited for a few moments to be acknowledged and rolled his eyes, not surprised that he was ignored. He stood up on one of the tables and slammed his left boot down onto it, the impact creating a loud enough bang that turned a few heads. “I said shut the bloody hell up!” That got everyone’s attention, and Jesse nodded with approval as he pulled his datapad from a pouch on his duty belt and held it up for him to read.

“Alright-y, ladies, bastards, and the rest of you lot, I’ve got a few words from our ever-so-lovely captain regarding a few security concerns they’ve raised with me. Firstly: Op-Sec! That’s short for “Operational Security” for those that can’t understand acronyms. While we aren’t a part of the IMSF, we are contracted to the Intergalactic Governing Council, meaning that we do have a level of secrecy that we need to abide by. That means when talking to your folks back home about how things are going, you need to be more mindful about what you are telling them. Please don’t tell them about where our next few ports of call are, or the areas we’re operating in at the current time unless you are on a secure channel or it is a matter of dire emergency. Last thing we all need is a bunch of pirate pricks to raid us all because one of us had a loose pie-trap, you got me?”

Jesse listened to a murmur of agreement before nodding approvingly and consulting his notes. “Sweet! Second: It’s come to my attention by some of the guards that some of you horny buggers are sneaking off to secluded areas to do the do, if you get my drift? Now, because I’m a decent bastard - yes, hard to believe that, but I am decent,” he had to wait a moment for a few chuckles to settle down before continuing on, “I won’t be naming names or shaming people. Honestly, I don’t care who or what you decide to fuck, as long as it’s in your own time. What I do care about is the use of protection and the locations where I’m hearing people are being caught in the act.”

Zan’via and another member of the crew, a human medical staffer by the name of Kelly Jean, were standing towards the back of the room listening to him remind the group that areas like the engine rooms and storage bays weren’t conductive to ‘safe sex’. Zan’via noted that every once in a while Kelly would chuckle at a few words and phrases that the security chief would use, and once the man had finished his announcements, Zan’via decided to see what exactly caused Kelly to find they’re friends speech humorous.

“Excuse me, Doctor Jean, if I may have a moment of your time?” Zan’via spoke up before the woman could leave and return back to the medical wards.

“Certainly, Zan’via. What’s the problem?” She replied, gesturing towards an empty table nearby.

“Well, I found it a slight bit concerning that you were quietly laughing during Chief Lynn-Michael’s announcements on what I believe were fairly serious subjects.” They started, leveling a neutral expression towards the doctor.

“Oh? You noticed that? I’m sorry, I just find the way the Chief speaks to be amusing, that’s all.” Kelly said, blushing slightly at how she’d been caught out.

“The way the Chief speaks?”

“You have to admit, he does have a way with words, right?” Kelly prodded, now curious as to how Zan’via, and by extension the rest of the Gal’eth race, would interpret the Chief’s speaking patterns and mannerisms. There was a moment of silence before Zan’via emitted what could be interpreted as a ‘groan’ and shook their head.

“I would, if I could understand some of the terms and phrases he uses on a frequent basis.” They admitted with a small sigh, rubbing their face in irritation. “I’ve been meaning to ask him about it, but every chance I get he’s either busy or something comes up that needs his attention.”

“Maybe I can help. Granted, I’m not fluent in Australian English, but I’ve been around him long enough to pick a few things up.” The classifier that Kelly used before the name of the adopted universal language piqued Zan’via’s interest.

“Australian English? You mean there is more than one form of the language?”

“Well, yes and no. English as a whole is one language, but there are different versions or dialects of it, and each differ by region. The three major versions I’ve encountered in my life are American English, British English, and Australian English. The differences are subtle between them, like spelling and how there are different names between the three for the same object. Australian English, which is what our wonderful Chief of Security is quite fluent in, is actually an interesting blend of both the American and English systems, with some unique terminology and rules thrown in for fun.”

“For fun?” Zan’via asked with a surprised expression.

“Yes, for fun. There are a few ways that Australian English, or ‘Aussie’ as it’s referred to sometimes, is easily distinguished against the others. And that’s one right there: shortened versions of words.” Kelly said with a smile.

“I do not quite follow.”

“It’s a joke, both to Australians and to foreigners, that they are a lazy bunch and will shorten anything that can be shortened. Australian becomes Aussie, service center becomes ‘serve-o’, names like Bermingham, Wilson and McDonald are turned into ‘Birm-o’, ‘Wils-o’ and ‘Macca’ respectively. That brings me to a second trait: nicknames.”

“Nicknames?”

“The Chief’s full name and title is Head of Security Jesse Lynn-Michaels. When he was in the IMSF, he was Special Operations Chief Petty Officer Jesse Lynn-Michaels. That’s where he has his current ship’s nickname, Chief. It was a shorter way of calling his rank. The same carries across to any name or title if you’re an Australian, even if your name is relatively short. Occasionally he’ll call me Doc or ‘Kel’, or the Captain ‘Boss’. I’m sure he’s even shortened your own name from time to time.”

