#meanwhile Innit is doing great

[infinitethree]

[the faint sound of many small bells heralds a new message] Heya Daz! It's been a little while since we last spoke! I got wrapped up in this and that and it led me away from observing for a little while, sorry about that. Or welcome for it, since I'm aware you aren't a terribly big fan of us seeing your every move. You're just too fun! I /gotta/ keep coming back. Though it does feel, perhaps, a little exploitative... but all the best entertainment is! I wonder, do you remember me? I hope so.

Daz just barely manages to stop himself from screaming.

Prime fucking damnit; the last thing he needs is to have another of his fanclub poking at him when he feels so volatile.

Before he speaks, he takes a moment to exhale and gather on his years of acting under pressure. "Chime. I see you have a new calling card."

Rich that they know how much he hates being watched and how exploitative watching him for entertainment is…and yet don't seem to actually care about his feelings on the matter.

You're a hypocrite, comes the sneering voice in his own head. You manipulate your so-called friends all the time– to say nothing of everyone else! You fuck with other people just because you can.

He doesn't need a fucking lecture from someone who wanted to commit a genocide, thanks. The peanut gallery can go back to shutting up.

Awfully rude way to talk to someone whose help you need. What help could he possibly need from–

There's a shadow that lingers in and around places where strange things happen. It seems to like the T3 quite a bit.

He scoffs. There’s no way it noticed something like that. What, did it learn that from a friend?

It laughs, but there’s a bitter, angry edge to the sound. You're a clever guy. I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually.

…Whatever. He’s not going to waste more of his time and energy on Innit. The damn thing has made it perfectly clear it hates him and wants to see him suffer.

He sighs, flipping onto his back on the couch on the upper part of his San-proof rooms.

Under a hidden trapdoor is a ladder down to the more spacious area, set up for times when he or Raine need to feel just a little bit safer.

Or when they and other members of the Council need to speak in absolute privacy.

"Hard to forget part of my…fan club," he says to Chime. The term is paired with a slightly sour tone. He can feel the power and control that served as the platform for his already dubious mental health crumbling underneath him.

The Observers, as well as the Scribe, are entities he can’t do jack and shit about. He’s had to grit his teeth and make deals that rip open long-festering wounds in his psyche. If he doesn’t know what’s going on, then he has failed at his core purpose.

Information is his armor, weapon, and tool. He wields and weaves it so that he can stomp out problems before they grow large enough that the Swords and Shields are truly needed. If he can’t do that, then what is he good for? Why is he here, if he can’t protect the people he has devoted himself to?

What is he, without the power of information?

Nothing, the monster in his head tells him. You’re nothing, and that’s why you're scared.

[comicavalcade]

Submariner Summer 38

Ok, friends, lets do some #SubmarinerSummer read through. Its part 38, and we're doing Sub-Mariner #2: Cry Triton! Only the second issue and already a crossover fight, as dramatically illustrated on another great cover.

Our title splash has Namor venting his rage on the machines of the ancient city. Destiny used them to power himself up, so they've got to go. Thomas/Buscema continuing as the creative team this issue, along with Giacoia on inks, but Simek is back on letters.

Once he's done with that, he turns to his next move. And for the first time since he got a solo feature, that move is the Fantastic Four, who he figures might be able to help him with his Destiny problem. But on the way there, he has an unexpected encounter with Plant Man

But he's not alone, the Inhumans are also in the area and concerned about Plant Man's sub. So they send the aquatic Inhuman Triton to go check it out. Seeing Namor coming from one side and Triton from the other gives Plant Man an idea...the classic Let's You And Him Fight

SO, he sets Namor up, making it look like he's his minion (as if). Triton only knows of Namor as an FF enemy, and since he's an FF ally, he buys the trick hook line and sinker, attacking Namor. I feel like Triton here is like way too much of online comic fandom

Seeing that Triton is pretty rad in the water, Namor changes the venue to the sky. As they brawl, they crash into Plant Man's sub, and Triton lets it slip that he's an FF friend. So Namor asks him to take him to them, but Triton of course refuses, misunderstanding the intention

So the brawl resumes, and as it does Namor rips off the tubes Triton needs to breath in air since he can normally only breath water. Triton starts to suffocate pretty quickly, but Namor has no intention of letting that happen and throws him into the water.

Checking in with Lady Dorma, the Atlanteans still assume Namor is dead and prepare to leave their destroyed city. Dorma wonders if that's true though, and is thinking of running off to look. Lord Vashti, though, puts the kibosh on that as she's needed to play her role as noblewoman

Meanwhile, Triton recovers quickly from nearly suffocating, and reengages. However, Plant Man finally makes his move and animates some sea-weed to trap Triton and Namor; this causes Namor to finally realize they've been tricked by someone, but too late to avoid becoming prisoner

By this point the other Inhumans assume something has gone wrong with Triton, so with Black Bolt in the lead they rush out to the sub; this freaks out Plant Man, who bugs out.

Where? Uh, apparently London, innit bruv. And there we reach our cliffhanger!

A nice Marvel Misunderstanding story, with two heroic characters manipulated by the evil villain into a bout. And Triton is a good choice, certainly an underutilized one. And the action is beautifully depicted. There's no doubting either Thomas or Buscema's mastery of the form

Also, do you SEE how slay Lady Dorma in mourning is? Absolute Icon. This look or variants of it will become a go-to for her, and its not hard to see why. A huge W in Buscema's column.

But NEXT, we have to care about what happens to London, somehow, as the Plant Man plants it on those shores as we cover Sub-Mariner #3: On A Clear Day You Can See...The Leviathan!

[freakingoutthesquares]

Ten Years In A Jumbo-Collared Shirt Words: John Mulvey, Photographer: Peter Walsh Taken from the New Musical Express, June 1992 Transcription: Acrylic Afternoons

"Pulp is... being an anachronism of any kind... living in a dream world... being totally unrealistic... making contact with beings from other planets and snogging them... it's not being different for the sake of it - that's immature... it's all of these things and more - but most of all it's about you and us, and what we can get up to together - OK? - alright, here we go..." (Pulp propaganda)

Today, Pulp is... trying to be superstars in your hometown... organising party games for drunks... loving Des O'Connor and not having to say you're sorry... being fantastic... being mundane... being fantastic and mundane at the same time... dreaming of space-age Sheffield...

"Sheffield's full of half-assed visions of cities of the future that turn into a pile of rubbish," Russell Senior reflects, standing on the biggest traffic roundabout in Europe. "We grew up reading the local paper and seeing 'Sheffield, city of the future,' with a map of how it's going to be and pictures of everyone walking around in spacesuits, smiling. But we're the only ones who took it seriously..."

"When I was younger I definitely thought I'd live in space," says Jarvis Cocker ruefully. "But when you realise you're not going to, it colours your life; you can't think, 'It's alright if I'm signing on because I'll be on Mars soon', you have to try and get it down here." So what are you getting into at the moment? "Cooking. It's very good. Cooking for your friends is very therapeutic, and they always say it's nice, 'cos they're just pleased they didn't have to get out of their seats to help."

Pulp - singer Jarvis, guitarist/violinist Russell, Nick Banks (drums), Steve Mackey (bass) and Candida Doyle (Farfisa, Korg and Stylophone) - are sitting in a dressing room at the Sheffield Leadmill with a pointless prop - a large, silver, faintly sinister head - for company. It is a special day. In the afternoon, hundreds of balloons have been released to mark the debut of their new label, Gift, a perverse indie spin-off from local Techno-vendors Warp. Later, they will play a dizzily great set of twisted disco melodrama. For now, though, they have a long ten years - and extraordinarily unsuccessful career to explain.

"Music's the only thing that can keep you going," says Jarvis, reassuringly clichéd. "If you're not getting paid loads of money and not getting loads of girls sayin ' You're smashing', that's the only thing to fall back on. When I was at school I had specs and bad teeth and was a bit lanky, and so no girls were really interested, but I thought that if I was in a group they'd think I was good... So on that level I've failed miserably. But that's why all sad kids do it, innit? Standing on the stage is like wanking off in front of a mirror. People in bands are social misfits aren't they?"

Looking at Jarvis - still wearing specs, still lanky (I didn't check his teeth) - and the rest of Pulp clad in a hundred shades of brown, a bit of lamé and countless other '70s synthetic atrocities, it's hard not to conclude that they're proud to be social misfits. Russell, meanwhile, is musing on how a band who haven't released an album since 1985 have kept going. "A band that's been together for a decade and has never sold any records is either very, very crap indeed OR they've got something strong keeping them together. I can't make up my mind which of those two it is yet."

"It's about not being able to make it in the real world," reckons Jarvis, back on his misfit tack. "I haven't got a City & Guilds certificate or anything, I haven't got a skill." What about film work (he and Steve are fully trained and occasionally practising video-makers)? "Oh yeah, I have got that," he admits bashfully. "But that's why I went to college, 'cos you do see sad characters walking around who used to be in a band about five years ago, and they always look like a dog that's got lost."

Pulp are currently busier, in bigger demand, than ever before. There's a frantically groovy new single, 'OU', about someone woken up by the sound of his girlfriend leaving him and wondering whether to chase after her or stay in bed; plus there's an album recorded in 1989, 'Separations', finally set for release on their old label, Fire. Both are tense, funny, fizzily danceable and flamboyantly out of step with most of the world, let alone the music scene.

"I like the light entertainment, Des O' Connor feel more than the greasy 'I'm on Highway 66, man' feel," says arch-crooner Cocker. "It's something that's going to die out. You listen to radio 2 - well, I do anyway - and they play Matt Munro, Engelbert Humperdinck and stuff that doesn't really get made anymore. It's a bit clichéd, and that's why people think it's cheesy. But the reason why people performed in that way is 'cos it's quite effective; if you can break through the cheese barrier, you can make contact..."

And so they go on. About people who find their balloons will be treated to a night in with Pulp, to listen to sports themes and BBC Radiophonic Workshop records, and play Stereo Ker-Plunk. About how Choppers are better than Grifters, and how Russell once smashed up the Leadmill dressing room in a fit of pique, only to be caught the next morning sneaking in to replace the bulbs he'd broken.

The last I see of Jarvis, he's standing on the bar at the after-show party, trying to organise the drunken liggers to play musical statues for a can of beer, while 'Nevermind' stops and starts incongruously in the background. It is, like a knackered redcoat struggling to bring culture to barbarians, not a pretty sight. The last I see of Candida, she's leafing through the Leadmill's visitors' book. Amidst pages of revealing scrawls - Spiritualized's inscrutable squiggles, Sultans Of Ping FC's unfunny cartoons - Pulp are there again and again and again; strange, sardonic, not all there but always bloody there. Whoever said all good things must come to an end was a useless liar.

[terpernoctem]

well hi there

i think it's high time we bring the personal posts back, what do you think? yeah let's do this

not really sure how—

happy new year, i guess, for a start!

