#it took me like half an hour to find the original source and i only found it through other aes blogs that DID source their stuff ;-;

[tomiyeee]

small food + painting studies bc i'm not great at either and want to get better ;w;

(cake is from @/aprilsbakerlondon on instagram!)

[crimsonender]

Mikaila Orchard sucks at Paneling

I debated making this a video or not. But, I decided against it. If you guys are interested in me making videos about this sort of thing, let me know and perhaps it's something I could cover in the future.

So Mikaila Turkleson aka Mikaila Orchard has always made... questionable art. To me it seems like a weird amalgamation of Equestria Girls and Sophie Labelle's art. Anatomy bad character design bad etc etc. I don't however see a lot of people talk about her paneling.

Recently, Mikaila and presumably her partner, Lily Orchard started a new art endeavour. I assume to turn over a new leaf and bury the now-infamous Pokemadhouse. You can find it over at bhaalspawnfunnies. It appears as if the blog will focus around the player character of Baldur's Gate 1, Gorion's Ward, and their half sister, Imoen. This is the first entry.

Source

Where to start? My first impression is that this is very poorly drawn, and low effort even by Mikaila's standards. The speech bubbles are low contrast against the background. The ground/floor blurry blob looks extremely bad. As a fellow artist I get the distinct impression that Mikaila did not want to draw this piece.

Moreover, there's a huge issue with the panelling and pacing. Comics are really cool in that you can kind of use panelling and negative space to "time" jokes, leading the eye where you want it to go and using framing and other art tricks to make a punchline land a little better.

This "comic" has none of that. There is no pacing, there is no comedic timing. It's all bland and presented as a block. I took it upon myself to re-panel this piece, and I've made two versions: One, with Mikaila's art style and visuals, but with the panelling slightly adjusted to be more punchy and effective, the other I completely redrew, using the same joke.

Excuse the sloppiness. I'm not going to expend too much energy polishing and gilding this turd.

That being said, this is already a huge improvement. Even if Mikaila isn't at the technical level of a professional artist, this is very attainable with only a few more minutes of effort. The timing is punchier, the speech bubbles draw your eyes down the page, and even without colour coding, it's clear which of the characters is talking. This isn't exactly a hot take but in my opinion you shouldn't need colour coding on a comic page to denote who is speaking. It should be very obvious! Moreover, speech bubbles should be included in the composition, not added as an after thought.

I'm guessing the original comic took her less than an hour to make. I think I'm being generous here, honestly if this took her more than twenty minutes I would be concerned. Being generous though I gave myself one hour to make a version completely redrawn.

This was again, very quickly put together and of course is in no way perfect, but its to demonstrate what a little bit of thought can do to improve a comic page. I decided to change the pose of Gorion because making family guy references should be a a cardinal sin for artists, as well as make the characters a little more recognizable. "Aryana" is, notably, Lily's OC and bears little resemblance to the canon character of Gorion's Ward, but considering Baldurs Gate does allow character customization and dialogue choices, I decided to make their gender a little more ambiguous so players of any gender could see their version of Gorion's Ward in the comic, but kept the elf with long dark hair appearance from Mikaila's original. I also looked over the pic after I was all done and ready to upload and noticed some small flaws I could easily fix, and went back and did those things. You should always go over your pieces when you're finished them with fresh eyes before you submit them as a final piece.

Again, this certainly isn't perfect and I'd probably put more effort into a piece with characters I care about and a joke I actually find funny, but I hope this demonstrates that pacing and expression really are everything in comics.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

i'd like to know how bi (bisexual or biromantic) paul barras could be said to be.

The best evidence of Barras being attracted to men I’ve found in the hostile pamphlet Les Brigands démasqués, ou Mémoires pour servir à l'histoire du temps présent, etc (1796) by Auguste Danican. On page 103 of said pamphlet we can read the following:

[Before the revolution] Barras, finding himself without resources, joined all the Greeks, and was himself an excellent Greek (although he understood neither Homer nor Lucian). He was seen a lot at the Hôtel d'Anglais, the usual meeting place for a crowd of swindlers; he lived modestly on a fourth floor, rue Champ-Fleury; went from time to time to core two imperial écus, and found himself in terrible distress.

The work Sodome à Paris: protohistoire de l’homosexualité masculine fin XVIIIe - milieu XIXe siècle (2009) by Thierry Pastorello, besides bringing up Danican, also mentions that ”Talleyrand tells the story of the drowning of Raymond Valz on July 15 1797, Raymond was Barras’ young lover. Raymond drowned himself under the eyes of Barras who would have shown signs of pain so big that one said he had just lost his mistress.” However, checking what Talleyrand actually writes about this incident in his memoirs, at least I have a hard time reading this as evidence Barras was romantically attracted to Valz, nor can I find the exact formulation that Barras mourned him like a mistress:

Whilst I was engaged in reading I don’t recollect what work, two young men came in to ascertain the time by the drawing-room clock, and seeing that it was only half-past three, they said to each other: ”We have to go for a swim.” They had not been gone twenty minutes, when one of them returned asking for help; I ran, with all the persons of the house, to the riverside. Facing the garden, between the high road and the island, the Seine forms a kind of whirlpool in which one of the young men had disappeared. The watermen of the neighbourhood soon rowed to the spot, and two of them most courageously dived to the bottom. However, with all the efforts they made to save the unfortunate fellow proved vain. I went back to the house. The corpse of the young man was only found the next day caught in weeds, at a spot distant more than six hundred yards from the place where he disappeared. The drowned was named Raymond, Lodève was his birthplace. Barras was very fond of him; he had brought him up and, since he had been appointed a Director, he had made him his aide-de-champ. I was alone in the drawing-room, not knowing exactly what to do. Who was to tell Barras the misfortune that had just befallen him? I had never seen the Director. My position was really unpleasant. A carriage drove up. On opening the door, the gardener said: ”M. Raymond has just been drowned, yes Citizen Director, he has just been drowned.” Barras crossed the front yard, and rushed upstairs to his room, crying out aloud. After waiting some little time, one of his servants told him I was in the drawing-room. He sent word to excuse his not coming down, and requesting me to sit down to dinner at once. The secretary who accompanied him remained upstairs. Thus, I was alone at Barras’ table. A quarter of an hour having elapsed, a servant came to request me to go up to the Director’s room. I felt thankful for his supposing that, under the circumstances, the dinner served to me could have no attraction. I felt quite upset. As I entered his room, he took hold of both my hands and embraced me; he was weeping.

Pastorello’s work also brings up historian Oliver Blanc, who in L’amour à Paris au temps de Louis XVI(2002) apparently notes ”that in 1793, Barras, finding himself in Draguignan, meets a young barber that he finds to his liking, Victor Grand.” Here we can again return to the original source, which is Barras’ memoirs (though do enlighten me if there’s more info on Grand and Valz) and see what he writes about, as he calls him, his aide-de-camp. This is the only interaction described between them that I’ve been able to find:

[After escaping from prison] Victor Grand came in haste to throw his arms about me; it was with pleasure that I once more beheld this young man, who had already won my entire confidence, and was one of the few who never ceased to be worthy of it. 

Other than that, Pastorello only cites more historians that claim Barras was attracted to men — Michel Larivière who in Homosexuels et bisexuels célèbres (1997) ”notes that Barras has the reputation of loving boys,” Michel Missofile who in Le cœur secret de Talleyrand (1956) notes ”that Barras lived in absence of any female presence with his man of trust François Roland, his piqueur Louis Copillon and his aide-de-camp Raymond Valz” and claims he was ”this seducer without a mistress, this husband without a home.” On Barras’ wikipedia we can also read that historian Jacques-Olivier Boudon apparently qualifies Barras as ”one of the best-known homosexuals of the time” whose “interest in young men was common knowledge at the time” in his Le sexe sous l'Empire (2019). I don’t have access to any of these books, so I unfortunately can’t check if these people use any more primary sources to argue their case.

In this post @tierseta does however bring attention to a part in Fouché’s memoirs, where he writes Barras had both ”courtiers (a masculine word) and mistresses”:

The exaggerated disparagement of his behavior and moral principles was precisely what attracted to him a court of swarming schemers (intrigants et intrigantes) and vampires. He was then in rivalry with Carnot, and maintained a favorable public opinion only by the idea that, if need be, he would be seen on horseback, defying, as on the 13th of Vendémiaire, any hostile attempt; as a matter of fact, he contrasted with [his image of] the Prince of the Republic, occasionally going hunting, having trained dog packs, courtiers and mistresses.

Finally, according to this anon, Barras had sex with and raped both women and men but only felt affection towards the latter group, and also got raped by his father on several occasions as a child. As the best source for this is given Barras’ biographer Henry Monteagle, whose work unfortunately has never gotten published and is extremely hard to obtain, but Barras apparently also talks about his attraction to men and abuse committed by his father in his memoirs. I have to admit I failed to find anything when searching for the word ”father” in the version of the memoirs linked within the post, and I don’t have time to read the entire memoirs to check if he says anything about his relation to other men in them (and I’m probably not the best person to do either since I’m pretty bad at reading subtext), but there might be something in there…

[by-speaker]

GUESS WHO IS BACK!! IT'S YOUR BOY!

I just realize I never post here my pissa coffee shop x mafia au.

My bad. So you guys get the story and a little drawing.

So I present to you, "The Barista who kidnapped me (by accident!)"

Americano

“American coffee is a brew of espresso and hot water”.

Missa was tired, studying nursing and having a part-time job wasn't doing his poor, failing mental health and his even poorer, non-existent sleep schedule any favours. 

At least his shifts matched his best friend, Phillip, he was working to pay for his degree, the son of a bitch didn't have a single scholarship, and his parents could only afford to pay for his accommodation on the island, so he had to fund it somehow.  

It was freezing cold when Missa took one foot out of bed, he rubbed his eye and looked at the clock, it was half past four in the morning, Virgencita, what one does for money, he thought to himself. 

He took his dressing gown from behind the door, petting to Luis Miguel, What I would give to live like this dog, he eats better than me. He gave the doggie a smile and went into the bathroom. His day was going to be long enough. 

He opened his fridge, to at least get something in his stomach, other than coffee, all he had was two beers, a piece of mouldy cheese, a ham of dubious origin and a bit of milk. He would have to go shopping. 

Resigned, he gulped down the bit of milk and ate the rest of the cereal, leaving Spreen’s allowance on the counter and a quick note to let him know when he went to the supermarket to deposit what he was missing. He gave Luismi a couple more strokes and left to work. 

It was around five in the morning when he arrived at the shop, Phillip was heating up the espresso machine and the smell of pastries and coffee was already filling the air. 

“Good morning, little star, the earth says hello.” Said Phillip, too happy and too energetic for five in the morning, “Would you like some coffee? I need to warm up the machine before the licenciado arrives.”

“Yeah, give me one.” Missa said, putting on his apron to start setting up the tables.

Phillip set a steaming mug on the counter, and began to arrange the pastries in the machine, “Your coffee, princess.”

“Thank you,” Missa took a sip from his American coffee cup, looking at the phrase on his hand Hey mate, can I have an American coffee, five espresso, no sugar. That was the reason he'd taken the job, waiting for this stupid, itching-to-die, yeah, Missa was pretty sure his soul mate was an architecture student or something, they were the only ones, (apart from those who studied pedagogy, but Missa knows he wasn't a pedagogy student, because he had already had a fight with all of them) who consumed so much caffeine. 

