#my ass was NOT spending time rendering that gun fuck you

[crows-of-buckets]

A sneznyhan meeting

(reference and time lapse below the cut)

Fellas is it gay to homoerotically stare at the guy who wants you dead?

[firelord-frowny]

Alllllllllllll you need to do to make the case for why it should be difficult to legally acquire and use a gun is look at the comments on any firearm related video on the Active Self Protection youtube channel.

It's run by a guy who teaches self defense training, and is a staunch advocate for the RESPONSIBLE USE of guns in self defense. Every day, he posts and analyzes a video - usually security footage - of a real-life incident where a crime or any other sort of self-defense encounter takes place, and he analyzes it to help viewers understand what to do or not do in a similar situation. And not all of the videos show instances where the victims prevail. Sometimes the victims literally die. But often, the victims do prevail, and the perpetrator dies. Still, there are many times where neither person is injured and the perpetrator escapes, or neither person is (seriously) injured and the perpetrator is either arrested, or is thwarted, but escapes the scene. And, importantly, many of the videos show situations where the victim takes self defense WAY TOO FAR and use deadly force in situations that clearly didn't warrant it. The host spends a lot of time talking about this, emphasizing that in the us at least, a person does not have the right to use deadly force to protect property. Your car, or your phone, or any other item is not important enough for you to kill someone over it. the only circumstance that clearly justifies deadly force is one where you have good reason to believe that your life, or someone else's life was in imminent danger. point blank period.

and it is INSAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE how many people will comment on those videos bitching about how they think they should be allowed to kill people over property. these lunatics are proudly boasting about how ~once you commit an illegal act against me, you forfeit your right to live~

WHAT??????????

I just looked at this one video where a dude is trying to steal the side mirror off of someone else's car. The car's owner runs out with a gun and shoots at the motherfucker like 7 times at point blank range, WHILE the motherfucker is fleeing. So the host talks for a few minutes about why that was a fucking dumb thing to do! He even tried to preempt all the fucking insane barbarians in the comments by saying something to the effect of, "i know people are gonna say, 'but john, i need my car to get to work every day! if a criminal steals my car or renders it inoperable, they're threatening my livelihood because i won't be able to get to work and pay my bills and feed my family!' but you know what? if you can't afford to miss work, then you DEFINITELY can't afford the lawyer you're gonna need when you're charged with manslaughter. You DEFINITELY can't afford all the days you won't be able to go to work because you're dealing with the police. So just don't use deadly force against non-deadly threats."

But do those people get it through their thick ass skulls?? Of course not!! of course they're still frothing at the mouth about how much they want to kill petty thieves!

And the thing that fucking KILLS MEEEEEEEEEEEEE about these people is that they have absolutely no fucking regard for the fact that just because they fire 7 rounds off at a petty thief doesn't mean all 7 of those rounds are going to land in the thief! If you go around recklessly shooting at non-deadly threats, you're putting OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES in extreme danger just because you're so fucking arrogant and barbaric that you feel the need to try to kill petty thieves. Your ego was too enormous to let somebody run off with your side view mirror, so now the 11 year old girl who was leaving her house to walk to school is dead. Now a man who was just minding his own business on his couch at home has been shot in the shoulder when your bullet went through his wall. You fucking idiot!!!

Like, even if we stoop to the level of saying that it's okay to kill someone over a non-deadly threat, what about all the bystanders?? is something that's not a threat to your life worth putting other people's lives in danger???? the answer to that should be a clear and resounding OF COURSE NOT but i mean, barbarians are gonna be barbarians so for all i know, those people might think it's a perfectly moral and sane thing to do.

and it TERRIFIES me to think that people like that are walking around with guns. because one day I'm gonna be walking through the parking lot at the grocery store, and somebody's gonna catch someone else trying to steal their car, and they're gonna whip out their handgun and start firing at that person, and i'm gonna be in the line of fire, and my fucking life might get ended or otherwise changed for the worst when a bullet that was meant for a non-deadly-threat winds up hitting me.

[ghenry]

Looking back on 2022, and a lot has happened this year for me! Both personally and channel-wise. I figure I reflect a bit on most of this year's videos. So here we go!

Kick-Ass | What It Means To Be a Loser

This was definitely a video style I wasn't used to doing at all, I basically saw it as an exercise in reviewing both a film and a comic. And honestly, this was a huge headache to get done because of the copyright bullshit I had to deal with. Literally rendered it like 8 different times because of that shit. And it wasn't just a money issue, getting hit with copyright and demonetization means it won't show up on people's feeds so it's important to me that each video has the potential to get out there.