“You would be right on that regard, he constantly calls either me ‘Zan’ or ‘Zany’.” They said with what could be called a soft smile.

“See? It also serves as a benefit to tell when he’s being serious with you or not. If you hear him yell ‘Zany, get over here’, then you’re less likely to be in trouble than if he addresses you as ‘Zan’via’ or ‘Engineer’s Mate Third Class Zan’via Top’hei’.” Kelly stifled a chuckle as she saw the large alien being visibly shudder at the use of their full rank and title. “I guess some things are universal, right?”

“Agreed, and I see your point.”

“Good. Another classic hallmark which I’m sure you’ve noticed is the excessive swearing and use of rather frank terms and phrases.” Kelly said with a slight frown.

“That I have noticed; both him and his security team do sound more profane than other members of the crew.”

“Mhm. It’s another joke that Aussies don’t have a filter, and will often say what needs to be said at the expense of themselves and others. On one hand, this can be a benefit as you can safely assume that they are being genuine in their remarks. On the other, that same trait can get them into serious trouble. Do you think the Captain would have made those announcements in the same fashion, and with the same phrases?”

“I do not, it is safe to say that our Captain would have been much more formal and polite about the entire ordeal.” Zan’via said resolutely, their trust in the Captain surpassing everything else.

“Would you have paid attention through the whole thing?” The follow up caught them off guard.

“I beg your pardon?”

“If the Captain was the one speaking, would you have paid attention and remembered everything they would have said?”

Zan’via had to stop and think for a moment, recalling some of the longer briefings they’ve had to attend with the rest of the engineering department. The Captain was no doubt a good speaker, but they could admit that some of the time the Captain spoke could have been better spent on moving along with the subject matter.

“I do not like admitting this, but it is likely that I would forget some topics that they would cover.”

“You aren’t the only one, and that’s most likely why the Chief speaks so frankly and casually. It keeps the audience relaxed yet alert at the same time, and it also helps deflate any tension and unease when topics like sexual relationships are brought up. That said, Chief knows the limit, and if he started swearing and cursing with every second or third word he knows that he’ll lose his audience and risk getting himself in trouble.” Kelly’s datapad chimed at her from her pocket, and she quickly glanced at a clock on a nearby wall. “Oh, damn. Zan’via, I’ll be happy to continue this conversation later. I’ve got a patient in the Eye-See-You that I need to attend to.”

“Very well, ‘Doc’.” Zan’via said with a smile as the doctor stood up and hurried away.

‘I’ll have to ask her what certain words mean, next time...’

[cellophanta]

voltron texting headcanons idk fight me

shiro: a true neutral texter. caps, sparing use of acronyms, enough punctuation to be understood. his only sin is that he leaves autocorrect on and sometimes it does him dirty. also often uses speech-to-text and you can tell because there’ll be a word in the middle of the message that makes no fucking sense. corrects typos immediately because he knows lance will make fun of him if he doesn’t.

lance: too lazy to turn off autocapitalize, so the beginnings of his sentences and his i’s are capitalized. no punctuation, a plethora of text speak (e.g. “v” for “very”). complex emoticons that he has saved as text shortcuts. spelling sucks. uses commas as ellipses. keymashes are chaotic and involve non-latin-alphabet characters somehow

keith: y’all are FOOLS acting like keith texts with proper capitalization and grammar.......he doesn’t have time for that......no caps, no punctuation, MANY typos, frequently shortens words to the first two letters and uses acronyms that he made up on the spot. nobody ever knows what the FUCK he’s talking about. instead of keymashing he’ll just repeat one letter for 4 lines.

hunk: proper capitalization and grammar. writes “haha” instead of “lol”. backwards smileys with noses. uses ten exclamation points to express excitement. always asking lance “OMG, how did you make that face?” impossible to tell if he’s being sarcastic/passive-aggressive or not. will send you a whole ass essay complete with works cited if you’re wrong about something.

pidge: the awkward texter. deadass responds to long posts with “lol” or “cool”. also many typos, but unlike the others she won’t correct them.  will use “u” and “you” in the same sentence. has a keymash saved as a shortcut so she doesn’t actually have to type it. pretty much the only person who can figure out keith’s texts other than shiro.

bonus under the cut:

allura: when she first gets a phone she uses proper grammar and punctuation, but that goes out the window within a month and she becomes more like lance. won’t text back for days because she forgets, but then responds as if it’s only been a few minutes. responds to things that make her happy with “!!!!!!”. writes “heehee” instead of “lol”. always sending pictures of literally everything.

coran: generally sticks to proper capitalization and grammar, but it gets pretty illegible if he’s excited. lots of smileys. the king of inventing new emoticons, preferably ones with mustaches. makes pictures out of slashes, dashes, and hyphens like people used to do in youtube comments, and sends them to everyone because he’s proud of them.

slav: can’t text fast enough to keep up with his thoughts, so records and sends audio messages instead. if he has to text, it’s either all caps or no caps because a mix of both looks weird to him. doesn’t really get emoticons at first, but once he realizes that they’re faces, uses them all the time.