“Good morning! How's the gang?” Quackity said entering the café with a smile, he was wearing his blue suit and a red tie, as well as his trademark blue cap. “Phillip pouring me a latte, I've got some gossip for you.”

At the sound of the coffee machine, Quackity sat at the bar while the other two Latinos went about their business. 

“Okay,” Phillip said, placing the coffee in front of Quackity, “tell us, tell us.”

Missa went about his day, not really interested in Quackity's old wives' tales, finished his coffee, mopped the floors, got the pastries and served the first 5 customers when Quackity finally got to the point. 

“So I guess he's my soul mate.” Quackity said finishing his latte. 

Missa took the cup out of his hands to wipe the counter, “Just for that? It could be anyone.”

“You just don't get it, Missa,” Quackity said, handing the money to Phillip, “I swear it is my soul mate.”

Missa rolled his eyes, Quackity had a habit of ‘finding’ his soul mate every week, the news was getting old. 

So the hours passed, Quackity said his goodbyes to go to his legal law class, Missa and Phillip continued to serve people, being the only source of caffeine on campus was no doubt a pain in the ass for everyone involved. 

It was 8:50, they had finally had a moment of peace, when Missa noticed his best friend's hand, the phrase ‘How many shots of espresso can you legally put in a cup?’ was gone. 

“Phillip,” Missa said, taking his friend's hand, “it's gone!”

The Chilean shrieked, taking his hand to get a better look at it, he hadn't even noticed that the phrase was gone. 

“How the fuck did I not notice? It's not like it's a very common question.”

Missa laughed, “It's your luck, I swear. Just think, who would ask something like that?”

Phillip sighed, these things only happened to him, he tried to remember, but no one came to mind. 

“I'm guessing a morning guy?” the Chilean said, trying to think who it could be. 

Missa patted him on the back a couple of times, “Give or take, a hundred people came in this morning, 70 or so were men.”

The Chilean stood up and mumbled a soft ‘puta la wea’ to start cleaning the coffee machine. Missa laughed and started refilling the blueberry muffins, he knew the boy genius and his guard dog would come for their coffees and muffins. 

They both work in silence, until Missa's light bulb went off, he knew who Phillip's soul mate was, well, he didn't know his name, but he knew who he was. 

“The boy with the pink hair, who sits in the corner with those dusty books on the history of the island.” He said to Phillip when they had finally finished with the second wave of customers. 

‘What?’ Phillip said, scratching the back of his head. 

Missa snorted in annoyance and brought her palm up to his face, “The one you're afraid of and never want to serve?”

All the colour drained from Phillip's face, Tatita Dios really hated him, why did his soul mate have to be the most capable assassin in the entire Quesadilla Island mob? 

“The… The mobster?” he said, almost in a shriek.  

Missa started laughing, “That's hearsay Phillip, besides, if he's a mobster at least he has money.”

Phillip was still pale, unable to process the idea that his soul mate was someone so intimidating, “It couldn't be, Missa. How could I…?” He started, but was interrupted by the sound of the bell.

They both turned to see a tall boy entering the café. His pink hair was unmistakable, and his red eyes scanned the place before heading towards the usual corner. He sat down without a word, opening one of those dusty books.

Missa nudged Phillip. “There it is. It's your chance.”

“My chance to what, die of a heart attack?” Phillip muttered, glancing warily toward the corner.

“To meet your soul mate, you idiot,” Missa shot back, nudging him gently. “You go and service him. I'll cover the counter.”

Phillip made the most loaded coffee he could legally brew and a heart biscuit with strawberry jam in the centre, and shakily approached the table.

Missa laughed as he watched his best friend walk like Bambi to the pink-haired boy's table, and continued to serve the people. He had finally finished his morning shift, he had enough time to go to his flat, take a shower, and get to his Pathophysiology class on time, even get something to eat before that.

“Phillip, I have time to get something to eat, do you want a grilled cheese?”

Missa turned around, expecting his best friend to nod or hold up his thumb for Missa to make him a loaf, but Phillip was shivering behind the counter watching the pink haired boy eat the heart shaped cracker.

“Phillip?” Said Missa waving his hand in front of his friend's face, “wey, talk to him, don't be an idiot.”

“I can't,” Phillip said, “he told me he didn't order anything and I didn't know what to say to him.”

Missa sighed, “Well, good luck, I left your bread in the oven, see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, see you.”

(…)

His Physiopathology class lasted longer than Missa thought it would, he was tired, he had been awake since five in the morning, and it was seven in the evening, he really didn't know how he was still standing.

He left the E building, really hoping he could go home and sleep in, when a suspicious DIN! Distracted him, looking at his mobile phone, he saw the text from his brother.

Bad abortion attempt

Forgot to go to the shop 😔.

You go.

Missa grunted, his day was long enough, now he would have to go to the shop. What Missa didn't know was that someone was following him. That someone was Philza Craft, who had realized that the chestnut was his soul mate, and that clearly the other hadn't noticed. 

In fact, Philza was waiting for the perfect moment to approach his soul mate. He waited for him to come out of the shop so he could approach him and talk to him, maybe even help him get the bags into his cart. 

“Hey, mate!” said the blond trying to get the brunet's attention, “I saw you today at the campus cafeteria, and I'm not really a student, but I wanted to get a coffee for a friend and -”

Philza didn't get to finish his sentence when the pretty boy, knocked him out, with a quick hip bump hit him in the back and as he moved with the beat of the music hit him in the stomach and fell into the boot of his soul mate's little 2004 Subaru Impreza, who apparently hadn't noticed the man in his boot. 

Missa sat behind the wheel, exhausted, the only thing he wanted to do when he got to his flat was to take a long, hot shower and sleep until the next day without waking up once. What Missa didn't know was that his night was going to be ruined because of a certain blond in his boot. 

He finally arrived at his destination, he sat for a couple of minutes with his head on the steering wheel, totally exhausted, he really didn't want to have to come home and be the responsible adult, but that was his responsibility. He sighed, and opened his boot to take out his groceries, what he didn't expect was to see a handsome man lying on the side of his food. 

“AAA!”

[barleyo]

do you take requests if so for the love of god do more boomhauer please it was so damn hot <3 love your work btw

Straight Tequila Night.

Jeff Boomhauer X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, and yes, requests are always open! Sorry for the excruciatingly long wait, sweetheart. I'm pretty worthless when it comes to getting requests done in a timely manner, sorry!! This is heavily based off of John Anderson's Straight Tequila Night, so I suggest listening to it while you read. Whoever can find the most references to the song in the fic wins, haha!

Wordcount: 3.4K

Tags: P*rn with plot, p in v, oral (f receiving), sex with a semi-stranger, smut in the later half of the story

He jetted down the highway, looking for any sign or signal that pointed toward a bar. He never liked traveling outside of Arlen for anything, but when his friends were done drinking for the night and his regular pub was closed, he didn’t mind driving a few miles out of town to get a drink and mingle. 

Though Boomhauer was going farther than he originally thought he would need to, he refused to turn around and give up. Instead, he kept on driving down the sparingly lit road. The road there was bumpy, he noticed. Old and cracked pavement, unlike Arlen’s smooth, blacktop roads. He was only twenty or so minutes out of town and he could tell the differences between the two places by how often his car would jump on a jagged crack or pothole too deep to be safe.

Finally, he pulled into the parking lot of a tiny place that did not register as a bar in his mind until a neon sign that read “happy hour, every hour” came into view. The lot was empty besides a car or two in the employee’s spots and a few beat up sedans that were scattered. Boomhauer parked in a spot nearest the door and got out, grabbed his jacket he left in the passenger seat, and shrugged it on. Hands in his coat pockets, he walked in.

For however few cars were in the lot, it looked like even fewer people were even in the place. He surveyed the empty tables and thought to turn right back around to keep looking when a voice called out to him.

“Welcome in,” a woman said. 

His head snapped over to the source, finding her behind the bar. He had not noticed her while he was making his earlier assessment of the place. He offered a quick smile in an attempt to combat his previous indirect rudeness and sat at her bar top. Boomhauer took note of the woman’s age: a bit too old to just be working at a place like this, she was likely the owner.

“Never seen you before, you new here?” She leaned over the countertop inquisitively, leaving enough room between the two of them for comfort. “Or just passing through town?” 

“Just passing through, ma’am,” he said.

“Ma’am? Gosh, polite, aren’t you? You can call me Mary, none of all that ‘ma’am’ stuff. Your name, if you don’t mind me askin’?” 

“Jeff Boomhauer. Friends call me Boomhauer.”

“Alright then, Boomhauer, what’re you havin’ here on this fantastic night?” What Mary lacked in numbers, she made up for in energy and entertainment for the guests she did have. The emptiness of the bar did not seem to bother her.

“Alamo, if you’ve got it.”

“Alamo? Oh, honey, you’re from Arlen aren’t you?” she asked, biting back a laugh when he nodded. “Y’all really love your Alamo, huh? Nobody here drinks it. Thought about replacing it on tap to save my money, glad you’re here to drink it.” Mary bent down, disappearing under the bar to grab the beer mug. “Sixteen ounces okay?” She pulled the tap and filled the cup.

“Mhm, that’s fine by me,” he grabbed the mug and took a swig from it, and looked to his side. He saw a wine glass sitting next to him on a napkin. Before he could ask about it, someone walked over.

“Someone else here, Mary?” 

“Yup, (Y/N),” Mary was already turned to the girl’s direction, hearing the click of her heels before hearing her voice, “Out-of-towner from Arlen.”

(Y/N) took her seat next to Boomhauer and faced him. “It’s ‘bout time we see someone who isn’t a regular,” she laughed, holding her hand out. “Nice to meet you.” 

Shaking her hand, he replied, “You too, Miss (Y/N).”

“Oh, so polite,” she said. “Didn’t know I was a ‘Miss’ kind of girl!”

“That’s what I was saying too! Jeff Boomhauer, are all Arlen men like this? Because if so, I might need to get me one,” Mary joked while she wiped down the other end of the bar, scrubbing at a stubborn stain. 

Boomhauer said nothing in return and instead sipped at his mug quietly, listening in on Mary and (Y/N)’s chat. He allowed himself to peer at her from the corner of his eyes every so often. She was an exceptionally pretty thing: big smile, cute voice, and even cuter laugh. He was normally a talkative man, but feeling so enthralled and out of place made him want to listen especially closely to the two women.

“So, uh,” he cleared his throat, “you come here often?” He internally cringed at his own cliche, but (Y/N) seemed not to mind. 

“I’m Mary’s favorite regular, if that gives you any clue.” She looked at him, a sweet smile covering her face. 

“Don’t let her fool you, she’s still a pain in my rear,” Mary interrupted absentmindedly. 

“See, that’s real love right there,” (Y/N) grabbed Boomhauer’s arm as she chuckled to herself, and let go once she was done. “Hey, do me a favor, would you?”

“Yeah?”

“Take these,” she dug in her purse and pulled out a small handful of quarters. “Put on, uh, K-13 on that ol’ jukebox in that corner.”

“You got it,” he said. He stood up and stepped over to the jukebox, inserting the coins. He hovered his fingers over the number keys of the jukebox’s keyboard and punched in the numbers that she told him to. “I didn’t even know these things were still used,” he said. “Ain’t seen one since I was a kid.”