2024. *insert paul rudd gif* (you know the one) (i could do it, really) (insert it, i mean) (after all, this is the internet) (but i don't want to) (so just picture it in your mind's eye and pretend you can do telepathy) (perhaps you can) (thrilling, innit?)

anywayssss

it's the fucking year 2024, you guys. who can believe this. how??????

i don't know about you but i never even thought of 2024 before.

more than that—it's like, i never thought of myself growing past the age of, let's say 22.

i remember being a kid, like in high school, vaguely trying to shape out the contours of the person i wanted to be. i remember applying for law degrees. but it was so unserious—i don't even think i ever gave it serious thought. they said pick something to do and i was, and honestly still am, shit at science (which was, the big thing back then) and too lazy to think of anything else. in retrospect, maybe i would have liked that. law, i mean. maybe it would have given me some kind of purpose.

maybe my nervous break down would have happened two years earlier.

in senior year, i was briefly crushing on a guy who wanted to be a vet (at least that's what i imagined it was what he wanted to be—it's not like we ever talked about it so maybe i made it up completely). i visited paris that summer right before senior year (i was traveling alone with my mum for the first time) and i remember thinking like "oh yes, i will definitely come and live here, i guess" (and do what? watch that dude become a vet? bet.) and i could picture it, for like 5 seconds, but it was like watching something from above. i wasn't actually picturing myself living this life. it's like, i was a character in a movie.

meanwhile i didn't have the faintest idea what i would be doing with my life.

and i still don't! yayy

i kid you not

more than an entire decade went by and i still have got no clue what i want to be. worse: i honestly believe that i'm useless at most things.

last night i got a rejection email for a ny internship i applied to 3 months ago. it's not that i was surprised, but still. i think i still have these delusions that my life hasn't quite started, and that there's this great big thing that's going to come up and change everything for the better.

in a way, i think the reason why i took the last job i had is somewhere along these lines. such big hopes.

and all for what?

i'm writing these lines on my parents' couch. since november, i'm back in my teenage bedroom—the one where i brought the only boy i've ever loved all these years ago. it looks nothing like it did back then and yet, it's full of ghosts, no matter how thoroughly i cleanse it. everything in this town, everything on this island haunts me. my old life in europe feels like a distant dream.

pros: free food. not constantly worrying about my aging parents. cons: i'm never alone. but it's strangely okay. (i guess a decade of acute loneliness would do that.)

and yes, haunting aside, where else would i be? my mum has asked me a couple times: "what are you doing here, rotting away with your old parents? why don't you go and keep living your life?"

and boy oh boy, wouldn't you like to know? i sure would.

stay tuned, it's going to be a packed year—i'm (finally) going to get my driver's license in the next few months (never got to get around it before) and potentially, a sense of self.

[kafkaoftherubble]

@pieadvisor

Are you asking, "Lyndis, what the hell is this?"

Are you wondering, "Lyndis, what the hell is this?"

Are you thinking, "Lyndis, is this dangerous?"

Well—

You must play This Track first before unlocking Read More for The Lore.

MERRY BIRTHDAY, π !!!

Happy Christmas!!!

Hee hee! In Chinese, what I did up there would have qualified as an instance of 献丑. It means "embarrassing yourself willingly." You'll have to pardon me; not only am I no writer, I'm also no singer!

So why did I do this when a simple Happy Birthday will do, you ask?

Because, just like my rambling, I'm extra as fuck Well, I had used this exact birthday audio only once before you, and that was for my Best Friend.

She did her own version of Happy Birthday one year, which was quite the show-off of her because she has a mellifluous voice and quite the gift for music. Meanwhile, Lyndis over here is _____ (fill in the blank yourself hhahahahah).

However! (oh, where is the BGM) Determined to uphold the principle of Equivalent Exchange, I cobbled my own version of the song as a return gift. I was supposed to make it sound, ya know, 1940s-ish. I adore music from that era (I know, I know. I'm not washing away my Granny Allegation now, aren't I?), so I tried to fashion it after that era.

Yea, underline-bold-italic "tried." You are welcome to decide how, er, "successful" I did.

I thought using it only once for one person was a waste. So, I decided to use it again.

How did I create this mustardpeas, you ask?

Well, it's not through sophisticated sound engineering or incredibly useful apps, that's for sure. Nor was it through intricate singing techniques, though every sound in there was me.

The method was actually as primitive as having two recording devices. I sang one part of the song while recording it on Constantine, the phone. Then I played it back while singing a new layer over it while recording it on Zelda, the tablet. Then I played that back and sang another layer while recording with Constantine, the phone, again.

I think there were 4 layers in this in total. If you hear a 5th layer, please write a painstaking observation report for me including the kind of voice, what they are saying, et al. A ghost eluding me? Smartass.

Obviously, the earliest layer would become rather degraded as you kept re-re-re-record it—scratchy, just like them old records. So it was still part of my keikaku!

No, seriously. It's a tad bit of effort, right?

Well, yesn't. Because, again, it was originally done for Best Friend. So technically, I didn't have to make any extra effort other than what I already did last time. I guess this letter is the aforementioned effort, though. Since I wrote this in the wee hours of the morning after I finished my work for the week!

But I suppose I would like someone to be happy on their birthday?

Sometimes, a bit of upsetting things could happen on your day, and because it's your day, it could wear you down a bit more than usual through the fault of dopamine crash (heightened due to expectations).

So I thought, in case that happened, I hope my 1940s-inspired (apparently) Birthday Song By My Mediocre Singing Ass could bring a wee bit of cheer through sheer surprise or something like that. Salvage some of that dopamine, you know? I can only do this trick once!

And should the case not happen, and you had a great day every step of the way today, then it would still be nice to have this lil' shit be one of the reasons your birthday's a good one, innit?

I see this as a win no matter what way the day goes. Gee, I'm truly a brilliant schemer! I accounted for everything!

So yea. Happy birthday! I sure hope it's a rising trajectory from here on out. I mean, 'course, it ain't gonna be swell all the time. Life's a bitch. A fucking bitch ass motherfucker sometimes, even. What I mean is that if you pull it out of the moment and plot it on a cartesian plane, I hope your graph is ultimately going upward.

See ya around! Merry Christmas on your way out!

——Yours Truly, Lyndis

P.S. You may also wonder why this is a post instead of an Ask. That's because I've been away from Atom, the Laptop, for these few days. I only signed into Tumblr through this laptop (to avoid mindless scrolling instead of reading and studying shits that can actually satisfy my Brain's hunger, which can happen if I signed in through more convenient devices like Zelda the tablet). I need to schedule this for the day itself, right? This is also why, should you send me letters or replies in this window of time, I have offered zero feedback. But again, I'm likely ghost-reading your blog every now and then... now that's me returning to my roots, heh.

[what-youd-expect]

Honestly both sound appealing, lay it on me (tho I understand if you prefer I don’t reblog, I know ppl like you prefer to stay in your own corner and that my blog isn’t. particularly small skfvdjdhdj)

Alright so we're doin both!

👌(・`ω´・ ●)👌

(Quick thing before I start.)

Normal headcannons are in Blue

Tk headcannons are in Pink

Alright with that settled here we go! (They aren't going in def ill just keep em simple)

•°Normal Fluff Headcannons!°•

• I find the concept of Reginald being the flirt of the relationship making sense, but imagine how red in the face he would get if Right Hand tried it back, I'm sure my man wouldn't be able to handle it being thrown back at him.

• RIght Hand may be seen all stoic and such, but he's definitely the most tender out of the two. Reginald adores it when they get their moments alone, because Reg specifically gets to see the part of him that no one else on the Tophat clan does.

• Right Hand is the big spoon in the relationship and a MASSIVE cuddler, and Reg is all for it!

• Right Hand man's love language is acts of service and physical touch (obviously). Meanwhile Reginalds is gift giving and words of affirmation.

• Reginald adores kissing his husband's battle scars. And in my headcannon, Right has LOTS of them. Right finds it very therapeutic, especially the massive one he has on his face.

• They both usually put on a normal co-worker facade being both Leader and..well..Right hand respectfully, but almost everyone in the clan knows of their "Secret" relationship. They just pretend like they don't to keep up the "facade"

Aaaand now onto the other part...mwehehe!

(✧ω✧)/\

▪︎□Tk Fluff Headcannons!□▪︎

• Of course the most ticklish in the relationship is Reginald, he especially can't stand having his hips and waist touched. How Right hand man found this out is that they were slowdancing to their favorite record when Right Hand man squeezed a lil to hard.

• Reginalds laugh is loud and high pitched, even consisting of Squeaks and Snorts aplenty. Meanwhile Right hand man has low soft giggles and chuckles that usually gets emitted through a closed smile

• Despite what you might think, even with the Cybernetic enhancements, Right is still ticklish. Though that's a secret for only him and Reg to know >:)

• Both are terribly stubborn when it comes to staying up late to finish a task, of course one always tickles the other to get them to come to bed and sleep.

• When Right is feeling playful enough, he'll usually mess with Reginald while he's doing his important leaderal duties. Things like quick pokes to the side while doing morning announcements, or thigh squeezes while in the middle of meetings with the rest of the clan.

• Reginald will always go into a soft giggling fit whenever Right fluds him with soft kisses, it doesn't help when your husband has a scraggly and terribly tickly mustache. Right hand man likes to tease him while doing it too, saying things like "Wot's the giggles for love?" And "It's me stache innit?" Reg never tells him to stop though so he's left there giggling and squirming but enjoying it non the less.

Aaaaaaand with that, that's all the headcannons that I can pump out currently

(or at least the ones I can think of rn (*ﾉ∀`*) )

All and all you can see that I've put alot of time and effort into these headcannons!

I am BEYOND grateful that you asked me for these headcannons, this is a MASSIVE comfort ship for me and I don't mind at all if you reblog it or not

Thanks for the chance to ramble @the-irken-pony !

Big preciation all around!

This is DEFINITELY one of my new favorite posts I've made

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a list of ship fanfics to write using these

Have a great day! 💟👌👍

[heylinfanclub]

😳 realized I could make an iwatex AU for Jack….. nnnnnn….. space boi……. From the Helios. Ofc he still has a moderately ‘regular’ name (unless I can find a word with Jack innit that’s also sciencey).

Him 🤝 Dys&Tang: fuck people let me prove to you I don’t need them. (WRONG!)

Being raised on the SPACE COPS ship didn’t help his rebellious streak. He probably has beef with Vace, but also doesn’t get along with Rex or Nomi-Nomi (Rex thinks he’s gross and abrasive (kinda cute tho); Nomi thinks he’s just not social and that’s okay!). Stands outside engineering during the day, is one of the few people out during Glow Season. Also goes on expeditions, where if you run into him, he’s regularly testing experiments in the wild. Can probably get you hella Blue and Red cards. Likes Glowing Machines, Crystals, Cake and Red Eggs. Flowers make him make a face (can’t eat it can’t make somethin great with it ehh— ‘do you like me or something’ NO GIFT GIVING MECHANIC BOI). Highest skills are probably bravery, engineering/creativity and toughness (glad being Tough and good at COMBAT are separate)

If I added the monks I’d say. Raimundo and Clay are also from the Helios. While Omi and Kimiko were with the Original Colonists (tho I could trade Kimiko for Raimundo toooo….. I like the idea of her single father fitting in more among the lifestyle diverse vertumnans. Plus Kimiko and Omi are the youngest, and when the Helios comes, everyone’s kinda teens by then. Meanwhile Clay got that Traditional upbringing. Raimundo would fit in either, but I could see him and Vace butting heads for ‘coolest most popular military brat’).

Sighs in I GOTTA MAKE ART FOR THIS

Gotta look at art of their spacey outfits and make SPACEY OUTFITS AWOOO.