[andaoe]

What is really determination?

We know that determination, or DT for short, is a very important thing in the Undertale universe. It is the power that lets you continue and finish the game, let people live and not die, make the monsters melt, etc. However, how is this possible? In this text, I am going to try to explain what determination really is, and how important it actually is. In other words, I am going to try to explain the science fiction of Undertale with real life science.

A soul is made out of energy, mostly determination which can be used for an example to destroy and heal; this is one of the conclusions I came up with after thinking about this.

To understand this, we first need to understand what monsters are. As you probably already know, there are some differences between humans and monsters. One being the fact that humans mostly are made out of mass/matter, while monsters are made mostly out of this “magic”, and not that much made out of mass/matter. Another difference between monsters and humans is what happens with their soul when they die, while a human’s soul can survive without a body, a monster’s soul will just die right after the body becomes dust. Because of this, there must be a connection between this “magic”, soul, and the mass/matter of a monster.

Now, we are going to look at something interesting, what happens when a monster gets more determination than they originally had? There is two places (both in time and x, y, z), where we can see what happens to a monster when they get more determination, in the True Lab (True pacifist run) and in the Boss fight with Undyne the Undying (Genocide run). Let us first look inside the True Lab.

In the True Lab, we encounter different types of fused monsters. In addition, as both Dr. Alphys and these “entry number #” signs have told us there, we learn that what happens when a monster gains determination. If these monsters have been dead, they would start to live, and after some time, the monsters would start to melt together into these strange looking monsters. We also learn that because the monsters’ body got determination, the monster souls did not leave the body/host, something that is not the case with the humans, possible because of what the bodies are made out of. Now we know there must be a connection between the body (and what it is made out of), the soul, and determination. Determination shapes the body of a monster’s body, and it would not let the soul leave the monster’s body.

Now, let us look at the Undyne the Undying boss fight: Before the Undyne the Undying boss battle start, Undyne almost died, but with what one could think is determination, she transforms into the Undyne the Undying and her stats values gets higher (if the writing makes sense). As soon as you defeat Undyne, it seems like she generate even more determination and starts to melt into a strange liquid, just like what happened to the monsters in the True Lab. This shows us that determination can be used to shape the monster’s stats/functions and body.

My hypothesis suggest that determination is the DNA of a monster’s body, and just like a monster’s body, if you mess with a cell’s DNA, the cell itself may become a mess. Of course, Alphys do tell us that these monsters was just not able to handle the determination because of the lack of mass/matter in their bodies. However, it should be noted that this was just in her eyes, not ours, of course, I could be wrong, but remember; Alphys do not really look like a good scientist based on her actions, I am pretty sure a normal and decent scientist would think about what actually happened with the monsters instead of injecting everything with determination. In addition, remember that we know/see things that Alphys do not know/see.

Now let us look at a soul’s abilities.  We can see that Flowey used all the six souls to become Omega Flowey, and what happened when Flowey used every single monster soul to become Asriel the God of Hyperdeath. I suggest that when a monster absorbs a soul, the soul of the monster combines with the soul, giving the monster an “upgrade”. In the God of Hyperdeath case, I do not think (based on what I know and my hypotheses) have infinite ATC or infinite DEF, they are just so high infinite are just to simplify the numbers.

Now, let us look at some of the special word/acronyms. According to some people, there are stats you can find that are acronyms, but I saw that these stats seemed to be different types of determination, here are the list of these stats and these special words and some of the functions I suggest they have:

- DT = DeTermination = Will to do something, can be converted into other forms/types of energy

- EXP = Execution Points = Determination to hurt, can be converted into LV

-  LV = LOVE = Level of ViolencE = Converted EXP, counts all of the stats together in one type of value (being LV), when this number rises, your determination from the EXP will be used to upgrade your other stats (the EXP will convert into the other stats)

- HP = HOPE = Hardiness Of PErsonality = I suggest that this personality could be the soul and the hardiness means how much determination it has to not split into pieces. When a monster takes damage, it loses HP because you are making the soul less hard

- ATK = Aggressive Tendency to Kill = How much determination your soul use to attack someone, there more determination then more damage will be done, this will convert into the attack (used by either/both magic or/and physical)

- DEF = Desire to Exist Further = this is clearly a type of determination (the desire); you use determination to resist an attack

Now, we are almost done with this. Let us look at the battle system. When you enter a battle with a monster, you see your soul being red, while the enemy you approach is black and white and the light between them. A very popular theory states that determination is red, so why are the monsters not red when they are also made out of determination? I suggest that the enemy you see and your soul are made out of determination, but they are only being red if they are using determination, they release red light if they us it. Your soul is in a form of a heart while the monsters have their normal look because as stated in the game, the humans are mostly made out of mass/matter while the monsters are mostly made out of magic (which I suggested is determination) and what you see in the battle is the souls.