The video's point: The movie was missing a huge element that made the comic at least satisfactory for me, and that was the consistent tone of the characters being downtrodden 'losers.' Another way to put it would be human. Our faults, our insecurities, and our flaws are what make us human, so that being part of the characters made them more relatable, thus more likeable. But the movie wiped the main characters of their human characteristics almost completely. I got into detail how that's the case in the video.

I did my best also emphasizing that I wasn't merely saying "movie different from comic, so movie bad." I don't even like the Kick-Ass comic that much, so I felt I was going with a less biased perspective. I even brought up examples where I found the film adaptations of some comics to be huge improvements (Scott Pilgrim will always be the shining example). Regardless, people in the comments still accused me of saying "movie different from comic, so movie bad" which is kind of annoying, but that's my fault for expecting better from typical YT comments.

Still, the video was surprisingly a hit! I'm extremely dumbfounded so many people still seem to give a shit about Kick-Ass. It kind of motivates me to make a new video comparing the sequel comic and movie, but I hate both, so I don't see myself really bothering for a while. Also one other good thing, making a video centered around a comic and/or movie is soooo much easier than a video game in regards to footage. I don't have to sift through hours and hours worth of gameplay to find a specific clip for visual context, I just remember part of the movie/comic and go there lol

No Paradise | No More Heroes 3 Analysis

Now THIS was a fucking nightmare. In a good way, mostly. A 4.5 hour analysis that took every bit of my goddamn being to write, capture, and edit. Recording all of my voice was also done in one session too, but I hope my exhaustion near the end didn't reflect my performance.

I loved talking about NMH3 extensively too. I was also extremely happy to find a lot of nuance and complexity within the madness of this game. With the help of a few friends and long conversations, of course!

The point of the video: Travis is in hell, and is doomed to spend an eternity in this hell he locked himself in all the way back in the original game. Having this in mind adds contextual sense to the previous games as well, which helps with the arguments I provide. Not that I claim to be objectively correct, the reason for this analysis was to get people thinking and talking about the game. I think if I wanted to prove ANYTHING, it's that NMH3 isn't as simple and "senseless" as a lot of people were claiming it was. And it doesn't take a genius to figure that out. Take it from me, an idiot.

I am extremely proud of how the video turned out. It might even be the best one I've done, but that's not to say I can't improve. I need to improve, and I'm trying to get better at this constantly. I picked up a lot of great editing skills while making this, and will pick up more as I go. And while I didn't upload a lot of videos this year . . . do you see how long this one was?! Idunno, I think this counts as like 6 separate uploads 🥸💀

The ONE feature I want to see in future run-gun games

This video I've actually had on my mind for a very long time, I just had to finally hunker down and make it a reality. I simply had a sneaking suspicion that a lot of indie devs might not be aware of an innovate design first seen in games like Alien Soldier or Contra Shattered Soldier, likely because those aren't the universally renown classics. I think I'm at least sort of right.

The point of the video: This is a "for your consideration" piece for indie devs planning to take on the run-n-gun genre with new games. I genuinely think this mechanic can take their future titles to the next level of feel-good gameplay!

Huntdown | Run-N-Gun Revolution

My closer for the year, another run-n-gun video I simply made for myself because I wanted to. Adrian Comeau, writer/community manager for Huntdown's dev team, randomly emailed me with some steam codes, presuming I was interested in trying the game out. And I'm glad he did, as I fell in love with nearly everything about Huntdown! It was also cool to interview Adrian to get further thoughts on the game.

The point of the video: Huntdown rocks and you're a fool if you haven't played it. It also has such a rich world coated in interesting characters. It helps that the game is fun to play and has an assortment of unique, challenging bosses all sprawling with personality.

So get yourself something nice for Christmas. Buy Huntdown on Steam. Or Switch. Or PS4. Or PS5. Or Xbox. It's probably on sale right now 🎅🎄🔫

So that's what I managed to do with my channel. I also did a video on Cuphead, but don't have too much to say as it was a very straightforward video. DLC good, but I'm ready for something new by MDHR.

I know I didn't upload a whole lot, but I'm happy with everything I put out. I feel like I need to take more time on these videos in order to further refine them properly. I have tons of ideas for new videos, and can't wait to make them a reality! But I also want to make sure they're of a standard I find satisfactory, while also raising said standards. I want to get better and better!