Jack 🤝 Dys Again: yeah I just casually wear armored tech around look I’m not gonna keel over cause a wild animal surprised me.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #596

Top Ten Ideas for Star Trek Videogames

So Star Trek. It’s alright, innit? The slower, more cerebral sci-fi show, for Grown Ups who like Talking About Things. As opposed to Star Wars’ sugar rush of wacky aliens and loud weapons. It’s kind of weird now, when both franchises really feel just like stretched-out shared-universe TV serials, but Back In The Day, Star Wars was the exciting, cool movie series, and Star Trek was the serious, nerdy TV series. Everybody could drop a reference to the Death Star or Princess Leia or maybe even a wampa, and basically you were on safe ground. Start talking about dilithium crystals or bat’leths or the Grand Nagus, and people would back away slowly. Nowadays, simultaneously we have a situation where genre TV is all-encompassing, but also its more granular nuances of lore and nerdery are sort of kept to a minimum.

Back in the days of the Wars of Star, though, one way the hyperdrive people had more bragging rights than the warp drive people is through videogames. The nineties were, in a lot of ways, the Golden Age of both properties, and Star Wars excelled in producing some of the greatest of all licenced games. The X-Wing and TIE Fighter space combat games; the Dark Forces/Jedi Knight FPS games; the Rogue Squadron arcade shooter games. They probably reached their zenith with Knights of the Old Republic; since then, there have been good games, but I don’t think anything has shaken the galaxy in the same way. Star Trek, on the other hand, definitely had some great games – shout out to both Klingon Honor Guard and Voyager: Elite Force for being more unusual FPS titles and just generally terrific fun – but it’s hard to think of one that really broke through the way most Star Wars games did. I think because of the more cerebral, slower-paced nature of Trek, a lot of the games fed the fanbase in very specific ways, giving us complex simulations and interactive movies that went deep on the lore and the technobabble.

Anyway, despite the many Trek games on offer, I think nowadays there are some gaps in the market. So, despite my woeful ignorance of the depths that videogame Trek has to offer (I Googled it when writing this thing and there are tons more games in that franchise than I first thought), I’m going to offer my suggestions here. Ideas for games that scratch a particular itch in Trek fandom; areas of the franchise that would translate perfectly to different genres.

And that’s really all there is to it. What more do want from me? I’ve had a busy week.

Star Trek does Mass Effect: after making an official Star Wars RPG with Knights of the Old Republic, BioWare made an original property that clearly owes a debt to Star Trek: Mass Effect. But there’s something in its formula that would perfectly fit an official adaptation. Let’s say you play the First Officer of a starship; during the game you can select your team to go down to planets on away missions, talking to people, solving problems, and occasionally engaging in firefights. Meanwhile you get to walk around the ship, visiting various sections and chatting to the crew. It could be a great mix of discrete “levels” set on planets, with an overarching storyline that allowed for some evolving, emergent gameplay. And maybe there could be a little hidden emote that allows you to sit on a chair like William Riker.

Star Trek does X-COM: there was already an Away Team game, where you played as, well, an away team out on missions, but I think that concept lends itself to a turn-based X-COM style of gameplay. This would most definitely be a tactical combat game, where you have to position your squad behind the usual helpfully-placed crates and boulders to fire your phasers at whatever Cardassian/Romulan/Borg baddie you were facing off with this time. The usual Trek staple of different classes of character – engineers, commanders, etc – would lend a good dose of variety to your squad, as would the nuance of tinkering with your phaser settings and the option of beaming out if things got too tough.

Star Trek does Pandemic: Pandemic is a game where the aim is to spread a virus across the globe, wiping out all of humanity before they can develop a cure. This idea isn’t exactly the same, but what about a tactical game where you play as the Borg? The aim of the game is to assimilate the entire Galaxy. Perhaps the galactic map could be divided into different “powers” – eg Federation space, Romulan, Klingon, etc – and they might have different ways of tackling the Borg, and so you’re dividing time and resources between different tactics. The ultimate goal, though, is to conquer everything and make it all part of the Collective. Resistance is futile, remember!

Star Trek does Gone Home: I’m not necessarily riffing on Gone Home in particular here, but it’s more about those slightly spooky “walking simulators”; things like Dear Esther too. So here you’d have essentially an interactive version of one of those episodes where a member of the crew returns to the ship and discovers that Everything is Different. Here, basically, the plot is that you return from, I dunno, a Bat’leth tournament or a stellar cartography conference or something, to find your starship is utterly deserted. Only by wandering the dimly-lit corridors, speaking to the computer, solving clues, scanning with your tricorder, etc, can you piece together the puzzle and find out what happened. It would be creepy and kooky to begin with, but being Star Trek there’d be a pseudo-scientific explanation.

Star Trek does Superhot: you could definitely argue that the most compelling aspect of Superhot is its trippy time mechanics, with time only moving if you move. But this game would be more in the line of how Superhot plays, meta-textually, with the notion of being a game. You play a person playing the game, and the game in the game turns hostile. So this would be like a recreation of one of the numerous “holodeck goes wrong” episodes (seriously, the holodeck is the most dangerous piece of technology in all of science fiction). So you’d be playing the game, going through different puzzles and scenarios, trying to uncover the real game so you can escape. And the “real” bits, where you’re breaking down the “fake” game, could be rendered in a more stylised, Superhot-esque fashion; although with the old school yellow and black grid as a background.

Star Trek does Sim City: Sim City might not be the best example, but the general gist is you’re establishing one of the many-referenced Federation colonies. So you have to go out and tame the wilderness, making atmospheres breathable, building different buildings to regulate water or harvest local minerals. There could be a campaign where you’re tasked with running different colonies for different reasons – mining dilithium, setting up a research centre, etc – or a sandbox mode where you just basically cover a planet with your futuristic colony.

Star Trek does Startopia: shrinking things down a little bit more we have this, basically a Deep Space Nine simulator. You’re given a run-down starbase to manage, Sisko-style, and have to turn it into a bustling galactic hive. Yes, you can specialise in military or scientific research, or spy on the Cardassians or something; maybe you can even start churning out Galaxy-class starships. But you could also make it a home, creating shops and restaurants, living quarters, schools (watch out for Bajoran extremists!); basically, create the outpost of your dreams. Even open a branch of Quark’s!

Star Trek does Overcooked: speaking of Quark’s, this game would double-down on that setting, where you play another distant relative of everyone’s favourite duplicitous bar-owner, who’s been given the job of running a franchise. So here you not only need to make sure your dabo tables are turning in a profit and that there are adequate, er, stimulations in the holosuites, but also that you’re serving your customers. So you run from one job to the next, throwing drinks at grumpy Irish engineers and occasionally shouting “allamaraine”. And if you cock up a drink order or your racht dies before anyone has chance to eat it, Quark comes in and tweaks your ears.

Star Trek does Elite: really, this one seems kind of obvious, and I’m not certain that they’ve not actually done a version of it. But you’d play an independent pilot – maybe like Rios from Picard – who has a small ship, ferrying cargo or passengers. And, like the galaxy’s most famous space-sim, you can upgrade your ship as you progress, buying a bigger boat to take more cargo. And you can play it by the book – dealing with the Federation would mean protection, access to advanced technology, but also an inability to make profit in a society where money doesn’t really exist anymore – or you can go rogue, smuggling contraband to shady individuals around the Alpha Quadrant. Maybe you could even become a space pirate! Steal a cloaking device from a derelict Klingon cruiser, buy a couple of black market quantum torpedoes, and away you go!

Star Trek does Arkham Asylum: so the Arkham reference here is that this would be a third-person action adventure game focused on physical combat and exploration, but you’d play as a Klingon. Sent off on high-risk missions by the Chancellor, you’d visit far-flung planets, investigate mysteries, and beat up just tons of people. Expand your abilities, augment your tech, and buy a bigger Bat’leth, learning all kinds of vicious fighting techniques. Like Klingon Honor Guard of yore, the focus on Star Trek’s knobbly space Vikings means it can revel in the blood and the guts, swigging blood wine and deciding that today is a good day to die. Qapla'!

Sadly no room for a Pokémon-style Tribbles game, but ah well.

[ayyponine]

absolute chaos of sleepin like shit, having a scheduled call w sister's ex in a few hours to discuss mb testifying in trial while my mom is like "mb it's better if you dont. she said if u talk to him again abt anything there'll be war. if she loses custody over her kid (which she may or may not have directly abused as well btw) then 1. she'll REALLY be out fr blood and 2. have nothing tying her down abroad so that makes it more likely she'll want to move back here so i know youve already been dragged into this anyway but mb we should stay out of it" while im also trying to get hold of CAW aka wellbeing services to mb ask fr legal advice in abuse situations and what i can do to protect us, thinking maybe i should phone my dad since he's in contact w my sister and paying fr her lawyer so he surely has a better view on wth is going on except yknow, havent spoken w my dad in months since he got so angry w me "constantly playing a victim role and not wanting to get better" so he screamed at me and acted so brute i legit thought he was gonna crash the fucking car we were in. with the ex being like "hey i need an answer frm u asap on this" i. im sorry my answer could mean life or death possibly for me and my mom and idk which is which can u let me fucking THINK

[go-learn-esperanto]

Alright, just IMAGINE. You're tired of Twitter and you heard Tumblr is pretty chill. The fanart here is great too and there's definitely not as much drama going around, at least not at first glance.

You follow some fanart blogs, maybe some blogs everyone seems to follow. Pretty cool.

You expect to see the blogs talking about some lore, talk about how much of a Inniter they are or whatever, but no.

You can't believe your eyes.

Your whole dash is talking about quantum physics. This must be a joke. Is the fandom on Tumblr ok?

Nobody answers you. Everyone is too entranced by the particale seemingly able to cause molecular chaos. “Innuon are we the bad guys?” they say.

You scream “Is this the price? Is this the price I have to pay for piece of mind? This isn't piece of mind at all! I just wanted to talk about guys playing Minecraft, What did I do wrong?”

Meanwhile Cates, the Tumblr staff member assigned to keep an eye on mcytblr, is having the worst day since May 2021.

[football-writing]

Jack Grealish - real smooth

Note: I haven't seen the david and liza vid that this request was based on, and I have the attention span of fresh gravy so I didn't watch it either lmao. But I had a bit of an idea in mind for this more like Mason's fifa forfeit vid with Chunkz (let's be honest that vid was hilarious I still watch it sometimes for laughs lmao) anyway I hope that's okay. Also this features other players too bc why not

Warnings: contains some curse words probably, slight mentions of sexy times at the end, also I have no idea how waxing actually works as my only knowledge comes from that Mason vid so,, this is probably not accurate sorry xoxo

Hope you enjoy babes x

It wasn't unusual for Jack to invite some of his friends over whenever he had a day off. In fact, his days off were usually spend either with you or with his friends, most often opting for eating out with you before getting back and playing fifa with the boys for well past midnight. Today was no different. You had occupied yourself with a book and and cup of tea in your shared bedroom, while Jack was downstairs with his friends playing fifa. Their yelling and laughter could be heard even from behind the closed bedroom door. Not that it bothered you too much: as long as they were having fun and cleaning up after themselves once they left, it was fine by you.

However, it surprised you to hear footsteps coming up to the stairs, then down the hallway to your room. They had everything they needed downstairs, and never before had they bothered you upstairs, so why would they now?

A knock sounded on your bedroom door and you yelled out a quick 'yeah' as you closed your book and sat up on the bed, curious as to what it was they needed.

"Hey angel." Jack said as his head popped through the door before making his way into your bedroom, sitting down defeatedly onto the edge of your bed. He had a slight pout on his face, and bit his bottom lip nervously as he looked at you.