In addition, if you look at Asgore’s weapon when he used it to destroy the mercy button (in a normal ending), that simply says that it is not true that everything that is not red do not have determination (it is just a weapon, not a living human nor a monster, not a soul). I suggest that is where Asgore released some of his determination in a form of red light he needed to destroy the mercy button.

Now, we are going to look at what happens with a soul if the host dies. As we see in the game, when a monster dies, it’s soul breaks into pieces. But, as my hypothesis suggest, it should be able to reconstruct the soul back to how it was before the host died, or you can construct a new soul (The game also tells us some of this). I guess this is what happened to both Asriel and Chara when they died on the flowers you can find in the beginning of the game. This explains how Asriel became Flowey, and how Chara possessed Frisk, especially when doing Genocide.

Now, let us look at the last part of this, the DT extractor and their lookalikes. As I write this now, I can think of four different DT-E: the original DT extractor, the Omega Flowey mouth thing, the Gaster Blaster and the Hyper Goner. This shows us how DT are being a type of energy/magic. It can extract determination from monsters and the world, and it can shoot determination. When you fight against Asriel the God of Hyperdeath, you will see the Hyper Goner sucks a lot of energy and determination from that world, it even sucked a lot of your HP from your soul.

My suggestion on what functions DT has:

- Determination can be shorten into DT

- DT is a type of energy that can be converted into other types of energy

- The soul is the “gene” of the host’s shape (if the body is made out of DT) and the host’s stats

- - The soul is made out of DT

- - DT is the genes of a soul

-  A Monster is made out of DT

- If a monster uses DT, it will loses some of their stats points

- If a monster gets hurt, it will lose some of their determination, losing some of their stats points (like DEF)

- When a monster has no more DT, the soul will break into pieces because you have destroyed it’s hardiness

- When a host dies, it’s soul breaks into pieces

- - These pieces can be used to reconstruct the soul, construct a new one, or become a part of another host

- DT can be used to hurt and heal a soul

- DT-E can both extract and shoot DT

- Maybe something more I have forgotten to write down

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1168

Monday, June 26, 2017

 It's the last week of June, so Canada Day is soon. With the country celebrating its 150th anniversary, this year is a big deal. I was 10-years-old when we had our centennial in 1967 and I was part of a children's choir that sang at city hall as part of the year-long celebration back then. We're getting together with friends for Canada Day come Saturday and I wish you all a great week and weekend.

 Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man #1 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Adam Kubert (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours). Get ready to be assaulted by an explosion of Spider-Man stuff as we near the theatrical release of the movie "Spider-Man Homecoming" on July 7. I still remember picking up Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man #1 off the spinner rack in 1976, happy that there was another comic book starring my favourite super hero. I wasn't sure I wanted to read this new incarnation because I am not a big fan of Chip's writing. I was not impressed with his work on the new Howard the Duck and Jughead books. My problem is that he comes across as too frenetic and eager to please by writing way too much. The double page spread with Peter and Johnny Storm having lunch together is a great example. Look at all them word balloons. The rest of the book is no better. Almost every panel is jammed full of word balloons. And what's with Peter leaving his mask on during lunch? Johnny knows his secret identity already. Wouldn't it have been more comfortable to take his mask off? I know I'm being picky but it's these little details that annoy me. The other thing that annoyed me was that I had to Google two acronyms to get what was being said. I'm an old fogey so I didn't know what NBD and NPC meant. Maybe it was to balance out all the other words used that "no big deal" and "non player character" were shortened. My quibbles are not enough to keep me from reading the next issue however because Chip pulls something out of the asphalt at the end that makes me want to find out more about the surprise person that Johnny meets. Well played Chip Zdarsky, well played.

 Batwoman #4 - Marguerite Bennett & James Tynion IV (writers) Steve Epting (art) Jeromy Cox (colours) Deron Bennett (letters). The first story arc ends with Kate and company saving the day. I was satisfied with how the story ended and there is enough mystery to keep me wanting to read more. What is Plan B and who is the shadowy figure in the last panel? I want to find out.

 Shirtless Bear-Fighter #1 - Jody Leheup & Sebastian Girner (writers) Nil Vendrell (art) Mike Spicer (colours) Dave Lanphear (letters). This takes place in a land where Yogi Bear would fit right in. The well endowed Shirtless Bear-Fighter's origin story is part Mowgli from Jungle Book and part Superman and part Punisher. This issue was mildly humorous but I didn't chuckle or laugh out loud. Maybe I'm too old. Is this the next Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #1? Or The Walking Dead #1? Do bears poop in the woods? Buy it, read it and you be the judge. I only read it because Ottawa's own Tom Fowler did one of the variant covers.