I hope all of you have enjoyed what I've been putting out, and are excited to see what else I have in store! Here's to 2023! 🎇🎆🚀

[thanksjro]

Dark Cybertron Chapter 8: Swoop is a Good Ally

Bumblebee doesn’t turn into a convertible, but that won’t stop Megatron from riding around with his legs hair in the wind, as the two of them book it for Iacon from the Crystal City. Bumblebee’s making great time, despite carrying a dude who is significantly larger than he is. As the burning city comes into view, they discuss the fact that the Titan that’s making its way downtown (walking fast, and it’s homebound) is full of Shockwave ores. The life and death ones, to be exact. This is a problem, because that means it’s neither alive or dead, and you can’t kill something that ain’t alive.
 Then Megatron goes on about how Cybertron needs him, and has always needed him, to end oppression.

Mighty high opinion of yourself you got there, Megatron. We’ll see how that plays out as the day goes on.

Over with Starscream, our fearless leader’s reflecting on how true the term “rat bastard” fits dear Rattrap. Rattrap’s more concerned about the fact that people are literally dying right now while Starscream has a pity party. Good thing Rattrap brought some party guests.

Starscream double-checks that all these friendly faces aren’t with the Titan, then gets called incompetent by just about everyone. Prowl puts together a strategy for this nightmare scenario, staring directly into the camera and showing off his lovingly rendered nose as he starts giving orders. While everyone else is going to be either rounding up the injured or trying to pick a fight with a dude roughly 50 times their size, Prowl’s going to try to figure out how to stop the Titan.

Back inside Metroplex, things are looking tense, as Nautica and Chromia are about a hair’s breadth away from beating the Rod Pod Squad to death. In an effort to dispel the hostility, Getaway points at his bellybutton, and then sat Nautica’s, quoting Optimus Prime and saying that there’s no reason to fight, because a bunch of little murderous bastards are about to pour in and cause some trouble for everyone.

And then a bunch of little murderous bastards are about to pour in and cause some trouble for everyone.

Everyone starts climbing up the rope Nautica and Chromia dropped last issue, except for Whirl, who would prefer to spend his time kicking ass as opposed to hunting for Metroplex’s brain. As the gang crawls around in the vents- because of COURSE they do- Nautica realizes that she’s talking to none other than Ratchet, and has a bit of a moment. Ratchet’s more concerned with the concept of gender being introduced into his world.

You’re right, Ratchet, it doesn’t matter. Just let people live, dude.

Everyone ends up in the left shoulder blade area of Metroplex, where his brain is, and where we meet Windblade- our fan-created character, and a huge part of why IDW had to jam the concept of sexual dimorphism into their continuity posthaste. 
 In 2013, the Fan Built Bot polls were held on the Hasbro website, where fans could vote on several traits of a new character. One of these traits was gender.


Which I’m sure Furman was thrilled about.

The majority rule was for a female Transformer to be created, one hailing from Kaon, who was an Autobot telepath who turned into a jet and had a sword. Not all of this information was kept, simply because it didn’t jive with what had been established about gender previously. Things were still very messy, so Windblade’s place of origin was changed.

But we’ll get to that later on.

Right now, all you need to know is that Windblade is here to keep Metroplex alive.

Over in the Dead Universe, Nightbeat leads Team -Imus to Kup, the lot of them blasting and gunning down zombie robots the whole way. Cyclonus still has the Hollywood Tuberculosis cough. When they reach Kup, Orion Pax calls him old. Cyclonus has a gun now. Rodimus explains why he’s got numbers carved into his palm.

After the nightmare that was Overlord happened, and then the Luna 1 stuff, Rodimus enacted the Crisis Act. Now, the last time we saw the Crisis Act was in Eugenesis. It’s been a minute, so here’s a refresher:

In this case, Rodimus enacted the Act on himself, having the crew of the Lost Light vote on whether he should remain captain. 89 voted for him to get the boot. This weighs heavily on his mind, so much so that he’s decided to carve the vote into his hand, so he can never forget those he failed.

Off in the corner, Cyclonus is dying, but this isn’t about him, this is about Rodimus’ sense of guilt.

Orion isn’t thrilled with how Rodimus handled the situation- he claims that Rodimus would have simply stepped down from his captaincy outright, if he really felt that badly about the situation.

Off in the corner, Cyclonus is still dying, but this isn’t about him.

Not my space dad.

Nightbeat scoops Kup off of his bed and helps the old man stand, not that he needs it. No sir, this crotchety old bastard is so full of piss and vinegar, he’s gotta have the entire Industrial Revolution backdropping his big badass speech.

And then that final claim is tested, as Cyclonus’ limp body is fastball-specialed into Kup’s torso. Nova Prime’s here, and he’s pissed. Orion decides he’s gonna square the fuck up. It’s time for Prime Prime-Time Fight Time.