"What's wrong, baby? Please tell me you didn't break anything down there." You said, a stern look plastered on your face.

"No, no, it's nothing like that. It's just- uhm." He hesitated as he looked down, playing with the hem of his shirt instead of maintaining eye contact with you. Worry took over your features. What was he up to now?

"We were playing fifa forfeit, right. And Ben said I had to wax my legs if I lost-"

"Oh my god, Jack!" A releaved sigh left her lips. It was never gonna be anything serious with these boys anyway. She should've known better. "Did you lose, though? Please tell me you did."

He only nodded in response, and she let out a squeel as she fell back on the bed.

"That's hilarious, I was worried there for a second, but this is great."

"Don't get too excited. The boys asked if I'd ask you if you had any wax. But I just came up here to chat for a bit and then I'll go back down saying you didn't."

"Now, why would you do that?" She said as she looked at him with raised brows, challenging him.

"You know, I actually do have some strips left, I'd be more than happy to wax your legs. Besides, a bet is a bet, Jack. You can't just back down now." She smiled thriumphantly and he groaned in response.

"Why won't you just have my back with this?"

"Oh, I can wax your back too, no problem."

"Not what I meant sweetheart."

"I know." She smiled cheekily as she leaned forward to kiss his cheek, before telling him she'd be downstairs in a bit with all the necessities to wax his legs.

"Hey boys!" She hollered as she rushed down the stairs with her wax kit, the boys looking up at her. Jack was already sitting on the chaise longue with his legs up. His shorts ridden up a bit more than usual to expose his muscular thighs. The others sitting next to him on the couch, ready for the action that was about to unfold.

"Ready, babe?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him as she sat down her kit.

"Oh I sure am!" Ben replied with a big boyish smile on his face.

"I'm sure you are, Ben." She chuckled as she ruffled his hair. He'd usually have it gelled back whenever he had a game, but kept it natural and curly when he came around theirs. It was her favourite look of his, perhaps partly because she could mess with his hair more easily.

"I remember when I had this done, hurts like hell. Good luck bro!" Mason interjected, patting Jack's shoulder in mock-sympathy.

"Yeah, I cannot wait to see you cry like a baby. I love you for coming up with this, Ben."

"Babe!" He whined. "You're supposed to support me here."

"Well I am supporting you, I'm the one waxing you. Trust me, you do not want to have this done by someone who has no idea what they're doing." You said as you warmed up a few strips of wax between your hands.

"Seconded." Declan replied with a serious face. Everyone looked at him in confusion; he had never told them about getting waxed before, but it sounded like an intriguing story.

"I'm not even gonna ask, mate." Jack said. Horror stories would not make this experience any more bearable for him. It left Dec pretending to be upset, eager to tell the - no doubt ridiculous - story.

"Alright, I'm gonna get these on." You interrupted their banter, tearing the strip to reveal the sticky substance underneath.

She put the strips on his leg as the boys chatted away. Just as she was putting the fourth strip on, Jack swatted her hand away.

"You have to put all those on?" He questioned her.

"Well the forfeit did say 'legs'. As in, both legs. Completely." Declan argued.

"I did say that. But that's a bit too harsh innit?"

"Yeah, there's already three strips on now, let's see how he gets through those first." Mason offered.

"Will hurt like hell with that much hair." Declan hit Jack's leg for emphasis.

"No doubt." You laughed as you smoothed out the strips once more.

"Ready, Jack?" You asked as you hold the edge of one of the strips, ready to pull it off.

"Wait, wait I gotta film this!" Declan was quick to exclaim as he took out his phone, much to Jack's dismay, who had his hands in front of his face as he waits for the inevitable pain of ripping off the strips.

"Alright, 3. 2. 1!" The boys count down in unison as you rip off the first strip.

"Jesus, Y/N!" An array of curses leave Jack's mouth as he yelps, gripping his leg in pain, his eyes wide with shock. Clearly he had underestimated how much this was really going to hurt, which has all of you rolling over with laughter. Mason is gripping his stomach as he's sitting on the floor, barely able to breathe between his giggles. You're trying to ease Jack's mind and soothingly rub the sensitive skin on his leg, but you're shaking too much from the laughter leaving your lips.

"Oh my lord, and look at the hair that's come off!" Declan hollers as he takes a step closer to properly film the strip that was, indeed, covered in Jack's leg hair. You held it up for the camera as you shrieked at the sheer amount of hair. It's like a lion's mane got glued on the strip.

"Jeez, Jack, you hairy lad." Declan laughs, which earns a grumble from dissatisfied boy. You're pretty sure if Dec wasn't responsible for filming the whole ordeal, he'd be on the ground just as Mason was.

"Oi, what are you crying for, mate? I'm the one in pain here." Jack points a finger accusingly at Ben, and when you turn around you see he has tears in his eyes, breathing coming out in desperate gasps as he shakes his head no, signalling he can't take any more of this banter. It seemed like everyone had at least slightly calmed down, but looking at Ben made everyone burst out in laughter yet again. Mason had tears streaming down his face now too, and you're sure he might piss his pants if he laughs any louder. It even makes Jack chuckle.

"Just get it over with, alright. I don't wanna be in pain any longer." Jack asks you nonetheless, guiding your hand to one of the other strips.

"It can't be that bad." Ben's voice is higher than usual from his earlier laughing fit, but he's wiping the tears from his eyes as he seems to have calmed down considerably. Mason can only nod in confirmation, still unable to form words without giggling.

"I have no problem waxing you lot too, babes." You smile up cheekily at them, which results in loud protests from the boys.

"Now that I would love to see." Jack replies, before looking down at his leg and rubbing the spot that was now rid of any hairs. "Perhaps this would be funnier if there weren't two other strips on me leg." He sighed in despair, staring at his leg with sad eyes. It made you chuckle, but seeing Jack's stern look dericted at you, you quickly focused on the task at hand.

"Alright, next one Jack."

"Lord have mercy."

The next strips don't have any other effect than the first one. It sends all of you rolling on the floor laughing, and Jack with tears in his eyes and red skin on his leg. Dec leaves the room at one point because he genuinely can't breathe, and Mason has to sprint to the bathroom, like you predicted. Meanwhile your hands get shakier and shakier from laughing, and you can barely see what you're doing due to the tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. Jack's decided to rip the last strip off himself, and you're shrieking with laughter as he pulls at it but chickens out from the pain, resulting in it only coming off halfway. When it is finally off, and all the hairy strips are disposed of, everyone slowly but certainly calms down. You're getting some lotion from upstairs to soothe the stinging, and when Ben orders pizza, it all seems long gone.

Yet when you're watching tv, and Mason steals a sneaky glance at Dec, the both can't help but try - and fail - to surpress their giggles.

It's how the rest of the night continued until the three other boys finally left in the late hours of the night.

"I'll clean, love. Get in bed and I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" Jack's offering once they're gone, and you're accepting gratefully as you kiss his cheek. The night was fun, but the laughing fits had you beyond tired.

So when Jack slips into bed next to you, you're already in bed with your eyes closed, dozing off.

"Hey, babe."

"Hm?" You mumble as you open your eyes at Jack's whisper.

"Wanna feel my leg?" He asks, but he's already draping his freshly waxed leg over your legs, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You've known the guy long enough to know that he won't stop bothering you if you decline, and the request makes you think of the many times you've asked him to feel your legs after - finally - shaving them again.

So you decide to humour him and softly carress his smooth leg.

"Feels pretty good, huh?" His voice cocky as he questions you.

"Sure, real smooth Jack."

"Wanna have sex with a sexy smooth beast like that?"

You snort loudly at his inappropriate request, shoving his leg off of you in a joking manner.

"Oh come on, don't tell me I went through all that for nothing!" He exclaims in agony.

"No, you went through all that because you suck at Fifa." You deadpan as you grin at him.

His eyes are darker as he watches you intently, and the knowing smirk on your face makes you apprehensive of what he's up to now. He's moving closer, hovering over you and effectively trapping you as his muscular arms hold himself up on either side of you. And next thing you know, he's placing a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth, before trailing down to your jaw. A gasp involuntarily leaves your lips as he nibbles at your earlobe.

"You know with how soft my leg is and all." He starts to whisper in your ear. His voice is husky and smooth - and normally you know what it means. But you have no clue where he's going with this sentence. "Would you mind if I-" And he's pausing again for dramatic effect as his lips graze over your hot skin. "Slitherin." He finally whispers in your ear, accentuating the 's'.

And just like that, you're back rolling over with laughter just like you had been that very afternoon.

[the-incorporeal-sandwich]

Knifetrick Ch. 8 Live Reaction

WARNING: Major Spoilers (obviously) and incoherent rambling.

Also this post is very very long.

‘Watson shrugs. “Removed it during the medical process. Maybe I’ll give it back in the mines.”’ SDJFADKFJHR HELLO??!?!? You’re gonna stick him in the fucking MINES??? Without his arm???? And ohhhhhhhh he doesn’t remember that’s bad that’s bad that’s very very bad

. . . oh wait enderman with memory problems LOL

Mfer still thinks mans was giving him assassination advice? No wonder it took him until the bench to realize, I forgot just how completely dense af this guy is smh

‘Watson had at least given him a clean sleeveless sweater, which was thoughtful of him.’ That’s not a sweater that’s his fucking Tasmin-tailored vest from the party isn’t it.

Oh yeah I forgot he’d have claustrophobia trauma from when he lost his arm, huh?

CLEM!!!!! SHE’S ALIVE!!!!!!

This probably has nothing to do with the actual plot but I love the massive species diversity in this fic. Is the girl with red rocks supposed to be like Skeppy? That’s so cool

‘The second girl, a brunette with pointy ears on the top of her head’ WAIT IS THAT A MAXIMUS SHE BETTER NOT BE A MAXIMUS OR I’M GOING TO GET A FUCKING GUN AND SHOOT WATSON IN THE HEAD MYSELF. Jackie had “Maximus” on his board even though he knew what happened to Laggius, and he obviously made his board before they met Maia and Snail, which… FUCK. Which probably means that yeah, Lag and Snail had another sibling and they were kidnapped. I’m so stupid, how did I not realize this sooner

‘“Hey!” Clem shouts, and she kicks Ran in the knee. He winces, and wobbles, but manages to stay upright. “Are you a really tall child?!”’ Oh yeah, definitely an Innit.

PFFFFFFTTTTTTTHAHAHAHAAAA X’D

The Girls: Let’s put him to work!

Ran: Aight let’s go! *faceplants*

‘“Natalie, I think he fucking died.”’ I’ve only known Clem for about two minutes and already I would die for her.

‘“You’re Clementine Loo”’ AYYYYY MEMORIES ARE BACK!!!! Great now he’s gonna panic isn’t he

Nevermind he’s still fucking useless

‘Imagine how vulnerable he would be if he couldn’t even remember things that happened to him!’ Man c!Ranboo just can’t catch a fucking break can he /lh

‘Perhaps Watson was helping him find the missing children. That would explain why some of them are here now, and look relatively safe.’ *very, very long, slow, deep inhale* b i t c h .

Oh wait Nat’s a cat not a wolf okay good not a Maximus

Wait fuck there might still BE a Maximus tho

WAIT IS THAT FUCKING NETHERITE

Oh thank goodness they’re all alive okay good oh my poor heart

Wait is he not after phobium after all?