 W.M.D. Weapons of Mutant Destruction #1 - Greg Pak (writer) Mahmud Asrar (art) Nolan Woodard (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). I hope you've been reading the new Weapon X comic book with Old Man Logan, Sabretooth, et alia because this is a direct tie-in to what went on there. No worries if you haven't because Greg spells everything out very clearly. The good guys are fighting an evil anti-mutant organization that is creating mutant killers. The Totally Awesome Hulk is one of the good guys so look for part 2, 4 and 6 of the story in that book. Parts 3 and 5 are in Weapon X. I'm reading them all.

 Aquaman #25 - Dan Abnett (writer) Stjepan Sejic (art & colours) Steve Wands (letters). This title has gone "Game of Thrones" but that's not why I took this extra-sized anniversary issue off the racks to read. It was the cover and interior art by Stjepan Sejic that made me want to give this book another try. I sure am glad I did. The story of a new power mad King of Atlantis and the return of the usurped King isn’t anything new but the beautiful art makes it more exciting to me. Stjepan knows how to draw hot women and Mera and Dolphin gives him plenty of opportunity to show that off. Aquaman is going back on my "must read" list.

 Crosswind #5 - Gail Simone (writer) Cat Staggs (illustrator) Simon Bowland (letters). It's nice to see Gail back on the racks again. Here she does a grown up version of Freaky Friday where a housewife and a mob enforcer switch bodies. Juniper and Cason are introduced pre switcheroo, which happens at the end of this issue. I can't wait to see what happens next. Cat's art is nice and that made it easy to put this new book on my "must read" list.

 Plastic #3 - Doug Wagner (writer) Daniel Hillyard (art) Laura Martin (colours) Ed Dukeshire (letters). The "hero" of this story is a psychotic killer but I like him a lot. A damsel in distress who may suffer a fate worst than death (haven't heard that cliché in a while eh?) plays a big role in this issue. Punisher fans will like this series.

 Royal City #4 - Jeff Lemire (writer & illustrator) Steve Wands (letters). This is a really cool ghost story. Patrick's thoughts about aging hit close to home.

 Archie #21 - Mark Waid (writer) Pete Woods (art & colours) Jack Morelli (letters). OMG (I know what that means) they killed…! You have to read this issue to find out who.

 The Mighty Thor #20 - Jason Aaron (writer) Russell Dauterman & Valerio Schiti (art) Matthew Wilson & Veronica Gandini (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). Loved the Walt Simonson tribute cover by Patrick Brown. Speculator alert: it's the first appearance of a new Thor. You won't believe who it is. What motivates this guy to pick up the hammer is heart wrenching and the bad guys are going to get it. I can't wait to see him in action. There's a scene between Jane Foster and the Odinson that puts into question the fate of the Mighty Thor. I really hope she sticks around.

 Batman #25 - Tom King (writer) Mikel Janin (art) June Chung (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). What made last issue worth reading was the kaboom on the last page. This whole issue is worth it for the build up to "The War of Jokes and Riddles". It's Batman versus the Joker and the Riddler and it's super intense. Mikel's art is the cherry on top and it's yummy. Batman is getting really good again.

 Wildstorm #5 - Warren Ellis (writer) Jon Davis-Hunt (art) Steve Buccellato (colours) Simon Bowland (letters). You should read this. It's all coming together beautifully.

 Luke Cage #2 - David F. Walker (writer) Nelson Blake II (art) Marcio Menyz (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). This is an uh-oh issue as Luke investigates what the scientist that gave him his super powers was up to. Kind of reminded me of Orphan Black.

 Superman #25 - Patrick Gleason & Peter J. Tomasi (writers) Doug Mahnke & Patrick Gleason (pencils) Jaime Mendoza, Mick Gray, Joe Prado, Ray McCarthy, Scott Hanna & Matt Santorelli (inks) Wil Quintana & John Kalisz (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). The conclusion to "Fade to Black" has guest stars galore and highlights the core of this title as the good guys prevail. I've enjoyed this book more because of the family values that Clark, Lois and Jonathan embody and the art is spectacular.

 Star Wars: Darth Vader #2 - Charles Soule (writer) Giuseppe Camuncoli (pencils) Cam Smith (inks) David Curiel (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). By the way Vader is mowing down storm troopers he must be really pissed at his boss. We find out who he's going to get his light sabre from in this issue. From the looks of the next issue teaser, it's going to be a scorcher.

 Nick Fury #3 - James Robinson (writer) Aco (pencils) Hugo Petrus (inks) Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) Travis Lanham (letters). This is freaking awesome. All you fans out there not reading this are missing out on some excellent writing and art. This reminds me of how I felt when I first saw Jim Steranko's art on Nick Fury Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. in the sixties as a teenager. Aco and Hugo's art with Rachelle's colours is so pretty and pops off the page. Buy this book.

 Super Sons #5 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Alisson Borges (art) Hi-Fi (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). Few writers know how to make young adults sound genuine but Peter is one of them. This issue establishes Jon and Damian as the young dynamic duo. I can't wait to see what they get up to next.