Back inside Metroplex, violence is taking place, as Whirl, Getaway, and Skids are eviscerating the Ammonites. Over with Metroplex’s brain, Windblade is explaining her whole deal.

Chromia, don’t be fucking rude.

Windblade is a City Speaker, a robot who can interpret the the lights and wave patterns of a Titan’s brain module for the purpose of communication. It’s a pretty sweet trick. Brainstorm doesn’t care about that though- he’s more concerned with getting the hell out of here. Ultra Magnus agrees, though he’s more concerned about the current state of Cybertron and the fact that Shockwave’s still running around. Windblade tells them to do whatever, but she’s gonna stick with Metroplex. It’s at this point that we find out how our new friends got here in the first place.

Turns out Thunderclash’s ship was taking new crew members on, and these three lovely robots were a part of the new blood. The Vis Vitalis ran into Alpha Trion not too long after they joined, freaking the hell out because Metroplex- his best friend in the whole entire world, as established in Spotlight: Orion Pax- just vanished.

Not sure how you lose an entire city that you’re riding around inside, but whatever, Alpha.

Alpha Trion was worried about his friend, but not enough to stop looking for the Holy Grail. So he had Chromia, Windblade, and Nautica come out here to do it. Unfortunately, they haven’t been able to do much. This might be why Metroplex pulled the Lost Light over to this rinky-dink little water planet- so he wouldn’t die.

Do you think Roberts and Barber were aware that they were having a bunch of male characters walk all over the hard work of these female characters, by way of making them better at the thing they were sent here to do? Do you think they thought about that? Because that’s pretty much what’s happening here. They’ve been here all of ten minutes, and Nautica- who is a quantum mechanic and engineer, as will be established- has been outdone by a bunch of doofuses who’ve only got the benefit of being properly established characters helping them out.

With a little set up, Metroplex’s brain is plugged into the Lost Light’s engines remotely, and Ultra Magnus tells our boy to rise and shine.

Back on Cybertron, Fixit and Flatline are about to throw down, which Starscream thinks is hilarious. There’s a whole medical slab that contains only a single shin. People are laying in trailers, but I guess that lone shin has priority for whatever reason. Outside, Scoop is being a good lad and helping get the injured to safety. Rattrap is also there.

The Titan has hit the city limits, and everyone’s shooting at the thing to cope. The Dinobots are upset because they’re being ignored, but at least Swoop is proving to be a good friend, as he’s already acclimated to Slug’s name change. Good on you, Swoop.

The plan of attack here is shooting the Titan in the neck until the signals to the brain are cut off from the rest of the body. It’s not really working out so hot, but smart boy points for trying, Prowl.

A building explodes, because we haven’t had an explosion yet this issue. Prowl, whose little red chevron seems to be shrinking by the panel, asks Soundwave for his opinion on the current situation. Soundwave goes “I dunno” and then Megatron shows up.

Friggin’ drama queen.

Prowl, who’s had about enough of everyone at this point, breaks out a gun and tells Megs to start talking before things get uglier than they already are.

Megatron has a plan. Are you ready to hear it?

He wants everyone to:

Load up on ships

Fuck off into space

Come back later when the DJD show up

Bumblebee does not like this plan. He dislikes it very much, in fact, and throws Megatron’s legs on the ground in protest. Megatron pouts about being called a meanie warlord shit-for-brains.

Bumblebee rattles off a very inspiring speech about the perseverance of the Cybertronian spirit, and how you should never give up, and oh would you look at that Metroplex just showed up with the Lost Light.

Time for some Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. Hell yeah.

[superfanficnatural]

The Choice Part 6

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Christian Grey x Reader 

Summary: Deciding to get over your crush on Dean, you find Christian, a mysterious billionaire that manages to split your heart into two. Finding out hidden truths, your decision becomes a hard one, who will you choose?

A/N: Don’t really have anything to say lol. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut, NSFW 18+, Slight Rimming, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Dom/Sub Dynamics, others that I can’t think of.

Word Count: 1,733

Italics are thoughts

Masterpost

The sight in front of you was something you never thought would have happened, he tells me he wants only me, then goes out and kisses some random slut at a bar?!

The door slamming behind you drew the attention of a few onlookers, Dean included. The second his eyes met yours, he pushed away the girl and stood up with a guilty and broken expression. 

Before anything else could happen, you grabbed Christians hand and walked out of the bar with him.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked, tugging your hand to bring you into his embrace, a warm and soft look on his features as he looked down at you.

“The reason I didn’t want to be exclusive was because of him, I didn’t know if I could make it with him or you so I tried to keep my options open, I’m sorry,” a tear fell from your eyes.