‘”Wait a moment,” Ran asks, slowly and clearly. “Are you saying Watson was the one who kidnapped you?”’ Ran, Ran, Ran. Ran fucking Aetherman. You dumbass assassin. How in the three realms have you survived this long

‘Twelve kids force themselves into the circular room. It’s not exactly a squeeze or anything, but the amount of small bodies in an enclosed space makes Ran unreasonably perturbed’ I’m sorry but this made me think “they’re setting off his Endermite instinct” and now I can’t stop laughing because I keep picturing him trying to hold back from weakly swatting them like bugs

‘Acting like a screwdriver is the least he can do.’ I understand the Very Important sentiment behind that statement but mans is still very loopy and it shows XD

“LOOKED AT??!” LOOKED AT??!?!? IS THIS TRAFFICKING??? IS HE SIZING THEM UP TO FEED TO DREAMONS OR SOMETHING??? WHAT THE FUCK???

Scanner… is he trying to get them possessed for some reason?

LOL Clem on the support beam like that Hang In There kitty poster meanwhile Ran going “I do not See. bitch”

Ohhhh is Root aquatic like Gyre? Poor kid :(

Wait hold on I’m trying to keep track of everyone okay so Clem the innit Ruby gemgirl Natalie catgirl Root squidkid 2.0 Abbey also avian? Pyro blind w/ horns Marke pigboy Zenith avian maybe idfk Zecori curly hair Boreal avian maybe that’s only 10 hmmmm this is hard

‘He’s poisoning the food, Ran guesses immediately’ of course you’d fucking think that wouldn’t you XD

Okay but seriously WHAT is Watson doing? Is he putting the phobium in their food? And then scanning them to see the effects? Is he, like, trying to give them dreamon powers, or RECREATE dreamons, or something?

‘“I, believe it or not, am both weird and sciencey,” Ran explains, a grin growing on his face. “The distraction can be me.”’ *nervously eyes Tak’s vivisection jokes from about a month or two ago* Ran what the fuck are you doing

Ran: Why are you somehow actually growing on me stop doing that

Clem: A large percentage of people find me annoying at first-

Wait she’s a living clock? Oh that’s cool

Okay so symptoms are headaches and “growth pains,” which I’m guessing may or may not be actual growth pains :/ what are you up to, old man?

Wait horns growing in recently??? And I thought it was weird that all of them seem to have tails, even the ones whose species you wouldn’t think have them (like Ruby or the avians). He’s trying to turn them into fucking dreamons, isn’t he?

‘Ran remembers why he is not fond of this girl’ OH MY GOD I LOVE HER XD

AYOOOOOO DID I GET IT RIGHT????????

enderman samples? 0_0

‘“How do you feel, by the way? After your head injury.”’ Fuck you.

‘“Damn,” Watson clicks his tongue. “And where I thought you were smart.”’ Wait I’m confused so does Watson WANT him to figure it out?

‘“On Endermen? Eh Hauntings make interesting guardians for sure.”’ WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT BACK THE FUCK UP WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN

Wait Ran barely knows what an MRi is do endermen… not have brains?

‘After all, the council wouldn’t have kept him around if he didn’t have a lot of useful skills, such as being able to shoot an olive through the window of a moving car’ okay but why the fuck would you need to do that X’’’D it’s not like ‘shoot a chink in someone’s armor in a moving car,’ no, it’s shoot a fucking olive

Wait Watson knows too much he’s working WITH Terminus?

Okay wait Ran isn’t just a Faulty Enderman but is, like, an actual hybrid? Maybe? That sounds like too many physical differences to just be faulty genome mutation

But what do I know about genetics or biology

Oh wait he just Copied Humans too much XD

‘“Most endermen I’ve ever studied,” Watson explains gleefully, “Are chock full of ampulexins. Sometimes you can find that in bee venom, but I’ve mostly only seen it in enderman brains. You have essentially none!”’ WAIT okay so I’m aware this is a H U G E leap in logic on my part but does this mayhaps have anything to do with hiveminds or Taking Orders???? Because that seems to be the only thing I can think of that bees and endermen would have in common

‘Out of seemingly nowhere, the walls around Ran become stone brick’ *excited chanting* STRONGHOLD! STRONGHOLD! STRONGHOLD!

Mans has Alexandria’s Genesis in not only his eyes but also his BLOOD, can’t teleport like the rest of his species, his bones are just Built Different, is a living smoke machine, and an amputee, but his biggest concern right now is that some evil scientist who kidnaps children just diagnosed him with Neurotypical. Priorities.

[Edit: WAIT FUCK I MEANT NEURODIVERGENT MY BRAIN SWITCHED THE WORDS FOR SOME REASON I'M SO STUPID I CAN'T BELIEVE I ONLY CAUGHT THIS LIKE 3 WHOLE DAYS AFTER POSTING *cough* anyways]

Oh my fucking god wait is he gonna murder Ran for his eyes O_O

‘His right ear burns’ isn’t that where he’s wearing the triangle earring the Council gave him??? WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT ALL MEEEEEEEAAAAAAAN???

Oh okay now that literal God’s in the picture can we just have Watson get smited on the spot pretty please

WAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIT FUCK HE CAPTURED TWELVE CILDREN. END PORTALS HAVE TWELVE FRAMES. IS HE GOONA FUCKING SACRIFICE THEM TO SUMMON GOD. WHAT THE FUCK.

Oh god oh fuck everything;s happening so fast now

AYOOOOOOOOO HE’S HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!! :D

General Brackett bouta fuck shit up >:)

‘He has the advantage – he has the high ground’ smh not according to the Blood God you don’t

‘Jackie hollers some sort of battle cry and slices into his leg – there’s a clang, and nothing happens.’ Tak you fucker you watched Hawkeye didn’t you >:(

JACKIE NO!!!!!!! Watson you done did it now

‘This guy, Ran thinks to himself for what is definitely not the first time, is extremely screwed up in the head’ and that’s why you’re perfect for each other :)

Oh theank god the kids are still okay for now

THE EARRING???? HELLO????? WHAT????

Wait what no fuck this can’t be it you’re not gonna fucking die right now

‘“Yes sir,” he whispers back, raising one arm in a weak salute.’ Waht. No. no no non no. We are NOT doing this today. My fuking heart I am punching my pillow so hard right now do not die what the fuck.

‘“Are you two done kissing back there?!” shouts Clementine’s annoyed voice’ An Innit through and through :D

THE PORTAL??!!?!?!?!?!

WAIT RAN’S A GREEN ENDERMAN. A G R E E N ENDERMAN. WHICH MEANS HE HAS GREEN EYES. AND JACKIE’S PART BLAZE. AND THEY WERE IN THE STRONGHOLD. TOGETHER. AND NOW THE PORTAL’S OPEN.

O_O

Yes I realize I am panicking and that I’m assauming far too much BUT’CHA NEVER KNOW

Two: I’m sorry what gives you the right to walking into my dimension bloodied and half-starved and concussed with one arm and a broken shoulder and several arrows sticking out of you? I’m trying to drink my tea here *eyeroll*

O N E ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

C’mon c’mon c’mon teleport teleport teleport TELRPORT TELRPTO YOU KNOW YOU CAN DO IT EVEN IF YOU LOSE ANOTHER LIMB THAT’S BETTER THAN DYING FOREVER CMON COMNOC OMNC

...

. . .

W E L P ! *clap*

Time to go scream into my pillow for the next five hours

[shushiyuii]

if you're doing requests, than can I possibly ask for some G!revivebur and t!tommy hurt/comfort? (with soft noms involved if thats okay)

hope you're doing well today and i love your writing too

Thank you so much! I'm glad you love my writings! mwkdakdn and I've actually had a great day today! So thank you for asking! (Also of course noms are okay uwu)

Warnings: Soft vore, mentions of death and torment of a tiny

Words: 1.1K+

His train had finally arrived…

Meanwhile, Tommy was working on his base, being a borrower, it wasn’t quite as easy as you wish to get the materials needed.

He was exhausted from mining all day and now he just had to organise his chests, which was just another annoying task. Tommy huffed in annoyance at this, at least he had enough minerals to last him ages.

He hated organising his chests but if he did it would at least be easier to find things, as to why he was doing this millennial task.

Chest after chest, block after block, ore after ore. It was finally almost done. Just a couple more to go, he went over to another chest and found some… interesting things… It held his old L’manburg uniform and his flag, things he put away after Wilbur had well, died.

He picked up his old uniform and noticed something strange on it, it was stained with blue, covered in stitches. Alarmed he began to examine the uniform and there fell out a note, from Ghostbur.

“Hey, Tommy! I came to borrow some things and noticed your old uniform! I fixed it up for you! I know you said not to go through your stuff, but I figured you’d like it!” – Ghostbur

He huffed as the note itself was covered in blue, Ghostbur had a tendency of leaking his blue everywhere, It couldn’t be helped…’. He looked down and saw water beginning to seep at the pages, he wiped at his eyes.

He wasn’t going to cry! He was Tommy Danger Kraken Innit! A man! And men don’t cry!

It wasn’t his fault! It was Sam’s! He didn’t let him protect Ghostbur! It could’ve been stopped and now the only remnant of his brother is gone.

Gone to the afterlife, once and for all. Maybe his symphony could finally be at peace with everything being gone now, he could move on…

Little did he know that wouldn’t quite be the case as a thing popped right into his face, much to his hate and surprise…

‘Wilbur Soot has joined the game’.

He couldn’t be back, Dream really didn’t revive him right?! Wasn’t revival supposed to be immediate?! Whatever exhaustion was trying to take over his body was gone as adrenaline pumped through his veins. He immediately booked it through his door towards L’manburg.

His vision went from black to clear, he fiddled with his hands, finally becoming aware of his surroundings, the blue and gold catching his eyes with a torn L’manburg flag, with the crater in front of him. He pinched his arm to make sure he wasn’t going crazy, and he wasn’t!

He was alive again with blood rushing through his newly revived veins! He was alive again! Dream his hero! He had really been brought back! He could feel his excitement jolting every part of his body, so many things to do and see, so many things to make amends for!...

Panic filled with thoughts rushed through his head, what would the others think? Oh god, back when he was dead himself, he remembered how Wilbur was… This is practically going to be doomsday all over again if he didn’t stop it.

He had never run so fast before, not even in the war. It seemed his body agreed with him this once that this was very very bad. And it wasn’t going to be an easy trip for the borrower. Every hole he jumped over, and soon L’manburg came into his view.

His fingers twitched, not used to being able to function. He could feel bruises over his body and particularly felt an aching pain from his chest, probably some remnant from the stab wound, but that wasn’t going to stop him out, now that he was finally free.

He breathed in the fresh air, taking a deep breath, and filling his lungs as much as he could. How he missed being able, you learnt to appreciate such things.

He closed his eyes in a sort of relief, happy, satisfied but this was only the beginning.

“Wilbur!”, he heard a voice, a familiar one. One he hadn’t heard in a while; he knew he was close not far. He was used to having to keep an ear out for the borrower, he was just surprised at himself he wasn’t rusty.

He turned around to see a small figure approaching, seeming to run with all they had, wow, Tommy must’ve really missed him!

Soon, Tommy was just a couple of meters away from Wilbur. Not one of them talked at first, “Hey Tommy! I missed you!”. Tommy’s expression turned somewhat dark, upset, grim. He titled his head in confusion and crouched down as much as he could.

“You shouldn’t be here.”, Wilbur snorted slightly, then turned to giggles and those giggles turned to psychotic laughter as he processed the point that Tommy just brought up, he wasn’t supposed to be here? “I’m not supposed to be here Tommy? What about you?”.