“I know, right? Used to be my favorite thing: headin’ to a diner with my daddy, popping on whatever song I could with the nickels and dimes he found for me in his car’s cup holders.” 

Boomhauer sat back down and watched (Y/N)’s face contort into a fond smile as she went over her memories.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He did not try to stop his own smile from forming at her words.

“Well,” she started, “you in town for long?” 

“Nah, just tonight. Came here when my dang ol’ favorite place was right n’ closed up. Just trying somethin’ new.”

“Ah, well, cheers to that then!” She held her glass up and clinked it against his. She drank from it again, finishing out the rest of her white wine. “You know, we almost never get people just blowing by here,” she traced the rim of the glass, “the place is just too boring for people, I guess. Empty town and all that.”

“I like it.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t mind it here, man. Nice n’ quiet, wouldn’t say it’s better’n Arlen, but I don’t mind it here,” Boomhauer said, watching (Y/N)’s face warm up from the alcohol, assuming the same was happening to his own face. 

“Oh, Boomhauer, don’t say that or else I’ll have to convince you to move here! We could use some more cuties like you here, it’d make it worth hanging around this town.” 

“Maybe someday, Miss (Y/N), maybe someday,” he chuckled at her dramatics, but on the inside he felt a sharp spark. She was joking, of course, but the hint of truth behind it was all Boomhauer could hear. He couldn’t possibly move to a new town for a woman he’d known for only the lesser half of an hour, but God, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel tempting every time he heard her laugh. 

She smirked at him and ushered him to stand up and follow her. She tossed a few bills onto the countertop on both her side and Boomhauer’s, pushing his hand down as he reached into his pocket to pay. “Lightin’ up and headin’ out, Mary,” she called from behind her shoulder. 

“Long as you don’t do it in here, hon,” Mary called back. “See you.” She had taken to looking through a magazine while the ‘couple’ were chatting with each other and was still engrossed with what she was reading.

(Y/N) grabbed Boomhauer’s hand and pulled him out the door, letting go of his hand and sitting on the curb just outside the bar. She patted the spot beside her. He sat down with her and watched her take a box of cigarettes out of her purse. 

“You smoke?” she asked.

“Mhm, yeah.” He did not smoke. He may have lit a cig once or twice in high school, but never as an adult, and why he told her he did, he did not know. 

“Shit,” (Y/N) groaned, pulling her final cigarette out of its lonely box. “One left.” She lit it and took a drag, exhaling a dark cloud and tapping the ash off of the end. “Hm,” she grunted as she held the stick out to Boomhauer. 

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise but took it anyway. He saw the red ring of (Y/N)’s lipstick around the filter of the cigarette and smiled, taking a puff of his own. An unfamiliar heaviness grew in his lungs and he fought back a cough, handing it back to her.

“You know,” she took another drag before continuing, “I’m glad you came on in tonight. It’s always just me n’ a few random regulars. Every damn night, never a newbie or anyone interestin’.” She sighed and leaned her head onto Boomhauer’s shoulder. 

He tensed up a first, but calmed down once he felt her start to hum gently. 

“There’s something about this town I love,” she puffed from the cig and coughed. “The community, the familiar faces. Everyone knows each other, and there’s charm to that.”

Boomhauer nodded, the smoke swirling around him as (Y/N)  exhaled. “Yeah, it’s true. Arlen’s like that too, bit bigger though. Everybody knows everybody. Can’t go any-dang-where without bumpin’ into someone you know.”

“Right,” she replied, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. “But sometimes, it’s nice to step outta your bubble, really get out there.”

He thought for a moment, contemplating her words. It had been a long time since he ventured outside of his comfort zone, outside of his town. Sitting there with (Y/N) on that quiet curb, he couldn’t help but feel a strange comfort. Maybe there was more to life than the familiar routine he had grown accustomed to.

“You might be onto somethin’ there,” he finally said. “Life’s too short to stay in one place, a man’s gotta be free, man. Maybe it’s time I start takin’ some risks, tryin’ new things.”

(Y/N) grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. “I like the sound of that, Boomhauer. A man with a sense of adventure is very sexy.”

They kept speaking to each other, inching closer throughout the night.The initial awkwardness between them melted away, replaced by a growing connection and a shared sense of curiosity.

Eventually, the cigarette burned out.

“Can’t believe how fast time flew by,” Boomhauer said, a tinge of regret in his voice. “I gotta get goin’.”

“Don’t know if I’m being forward, but am I gonna see you around these parts again, Mr. Boomhauer?” she asked with a laugh, copying his formality from the beginning of the night. 

He caught on. “Well, Miss (Y/N), depends on if you’re good and sure you wanna see me again.” 

“Hm, I think I’d like to. Could get used to sitting by a handsome not-stranger like yourself every Friday night. Mary likes ya’ too.” She angled her head up to make eye contact with him. “I like you more, though.” She leaned in and pressed her red-stained lips against his chapped ones.

He placed his hand on her face and tilted her into the kiss, savoring the feeling. Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, slowly pushing into her mouth. She moaned as he explored her mouth, intertwining his tongue with hers briefly before breaking away.

They both panted as they caught their breath, still holding eye contact. 

“I should get going,” (Y/N) sighed, standing up.

“Right, uh, yeah, man, me too.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched her turn to walk away. “You need me to walk you to your car?”

“No, hon, I’m okay. Just–” she looked back at him, “just make sure to come here again real soon, yeah? Don’t be a stranger, Boomhauer.” She walked to her car, heels clicking. She got into the car and drove off, rolling down her window to flash a final smile at him. 

Boomhauer had gone back to that small, desolate bar every week on Fridays for a long time. He did not see (Y/N) there for a while. He was upset, thinking that she had forgotten about their little promise so quickly, but he still showed up. Every Friday, sometimes Saturdays. He had soon started to devote less and less of his time to visiting Mary’s pub in search of her.

Today, he decided, would be one of his final trips. He was still hopeful, of course, but he was not completely delusional and knew when enough was enough. 

He walked in, head down. Not looking up, he sat down at his regular seat, right by the middle of the bar top.

“Hey, Mary,” he groaned, finally looking up. 

“Hey, not-stranger.” (Y/N) smiled at him while picking up her glass.

Boomhauer looked up, seeing her face again. He felt relief, anger, and happiness all at the same time. “(Y/N)? (Y/N), where have you been? I– I’ve been comin’ here wantin’ to see you every week.”

“I know, I know, Mary’s grilled me about it plenty, and I’m sorry.” She plopped down next to him in the chair, facing him with a grimace on her face. “I don’t even know what happened. I was getting dressed to come see you on that Friday and I just couldn’t leave, same with all the others.” She grabbed her shot glass. It was filled to the brim with tequila, and it probably was not the first or only one she had that night.

“What do you mean?”

“Damn it, I don’t know, Jeff,” she sighed and shot the drink back, wincing at the burning feeling it left in her throat. “You’re just so nice, you were so sweet, and you listened to me when I was talking the whole time. You let me joke and be silly and made me feel like you felt like I did, even if it was a lil’ soon.”

“I do feel the same, (Y/N), I feel it too, but if you felt this way, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Wasn’t that simple, I felt so scared and I couldn’t take the chance of you not feeling the same. You say you do, but even telling you now makes me so nervous,” she covered her face with her hands, and her voice was a bit muffled as she ranted. Her hands felt clammy with her sweat and tears. 

Boomhauer gently wedged his hand between her face and her palm, tilting her head to angle her eyes at his. “Darlin’, c’mon now, don’t cry. I get it, you don’t have to explain anymore.” He got up and tapped her arm. “You’re too drunk to drive, let me take you home, yeah?”

(Y/N) nodded, thick tears still dripping down her cheeks. 

They both exited the bar, (Y/N) clinging onto Boomhauer’s arm, snuggling into it against the cool night air. They got in Boomhauer’s car and (Y/N) typed her address into his phone’s GPS system.

They drove in near silence, the only sound being a sniffle of huff from (Y/N)’s side of the car. He soon pulled into her driveway. Getting out, he walked to her side and opened her door, lifting her to her weak, tired legs and walked her to the door. 

“I guess I’ll see you whenever I can see you–?”

He was interrupted by (Y/N) pulling him into a kiss. It was not like their first one, this one was rushed and full of need and desire. She pulled him back into the house, still locked in the kiss, and slammed her door shut. She led him to the bedroom and fell back on her bed.

“This okay?” He asked, laying on top of her.

“Mhm, yes. Please, g’head n’ touch me.”

That was all he needed to hear. He pushed her head to the side and placed his lips on her neck. He sucked the soft skin until a tender, dark bruise formed on it. Moving his head up, he littered the hickies closer to her jaw. 

Pulling away with a pop, he examined the marks. They were shiny with his spit.

“They don’t hurt, do they?” He traced over the wet marks with his thumb, pressing onto them gently. 

(Y/N) craned her neck into his touch, pushing into it further. “It does, but I like it. Don’t need’a worry ‘bout me.”

“Hm.”

Boomhauer ducked his head down and created a trail of kisses, each dipping lower than the last until his lips were situated at her chest, just at the divot of her shirt. He quickly slid his finger through the buttons of her shirt, unbuttoning them and helping her shrug the shirt off. 

Goosebumps littered her skin when the cold air hit her body, soon being soothed by the warm kisses he placed over her abdomen. She gasped at the feeling. Boomhauer made his way lower, slipping her skirt and panties down. 

“Here,” he gripped onto her thighs and held them apart, “hold still for me.” 

He placed his head fully between her legs, licking thick stripes over her cunt. From her entrance to her clit, he traced a path, licking up her wetness and replacing it with his spit. 

“God, ‘s too much,” she whined.

“Ain’t even started yet, just wait,” Boomhauer said, voice muffled while he slurped and sucked on her sensitive, swollen bud. 

Licking at her slit, he pushed into her, dipping his tongue in-and-out. He rolled his tongue deeper, nose bumping against her clit. Little shocks of pleasure coursed through (Y/N), back arching with each pass over her clit.

Running her hands through his blond hair, she took purchase over the back of his head, grinding her pussy up into his mouth. 

“Ah– almost, almost there, keep–”

He pulled off, a wide grin plastered over his slick, reddened face. He wiped his face with his forearm.

“Turn over, baby,” Boomhauer grabbed her waist and flipped her over, face pushed into the mattress. “You ready?” He lined himself up at her entrance, slowly edging the tip in.

“Mhmph.”

His thrusts were slow and agonizing, but not teasing. He wanted this just as bad as she did, no: worse. He felt the velvet ribbing of her cunt suck him in with each thrust, drawing him in and constricting around his cock. 

“Tight lil’ thing,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Can’t keep squeezin’ like that, darlin’, makin’ me wanna cum early.”

“Oh, sorry,” she whined slightly, arching her hips further up as if he were trying to guide his cock to her deep spot. “There,” her mouth fell open with a cry, “ooh, right there, right there!”

“Yeah? Yeah, I-I got you..” 

Boomhauer tried to keep his hips directly flushed to her back, holding the position she put herself in under him. He turned his full, fast strokes into a rough and meaningful rutting, like he was trying to bury his dick into her G-spot.

“Fuck, fuck.” She panted deeply, pathetically, knowing she was close. A final stroke threw her over the edge into her ecstasy, from a final, sweet knock onto her cervix’s tip. 