 Invincible Iron Man #8 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Stefano Caselli (art) Marte Gracia (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). This sets up next issue's fight with Lady Von Bardas. We'll see how bardas she really is.

[skookumfiles]

Case 117: Ole’ Yeller

S.C.U.C.M (Skookum) files: Case 117- Ole Yeller                It was a pretty standard infestation case of a nest of werewolves in a liberal town, on a University campus, woven into the on and off campus life. The risk management assessors of interdimensional insurance had been monitoring the situation and noticed the disappearance rate and pack size had begun to proceed at an increasing pace. At the next full moon, there would be an easily predicted mathematically significant event known as a rising. The pack would consume a large number of pedestrians and turn an even greater number. Policy holder risk was becoming too great, as was the visibility of both Social Justice Warriors and Werewolves on this particular earth.                Every mundane agency uses contractors for roof leaks, termites, and the occasional oddball problem of Africanized honey bees. Interdimensional insurance was no different. You can’t beat someone at what they do for a living, so you pay the people who specialize in the problem to make it go away discreetly so the neighbors aren’t alarmed.                So it is with werewolves that the contracts were nearly exclusively handled across dimensions by a group of enthusiastic individuals under the umbrella of an S-corporation known as Social Justice Complications and Unintentional Consequences Management. Skookum, as they were known in the insurance business breakrooms, were capable of handling a broad range of lycanthropes, aquatic leviathan, genetically mutated horrors, and your occasional chimera. They were particularly good at sniffing out the clever ones who embedded in the social justice communities where people made any number of excuses that allowed the proverbial, and literal, wolf into the henhouse. Their handling of the great werebear incident on Earth 2312 was legendary in the halls of numerous branches of the agency, mostly because the underwriters were ready to write off the whole planet as a loss- and that would have been a significant ding to their reputation of good customer service. Some even had Skookum coffee mugs and calendars at their desk. It was rare to find an agent without a Skookum pen or pencil that they protected jealously, especially one with Georgia’s name on it.                That’s the secret to risk abatement: value. Underpromise and over deliver.                If you can maintain assets, discretion, and a thorough routing of the problem, you’re a top shelf contractor who understands customer service to the agency, and by extension the ethic of customer service the agency extends to customers.                The case #117 is a classic example of how the agency now refers to making a problem Skookem when it seems impossibly out of hand for the average or beginner who is more suited to groundhogs, vampire voles, or the troublesome Gleendoric parasites of Earth 220. ______________________________

The meeting was going over time, but the rapt attention that most were paying to PeaceLilly was signaling that the meeting of the social justice and equality league (Not every acronym has to form an English word, you Anglo-normative ethnocentric paraquat- PeaceLilly). Peace Lilly had begun by talking about the peace garden project they were due to be working on that weekend, even though the neighborhood they’d be driving to in her biodiesel powered Mercedes wagon needed clean needles and a grocery store more than a garden. When she got going she passed the garden project by in short order and launched into a speech about diversity and how they all needed to check their privilege when in a neighborhood populated by POC (people of color) and to remember that gender bias was stronger in those poorer and darker cultures. That led into another 10 minutes of speaking about how if someone hit on them that they should feel ok with hooking up because people would never be able to experience the culture of University life when so poor and hopeless. Knowing what it’s like to have sex with a college student could be valuable to the residents and spur them toward higher education.