No answer came, he laughed again, “Oh, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.”. He brought a finger to Tommy’s face, gently squishing it. “Listen, I spent 13 and a half, 13 and a half years! IN THAT GOD DAMN HELL!”. The gentleness faded as he increased pressure on Tommy, causing Tommy to fall over from under the pressure and try to fight back.

The pressure lightened as he removed his hand, he was about to speak when he saw Tommy back away from him, he was confused for a minute.

But whatever it was, Tommy was mumbling and crying, flinching whenever he made a small movement. Usually, Tommy would be fighting back right now?

He put any other thoughts he had aside, “Tommy, what’s wrong?”. Sure, he might be cruel sometimes but that never stopped his older brother instincts. The boy cried louder. He cupped the boy into his hands and brought him closer to his face.

“Tommy, I’m here, what’s wrong?”, “I-, You-, Dream-, Can’t, S-scared”. He hushed the boy and nuzzled him, he flinched at first but soon reluctantly gave into the contact. It was clear to him that Tommy had changed drastically, more than he thought, he was traumatised. Who dared to hurt his little brother?

“Tommy, who?”, “Huh?”, “Who did it?”. He sniffled, “D-dream”. His eyes widened suddenly, a vision flashed of a tiny Tommy caught in an explosion, a memory from Ghostbur. He remained silent.

Without a word, he brought Tommy close to his mouth, gently placing him in. Tommy flinched as he was placed on his brother’s tongue, “W-Wil?”, “You’re safe”. He mumbled as he moved his tongue to coat Tommy, which then lead to tilting his head back and swallowing.

He traced his brother's descent with his finger, and soon felt him land in his stomach, he waited for his little brother to get tucked in and fall asleep, to which he did. Then he decided that he’d keep Tommy in there for a while, where he’d be safe.

[wondernimbus]

conflicted — fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x female!reader

prompt: fred’s joke shop dreams are a little worrying.

please refrain from plagiarizing my work. requests are always open!

Is she cross with Fred?

Yes. But it's not her fault.

Or at least that's what she tells herself, because her pride is much too high for her to admit otherwise.

"I just don't—I don't get him," says [Y/N] with a deep, frustrated sigh, scowling at the surface of the black lake. "I understand that that's what he's passionate about and he genuinely enjoys making prank products—and don't get me wrong as long as he's happy, I am too—but he's.. he's not even trying, George, and that's what's bothering me."

Beside her, George Weasley grunts. "Are you sure I'm the best person to be telling this to?" he asks uncertainly. Thankfully, today, he's not being as much of the joker he usually is; probably because he can tell [Y/N] is being deadly serious. "Freddie and I are literally on the same boat. I should be offended."

[Y/N] spares him a mere sideways glance before she lets out another heavy exhale and fixes her gaze back onto the lake. "You're the only other person I can think of who can get through to him," she tells George glumly. "Maybe you'll succeed where I've failed."

George wrinkles his nose.

The pair of them are sitting by the Great Lake on Hogwarts grounds, both staring intently into the murky surface as if waiting for the giant squid to come out and swallow them whole. Other students mill around, talking and laughing amongst themselves. A group of third-year Hufflepuffs is playing a very intense game of frisbee. Some students just lay on the grass, basking in the warm glow of the sun.

George and [Y/N], meanwhile, are hardly out here for sunbathing. In fact, the somber looks on their faces are a sharp contrast to the perfect picture of a bright summer's day happening all around them. [Y/N] had asked George to come talk to her today after she'd fought with her boyfriend—who happened to be his twin brother—Fred Weasley.

While [Y/N] and Fred rarely fought, whenever they did, it was usually about the same thing: Fred's future. Like a normal girlfriend, [Y/N] wants what's best for him, and she's not entirely certain Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is the right path for him to go down on.

"It's just—it's risking a lot, George," she mutters, absentmindedly plucking at an innocent blade of grass on the ground. "You guys are good at what you do and everything, but it's.. you're taking a shot in the dark, is what I'm saying."

George hums. "I really should be offended," he sniffs, adjusting his arms from where they're set atop his crossed knees. "But I suppose I get where you're coming from. You're worried."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Who?"

[Y/N] looks up at him, then shakes her head. "Nevermind. Forgot you weren't Muggle-born. Go on."

George shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Muggles."

"George."

"As I was saying," he continues, "The idea of a joke shop doesn't sound quite as promising as a job at old Saint Mungo's or the Ministry, but who cares? It's what Fred wants. It's what we want—hey, wait, why aren't you as worried for me as you are for Fred?"

George swivels around to face her, a look of proper hurt on his face. [Y/N] can't tell if it's fake or not, but it's certainly exaggerated—he's pulling abnormally large puppy eyes.

"Because you're not my boyfriend," says [Y/N], deadpan.

"I know, but I'm your friend—and future brother-in-law—"

Cringing, she groans, "Will you stop pulling that face, please, George? It's creeping me out."

George's face droops back to normal. "Whoops. My apologies, future sister-in-law who only cares about my brother's future but not mine."

[Y/N] rolls her eyes. "Let's be honest, George—if I stopped beating around the bush and asked you to drop all your joke shop plans, would you?"

The redhead doesn't even miss a beat. "No."

"But would you think about it?"

He pauses and makes to shake his head, but then after much thought, he nods. "I suppose. Would probably decide to go through with it in the end, though. It's a joke shop or nothing."

She sighs, once more frowning at the lake. "Fred wouldn't. Think about it, I mean. He'd say no right away. Makes you the more sensible one, as much as I hate to admit it, which means you just might be able to make a point to him."

A crease forms in between George's eyebrows. "You do realize that if I do end up changing his mind, that won't put me in a good place, right? I want to go through with the joke shop just as much as he does."

"I'm not asking you to change his mind," [Y/N] reassures him, pursing her lips. "I just want you to help him understand why I'm upset with him—he can't seem to figure it out by himself."

George snorts. "Bit of an understatement, innit? You'd think since we were twins it'd be the same, but Freddie's got a thicker skull than I do."

[Y/N] lets out a heavy breath through her nose, shoulders slumping dejectedly. "Trust me, George, I know."

—

"Are you cross with [Y/N]?"

"Yes, but it's not my fault."

Fred Weasley folds his arms over the table, scowling down at his plate like the sausages on it have committed a grave sin against him.

"What did you guys fight about?" asks Ginny, eyebrows arched as she shovels beans onto her plate. "Were you jealous of Harry again?"

"No—can you stop bringing that up, Gin? It happened once."

Ginny giggles. "If it's not that, then what is it?"

Someone slides into the seat next to Fred. It's George. "'Ello, Freddy. Why do you look like you've swallowed something sour?"

"Oh, piss off."

George clutches his chest like he's been fatally wounded. "Ouch."

"He and [Y/N] are fighting again," explains Ginny, an impish smirk blooming on her lips. Leaning over the table, she whispers to George, "I think he's jealous of someone again—d'you think it's Harry?"

Fred shoots his younger sister a glare. "I already said it wasn't—"

"Ah, good guess, Gin," George whispers back, playing along. "But not quite. See, I actually know why they're fighting—give me a galleon and I'll tell you."

Ginny withdraws back over the table and into her seat, rolling her eyes. "That won't be necessary. If it's not about Harry, it's probably the joke shop. Right?"

"It's never about Harry," Fred groans, dragging his palm over his face in frustration.

"There goes my galleon," George says sullenly, shoulders slumping. "But yes. Like a caring girlfriend, [Y/N] wants Fred to consider going down a career other than Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

Through a mouthful of beans, Ginny says, "She has got a point."

"The same point as mum," Fred grumbles. "She knows it's what makes me happy but she's telling me to—"

"She's telling you to try, Freddy," George cuts him off, turning around in his seat to face his twin. "She's not asking you to change your mind—she wants you to at least try scraping an acceptable on your N.E.W.T.s."

Fred huffs, grabs a fork, angrily stabs it into an innocent sausage, and shovels it into his mouth all in one go. "You've got a lot of nerve telling me that, Georgey," he says, words just barely audible through his chewing. "Last time I checked, you're not studying for the tests either."

George grins. "Point taken, but I don't have a girlfriend to pester me about it, so I'm free to do whatever I want."

"You've got mum," Ginny chimes in. "She wants you to study, too."

"That's different."

"How so?"

George shrugs and twists back around in his seat to face the table properly. "Regardless of what happens, mum's always gonna be there, isn't she?" He gives Fred a sidelong glance. "A girlfriend, on the other hand—you never know when they might slip away. You've gotta hang onto them."

—

It's eleven at night when [Y/N] comes knocking on Fred's door.

Ten minutes before that, she'd been lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as her thoughts swirled with Fred and joke shops and N.E.W.T. scores.

Fred is passionate about pranking. It's what he's known and loved his entire life, and instead of leaving it behind with his adolescence, he wants to take it further into adulthood in the form of a joke shop. And to be honest, [Y/N] is certain no one can change his mind. Not her, not Molly—no one. Girlfriend or not, she can't tell him what career to go down on; if it makes him happy, then so be it. Right?

But what she wants him to do is to at least try. He's setting aside all of his other responsibilities and betting everything on a joke shop that might not even turn out to do well. The future is uncertain, and while Weasley's Wizard Wheezes might turn out to be incredibly successful, it could just as easily be a major flop.

And if, in that case, it doesn't go as planned, [Y/N] doesn't want him to look back years from now and regret not trying. He'd blame himself and go mad over all the what-ifs.

[Y/N] doesn't want that. She loves him too much to see him anything but happy.

—

The clock strikes eleven and a knock sounds on his door.

Fred looks up from where he'd been sitting by the windowsill. He's the only one left awake in their dorm room. Having known he wouldn't be able to doze off even if he tried, Fred has been sitting here by the window looking down onto the school grounds for the past hour, thinking.

Ah, thinking. He hates it, how he has to mull over everything in his head repeatedly only to come up short. It's why he acts rashly most of the time; why he does things without hesitation. It's so much easier to just go forward spearheaded—why think about things when it'll only slow you down?

It's why Fred's usually the one to operate his and George's pranks. Fred has the ideas and more drive, and George takes precautions so no one is hurt, and makes sure that the pranks will work. It's the same with their joke shop. George has actually considered taking on a different career (and Fred knows that he is still considering it, even though George won't admit it to him), but Fred is determined. He has his mind set—everything he's doing right now is for the joke shop. Considering a different career is out of the question.

Well, it's supposed to be, except [Y/N] wants him to.

And if anyone can convince him to do anything, it's [Y/N]. He hasn't told her yet, but he's in love with her. Stupidly, madly in love. And he doesn't need to tell her this because she already knows, but Fred is willing to do anything for her.

Is he willing to give up the joke shop, though? He's not so sure.

His mind a muddled mess, he rises from his seat on the windowsill and calls, "Coming!" without even pausing to think about who might be behind the door. So when Fred opens the door and sees [Y/N] standing there looking ridiculously small in the oversized sweater his mum gave her for Christmas, he doesn't quite know what to say.

"Hi," says [Y/N] in a timid voice, and it's ridiculous because she never sounds like that around him. [Y/N] is loud and affectionate and isn't afraid to speak what's on her mind, so seeing her like this knowing that he's the reason why is making him feel ten times more horrible than he already is.

"Hey," Fred grimaces, gripping tightly onto the door because he feels oddly unstable on his feet.