He saw her shimmery nails grip the sheets tightly, watching as her knuckles practically turned white. “Aw, sweet– shit, sweetheart,” he cooed into her ear, fumbling over his words a bit. 

He got lost in his own pleasure, hardly being able to pull out. He managed to in time, however, and fisted his cock. After giving the base a few quick strokes, he groaned seeing his cum spurt out on her bare lower back.

(Y/N) hummed and looked back at him, sleepiness hanging over her eyes. 

“Boom,” she said after she heard his breathing steady, “will y’stay with me tonight? Please?”

“I’ll stay longer’n that, girl.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking over to him as he took a spot underneath the covers with her.

“Didn’t you notice the suitcases in the backseat of m’car?

[angiestown]

possibly the most difficult and time consuming order I've done yet. took me over an hour and a half. usually if a customer wants a more complicated order, you're supposed to find out who's on cakes that day and tell them to come back and speak directly to the person who will make the cake, but my coworkers just took this without asking ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

the customer also wanted me to draw a champagne bottle pouring into a glass and they wanted me to write a message on the glass and they wanted a fancy ornate key and they wanted it all in whip icing (MUCH harder to work with than buttercream for fancy designs like these) so I had to call them and be like yeah no sorry I'm not doing any of that lmao

you can tell that whoever made the original cake is probably more of a painter with a more expressive style, which really clashed with my tendency to want to make everything as clean and crisp as possible lmao so it was a fun challenge to resist that urge. you can also tell the original cake was much bigger than the ones we sell. I had to add a few extra layers to the cake compared to what we usually offer because ours are usually only half as tall, and I had to find the teeniest tiniest little petal tip to make the roses

this was the reference pic:

I think the source on there is miu.sdaycakestudio and the tiktok is ryuyeoul

[fangsforhire]

@eyeless-smiles followed from | ℒ |

The craving for whiskey was to be expected after the tedious day he’d had. It had quite honestly been one headache after another, he had half the mind to say to Hell with it all and travel down under. ( Earth was overrated, and humans were a thorn in his side, their minds grating on his very being. ) Usually, he did his best to block them out and fought for what internal solitude he could grasp but there were days like these when it became almost impossible to find the willpower. The problem was, you let one in? The rest followed.

Tongue swiped his teeth impatiently, listening to the soft lub-lub of the heart he’d become fixated with, attention unwavering. There were few places where people could go missing and no one bat an eyelid, though experience had taught him motels were frankly the perfect hunting ground. Often visitors to them were lying low, and when one knew what to look for, it wasn’t difficult to discern the criminals from the innocents. ( Oh and weren’t they interesting? ) He had been tracking this one for an hour now, awaiting the perfect moment to strike. It would be easy to slip into the room, undetected. Play a little game or two. The thought was thrilling after a week of being on his best behaviour and his plan was just about in motion. It wouldn't be long now before he could make a move-

Wait what the fuck was that? 

Breath caught between his teeth, the sudden stench of death to blame for abrupt hesitance. In the opposite direction across the parking lot, something graphic had just taken place, and well his attention was now piqued, not just for that reason. ( No amongst the waves of the deceased, was another scent, void in nature. Huh, how could that be? ) His nose wrinkled, completely distracted from his earlier agenda, trying to pinpoint the source. Not a demon - at least not one he’d ever heard about. Nah, this thing was unique, it’s incense almost smokey. 

Changing course, it took him mere moments to reach his fresh destination, the aroma still just as perplexing. One nudge and the door fell open, interrupting the creature, causing them to hiss. ( Ah if he had hoped he would be able to work it out from sight, alone, he was vastly disappointed. ) No amount of squinting provided aid, a laugh humming from his response at the evident confusion. Well, at least it was mutual. 

‘Fuck me. I could ask you the same question, gorgeous.’ 

Wasn’t he a sight for sore eyes? Sapphire gaze roamed him, coming up empty on his origins, which was refreshing in itself. In all his time of existence, he had to confess it was rare to be so out of his depth, and yet despite expecting a grisly murder, he hadn’t been anticipating this. Whatever it was. ( It was both exquisite and deadly, suspended blade in hand, over what he could only imagine was the remains of a meal. Each to their own. He wasn’t one to judge another’s diet; yet, there was something poetic about the scene, wasn’t there? ) Head cocked to the side, casually allowing the door to click shut behind him, polished shoes moving across the floorboards to admire his handiwork closer. Talk about aesthetically pleasing. Mmm.

‘Now, I know they joke about love at first sight but this a little over-kill, don’t you think?’

[samstudios8108]

Behold! My Band Dictionary

So I uh... did something. And that something requires a bit of an explanation.

This originally started out as another research project that I did on behalf of my possible webcomic: This One Time At Band Camp. I realized while trying to find scores for a certain competition that my Michigan bands would be a part of that... well I don't actually know if I want them to be Michigan Bands anymore.

Long story short, while I'm sure many of the Michigan Bands are amazing, they got scores that wouldn't quite match my own marching band experience, something I really want to be a big part of this webcomic. And while I could just keep my bands in Michigan and just have them be wildly different, I'm not sure that would be very realistic. And for privacy reasons (and because I think I would frustrate myself with all the inaccuracies I would have to make), I'm not going to put my bands in the area where I live.

The reason why I decided Michigan a little while back was from a source that I now realize is not that accurate. It's just like this public google doc of the top 100 bands from like 2005 made by some random dude. I dunno. I didn't think it mattered much... it did

So I then decided to make my own list of the top 100 bands but this time of the most recent data from boa regionals, super regionals, and grand nationals. I would do this by gathering all the scores from said regionals (duh), finding the averages for every bands (because plenty bands compete in more than one boa competition), and finding the top 100 highest averages.

It wasn't hard to gather all the scores from all the competitions. It was a bit of a long process, but I knew I would be strapped in for a couple hours.

Those couple hours turned into a couple days.

The especially long part was when I was deciding how I wanted to get the averages. This is where the Band Dictionary comes in. I decided to organize all the bands by alphabetical order. At first glance --- based on how I organized it --- it didn't look like it would take very long.

There were 345 bands that competed in at least one boa competition.

There are many letters of the alphabet.

There are many bands that start with each and ever letter excluding like half of the goth letters. I do not have an expansive knowledge of how google sheets works and this probably took a lot longer than it needed to. But it took 6 hours to alphabetize every band ever.

And then I had to go back and do it all over again (kinda). You see this is when I had the bright thought of sharing this creation of the band dictionary with all of you. Because some of you are as autistic about marching band as I am, and I just created something that you don't have to suffer through like I did.

Which meant I had to go back and list the state every single band is from for convenience. I don't even want to KNOW how long that took me.

Finally, I was able to get to the fun part of ranking the top 100. There are some ties, but that's okay.

So PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE look at it. It took technically 2 years because I started it 2 days before new years and even if you don't consider that 2 year project it still took me a couple days with me doing this for most of every day I did it. Okay I hyperfixated and now I feel like that was a bit too much work for a webcomic. And in all honesty I think it could be quite interesting for fellow band kids.

So go ahead and search your band up on the dictionary. If you don't see it, that's probably because it's not on there-- but I would LOVE for it to be. All of these bands competed in some sort of boa program, so if your band does not compete in boa it's probably not on there. So if you want a band on there, just comment, reblog, or even drop by my ask box with the name of said band a link to where I can find a score from a competition.

And again, since these are just boa scores, many of these bands only competed in a regional (or some are daring and just competed in a super regional or grand nats). That means that not all the averages are accurate for the information I have. If you want the scores to be more accurate, once again just pop by somewhere and tell me the band and a link to a website where I can find scores. I would love for this to as accurate of a resource as possible.

And if you find any other inaccuracy or wanna make a suggestion, please politely and respectfully let me know. I will be much more willing to feedback if you don't suck. Honestly, I am the type of person to just flat out refuse to listen to you if you aren't being a decent human being (unless your inaccuracy or suggestion is so profound I must forgo the fact that you are an asshole and incorporate it anyway, so by all means try your luck of being mean to me).

Have fun band kids and enjoy my band dictionary.

[acebean]

Something I noticed while thinking last night is how changing how time works in the casino in the show kinda messes with the di Angelos?

In the first book, Percy mentions the trio were only in the hotel for 'a couple hours' yet 5 days have gone by outside

Now assuming Percy's assumption of a couple hours is correct, then 2 Lotus hours is 5 normal days/120 normal hours, or 1 Lotus hour is 2.5 normal days/60 normal hours

Now fast forward to book 3, and Bianca mentions her and Nico spent 'a few weeks' in the hotel

Now this was a bit harder to math out, since I'm bad at math, but we do know from later books Nico and Bianca spent about 70 years in the Lotus, so I googled how many days are in 70 years, and got 25567.5, which I just rounded to 25567.

Now from memory, I had thought they spent about a month in the hotel, so I tried that first, and 30 days is 720 hours, so 25567÷720=35.509, or about 35 and a half days, which is about 4 and a half weeks, which to me does fit under 'a few weeks' like Bianca describes, so we can assume that's a decently accurate way of determining time in the Lotus, even if the math isn't 100% perfect.

So we can assume that 1 Lotus hour is about 60 normal hours.

Now let's look at the show for a minute

Annabeth says they'll meet back in the lobby in 20 minutes, and I think it's safe to assume her and Percy were pretty punctual

Now accounting for the time it probably took them to find Grover, and maybe the time they spent in the parking garage, its unclear if that's still considered part of the hotel and is under that magic, but I'd say they probably spent about 30 minutes in the building.

And yet the solstice has passed

Now if we follow the book math, about 30 hours should have passed in the 30 minutes they were inside, yet its clear multiple days have gone by, maybe even more than the original 5 that went by in the book

And judging by the smartphone Ares was using in episode 5, the show does not take place in the mid 2000's like first book did, it's probably the 2020's

So what does that mean for the di Angelos?

Well, we don't know exactly which calender day the trio entered the casino in the show, and we don't know yet if they'll say what calender day they left on yet, we just know the 21st has passed, so at this point we have no real way to try and figure out how quickly time passes in the show version of the casino, just that its much much faster than in the books, so in order for the di Angelo siblings to have entered the casino in the 1940's, and exited in what is assumed to be the 2020's, they will have had to spent much,much less time in the casino

Sidenote I tried looking at the wiki to find the exact year they entered the casino in the books, but the wiki says Bianca was born in 1927, and Nico in 1932, despite Bianca being only 2 years older than her brother, so that's clearly not a good source of information

[agentnico]

Wicked (2024) review

Look, I’m not gonna be one them sods who makes a “this is a wicked movie” jokes. Nope - I won’t succumb to that level. Just don’t look at my Letterboxd.

Plot: Misunderstood because of her green skin, a young woman named Elphaba forges an unlikely but profound friendship with Glinda, a student with an unflinching desire for popularity. Following an encounter with the Wizard of Oz, their relationship soon reaches a crossroad as their lives begin to take very different paths.