“Hey no, it’s fine. That’s a completely logical thing to do,” he softly spoke, wiping away the tear with his thumb.

How is it that he’s so damn perfect?

You reached up and gave him a heated yet short kiss, the two of you pulling away and panting, “Let’s get out of here.”

You pulled him along with you to the motel across the street, paying for a room up front with cash and basically dragging him to the room. Closing the door behind you, you missed the look of a crushed man looking over at the two of you entering the motel.

You pushed him up against the door and attacked his lips as you tried to unbuckle his belt.

“Hey, are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, still as soft as ever.

You paused your advances, “Absolutely.”

He smiled darkly and that’s when you knew: he was in charge now.

“Strip, I want you ass up on the bed,” he spoke in a professional voice.

You walked backwards, reaching the edge of the bed and slowly stripping off your clothes, giving him a show. You were silently reveling in the fact that you could see his pants tighten as you went along. He smirked once you were down to just your panties, unbuckling his belt and slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

“Keep going.”

You peeled off your underwear, crawling up the bed on your back.

“I said ass up didn’t I? You don’t want me to repeat myself, little girl,” he growled, the feral look in his eyes threatening to have your juices ride down your thighs. 

You continued to obey, “Yes, sir.” Turning your body around, you dug your face into the pillow and hoisted your ass up into the air.

“That’s a good girl,” you could register, a low growl erupting from his throat.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you responded, your anticipation as to what would happen next, tantamount. 

The next thing you heard was a clink of a belt before you felt the sharp sting against your ass. 

Arching your back in pleasure, “Shit!”

“You missed me spanking this nice ass, didn’t you?”

You nodded your head into the pillow and felt another sharp slap, “I want to hear it.”

“Yes, sir! I missed it so much!”

He chuckled low and dark, “Such a good girl, already have you wrapped around my finger.”

You felt the belt against you once, twice, a third time. Each time had you crying out, your juices slowly leaking onto the bed sheet below you.

“You love this, I can practically smell how much you do.”

You heard the belt fall against the floor before you felt the bed dip, Christian getting on behind you. Two bruising hands fell onto your sides as he pulled you back towards him, feeling his throbbing member against the side of your ass. The next thing you knew, his cock was buried deep inside of you, a guttural moan falling from his lips while a scream tore out of yours.

“Fuck I missed this cunt, so nice and tight,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward after pulling back so just the tip was inside.

He began relentlessly pounding into you, leaving no room for you to even breathe, “Looks like I’ve got you wrapped around my cock as well.”

You felt a finger teasing at your rim and you audibly gasped, your body rocking back towards it without your consent.

“You like it in your ass too? I knew you were perfect for me,” he growled, possessively grabbing your hips harder and thrusting deeper. “Though, we’re going to try that later.”

He was reaching areas inside of you that you never thought possible, your body writhing underneath him in ecstasy. The strength of his fingers on your hips and the force of his thrusts were driving you insane. The knowing of the fact that you were going to have bruises after this was something that pleasured you even more, being claimed by this man. 

“That feel good? I wanna hear it,” he growled.

“Yes, so good, sir!” your voice was muffled from how deep you were pushed inside of the pillow.

He wasn’t even touching your clit, yet you felt your orgasm begin to rise, your legs slightly quivering and your breathing picking up. As if he was reading your mind, he reached his hand under your legs and began to play with your bundle of nerves, tapping on it and drawing figure eights over it. Your walls clenched around him from your impending orgasm and you felt his hips begin to stutter.

“Oh fuck, Christian!” you screamed out, the power behind your orgasm rendering you breathless, forgetting the title you were supposed to call him. 

He slapped your cunt with such force that your overstimulated pussy once again spasmed and you had your second orgasm within seconds.

The feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him made his hips begin to stutter, Christian letting out a deep groan as he released his seed inside of you. He didn’t stop, continuing to fuck him cum back into your hole.

“This pussy is mine, and mine only,” he growled, reaching down to nip at your neck while continuously rutting into you.

After a few more thrusts, he pulled out and went to grab a towel from the bathroom, returning shortly after to clean you up.

“Was that what you needed?” he asked, a soft look overtaking his features as he laid down next to you.

You felt extremely satiated and like you were on the clouds, though there was still the nagging feeling of seeing Dean with that other girl.

“I feel a lot better, though not completely. Thank you, Christian,” you shyly responded, lowering your gaze.

He picked up your face by raising your chin with his thumb and index finger, “You’re welcome, Y/N,” he reached over and planted a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Today was probably one of the best days in my life if I’m being completely honest,” you breathed.

“I enjoyed it a lot too, especially since it was spent with you,” he charmed, a smirk coming across his face.