Scratching the back of her head, she chews on her bottom lip—a nervous tic Fred is all too familiar with—and asks, "Can we talk?"

"Aren't we talking already?" he jokes weakly, but he steps forward out into the hallway and closes the door behind him with a quiet snap.

Now that the sound of George's snoring has mostly been muffled, Fred and [Y/N] are submerged in uncomfortable silence. It's strange and suffocating and awkward all at the same time, because feeling uncomfortable around each other is a rarity. Fred can't recall the last time he ever felt this way around her. He's pretty sure the only time he did was when he'd first asked her out back then, all those months ago.

Judging from the look on [Y/N]'s face, she feels the same way.

She clenches her fists at her sides, and with the willpower of a thousand men, meets Fred's gaze. "Okay. First off—I'm sorry."

Fred stares at her. She keeps going, talking rapidly as though the words will fade away if she doesn't get them out fast enough, "Second of all, I was an arse for making you feel bad for doing what you love to do, and that's my fault and again I'm sorry but I want you to understand that I did it because I want what's best for you."

She pauses, running an aggravated hand through her hair.

Fred opens his mouth to say something, but she doesn't notice because her distressed gaze is glued to the floor. Unknowingly, she cuts him off and keeps rambling, "And I'm not saying that the joke shop won't do well but just in case it doesn't, the last thing I want you to do is to look back a couple years from now, regret not even trying to crack open a book or two, and blame yourself. I know I can't tell you what to do but I'm just saying—I care about you, Fred—I truly do and it's just—" she takes in another deep, shaky breath, and says in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry."

For the first time, Fred is at a complete loss for words. No witty joke nor playful remark rests on the tip of his tongue. But there's an odd prickling feeling at the back of his eyes and a strange stinging sensation in his nose, like he's just inhaled pepper powder—

"It's fine," he mutters, scratching the back of his head as he rapidly blinks the prickling feeling away. "It's.. I understand."

[Y/N] swallows. She'd thought that once she got all of that off of her chest, the guilt itching at her would subside—but it's still there, just as insistent as ever. "I'm sorry," she sighs, shaking her head. "Truly, Fred, I—"

Fred hates thinking. So he just does what his brain tells him to do—what his brain has been telling him to do ever since he'd first pulled the door open and saw her standing there in all her beautiful, hesitant glory.

He pulls her into him and holds her tight.

"It's fine," he repeats into her shoulder. He'd caught her by surprise—he can tell because of the way it takes her a moment to relax into him. "It's fine, [Y/N]."

When she does relax, however, she melts into him the same way she has done so many times before; she wraps her arms around his middle, buries her head into his chest and holds on just as tight. Solace overcomes the feeling of guilt and agitation bubbling up in her chest, and it feels as though a switch has been turned off in her brain.

It's fine. It's okay now.

Fred takes a deep breath and nods repeatedly, like he's reassuring both himself and her. He whispers quiet apologies into her hair, and even though he doesn't say it directly, [Y/N] can hear him asking her to understand him.

Fred hates thinking—maybe that's why he has never really been good with putting his feelings into words. Maybe that's why he needs [Y/N] so much; because he doesn't have to translate the mess of thoughts in his head for her to understand. She just does.

[Y/N] pulls away by a fraction of an inch, eyes still closed as she leans her forehead on Fred's and whispers, both to herself and to him: it's okay, it's fine.

And somewhere in her whispered words of affection she accidentally lets three words slip out—three words she has never said before but have been waiting to be said for a long, long time—"I love you".

Fred closes the distance between them and presses his lips to hers. Mumbles the same three words into her lips like it's a prayer.

[shepard-ram]

I’m just in a Tommy idea mode tonight cause my fairytale brain just went “DING DING DING GET UP WE HAVE CONTENT TO SPREAD” I have another idea for him cause I gave Snow White to purpled but I couldn’t fucking resist.

Sorry for the flood of asks while you are asleep Lolol it’s a long one

So uh... a Snow White type beat. Except Tommy fits the Snow White role, people say he’s Rapunzel? True but also:

Let me elaborate

People want him dead yeah? Though the focus is more on Dream cause exile and all that. This takes place after Dream destroys Logsted.

Tommy escapes into the wilderness and not to techno’s, but comes across Your little cabin in the woods in the opposite direction of the ruins of Logsted. His raccoon side takes over and just moves right in. He’s tired and overwhelmed and after rummaging through your stuff he promptly passes out when he find a comfy bed.

Meanwhile you’re out mining for resources. After finding a hefty haul, you head home only to find your door open... when you made sure to close it when you left. You get ready to defend yourself from an intruder. Some things are misplaced while you’re checking around. Eventually you come across him.

You’re about to wake him up to throw him out but then you recognize him as that guy you’ve seen the few times you went to the main area. Then after noticing the bruises and cuts, you gain a bit of sympathy and decide to let him rest until he wakes up. Then you’ll decide what to do with him.

You let him stay after he gives you a quick explanation along with the condition that he helps you out gathering resources and doing work around the house. He hesitantly agrees, it’s better than dream blowing up his stuff every day. You give him your small attic space as a room. Eventually you get a nice system worked out. You give him stuff, and he helps tend to your garden and animals. (He really likes your cows!) it takes his mind away from dream. You guys end up bonding quite a bit and you both start looking forwards to your daily tasks together. It’s sweet.

Eventually all good things must come to an end. The slimy bastard, after hounding techno about Tommy’s whereabouts, ends up coming to your neck of the woods. Tommy hides in the attic while you speak to your visitor. You managed to get Dream to go away, but he doesn’t seem convinced. You make it a rule that Tommy is not allowed to answer the door to anyone just in case, but we all know how the story goes.

You go out mining alone and guess who shows up while you’re away. He doesn’t directly go in, but he does leave a small gift, as an attempt to ‘to apologize’ after his unexpected visit. The gift? A basket of Golden apples. (Man I really do like adding bad apples into my ideas, I swear I don’t hate the fruit)

Now, We all know Tommy likes to chug Golden apples. You’ve been trying to get him to eat other things but it always comes back to them. You wouldn’t be able to tell if he just had one right? Uh so... turns out they were quite rotten. A ton of negative status effects at the same time. (Blindness, weakness, Slowness, poison, nausea, hunger... it’s hell I was thinking maybe wither too but that’s a bit much) definitely not good.

You make it home again, to find him more than half dead, and you freak out. You were scared to loose him! He was your housemate that wiggled his way into your heart! You can’t let it end like this! You works tirelessly to keep him from dying on you, and it’s that determination that wins in the end. You have a tearful heartfelt moment once he starts responding to you again.

You tell him to never scare you like that again. He responds with “You were that worried? A poisoned apple isn’t enough to keep the great Tommy innit down” with a soft smile. You laugh and shake your head and pull him into a secure hug. The world seem to brighten as you two sit in a comfortable silence.

-💡

AAAAAAH GOOD

You're so distraught watching him teeter on the line between life and death. Maybe it's your own peril that pulls him out of his. You would think about it more if you weren't overjoyed that he's alive and on a much more stable path to full recovery

[365days365movies]

March 15, 2021: Clash of the Titans (1981) (Part One)

This one’s personal…sort of.

Other than the fact that this is based on Greek mythology (previously well-established as one of my favorite subjects), this movie is, in a way, responsible for my existence. And that is because, according to legend, this is the film that my parents went to on their first date. And apparently, it went very well, because I came into being 10 years afterwards. So, yeah, this film is personal, like Dirty Dancing.

And also like Dirty Dancing, I HAVEN’T SEEN IT? I don’t know HOW I escaped seeing this movie. And that’s especially considering that I’ve seen the new one. And that movie was...not great.

Maybe not the worst film I’ve ever seen, but it’s definitely not a good movie. But OK, what’s this one about, exactly? Y’all ready for “The 365 Greek Mythology Hour” again? OK, then, here we go. SING IT LADIES

Clash of the Titans concerns the myth of Perseus, one of the greatest Greek heroes ever. Before Heracles, there was Perseus, son of Zeus. Yeah, Zeus, as he is wont to do, came down to Earth and had some good time with the princess of Argos, the beautiful Danaë. He came upon her while she was locked in a box by her dad, Acrisus, king of Argos.

Yeah, the Oracle at Delphi, ever the wisest, was visited by Acrisus one day, who wanted a son instead of a daughter. The Oracle spoke with Apollo (AKA huffed some of that SWEET SWEET ETHYLENE GAS), and told him that his daughter’s son would kill him. And so, he did the most logical thing: he locked her in a box. Yup. Dick. SPEAKING of dick, Zeus appeared to her in the open box as a golden shower. NOT THAT KIND OF GOLDEN SHOWER. I mean a literal shower of gold. Although...I wouldn’t put it past Zeus, of all gods. Dude was kinky.

So, Perseus is conceived, and Acrisus responds to this with his usual tact; he stuffs Danaë into a SMALLER box, and shoves it out to sea. She gives birth to a boy in the box, and the two eventually wash up on the shore of an island, where a fisherman finds them and takes them in. The boy is named Perseus.

Years go by, and Perseus’ mom is sought by his adoptive dad’s brother, and the king of the island, Polydectes. Polydectes is kind of a dick, and Perseus, now an adult man, doesn’t like him. The feeling’s mutual, and Polydectes has a plan. He holds a banquet, and forces all invited to bring a gift of horses. Perseus, being pretty poor, cannot bring this gift, but promises on his honor to bring whatever Polydectes wants of him, no matter what. And Polydectes asks for the head of Medusa.

Fuck.

Medusa’s one of your classic Greek monsters, a Gorgon. She’s one of Athena’s victims, formerly a vain temple priestess who was, well...raped by Poseidon, let’s be honest. However, since Athena’s priestesses were meant to be celibate, she was the one who ended up being punished. Fuckin’ YIKES. But OK, literal ancient gender politics aside, Athena cursed her with snakes for hair, and the ability to turn her victims into stone with a gaze into her eyes. Classic. And sure death for anyone who went after her.

So, Perseus is fucked. He’s gotta kill Medusa, and he doesn’t even have a way to get to her place. And that’s when he gets a favor from none other than Athena, goddess of wisdom and wartime strategy, as well as Perseus’ half-sister. I love Athena (other than the Medusa bullshit, obviously), and this is one of her most prominent roles in mythology. Well, that and the creation of spiders. That was also punishing a woman for her vanity, by the way. She has a type.

First, Perseus was told to find the Hesperides, nymphs of the dusk and dawn who would give him weapons. He got their location from the Greae, more colloquially known as the Gray Sisters. Weirdly enough, you may know them from Hercules, where they were combined with the Fates. They don’t have the future gimmick, but they do have that whole “sharing an eye” thing. Also, they share a tooth. Neat.

Anyway, Perseus takes their eye hostage, which makes them tell him where the Hesperides are. He goes to them, and they give him a bag to hold Meduga’s head. Then, the gods step in. Zeus decides to be a good dad for a change, and gives him an indestructible sword, and Hades’ Helmet of Invisibility. Hermes, another of Perseus’ half-brothers, gives him a pair of winged sandals to fly with. And Athena, technically Perseus’ patron, gives him a mirrored shield.

Perseus heads to the cave of Medusa, uses the shield, then goes up to her and cuts off her head. From her neck, for some goddamn reason, and golden sword pops out, alongside this guy.

Yeah, he’s not made out of clouds. He’s actually the, uh...he’s the result of Poseidon’s crime against Medusa. Fucked up, innit? Pegasus flies up to hang out with Bellerophon to kill the Chimera, and Perseus heads back to...actually, he goes to ANOTHER king who was a dick to him, and turns him into stone with Medusa’s head. Kings hate Perseus, seriously.