The room responded with “right on” and “yes!” shouts to all of these exhortations as she moved on from pity sex to reminding the 2 males in the room that they should be open to hooking up with men or women because they were so privileged that discomfort was something that would bring them closer to the experiences of the women and fluid genders around them.                Below them, on the ground floor of the student center for activities and outreach, the doors automatically closed and locked to the outside as the clock struck 5 PM. The dull thud and bright click echoing through the halls, reminded everyone that the official time for the meeting was up, but they would stay as long as they liked, or until some white male came to tell them to leave.                “Uh, PeaceLilly, I thought we were going to have food tonight?” asked one scrawny guy who was sitting in the back of the room.                “Yes, there will be a meal.” She said, looking irritated that he interrupted her while she was taking a breath between rants. “We have a guest coming and then we’ll start.”                As if on cue, a polite knock on the door interrupted the man from asking any more questions. Peace Lilly opened the door and turned with a big grin to the group.                “Everyone, meet Ember Moon! She is tonight’s guest here to talk about more social justice topics and what it’s like to be a female in a male dominated field.”                Ember stepped into the room. Her patchouli scented patchwork clothing swished as the corduroy sections brushed against each other with her strides to the front of the room. Her big head of mousey dishwater blonde dreds swayed down to her lower back in big fat links of matted and rolled perfection. Her sizeable belly poked from under her dull scissors shortened Joan Jett t-shirt.                Everyone in the room kind of held their breath as she dramatically paused before she started.                “I kind of like to ground myself in the space. Really connect with the energy of the room. You all smell really great and have such a nice energy. I’m guessing you’re all vegetarians or vegans, right?” She began in a low and husky voice of a woman who had been smoking a lot of weed for a long time. Her sallow face was marked with the lines of either laughter or pain, maybe both. She looked to be between 30 and 50, but who can tell when you abandon personal grooming for a philosophical statement about your personal values?                “We’re all plant based consumers, except for Keightlynn and the gentleman in the back- I’m sorry, what’s your name?” PeaceLilly interjected.                “Uh, my name is Tommy. My pronouns are cis dominant, but I self identify as a non-gendered being of light having a physical experience.” Jimmy said matter of factly. “I, uh, eat meat as a part of my physical experience.”                Peacelilly seemed to soften a bit toward Jimmy after he introduced himself. Maybe he wasn’t just here for a free meal. after all?                “So, who is Keightlynn?” Ember inquired. “Just raise your hand. We’re not on a witch hunt here. Just want to know who the carnivore is.”                A small but fit young woman in the 2nd row, near the door Peacelilly was standing beside, raised her hand. In a meek voice she declared herself to be “here” wherever that may be in the philosophical landscape.                She was dressed in a pair of loose fitting pants, sported some shoulder length black dreds over a black tshirt, and her pale skin had a nice glow to it. She didn’t seem as hollow cheeked and spindly as the rest, even in a seated position.                Ember pointed to her with a quick jab of her right hand and said “cool…” as she seemed to make a mental note.                Ember began to speak about the need for outreach, and about how the world needs us to go out and find the people willing to listen to the truth and actually hear it. Naturally this was women and POC, but in rare exceptions those outside the spheres of the downtrodden could be reached as well. “White people” she said with a sneer, despite her own caucasian features and skin, were the problem until you could “reverse brainwash” them.                Two hours passed and as the sun went down the silvery light of the moon illuminated the sidewalks and vehicles parked outside the building.

               Ember moved on from the ideas of simple outreach to talk about “food deserts” and how many people didn’t know how difficult it was for some to obtain food in their communities due to special dietary needs, lack of decent food sources, and the privilege of some to deny others what they needed through stigma. Privilege was a main problem, apparently. The root of all things negative and oppressive were wrapped around the vague idea of privilege, particularly the ideas around food culture and dietary necessity.

A loud knock on the doors downstairs made Peace Lilly excuse herself to “let more guests in.”                “So, when are we going to eat?” Tommy, the being of light, interrupted again.                “Oh, we’re not going to eat.” Ember continued, glancing out at the silvery light bathing the parking lot. “Well, you’re not.”                She walked over to the window and stood in the moonlight. Her skin began to darken and her limbs began to thicken. Her face grew and triangulated as big sharp teeth replaced her peglike human chompers.  In just a few seconds she had gained at least a foot in height and was covered in a blonde coat of thick hair. Her patch work clothes had fallen to the floor and her Joan Jett t-shirt was stretched tight across her chest. She ripped it off with a quick slash of her claws.                The room full of plant grazers moved quickly to the door, finding it locked. They began beating on the door. Tommy shoved them out of his way and put his shoulder into the steel door, a loud thump issuing into the empty hallways outside.                Then a noise of metal sliding across a cheap vinyl floor sounded and the door swung open into the hallway. The mass of crying and frightened smelly people started out the door then scurried back in, like a school of fish moving away from a shark. Two more werewolves stepped into the doorway and blocked egress from the room. Both dark haired and smaller than Ember, but still larger than PeaceLilly who stepped into the room between them.  She locked the door behind her.                One of them began sniffing the air and followed his nose over to Keightlynn who was still seated in the 2nd row by the door. He let out a little cough, like he smelled something rancid, and looked over at Tommy, then at Ember.                Ember nodded toward the mass of people in the corner of the room and the two began to herd them tighter into the corner.                Peacelilly held up both hands to the group.                “Diversity is one of our most cherished values. And we all must check our privilege of thinking we are the top of the food chain. We all have a chance now to be lupine-Americans, if we wish to engage in a participant observation that will change the way people see eating meat and not supporting their neighbors of all colors.”                She looked over at Keightlynn who was still in her chair.                The two smaller ones got closer to the group, smelling them and licking their faces with long red hot tongues. Finally, overcome with bloodlust, they jerked one girl out of the crowd, a vegan named Mary Bell who had the muscle tone of a tomato and the fat content of a broccoli stalk. They tore wildly at her body, swallowing entire chunks of her, pushing her long bones into the corner of their mouths to crack them open and eat her marrow.                The mass of people in the corner screamed and writhed into an impossibly small wad as blood sprayed on them from Mary Bell’s punctured body, and the sound of her bones and flesh being torn and rent filled the space between high pitched wails.                There was another heavy pounding on the door.                PeaceLilly opened the door and let one more werewolf in, quickly closing and locking it again.                “Everyone is here. Good.” She said, shoving the key in the medicine bag that hung off her neck. “Now, everyone calm down. It’s time to decide if you want to be part of the solution, or part of the problem. Checking your privilege has never been as important as it is right now.”                The third smaller werewolf, overcome with bloodlust, jumped on Mary Bell’s head and began gnawing at it, causing the three to engage in a rolling fight with one another as Ember looked on.                PeaceLilly then changed and jumped into the fracas, pushing them all away from their meal. She was smaller than Ember and bigger than the 3. She managed them easily despite their numbers.                It was then that PeaceLilly, now a dark, large, and panting werewolf, began to walk back to the mass of screaming social justice club members and began savagely eyeing them.                Suddenly she was knocked clear across the room and began kicking desks and chairs away from her as she writhed on the floor holding the side of her head.                The three smaller ones turned in time to see Keightlynn coming at them. One, two, three, all of their heads were severed from their bodies and gouts of red blood gushed onto the floor as their bodies fell limply and began to turn human again. Keightlynn leapt over 4 desks with a battered bronze blade in one hand and a pair of old brass knuckles in the other.                PeaceLilly snarled and started to leap at her and caught another left hand in the face, the silver cast into the knucks burning and caving in part of her head. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth across her hideous teeth and she fell back dazed. Her head struggled to repair itself around the impact of the silver, but it was not nearly quick enough. A moment later and the bronze sword found her neck, her heavy lupine head hitting the floor with a hollow thud as it began to turn human again.                The Social Justice club kept screaming, still tightly coiling and writhing. They were a primal frightened mass unable to make a coherent thought.