You chuckled, but it was short lived, “I’m assuming you have to be back by tonight? With work tomorrow?”

He solemnly nodded, “Yeah.”

You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t disappointed that he couldn’t stay the night, but you understood that he was a busy man; instead taking the win that you could spend as much time with him as you could. 

The two of you got up and got dressed, leaving the room and returning the key to the front desk.

“Let me take you home,” he insisted, fear striking your heart.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to, I live really close to here anyways,” you tried to shake him off.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes, I am,” you smiled, grateful for his kind gesture.

“So, I guess this is goodbye,” you said, arriving at the limousine.

“For now,” he finished, taking you into his embrace.

The two of you pulled away and Christian stole one last lingering kiss from you before sending you a wink and getting into the car, pulling away from the lot and driving away. You felt light, like your body was weighless. You also had an incredibly stupid smile, your body buzzing with euphoria. 

Taking out your phone, you dialed Sam, “Hey, Sam. I’m at the bar near the bunker, do you mind coming to get me?” you asked once he answered.

“Dean actually came in about fifteen minutes ago, he seemed really broken up-”

“I don’t wanna hear about Dean, ok? Can you pick me up or not?” you cut him off, your anger from the scene you witnessed returning.

After Sam agreed to come pick you up, you hung up and waited by the corner of the bar, seeing a couple stumble out with their arms wrapped around one another. You didn’t make much of it until you saw a man with a mask run up to them across the street and steal the woman's handbag.

Without hesitation, you took off after the man, chasing him around the corner. Luckily he wasn’t even that fast, for you caught up to him relatively quickly, tackling him to the ground. You took off his mask and laid a few punches on his face, his nose mostly broken and bloodied.

“Don’t ever try something like this ever again,” you growled, punching him one last time.

You got off of him and turned around, seeing the couple from before behind the two of you. Handing her the bag, she gratefully smiled at you and the two of them took off. 

The next thing you heard was the ring of a gunshot.

Looking down at your abdomen, you saw your shirt become bloodstained. Turning around with your hands hugging the bullet hole, you saw the man from before on his feet, aiming a gun at you. You coughed and blood spilled out, a smirk coming across the man's face. Without a moment's notice, he took off into the night, leaving you to fall to your knees on the pavement, blood rushing out of your stomach. After a feeling of cold washed over you, you fell to the ground, the faint shouting of your name in the distance the last thing you heard before darkness overtook you.

Next Part

The Choice Tag List: @fuckthis-and-fuckthat​ @spnfamily-j2​ @greenarrowhead​ @vicmc624​ @pie-with-hunters​ @m-winchester-67​

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp​ @shadowsinger11​ @donnaintx​ @flamencodiva​

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags: @akshi8278​

Female Reader Tags: @punof-agun​ @emoryhemsworth​

[fandom-necromancer]

863. Where are you?

This story was prompted by a lovely anon! I know at one point this might read like a character death, but it isn’t! Just to make sure, because I won’t add it in the warnings. All stories here end happy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: undercover gone wrong, mentioned violence towards Nines and a bunch of criminals, angst)

Gavin tried hard to concentrate on the open documents in front of him and on the pictures several public surveillance cams had taken of their suspects. He knew himself he failed miserably at that, eyes jumping to the additional terminal he had been given for this mission. He read the last messages again: >7:15: status ping received – all systems stable, unit functioning >7:30: status ping received – all systems stable, unit functioning >7:45: status ping received – all systems stable, unit functioning >8:00: status ping received – all systems stable, unit functioning >8:15: status ping received – all systems stable, unit functioning >8:17: message received: Good morning, Detective. You should be at work now. I am fine and I hope you are, too. No sign of them suspecting I’m a deviant android. I continue to prepare the boxes for transport and load them in. You should be able to find the bugs on them with the same frequency from yesterday. I miss you. I’ll see you in a month. >8:30: status ping received – all systems stable, unit functioning

Gavin sighed and forced himself to at least work for the next quarter hour until the next status report came. “All systems stable, unit functioning” really wasn’t much to calm his nerves, but at least his android seemed to be fine. He hated undercover missions. A few years ago, he had liked the thrill of it and the feeling of actually doing something important. But it had been him back then and he hadn’t had a partner. Now it was Nines stuck in a Red Ice gang as a non-deviant android they found in standby in an old factory during an expansion. The DPD could have sent a SWAT to get it all over with, but no, they had to infiltrate them to discover possible connections. And they had; Nines bugged packages had unveiled nearly all arms of the Gang from his own position down over warehouses down to the individual dealer. But still, knowing Nines in between these criminals kept him from sleeping at night.