I recall my wife really wanting to see the original stage production for her birthday, so I took her to the West End show and it was alright. Fun songs and a great production, but I have never myself really cared for all things Oz-related. Especially with Wicked, which essentially feels like a Harry Potter-riff with the primal location being Shiz University, that might as well be called amateur Hogwarts. Mind you, when I made this observation, my wife snapped back “oh my god, it’s almost as if all wizard schools have to be Harry Potter related!!”. I get it, Wicked has a humongous fan base and this movie is going to make so much money. It’s actually crazy to think that we may be having the most strongest box office thanksgiving in a long while, with Gladiator II, Wicked and Moana 2 all releasing one week from each other. However Gladiator II in my eyes was a major disappointment (except for Denzel!), Moana 2 we shall see, and as for Wicked? Well…

I wonder how many audience members are going to get pissed off when they find out that this is a Part One? I’m aware that when this movie project was first announced it was mentioned that it was a two-parter, but in the marketing there has been absolute zilch about two movies, so I’m guessing some casual moviegoers are gonna be like “what in the f***?!” in the screenings. However speaking of the two parts, the original stage production is about 3 hours long. Now take this - Wicked Pt. 1 happens to also be nearly 3 hours long. Yet it finishes at exactly the part where in the original play the intermission happens. So I’m totally bamboozled as to how they managed to extend the first half of the play into 3hrs, as me and my wife both agreed that the story beats are pretty faithful to the original source material. So I must give props to this film’s pacing, as you never really are bored and the events that transpire play out with solid energy from beginning to end. That being said, you totally do feel the run time. This movie is long, so thank goodness they split the movie in two. Heck, should have made it a trilogy of films, cause if we look at The Hobbit, Peter Jackson and his team managed to make three major motion pictures out of a tiny little children’s’ book!

The narrative isn’t the only element that stays faithful to the stage musical, as also all the songs are performed in nearly the same way. It’s really common in Hollywood productions to change-up/modernise songs from stage to screen, yet here with Wicked they keep the same spirit, so it was lovely to see them be respectful to their origins. Also let’s not lie - these songs are absolute bangers. Me and my wife were listening to the soundtrack on the drive back and having the absolute best time!

Let’s talk about Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande. Look, I’m going to base my thoughts sorely on their performances within the film, and not judge them on their real-life issues, whether it be Grande as a homewrecker (it’s times like this I’m happy to have my wife, as she spills all the goss) or with Cynthia Erivo’s online hysterics over the edited Wicked poster. In the movie itself though these two are fantastic. Cynthia Erivo’s voice is just something else, and I recall when I first saw her in the thriller Bad Times at the El Royale back in 2018 where she solo performed “This Old Heart of Mine”, and I knew she was going places. Now as Elphaba she performs those songs with such soaringly raw and vulnerable emotion, that it truly is incredible to witness. Those of you who are familiar with the original stage production, just you wait till you hear her belt out “Defying Gravity”. If you know you know. As for Ariana Grande, the only time previously I’ve seen her act (aside from SNL) was when she cameo’d as herself in Zoolander No. 2 as the latex BDSM orgy girl. Take that information as you will, but my point is I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing her acting chops till now. As Glinda she really riffs of the spoiled Mean Girls energy, and I must say she managed to really deliver a fun and comedic performance. There were some solid laughs in my audience during some of her bits. Also, I know we’re never supposed to comment on people’s physical selves these days, but I’m genuinely worried about Grande’s health. We can see every bone in her body, and her face looks drained of all life (and it’s not simply due to her no longer wearing fake tan) - just hoping she’s okay. But yep, performance wise solid stuff, and in fact the movie’s best scenes are when Grande and Erivo share the screen together, as they both have wonderful sisterhood chemistry. Jonathan Bailey as Prince Fiyero brings some real Chris Pine energy with charm and charisma a-plenty, and Peter Dinklage made for a loveable goat. However the rest of the cast left room for more to be desired. Michelle Yeoh feels really miscast as Madame Morrible, as her ‘performance’ came off more as if she was reading lines of a teleprompter - so wooden and flat. Jeff Goldblum as the Wizard of Oz goes full Goldblum which not much else to add. And Ethan Slater as Boq was a waste, as Boq in the original play is the main source of comic relief, however in the movie he was so bland and boring. But I guess he was on set mainly to entertain Ariana Grande - oh yes we went there!

Here’s a strange one though - the film feels as if Kevin Feige and the MCU were in charge of making it. It’s a common conversation how most Marvel movies have a very digital bland look to them, and the company’s approach to colour grading (or lack of) makes for really cheap looking final products. Well Wicked looks like a Marvel movie. The world of Oz is supposed to be the goat when it comes to overly vibrant and saturated sets and aesthetics, and yet the world in the film looks like it does have colour, yet has this greyish filter over it that makes it look bland and kind of ugly. I do also think that director Jon M. Chu struggles a little with directing massive big crowd dance sequences, as most of those scenes in the film seemed really messy and disorganised, almost as if it were a school production.

I found myself to enjoy Wicked way more than I expected, mostly due to its two central female performances, the great soundtrack and a surprisingly energetic pace for a 3hr long movie, but also I can easily knit-pick the other weak cast performances, the dull-looking cinematography and direction. As a date night movie though me and my wife had, and yes I’ll say it - a wicked time! See you next November for Part Two!

Overall score: 7/10

[ysterrd]

Gamo Jigen (CV: Okamoto Nobuhiko)

“I don’t need anyone but myself.”[1]

A serious hardworker who follows his own path

A honest and competitive young man.[2]

He’s old-fashioned and doesn’t understand jokes, so he’s sometimes teased by his peers who call him a stubborn old man.

His sense of justice is much stronger than anyone else and he patrols daily.

His hobby is coming up with his own proverbs.

Profile

Class: Justice Ride

Height: 172cm

Weight: 64kg

Birthday: June 19

Age: 18

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Hobby: Reading

Skills: Coming up with proverbs, calligraphy

Rider Finisher: Great Heroic Barrage[3]

Voice Lines

“I don’t really need anyone. I only need myself and my own strength.”[4]

“I need to be alert at all times. I’ll be patrolling today too.”

“We’ve got free time. How about we go to the library and look for new books?”

TL notes

馴���合い can be understood as “friends” since 馴れ合う is generally used to mean “get closer to/befriend someone”, so I went for a line TL that’d be punchy and show he doesn’t need anyone in general.

負けず嫌い means quite literally “hating to lose,” but I opted for “competitive” to make the TL less wordy. You could also interpret that as him being never satisfied until he reaches a certain standard too, since that could be used in that way.

This finisher move made me so mad I sent a 6 minutes and a half long voice note to a friend on Discord specifically to bitch about it. 連弾 can be read in two ways that both refer to different things in music. When read rendan, it's a quatre mains, a piece of piano music played by two people on the same piano. When read tsurebiki, it refers to two or more people playing the shamisen or koto together. Of course neither of those make sense for this guy, who has nothing music-related whatsoever in his profile. It took me hours of scrolling through Google during my work break and sifting through all the music-related stuff to finally find something that sounded in line with Kamen Rider, and what gave me the answer were Yu-Gi-Oh card retail websites and a Japanese Dead Cells wiki. A fucking Yu-Gi-Oh card name was what made me realize “ah shit, it’s not only a music-related term”. I’m still so fucking mad. Anyway, I opted for “barrage” as in a “barrage of hits”, because other options I considered like “flurry” or “volley” didn’t sound as catchy.

This line is kind of like his intro tagline but with extra steps, so that’s pretty much why I worded it like this.

Source: Ride Kamens website

Originally posted on Dreamwidth & Twitter on Feb 22 2024.

[goat-and-coat]

UT Yellow Spoilers Ahead.

So. Here’s some buffer text so this shouldn’t show up in your notifications. The spoilery parts. The spoiliest. Consider this your spoiler warning.

Yeah, this is probably long enough. I’m just gonna shotgun this lol.

We’re going to start with the good.

So the good!

Yeah. There’s a LOT. Way too much to mention, so here’s some highlights.

Toriel showing up is obviously a necessity. But it was such a cool little moment to have the rescue ending (:

Nice callback to UT’s little “wait for something to happen” moments that happen in the Core and Ruins.

The music, of course, is amazing. Whether it’s the original music or the remix (I dig that Hopes and Memes remix), they did a phenomenal job.

On the front of artistic expression, the art. Sprites are amazing. The flashback art is amazing. The videos are super cool. The animations are really good.

Gameplay is pretty in line with Undertale. You’ll find yourself holding X a lot more to slow yourself down than you did in UT.

I like how the game makes callouts to beloved characters we don’t see directly, like Alphys and Undyne. It was nice to see more of the same side characters, too. The expansion on monsters is good- like Dalv. And we finally see farms.

I love Clover, Martlet, and the Feisty Five. Cerboro… well, we’ll talk about her later. Their dialogue is always great. I don’t think there was even a single bad line.

The hugs at the end! And the hand holding! And how much everyone just loves Clover aaaaah

Also Flowey (:

Good cowboy representation!!!

Snowdin expansion (:

More of the Ruins we never got to see (:

We got to see the city up close wooo!!

The map is just good. My favorite part was the Dunes. I liked seeing the UG Apartment Complex. The Royal statue specifically. Nice smaller detail that I’m glad didn’t go forgotten.

Also! UT Yellow successfully retains the writing and goofiness of UT. While the drama doesn’t hit AS hard, it’s still definitely a tearjerker! It really makes you see the six kids as more than just a number. Helps to put gravity and weight on that.

But most importantly, the creators very clearly have such love and respect for UT. It shows in their creation. A lot of hard work and effort went into it. UT Yellow is what all fan games should look to do in my opinion. I want you to keep this in mind for what I’m going to say about the dislikes.

Here’s what I didn’t like:

Do you wish every fight was as bad as Sans? Do you hate everyone and yourself? Do you wish to inflict pain on your mental well-being? Do you straight up suck at dodging, but love seeing game over screens?

Congratulations. This game is for you. It’s a mix bag for me. Extra challenge is good, but this was extreme.

The boss fights don’t hold back. So this could easily be in the “good” category if you’re a masch… maschochist? Masc… enjoy pain. I can’t spell it, okay??? And I ain’t gonna Google it.

Axis took me close to two and a half hours to beat (in comparison, the dance boss took only about an hour and a half).

That’s my only real complaint about the pacifist run as far as combat goes. No way monsters would’ve been locked away without a single soul during the war if they were this strong.

I will say the world makes the Underground seem TOO big, which contradicts the whole “the underground is too small” narrative Undertale pushed. I think Yellow mentions it once or twice, too? HOWEVER!! I am totally and completely willing to ignore this because cowboy hehe (:

Plus, it explains some food source. Little curious how they’re growing crops underground, but I’ll just go with “it’s magic so it doesn’t need sunlight” as my excuse.

Flowey. I know I said I liked him, too. So here’s what’s going on.

This is gonna be weird to people because Asriel and Frisk are my favorite UT characters. And I don’t even dislike Flowey in Yellow! He’s super funny.

But he should not be there.

His presence opens up a whole can of worms.

1- He can save and load while Clover can’t (he is Clover’s save point). This isn’t an issue in itself, but it is an issue at the same time because Flowey’s goal to take human souls would be ten billion times easier if he just bodied Clover at the very first opportunity like he tried to do with Frisk. This is a kid who throws a temper tantrum after about five seconds of you not dying to his bullets. I don’t think he would have the patience to play the long con.

2- Flowey doesn’t seem to have met a human other than Chara and Frisk… and the ones who killed him, I guess. The True Lab implies that before him, LemonBread had the SAVE/LOAD ability for a short time.