Now Ember’s eyes widened in fear as Keightlynn stepped toward her.                “Ah-ite, ole yeller. End of the line for you.” Keightlynn said in a thick East Tennessee accent.                Ember quickly morphed back into her human form. Only very old and very powerful werewolves could do that neat trick at will during a full moon.                “That name is ableist and ageist! You don’t understand, but if you’d just listen…” She began.  “You have the privilege of eating meat and yet you would begrudge us our goddess given right to…”                Keightlynn’s left hand flashed again and the knucks caught a glancing blow on Ember’s chin, though it would have been a knockout if Ole Yeller hadn’t feinted to the right so quickly.                Instantly, Ember changed back to her werewolf form and with a deafening snarl leap at Keightlynn.                Unfazed, bored even, Keightlynn moved toward her, then to the side, causing Ember to have to recalculate and turn to see where she was going. A left caught Ember on the side of the head changing her northbound leap into an Eastbound rolling tangle of hairy limbs and falling teeth that all piled up against the wall. The Social Justice club continued to shriek and try to shrink to nothing in vain.                One young man who came to the University as Jeremiah Simms, and was now simply called Trayvon, put a hand on each side of his head and shrieked “Mamaaaaaaaa!!!” as he scuttled backward against the wall, his eyes wide with terror and confusion.                Keightlynn stepped over to Ember who was trying to gather herself to counter the whack to her head that smoked and bled.                A quick swing of the bronze blade, mostly with the wrist, not the broad desperate swing you see in movies, and Ember’s head hit the cheap vinyl floor with the same watermelon thud as the others.                “Four weeks. It took me four weeks to track you from UCLA to Berkeley to UT and here to South Carolina. Lotta dead kids. Lotta damage. But I knew I was gonna put you down. Wish it was sooner than later, but done is done.” Keightlynn zipped open the fanny pack on her waist and hooked a short tether onto the pommel of her bronze blade. She dropped the whole sword into the depth of the small fanny pack and zipped it up. Then she reached over and touched something on her knucks. An instant later, she only had a thin brass ring on her middle finger. She sent a text on her phone quickly as Trayvon stared at her from across the room and shouted “thank you, Keightlynn! You saved us!” “Mah name ain’t Keightlynn, dipshit.” She said, sending one more text after a beep noted she’d received a response. Suddenly the door opened and the room was filled with people in Tyvek suits and respirators who were putting Mary Bell, Ember, PeaceLilly, and the others in heavy plastic bags. “Well, what is your name?” Trayvon queried loudly as the others were starting to flag from the adrenaline and panic they’d been maintaining. “Georgia, from Tennessee.” She said in a distracted tone, picking up a small but complicated looking hand held radio that one of the cleanup techs handed her. “Hay Stranger, you got your ears on?” “Tom Stranger, here. Are we…” he paused “Skookum?” “Yeah, code name Ole Yeller got herself put down.” Georgia said matter of factly. “We should be Skookum tight and wrapped up in a jiffy.” “I can always count on you.” Stranger said, a chuckle crackling over the radio. “Well, darlin’. Customer service is so very important.” Georgia cooed into the mic, a small smirk spreading across one corner of her mouth.  “And you are my fay-vo-rite customer.” She flipped the radio back into the hands of the cleanup tech and walked out the door into the hall as Tom Stranger’s voice crackled something over the airwaves that didn’t sound like insurance business.