‘Hey, still heart-broken, Reed?’, Hank laughed as he walked past the man, patting his shoulder a little to hard. ‘Phck off, Anderson. Not up to it’, Gavin pressed out between gritted teeth. His nerves blankliegen already, he was just far too easily pushed over the edge right now. Even more so than normally. ‘Jesus, Reed, Nines is a RK900 for phck’s sake! Even if they find out he’s an undercover-cop, he would be fine. He was built for war, he could handle a few drug-scums.’ ‘Yeah, he was built for war. But he never went to war. He deleted most of these protocols the moment he became deviant and realised what they were, terrified of what he was. So phck off and stick your goddamn small talk up Connor’s ass! He’d probably even like that.’ Hank honest to God went beet red and hurried to his desk to hide behind his screen. Connor in turn just laughed. Well, at least that was that dealt with.

>8:45: status ping received – all systems stable, unit functioning

Gavin sighed deeply and rubbed at his face, eying the line over the edge of his fingertips. He is fine. He is built for war. He is the most advanced android in the world. He could be taken for a machine even by people who knew he was a deviant, that much of an asshole Cyberlife has been deleting all the stuff that made Connor so quirky and easily integrated. He’ll be fine. Oh, Gavin wanted to believe that so much. Just a month. Just thirty-ish more days. God, since when had he become so invested in that damn robot? Since he saved you. Since he brought you back into the job as you had to spend several weeks in hospital. Since he stayed with you regardless of what an asshole you had been. Since he moved in with you. Since he first looked at you like that. Since he had held you like that for the first time.

>9:00: status ping received – all systems stable, unit functioning

Gavin definitely needed a coffee. He pulled his phone out and connected it to the terminal. He knew, there wouldn’t be another message until 9:15, but he needed to keep an eye on it all times. Looking down on his phone on the way to the breakroom, he heard a few chuckles he completely ignored. He waited for the coffee-machine to do it’s job staring at the little white line blinking. Constantly blinking, ticking time away, never moving-

>9:02: Alert ping received – all systems stable, unit damaged >9:02: message received: My cover has been blown, request backup immediately at [coordinates], enemies heavily armed. Gavin, I’m sorry, I lov- >9:02: Alert ping received – system instability detected, unit damaged, biocomponents shut off, click <here> for list. >9:03: unit disconnected, try to reconnect… >9:03: reconnection failed, try again? [Y]/N

The sound of a mug shattering on the ground followed by a splash was enough to alarm the whole precinct. Gavin stared at the screen of his phone in shock, until he lost his grip on the device too and took two steps back, crashing into the table behind him. ‘Gavin?’, Connor asked appearing in the opening. ‘Everything al-‘ ‘Get the SWAT’, Gavin stuttered out. ‘Get the phcking SWAT, immediately!’ He shook out of his trance, fetched his phone from the ground and ran to his desk, quickly getting his utility belt and sprinting outside to his car. He looked at the screen of his phone, that was shattered, but still functioning, and hit the confirmation on “Yes”. The device tried to connect again, failed and Gavin forced it to try again. And again. And again. Until he was in the car, punched the siren into action and drove off with screeching tires.

Please be okay, please be okay, please be alive, Gavin pleaded to himself in silence, while racing through the streets of Detroit as if his life depended on it, because it did. 'God, Nines hang in there, I'm on my way!' A few minutes after he had driven off, he could see another police-car behind him. It was able to catch up, but Gavin's reckless manoeuvres let him be the first at the scene, followed by the other car. He wanted to storm the building in front of him in his usual, unthinking manner, only for strong arms to hold him back.

'Gavin, calm down! You are only gonna get yourself killed!' 'Phck off, Connor, I know what I'm doing!' 'Let him go', another voice said, and Gavin looked at its origin disbelievingly. 'He is one of our best infiltrators, believe it or not', Fowler continued. 'Gavin, if you can promise me to be stealthy and that you have a plan so the SWAT will not shoot you too, I won't stand in your way.' Connor hesitantly let the man go and Gavin shook his head. 'Nines has the bugs for the packages on him. Finding him won't a problem. But I don't have a plan except for that SWAT will most likely be more occupied with shooting at the people attacking them, not the ones staying low saving there phcking partner. Fowler, I need to go in there. Don't keep me from doing this. He needs me.' 'Then go. And don't get yourself killed. I'll tell them to watch out for you.'