3- Flowey’s presence also stuffs the timeline in a box. We’re to assume Flowey in UT woke up relatively recently, because he’s been screwing with timelines. But Toriel tells us a human hasn’t been underground in “a long time” in both games. I can picture this being 7-10 years minimum.

Are we really going to believe Alphys had people locked in her basement for ten years? Because I couldn’t see that lasting more than 3 months tbh. 6 months would be a MASSIVE stretch before people stormed the gates. I feel like Alphys’s mention should’ve been left at “the new Royal scientist made a robot.”

Leave out the subplot of Cerbora’s blatant disregard for child safety. You wouldn’t even need to do away with the (frankly busted) fight she had (I did most of it with the silver scarf btw).

My final thing that is a total complaint is the genocide ending. Clover gains the LOAD/SAVE, one shots Asgore, murks Flowey, and frees the souls. But they’d still be trapped down there lol.

I feel like Asgore should’ve just skewered Clover and that should’ve been the genocide ending. Flowey being left out would’ve nullified my dislike of him dying (for realsies).

Though I will say, the art made exclusively for it is disturbing as heck and belongs in a horror game. So they definitely did a great job on that part of it.

Speaking of Asgore… he seems really out of character to just fire someone like he does. I can disregard this as him wanting kids to NOT die. Axis is very clearly a way bigger threat than MTT could ever dream to be.

So really, my complaints boil down to:

1- Game too hard ):

2- Biiiig place but cool so it’s worth it (but how the heck is there a desert down here? Who cares!? Worth it!)

3- Genocide ending sad and dumb and I hate it because sad and weird):

4- Flowey’s presence

5- Timeline confuzzlement.

The first is a skill issue (even if I know I haven’t had nearly as many issues as some other people).

The second is really just a mix bag. It makes sense in most places (Snowdin, Hotland, New Home, Home/the Ruins) but less so in other places (the Dunes, aka my favorite spot in Yellow. Damn, I’m willing to compromise just to keep this tho.)

The third is just personal preference I guess… I don’t like how it’s contradictory to UT. As a stand-alone thing, it’s perfectly fine. Just too depressing for me.

The fourth… well… okay, this is the only complaint I don’t see myself budging on.

The fifth just needs some minor corrections.

How is Yellow overall?

If Undertale is a 9, which frankly it is, I’d give UT Yellow a solid 8.75. It should be impossible to make a fan game that’s almost as good as the content it was based on, but the absolute madlads did it. They really did it.

Jury’s still out on DeltaRune, but I rate it around an 8.25 so far.

For context, out of all of my favorite games, I’ve never once thought of a game as a ten. Not even the fantastic Fallout: New Vegas or the reliable (Halo) Reach.

[oddygaul]

The Hunger Games Cinematic Universe

To preface, it does feel a little weird to critique these movies as if they sprung from nowhere. They’re all pretty faithful adaptations, which is relevant because many of my problems with this series are structural / worldbuilding issues, and so aren’t necessarily the fault of the adaptation as much as the source material itself. On the other hand, it’s pretty easy to rattle off some adaptations that took risks and made something fairly transformative - Jackson’s Lord of the Rings, or anything Masaaki Yuasa has adapted come to mind  - so fuck em, they’re fair game.

(I’d seen the first two movies a decade ago, and read the trilogy after that. Ballad and the Mockingjay films were new to me.)

The Hunger Games

Okay, so the original holds up as far as I’m concerned. What sets it apart from much of the post-apocalyptic or action YA that I’ve seen is ultimately how grounded it manages to keep its portrayal of all the kids. I think a lot of fiction with a similar premise tend to falls prey to Anime Syndrome: yes, all the characters are 16 or 17 or whatever, and the authors will make them do some classic teen angst things like get into stupid arguments and be deeply hormonal, but they fail to have the kids react to the horrifying situations they find themselves in convincingly. This is the plight of any battle shounen: the characters are literally fighting to the death against some manner of horrible supernatural monster, or even other human beings, yet will be written like a little devil-may-care badass, or even be stoked about getting to tEsT tHEiR LiMitS! If you’re going for a fun action show, that’s fine, but if you’re trying to sell it as a drama, you’ve already lost your biggest chip.

The Hunger Games (the first one, mind) never forgets that all its characters are young as hell. The absolute shaking terror of the cornucopia, the wide eyed panic as Katniss and Foxface come face-to-face and realize that neither of them wants to do harm, even Cato’s eleventh hour realization that his entire life and persona are ultimately meaningless*, all fill the story with a pathos that makes the movie work, despite some inherent YA cheese.

*Probably my favorite addition to the movie.

I really love the stupid-ass beard they gave this guy

Catching Fire

Yeah, this is where it starts to fall apart for me. The first act prior to the Games is pretty compelling; our look into Katniss’ PTSD, her and Peeta’s inability to reintegrate into society as if nothing happened, and the acute, sudden horror they’re slammed with upon realizing they’re being forced back into the games are all handled incredibly well. The first half hour of this movie feels like slowly waking up from a bad dream, only to realize you’re still asleep.

After that, though… eh.

I think what bothers me about the Games themselves in this one is that everyone taking part is an adult now. Part of what makes the concept of the Hunger Games so brutal is the age of the contestants - and not merely in a pearl-clutching, oh-jeez-it’s-so-horrible-to-see-this-violence-done-upon-the-youth sort of way. There’s just a special abhorrence tied to watching a bunch of children, who ought to have their whole lives ahead of them, slowly have the dawning realization that their whole world is now this mere microcosm, in which their only options are murder or death. Watching this emotional turmoil play out differently for each character is what makes the setup compelling; horrible, wrenching, but compelling.

So, having the idea for this one be that these grown-ass adults, each of whom has (by definition of being a victor) gone through this incredible trauma before, is willing to go back again and fight like it was the first time? I dunno, it feels goofy to me. And I’m not saying they have a choice to participate - I know it’s mandated - I mean that once they’re in the arena, half of them seem to go “oh well, here I go killin’ again!” like they’re clocking in for a job. It’s not like they’re sliding back into their old psychology by force once they’re in the arena, either - even in the training center, the careers are doing their usual sneering badass routine. You could make the argument that successful careers are the most likely to have child actor syndrome - that they stopped emotionally maturing after the Games and are stoked to be back in their element, Football Player That Peaked in High School style - but that feels so reductive.

I guess the fact that half of the tributes get in on the Secret Rebellion Plan kind of addresses this - they are working toward a goal in the background - but it still feels off. I wish the movie spent more time exploring the mindset of all the contestants before the games started to flesh out their motivations. As is, the Games here no longer feel like blood sport exploring the psychological response to trauma - they’re just blood sport.

Also, the violence feels very sanitized. Say what you will about the shakycam used in the first movie (it is undoubtedly excessive at times), but the confusion it provides combined with the blood makes the 74th Games feel absolutely terrifying. It gives the sense that no one is prepared for how primal things are becoming as the situation descends into a barbaric haze of violence. In Catching Fire, meanwhile, the bloodbath feels like it’s by-the-numbers for everybody - Katniss and friends group up and just start killin’ Bad Guys** right off the bat like it’s nothing, barely even watching their backs as they talk to each other. I read that the director of #2 and on made an intentional decision not to show blood, because he doesn’t like ‘glorifying violence’... I truly don’t understand how showing a bunch of characters cleanly and effortlessly killing other people like they’re in a Marvel movie is any better.

**This is just a symptom of my larger issues with the worldbuilding, but I really think the careers and their motivation get such short shrift in these movies. They explore it a bit in the first movie, but in Catching Fire they’re fully content to have the careers be easy Evil Bad Guys that the viewer isn’t supposed to feel bad for when they die. It’s another touch that betrays its YA roots, and reminds me of Harry Potter - “Welcome to Hogwarts! We’ve sorted you into the evil house for evil, no-good children, which exists because we need to have antagonists.”

This is also where the rebellion bits start popping up, but I’ll talk about those in a moment because…

Mockingjay I & II

…that’s what these entire movies are about and it’s so, so dicey.

Honestly, to me it feels like Collins had a great idea for a standalone book, but then, by dint of it being YA, was obligated to have the characters eventually band together to take down the big bad Capitol, and just didn’t have a great grasp on how the wider world worked or what a strong revolution story looks like. I think this story worked the best when it was only a small snapshot of the world, with all the periphery implied; the more it’s forced to get into the real nitty gritty of how the setting works, the more ramshackle and unbelievable everything feels, and Mockingjay is where it hits a breaking point. It’s not that there are plot holes, exactly, it’s that we see so little of the wider world that everything feels grossly oversimplified.

I think this is where these films’ dogged adherence to the source material really screws them over. While the books are also lacking in worldbuilding and context from the perspective of other characters, it makes sense there because the books are all first-person POV. Of course we don’t get cutaways to citizens in the Capitol ruminating on their role in all this, or seeing the inner workings of the Peacekeepers to give them any characterization whatsoever outside of being blank plastic suits, because Katniss doesn’t see that. Since the movies have fully done away with this conceit, though, the omission of these supporting scenes feels glaring - especially when the movies are trying so hard to push this theme that everyone has their own fight, and both sides have a reason for their actions.

So, on that note, thematically it’s a fucking mess. It dips its toes into a dozen different themes without really firmly exploring any of them, leaving it feeling indecisive and tonally inconsistent. For example, Mockingjay I spends its intro showing the effect Katniss’ PTSD is having on her, and challenging the idea that just because someone has gone through trauma, they’re a hero and ought to be set up as the mouthpiece of the revolution - how can you ethically put the responsibility of leadership on someone who gets the shakes every time they hear a bang? …but then, not to worry, show her a cool superhero outfit and she’s out there shooting down gunships with fuckin Hawkeye arrows by dinnertime.

And the wider revolution story has many similar issues. What’s your message? Dictators are bad? Wow, what a take. Both sides committed atrocities, so they’re both bad? Politics are hard and messy, and you just gotta keep your head down and hope you can retire to the country? Yeah, way to really take a hard stance on that one.

If I put all that aside, it generally works as a character piece - Katniss and Peeta’s development over the course of the story, in particular, is well done through and through, and it feels rare to see a broad appeal series like have the nerve to take its leads to such dark places. There’s also a lot of surprisingly great character acting throughout; my personal standouts are Hutcherson, Stanley Tucci, and (surprisingly) Woody Harrelson, but there’s honestly not a bad actor in the bunch, which is impressive. Still, with the subject material being so heavy, it’s hard for me just to take it at face value like that, and I wish they shored up the weaker elements a bit.

I’m just saying, if you spend that much of your screentime showing crowds of children being murdered by IEDs, I think you ought to be building towards a strong statement. 

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Yeah, this one felt like a waste of a movie in a really weird way. The execution was incredibly well done - lots of solid acting, production design, etc, which is a huge waste because the basic premise of the movie is fucking worthless.

So, the whole point, I would say, of doing a prequel is to flesh out interesting parts of your universe that you didn’t have time for in the original work. Unanswered questions, a character’s past that you want to learn more about, a deeper dive into parts of the world or lore that weren’t touched on but caught people’s imagination. The Hunger Games series has plenty of gaps that need to be filled: I said above how incredibly small the world seems due to barely exploring any of the capitol, other districts, etc., so it was ripe for a prequel or spinoff! Let us spend some time in other districts, see how other people live and feel about the whole thing. Even if we’re not going post-war, and are going back to the era of the Games (which of course we would), there’s 75 years worth of questions to explore.