Perseus heads home after that, and goes through Ethiopia. There, he meets the King and Queen, Cepheus and Cassiopeia. Cassie’s gorgeous, but she tells Perseus that her daughter Andromeda is, like, WAY hotter, as beautiful as the sea goddesses. Which PISSES OFF POSEIDON (who is basically the villain of Perseus’ story, let’s be honest), and he send a sea monster named Cetus to destroy the kingdom, UNLESS they sacrifice Andromeda to it. And, because kings are assholes in this story, they do, chaining Andromeda to a rock. But, because Perseus believes that all women are queens, he goes to rescue her, and kills Cetus using all of his things. He weds Andromeda, and turns his romantic rival Phineus into stone using Medusa’s head.

Usually, that’s where retellings end, because there’s a recurring trend to Perseus’ story after that. A king is an asshole, Perseus whips out the head, asshole becomes statue of an asshole. However, there is that prophecy to contend with, about Perseus killing his grandfather. See, Acrisus basically retired by this point, and lived in the kingdom of Thessaly. But one day, he went to see some games, in which Perseus was competing in the discus. Well, wouldn’t you know it, Perseus isn’t great at it, and loses control of the discus, which hits Acrisus, killing him instantly.

Utimate frisbee, man. It’s dangerous.

There’s another version where Perseus uses Medusa’s head to turn his dad into stone, surprise surfuckingprise there. But yeah, after that the story varies. Sometimes he becomes a king, sometimes he doesn’t. He basically always marries Andromeda and has kids with her. Sometimes he founds a city of his own, sometime he doesn’t. And in one ending, where he’s lived to be an old king, he fulfills his ultimate destiny and turns Medusa’s head on himself. Geez.

So, yeah, there you go. That’s the story of Perseus. Let’s, uh...let’s see what the movie does, huh? This is another Ray Harryhausen joint, so I’m...tentatively excited for it. We’ll see how badly they mess up the myth, and whether or not it works despite that. So, ENOUGH of me lecturing you guys, huh?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin approximately where most iterations do: King Acrisius (Donald Houston) has just cast his daughter Danae (Vida Taylor) and grandson Perseus into the ocean, containing them within a wooden chest in order to “forgive his daughter’s crimes”. Yeah, sure, OK, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

This also pisses off Zeus (Laurence Mother Fucking Olivier), who consorts with the rest of the Olympians on what to do to Acrisus. Said Olympians include Hera (Claire Bloom), goddess of marriage and women; Thetis (Maggie Mother Fucking Smith), goddess of the sea and leader of the Nereids; Athena (Susan Fleetwood), goddess of wisdom and strategic victory; Aphrodite (Ursula Andress), goddess of love; and Poseidon (Jack Gwillim), god of the sea.

Hera tries to defend Acrisus, noting his prior years of devotion to Zeus and the other gods. But Zeus ain’t HAVING that shit, and tells Poseidon to destroy the city of Argos in revenge. This is to be done by...releasing the last of the Titans? Which is apparently the Kraken. I mean...no, a thousand times no, but whatever.

This little tantrum is Zeus’ way of showing his love towards Danae, whose child Perseus is his. This is helpfully pointed out by Thetis, who seems...a little spiteful, as much as Hera is about Perseus. Seems like she’s stoking some fires. Hmm. She is Queen of the Nerieds, so she may play a larger role later on.

Beneath the sea, Poseidon readies himself to set loose the Kraken and destroy Argos, at Zeus’ command. Zeus, meanwhile, kills Acrisus by using a clay voodoo doll of sorts to strike him down. And that’s when Poseidon lets loose the Kraken for the first time. And the Kraken...

Guys, the Kraken looks...actually, I’ll spoil his appearance later on. The Kraken destroys the city, and Zeus kills Acrisius. So much for the goddamn prophecy that explains why Acrisius did what he did, but fuck me, I guess. Danae and Perseus, meanwhile, have safely arrived on the shores of the island of Seriphus, at Zeus’ insistence. There, Perseus grows from child into a fine young man, with Zeus always watching over him...and with Thetis and company always watching over Zeus. Interesting.

The adult Perseus (Harry Hamlin) lives happily on the island, much to Perseus’ delight. Thetis, on the other hand, asks about her mortal son, a young man named Calibos (Neil McCarthy). Apparently, Calibos is a bit of a monster, and while he’d been set to wed the princess Andromeda, he’s also managed to kil all living things on the island that he’s been given, save for a single winged horse named Pegasus. Hence...he is to be punished.

Calibos, by the way? Entirely original creation of the film, and there’s nobody like him in Greek mythology. Anyway, Thetis is crushed by this, and decides to exact revenge of both Perseus and her son’s would-be fiancee, Andromeda. She pledges to open up Perseus’ eyes to grim reality, and does so by placing him in the kingdom of Joppa, where Calibos was originally set to rule alongside Andromeda.

Here, in an amphitheatre, he encounters a mysterious masked and robed figure, who quickly reveals themselves to be Ammon (Burgess Meredith), a poet and playwright. Apparently, Ammon wears his disguise to scare off trespassers. He tells Perseus that all of Joppa is in a tizzy about a curse of some kind, and that the story of the fallen kingdom of Argos is a famous legend.

Ammon tells Perseus to go back home to Seriphus, but Perseus tells Ammon that he’s promised to restore his mother’s old kingdom, and decides that Joppa would be a good start. Despite his drive, though, Zeus is pissed off at Thetis for plopping Perseus down unprepared. He tells the other goddesses to give him gifts to help him claim the kingdom of Joppa as his own. This includes a helmet from Athena, a sword from Aphrodite, and a shield from Hera. I mean...OK, that’s super goddamn weird, but OK.

After Zeus leaves, the goddesses rightfully complain about Zeus’ constant womanizing, but note that he probably doesn’t remember Danae at this point, is is most likely acting out of stubborn pride for his “handsome son”. Their words, not mine.

In Joppa, Perseus finds the gifts by the statues of their grantors. The sword from Aphrodite is adamantine, like the original myth, and slices through marble without a blemish. The shield from Hera...talks. Yeah. The shield bears the visage of Zeus, who tells him that the weapons are gifts from the gods, and that the helmet from Athena turns the wearer invisible. I mean, fuck Hades, I guess, but OK. Technically Athena did give the helmet to Perseus, so OK.

Armed with his new gear, an invisible Perseus immediately takes off to see Joppa, sans his sword. We only see his footsteps in the sand as he leaves, which is legitimately a VERY neat effect, and I’m not sure how they did it, but it’s neat as hell. Off to Joppa, a vaguely Phoenician/Persian kingdom, despite the fact that the original Joppa, or Jaffa, is a port city in Israel.

There, he meets a soldier, Thallo (Tim Pigott-Smith), who tells him of the situation. Since Calibos fell to Zeus’ wrath, Andromeda rejected him, allowing any suitor to try for her hand, whether they be royal or not. To do so, they must answer a riddle. If they fail to answer, the would-be suitor is burned to death. This is lorded over by Queen Cassiopeia (Sian Phillips), while Andromeda (Judi Bowker) lives in the tower of the palace.

Which is why Perseus IMEDIATELY uses the helmet to go into her room that night! CLASSY, PERSEUS. There, he sees...a giant vulture bring a cage to Andromeda’s balcony. No idea where in the fuck this is going, but that’s a damn good looking vulture. God, I love Harryhausen.

Anyway, the vulture is here for Andromeda’s soul, which leaves her body and goes to sit in the cage. The vulture takes off with it, al as the invisible Perseus watches on. He takes this opportunity to touch Andromeda’s face in her sleep (stop, Perseus, for the love of Zeus), then decides that winning Andromeda is his destiny. And so, his simpin’ journey begins.

The next day, Perseus asks Ammon how they can follow the vulture, who has apparently headed to the marshes to the “marsh lord”. To follow the vulture, Ammon suggests that they find and capture the last of the winged horses, known as Pegasus. And we’ve officially lost the track of Greek mythology at this point. Shit.

Well, with Ammon’s help, Perseus captures Pegasus and rides him through the skies. Meanwhile, in Corinth, some dude named Bellerophon is just having a stroke, I guess, because he’s totally fucked now. Whatever. The next day, the vulture comes back to Andromeda’s place and takes her soul to the marsh. But this time, Perseus and Pegasus follow them.

In the marsh, the marsh-lord and riddle-maker is revealed as Calibos, who is still in love with the beautiful Andromeda. As she cannot love him, he provides to her another riddle to give her would-be suitors. In tears, she memorizes the riddle and its answer, Calibos touches her uncomfortably, even as Andromeda asks him to lift his curse and show pity. But he refuses, in pain from his love. Jesus, this movie should be called Clash of the Simps, goddamn.

Perseus was watching the whole thing, though, which Calibos immediately figures out when he sees Perseus’ footsteps in the dirt. As Perseus goes through the swamp looking for Pegasus, he’s found and attacked by Calibos. Calibos, by the way, is a guy in pretty solid makeup in close-up shots, and a Harryhausen model in far-away shots.

The two struggle, the helmet is lost in the swamp, and Perseus draws his sword. But we suddenly cut away to see the daily ritual of the presentation for Andromeda’s would-be suitors. Perseus steps in, having survived the attack from last night, and offers his hand to Andromeda, who recognizes Perseus from a dream. She gives the riddle, which is ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT. Here, I’ll prove it.

In my mind’s eye, I see three circles joined in priceless harmony. Two, full as the moon; one, hollow as a crown. Two from the sea, five fathoms down. One from the Earth, deep under the ground. What is it?

Any guesses? Anybody?

NO MATTER WHAT YOU FAIL. Because the answer is Calibos’ ring! HOW IN THE SHIT WOULD ANYBODY HAVE GUESSED THAT? It’s a golden ring with two pearls on it! WHO KNOWS THAT SHIT? I call complete bullshit, and the only reason that Perseus knows it is because he spied on this last night! Also, because he cut off Calibos’ hand, and made him renounce his curse, which is...never really specified, now that I think about it.

With that, Perseus has both Andromeda’s and Calibos’ hands! HA! Calibos is not as amused, as he preys to his other Thetis, at a temple of hers. He demands that Thetis take revenge on those whom Perseus loves, specifically Andromeda and the city of Joppa itself. He demands justice, but Thetis identifies this correctly as revenge. All the while, Perseus declares his love for Andromeda, and they seal their union with a kiss and ritual.

During this ritual, in which Andromeda and Perseus are essentially married, Queen Cassiopeia, LIKE A DUMBASS, says that Andromeda is more beautiful than the goddess Thetis herself. Yeah. BAD FUCKING MOVE, especially because she said that IN FRONT OF THETIS’ FUCKING SANCTUARY. At least that dumbass move was kept from the original story.

Well, Thetis tells Cassie that she can only atone for her stupidity in one way: sacrifice your daughter to the Kraken in 30 days. Later on, Perseus speaks with Ammon to figure out how they can defeat the Kraken. Ammon suggests speaking with the “Stygian Witches”, who I’m assuming are our Grey Sisters for the night. However, according to Thallo, they have a taste for human flesh. Still, Perseus is going, as are Ammon, Thallo, and Andromeda. But not Pegasus.

Well...shit, man. That changes a few things, huh? But that’ll be addressed...IN PART TWO! See you there!