Instead of focusing on any of that, the premise of this movie (/book) is “Hey, you know the villain from the original story that seemed like a huge, irredeemable piece of shit? Let’s spend a two and a half hour runtime telling you his backstory, which will show you that actually… he’s always been a piece of shit”. Wow. Spellbinding.

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with a main character being a bad person. Particularly, if your character is charismatic, they don’t necessarily have to be right or good to be interesting to watch; there’s a certain magnetism to watching that for a lot of people. It’s never been my cup of tea, to be honest; whether pegged as comedy (Always Sunny) or drama (Breaking Bad), I get fed up really quickly when I hate everyone in a piece of fiction. But done correctly, it can still be interesting - showing how a character ended up where they are, showing you a rare good side of them you’d never seen, or showing that they used to be moral, but just happened to be tested one too many times and fell off the deep end.

Snow is none of these. He’s a piece of shit from the first time we see him, he consistently acts like a piece of shit to everyone around him, and then he ends up, in fact, being a piece of shit***. What’s interesting about that?

***I think the most generous interpretation I could give of his character is a piece of shit who briefly dabbles in transactional friendship after Lucy Gray saves him from the rubble, then shortly thereafter returns to being a piece of shit. Which I still do not find especially compelling.

Even outside of that, it’s one of those prequels that does nothing but make the world feel smaller - rather than expanding on any of the dozens of untouched ideas in the series, we spend a bunch more time in District 12, and show that, actually, it turns out Snow and his hangups are the only reason anything happened in this universe for nearly 100 years. From Katniss’ name to the Hanging Tree song she sings, turns out half the things we learned in The Hunger Games resulted from this one particular guy’s life story. In a series that already felt like the world was too small and was in desperate need of expansion, further narrowing the scope feels like such a misstep.

Why yes, I did need to know exactly what the Kessel Run was!

Odds & Ends

I mostly blocked out my memories of Mockingjay the book from the single time I read it back in the day, because I thought it was booty, but the one thing I remembered liking that they changed up was Finnick’s death. In the book, he’s just there one moment and gone the next, without any fanfare or time to grieve, which serves to make his death feel especially cruel. I suppose it was inevitable, but counter-intuitively, the Big Hollywood Death Scene they gave him here felt a lot less impactful.

-------

A point about the series in general: boy did the costume design bother me. It’s interesting, because all I remembered about it from when this series blew up was the gaudy Capitol style and how crazy the internet was about it. Watching these movies again, I feel like that success was a total fluke, because everything else is goofy as hell. The way that every district has their own bespoke fucking Civil War re-enactment outfits is wild - look, the ‘District 11 is just one big Southern plantation’ thing was always really obvious, but seeing each district dressed up like they're from competing historical re-enactment groups was wild.

The prequel turns this up to 11. I feel like someone on the team though they were real clever - this one’s set 60 years earlier, so let’s make all the outfits and design retro! What? People in flapper clothes, the lake scene with their 1940s swimsuits, even the logo and graphic design in the Hunger Games broadcasting room looking like it’s from the 50s - it doesn’t make any fucking sense. Yeah, they’re set decades before the original books - in the year, like, 2300. What, everyone just forgot how to do graphic design again after the war? Fashion is cyclical, but not like this…

--------

Also, movies 1 and 2 in particular definitely have some uncomfortable racial dynamics going on. I was already weirded out that a lot of the districts seem to be separated by ethnicity, but as you go on, it’s hard to ignore how nearly every Black person seems to exist solely to help Katniss along in her quest before dying horribly and usually on-camera. Rue, Thresh, Cinna, even that old man that flashes the salute in District 11… it’s remarkably consistent.

[cellarspider]

Thanks to the previous reply for digging up the real image.

This why linking to sources is important. This is why going to sources is important, to verify something is a photograph of a real event.

If you can't find a source for an image, check two things:

1 . Go to Google Image Search. Click the "Search by Image" option on the right of the search bar. Search for the image URL, then click "Find Image Source" above the main result. You will get a list of results that includes the date. If you only see social media results or clickbait websites, consider it deeply suspicious.

2. Go to TinEye, do the same process. TinEye and Google Reverse Image Search work slightly differently, and TinEye lets you sort results by when they were posted online. Neither are comprehensive, but between them, you have a good chance of finding the original source.

I'm going to break down what I found when I did this under the fold. TL;DR, It took me 15 seconds to gather enough information to determine the top image was fake, but 30 minutes to identify the original point of spread on the English-language internet.

I don't blame people who get suckered by this stuff. We want to trust each other. When others have already been circulating an image and have provided a story for it, it makes it seem more real.

If you don't know the facts, and especially if you're viewing an AI-generated image on a phone, where potential giveaways are harder to spot, it can be easy to believe it.

This is a pretty harmless example of something that can be far more dangerous, when it's applied to more sensitive topics.

Be safe out there, everyone.

So, here's how my search for the image's source went.

TinEye's first identification of the top image comes from Imgur, 25th February, 2023.

The comments were a mix of credulity and people pointing out that the image cannot be real, by the laws of optics. While the title doesn't claim that it's real, the "photography" tag is a lie.

The next day, it was already being circulated elsewhere on the internet with further misinformation.

This was apparently the second time this had been posted there, and was removed for not being a photo. However, it continued to spread on Twitter, with more misinformation. We see the first invention of a supposed photographer, to give it more authenticity. I don't know if this is the first guy who came up with it, but this was within the first day of circulating the image.

This other twitter account includes a link, but it's to a clickbait website, not any sort of original source.

Later, this was scraped up by more legitimate-looking clickbait news sites.

Note that this story is complete bullshit. They've not cited any sources. They've not linked to the original image, because they don't have one. They haven't directly quoted the photographer, because he doesn't exist.

As a note: This sort of thing can happen on any news website that doesn't do its own in-depth reporting, or legitimate publications that have an "affiliate" program, or a social media division. These are of variable quality, and often do not seek to cite anything other source than "Twitter".

It took fifteen seconds to verify that the image was likely fake using TinEye. It took half an hour to find a reddit post that linked to fact-checking website that identified the first time the images were spotted on the English-speaking internet, in a tranche of AI art posted on Facebook on February 5th.

This is as far as I can follow the trail, lacking the facility in navigating the Chinese-speaking internet to go any further. But you can see how quickly this developed into a hoax, through a combination of reasonable-sounding lies, the addition of more and more detail to the story as it passed along, and credulous spread of the image.

Full circle rainbow was captured over Cottesloe Beach near Perth, Australia in 2013 by Colin Leonhardt of Birdseye View

[tilecleaningtoday]

Surrey Expert Details the Cleaning of a Victorian Hallway Floor in Surrey

This client from Farnham had been in touch regarding their Victorian tiled hallway which needed deep cleaning and re-sealing. As usual I paid them a visit, surveyed the floor, and provided a quote for renovating it which they were happy to accept, there were no broken tiles to remove and replace so it was a straightforward clean and seal. It was a lovely floor which had been laid in a herringbone pattern with lovely black and gold floral inserts and a beautiful green border.

Whilst discussing dates it became apparent that they were planning on having some decorating done in the same area, so I recommended they book me in for a date after the decorators had left. It’s always good practice to get the floor cleaned after your last tradesperson has left, decorators especially have a habit of not covering floors properly.

Cleaning a Victorian Tiled Hallway Floor

I turned up on the agreed date and was pleasantly surprised to see there were only a few paint splashes on the floor so I wondered if my comments to the owner must have been passed onto the decorators. The hallway led onto several rooms many of which had new carpets, so with my own advice in mind I made sure to cover them with a plastic sheet before starting work.

The first job was to remove any existing sealer from the tiles using Tile Doctor Remove and Go, this is brushed onto the tiles, left for ten to fifteen minutes, and then scrubbed in with a black pad fitted to a rotary floor machine running at slow speed. The resultant slurry was then rinsed off and extracted with a wet vacuum. It was a small floor so I planned to seal the floor later that day and so I only used a minimal amount of water and used the wet vacuum to remove as much moisture as possible.

Next, I gave the floor an acid rinse by carefully smearing Tile Doctor Acid Gel over the tiled surface. Leaving it to dwell for half an hour yet keeping it moist with water. I then introduced my weighted burnishing machine. Circling the floor, it slightly cuts the tile creating a slurry of tile and dirt. The pads can struggle to get right into the corners so once that was done, I scooted around the edges hand cleaning them with a scrubbing brush and ensuring any paint splashes the decorators had left were removed.

All the waste was extracted, and the floor given a rinse with hot water. I left a small heater on them while I had my lunch. As the gel doesn’t penetrate the tiles like fluid it didn’t take long for the floor to dry sufficiently enough for sealing.

Sealing a Victorian Tiled Hallway Floor

Finally, I applied three coats of Tile Doctor Seal and Go Extra. This is a hard-wearing colour enhancing sealer. Each coat takes twenty to thirty minutes to dry. After the final coat I ask that it’s not walked on for a good hour.

Once done to the floor looked really clean and the new sealer should keep it that way for many years to come. Before leaving I took time to discuss maintenance cleaning and of course get their feedback which they gladly gave and is copied below:

“Great service. Rupert was professional, informative, friendly clean worker who made a great job of cleaning our original Victorian tiled floor. Tile Doctor were recommended to me by a friend, and I would definitely recommend them and Rupert for tile cleaning.”

For the aftercare of Victorian tiled floors, I recommended the use of Tile Doctor Neutral Tile Cleaner which due to its neutral ph makes it idea for the regular cleaning of sealed tiles. Many of the products you will find in supermarkets are simply too strong and will prematurely erode the sealer on a tile and so best avoided.

Source: Surrey Tile Cleaning and Sealing Services and Products

[lol-im-done]

The Avenger & Baron of Sokovia

Thank you so much to @sagyunaro​ for coming up with this idea! I wrote too much to fit into a one shot so I’m splitting this into two parts!

Part One:

Part Two:

You can find this on my A03 as well: Anti_Social_Teen

Word Count: 2,818

What happened that horrible day in Sokovia affected you more than any other mission you had been on in your time with the Avengers. You had seen death, had seen destruction, narrowly avoided it every second of your life but as you lay on the ground of Novi Grad that day, trying so hard to keep the chunk of Sokovia close to the ground with your telekinetic abilities it became too much. You vividly remembered placing yourself close to the middle of the rising piece of Earth that Ultron was going to use like an atomic bomb to wipe out billions of innocent lives. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, running over to you. 

“I’m going to try and put it back down!” you replied, standing your ground. Wanda had come over with her brother Pietro, watching you with interest.

“Isn’t that what FRIDAY explained to us. The higher it goes the bigger the blast radius,” you said. Steve nodded, worry filling his face but you gave him a brave smile. Closing your eyes in concentration, your hands filled with dark green energy, tendrils beginning to snake down into the ground as it continued to rise. “I got this! Go!” you instructed them. It had felt like hours, you had never pushed yourself to these limits before and couldn't stop yourself from falling to your knees before you knew it your body collapsed completely but you persisted, your whole body and the area around you glowing green. Vaguely you could hear the others try to reach you but you shook your head silently, tears streaming down your face in pain and frustration, blood seeping out of your nose as you remained glued to the ground. 

The guilt of your weakness spread like a poison in your body, you weren't strong enough and by the end it didn't help when Novi Grad fell. They had told you that you had kept it at half the height it was supposed to be at, that your telekinetic energy had kept most of the big debris from falling but you ignored their voices of reason. It was Thor who had found you floating in the sea, passed out but cocooned by your powers. Numbness engulfed your body the instant you had awakened and you watched silently for the next few days as decisions were made on how the cleanup and relief would proceed. The answer became clear to you for what you needed to do next. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Steve murmured, placing his hand on your shoulder in a reassuring manner. 

“Who will I be if I don’t,” you replied sadly. Steve could see how much this meant to you, so he gave you a warm strong hug before walking off to the Quinjet to return to the Compound leaving you in Sokovia. The terms of your stay were strictly humanitarian, to help cleanup the destruction, your identity kept a secret. Only around official Stark Relief Foundation workers did you use your telekinetic powers in the worst part of the devastation. With a solemn look in your eyes you waved your hands, slowly lifting chunks of peoples homes, their belongings falling into the ash and rubble. After a few hours of this you would walk around, picking up trinkets, photos, anything you could recover. You’d return to your small apartment Tony had gotten you, and cleaned them as best you could with your kit of brushes before returning them to the main headquarters where refugees and survivors could seek help. It was only supposed to be a week but you stayed longer. It was mainly your guilt that kept you tied to Sokovia but soon you felt yourself growing connected to the suffering country. It was another day at the Stark Relief Foundation building, you were slowly picking up Sokovian, Wanda had even facetimed you for a few hours each night trying to teach you some phrases. It was mostly silent, somber in this wing of the building where survivors would arrive, where recovered bodies were documented. Slowly your eyes caught sight of a distraught man a few feet away. 

“He just found his family in the rubble,” Lana murmured to you, eyes glancing at the man who sat a few chairs away. She brought out a clipboard but you took it gently from her hands. 

“I got this,” you replied and she gave you a grateful smile before walking off. With a sigh you walked over to the man, who was covered in dust.  

“Hi. Ahoj,” your soft voice broke through the wall of silence the man had created around himself. It took him a few seconds to lift his head finally and the look of heartbreak on his face made a lump form in your throat. 

“My name is (Y/N). I’m a volunteer and I’m going to help you fill out some forms,” you said, taking a seat next to him. “English or Sokovian?” you asked. “English is fine,” he finally spoke, coughing to clear his throat. Giving him a sympathetic look, you passed him a handkerchief from your pocket which he took gratefully. 

“I know this is a difficult time but I’m here to help with whatever you need. We will help you find shelter, get food and financial assistance and help with the death certificates of your family,” you explained. The way you spoke to him was unusual, straightforward but kind. It was the custom to speak formally almost coldly to strangers, but there was a softness in your eyes. “So what is your name?” you asked. 

“Zemo. Helmut Zemo,” he replied. Giving him a small smile you brought out your pen and got to work. In the next few days you came to realize that Helmut Zemo was not just any ordinary citizen, he was a Baron. Even as Sokovia continued to crumble at the institutional level, Helmut played an active part in donating funds to the local organizations. He became a familiar face, always an active presence during the day and after a few weeks of working together you could comfortably call him a friend. You still didn’t reveal your true identity, there was a growing sentiment from some in Sokovia against the Avengers but overall most people were grateful you all had saved the world. You still struggled with guilt of course but things were becoming easier. Spending time with Helmut was peaceful, he would often read aloud to you when you spent time at each other's apartments after a long day of work. Even with his wealth he chose a modest apartment a few blocks from yours. Things always remained strictly friendly, both of you keeping conversations light and rarely bringing up your origins or past life. It became a comfort to listen to his Sokovian accent, look into those captivating brown eyes. Helmut often felt the start of a warm feeling in his chest when he heard your airy laugh after his terrible jokes but he forced himself to suppress the feeling. Just when you thought it would be a good idea to open up to him, to begin to reveal your true identity that was all shattered the moment you entered his apartment one evening. 

It was dark, only the crackling fire from the fireplace providing a light source. He stood back turned to you, hunched over the fire a glass of whiskey clenched in his hand. 

“Helmut?” you whispered, closing the door softly behind you so as to not startle him. 

“You’re an Avenger,” Helmut whispered, and when he turned around you saw something in his eyes you had never seen before. Anger and hatred, it was amplified by the reflection of flames in his eyes.  

“Who told you?” you asked, trying to stay calm but your heart pounded beneath your shirt. 

“I heard the Stark Relief Foundation workers talking about you. How Stark was coming to visit you soon,” he sneered. “Is it true?” Helmut asked. Wordlessly you lifted your hand twisting it summoning your telekinetic energy. That was all he needed, he began shaking his head a dark laugh coming from his mouth. “What is this then? Why are you here?” Zemo snapped, pacing close to the fireplace.

“I stayed to help,” you began but he threw his glass against the wall, shattering the glass cup. It stunned you, making you jump in place.

“Help,” he said coldly. 

“Helmut please let me explain-,” you tried to say, your voice wavering with emotion. 

“No! You played a part in it! You’re the reason why my family is dead!” Helmut screamed. Those last words hit you like a slap in the face, face falling as your heart seemed to crack right down the middle. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room and before you knew it all the guilt and shame and memories hit you like a ton of bricks. There was no use in trying to say something, when you opened your mouth no words came out. Helmut made no attempt to move towards you, no attempt to take back his words as you turned away and stumbled out of the door. Heavy sobs began to slip out of your mouth, as memories flashed in your head, the screams of the innocent civilians, the bodies of the dead. Through tears you made your way back to your apartment, packed and left Sokovia that same night. 

You didn’t return to the Compound after that, choosing to stay in Switzerland in a home that Tony owned and had let you stay in. He felt for you, as did the others on the team as much as they wanted you to return to them. This is where you stayed in solitude and when the Accords were announced you had made no attempt to be a part of the rift between Steve and Tony. You thought it was ridiculous and when you were summoned by Ross you ignored the summons and remained secluded. It wasn’t until it was all over that you were granted a loose term of conditions to keep your freedom even though you hadn’t done anything. It shocked you, when you found out what Helmut had done, the plan he orchestrated. How could the kind man from Sokovia become so full of hatred and vengeance? You knew his wife, son and father had died. You had been the one to fill out their death certificates but never could you imagine it would end like this. He was often on your mind as best as you tried to shake him off but he had made an impact on your life. It wasn’t until one sunny morning that you received an unexpected call.

 “Hello?” you answered the phone as you stirred the sugar into your tea.

“Is this (Y/N) (L/N)?,” the German voice asked. 

“Yes. Who are you?” you asked a bit suspiciously.

“I’m Warden of the Berlin Detention Center where Helmut Zemo is being kept. He’s asked to meet with you and we would normally deny this request but seeing as you are an Avenger-,” the Warden began but you cut him off.

“I was an Avenger,” you corrected but he continued. 

“It is up to you if you would like to see him. If not I can tell him his request was denied,” he finished. A strange feeling filled you, why bother seeing him? He hated you, tore your family apart in revenge. But then you thought about the hurt and pain you both faced in Sokovia. 

“I’ll be there in 48 hours,” you finally said into the phone. Even after he had hung up you stayed there by the kitchen counter, tears silently flowing down your cheeks. 

Following the armed guards you clutched your purse tightly, the nerves finally hitting you at what you were about to do. It felt like you were in a dream as the door slid open, revealing a dark cell with a glass wall and a chair in front of it. There was no movement from the cell as you sat down on the chair they provided you, you actively avoided Helmut’s gaze, setting your bag down. You kept your eyes trained on the piece of lint on your jeans until he finally spoke up breaking the silence, but there was tension. 

“Will you not look at me (Y/N)?” that rich Sokovian voice that haunted your dreams asked.

“I didn’t think you’d want to look into the face of your family’s killer,” you said, the words sounded harsher than you intended. By the time you looked up to meet his eyes, Helmut’s face was a vision of regret. 

“I should have never said those things to you,” Helmut said, coming closer to the wall that separated him from you. He looked differently from the last time you had seen him, he looked defeated. His chestnut hair was tousled, stubble beginning to grow on his jawline. 

“Yet you did and never gave me a chance to explain,” you snapped crossing your arms.  

“My anger was misplaced. I see that now,” Helmut began. “I saw the footage, what they had recovered. The way you tried to save Novi Grad,” Helmut said, emotion filling his voice. 

“We tried to save Novi Grad,” you interrupted, even if you could see how the Avengers held responsibility, you weren’t going to allow him to slander your family. Helmut grimaced at your words. “Why did you ask me here?” you snapped, eyes hardening. Helmut inched closer to the glass, nervously running his hands through his hair.

“I’ve been contemplating what I’ve done. I realized that even if you had not been involved I hurt you and you didn’t deserve that especially after what I did to you in Sokovia,” Helmut said. Lifting your brow you allowed him to continue.“If you let me I would like to explain myself, not excuse myself. I want to tell you everything,” Helmut said. It felt like torture for Helmut, every second waiting for your response. 

“Alright. I’ll listen,” you finally said, leaning back into your chair. The faintest smile filled Helmut’s face as he began his story. In the weeks and months that passed by, it became a weekly occurrence to meet him. Berlin wasn’t too far from where you resided in Switzerland, the train ride was a part of your weekly routine now. When Tony had called you, expressing his concern at your visitations you explained that this was purely rehabilitation, for both you and Helmut. He wasn’t entirely convinced but he couldn’t stop you, not even Steve when he tracked you down to talk to you.

“(Y/N),” Steve greeted, surprising you in the alleyway by your apartment. “Steve! Christ you scared me,” you snapped, holding a hand to your heart. Giving him a stern look he chuckled. 

“Are you going to see Zemo?” Steve asked.

“Yes. Are you here to try and stop me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I just want to make sure he’s not using you, manipulating you,” Steve sighed. “Don’t you trust me Steve?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“I don’t trust him,” Steve replied. 

“He was in the wrong. I know that Steve but everyone deserves a chance to explain themselves, a second chance. You of all people should understand that,” you said. Steve stared down at you with those intense blue eyes but he knew you were right. Giving you a strong hug he retreated back into the shadows. 

“What are you thinking of miláčik?” Helmut whispered one day as you listened to him read a book on Russian history. History was something you both enjoyed so you would bring books every week for him. Heat rose in your cheeks at the way he called you darling but you shrugged. 

“How much I enjoy spending time with you. Even in this prison,” you murmured. Helmut smiled, feeling a joy he seldom felt since his family had perished. 

“I wish there wasn’t this glass between us,” Helmut said, but his tone surprised you. It was almost sad, and when you met his eyes there was something new in them. This was your chance, to admit your growing feelings for Helmut. Helmut watched you lean forward, giving him a closer view of your face. It was constantly in his dreams, your eyes his new favorite color. 

“Helmut I-,” you began to say, eyes full of adoration and sincerity but the words became stuck in your throat. Helmut’s confusion at your loss of words turned into horror as you slowly became dust, eyes wide with fear. The last thing he saw was your glowing green hand outstretched trying to reach him as he slammed his body against the glass, voice screaming your name until you were nothing. He was stuck in his cell of helplessness and loss, and that is how he stayed for five more years.