Gavin hadn't waited for him to finish his sentences. The “go“ had been enough for him to take his phone out and run around the building to barge into a room he hoped to be empty through an emergency exit. He ended up in a hallway instead, but there wasn't anyone around and that was all what Gavin needed to know. His phone showed him the direction he had to walk in to get to his partner. He could only hope Nines was okay until he reached him. The building reminded Gavin of a deserted school: long hallways with rooms to the sides occasionally. He wasted no time to think about what it might have been once, he settled on a fancier office building and concentrated on staying hidden. Although it took a while until he heard faint voices. With a curse just behind his lips, he drew his weapon. He didn't want to use it; the noise would only alarm them and make him an easy target. But just in case... He pressed himself against a wall and spied around a corner into another hallway. It was empty, but the voices were near. Gavin would have rather taken a different route, but without the floorplan doing that could just lead him in the wrong direction. Thankfully the hallway had a few doors and none of them seemed to be occupied as they were silent, but Gavin couldn't be sure of that.

He decided to hurry through it in a half crouch as to not be seen through any windows. Of course, that was just the moment he heard fast footsteps. Without thinking, he rushed to the first door, ripped it open and closed it carefully. He heard the footsteps halt, then changing direction. Shit. He switched off the safety of his gun and holstered it, stepping next to the door to throw a well-directed punch, should whoever came nearer decided to investigate.

The footsteps stopped. The door opened. But no one entered. Gavin waited, keeping his breath as low as possible. Then a gun appeared next to his head as if that would make investigation for the idiot who held it any easier. Immediately Gavin grabbed the gun and pulled the man gripping it inside, years of continuous disarming-training springing to action to pull the hand from the gun, throwing the weapon away and punching the man square in the face. Gavin used the time the other needed to fall to close the door and get on top of him. ‘Where do you keep the android?’, he demanded. ‘Fuck you!’, the man spat. ‘That’s my line!’ Gavin gripped the man’s hair and hit his head against the ground hard enough to render him unconscious.

Gavin got up panting. It felt good, especially keeping in mind what they must have done to Nines. Normally Gavin suppressed these urges, at least since he let himself go the last time. He wanted to keep his job. But this was probably self-defence, right? The asshole had a gun after all. Well, Gavin would think of that later, he needed to find Nines. He navigated through the building, ended up in a dead end once and had to backtrack, but until now, the person he had met had staid the only one.

He was near now, the signal of a bug directly in a room behind the next one. The only problem: This room was full of people. People with guns, just unpacking new ones or loading their own. They were practically fortifying their position for a standoff with the police. Gavin cursed inwardly. How the hell should he get through there? His eyes scanned the room searching for something he could use and ended up staring at the crates. Phck, that would bring him unbelievingly close to the people he absolutely didn’t want to be close to. They just had to stand up and look behind the carelessly thrown away boxes to see him. But there was no other way. He took out his phone and switched to the status report that had stayed empty since 9:03 AM. He read the last message again: >9:03: reconnection failed, try again? [Y]/N He hit Yes again, hoping that something – anything - would happen. >9:56: unit disconnected, try to reconnect… >9:56: reconnection failed, try again? [Y]/N

Of course… With a sigh, Gavin crouched towards the boxes as no one was looking or the ones who were facing his direction were occupied. He dived behind them and crawled forwards slowly. Finally, his short height and relatively light weight were of advantage. He concentrated on moving slowly and avoiding making any sound. ‘Hey, did you hear that?’ Phck, he was so phcking dead, what the hell had the idiot heard? He hadn’t made a sound! ‘No. And there is an army of police out there. It can’t be more than one person if we haven’t seen them. Do you really think they would be a problem?’ ‘No, sir.’ ‘Good. Then concentrate more on getting your fucking gun ready and less on your paranoia!’ Gavin had to keep himself from audibly exhaling. Phck, this would maybe be the one time in his life he would be happy to see the damn self-entitled Captain Allen and his goddamn evil Connor. He advanced from where he had frozen and his muscles ached from the tension. But he was so close to disappear behind a shelf and according to his phone behind that would be his partner.

He forced himself to remain slow as he crawled the small distance between the crates and the shelf in the open. Finally, he could get up again and with one last look over his shoulders to the members of the Red Ice gang, he slowly opened the door there, slipped in and closed it without a sound. It was completely dark – a room without any windows. Most likely some cabinet. The small slit under the door let some light in, but Gavin’s eyes hadn’t yet accommodated to it. He didn’t say anything, but his entrance had some effect as he heard the ruffle of fabric. ‘DPD, freeze!’, he whispered what was loud enough to fill the room but hopefully not alarm the people outside. ‘Gaaaaaaaviiiiin.’ ‘Phck!’ He would recognise that voice everywhere, no matter how distorted and static it was. ‘Nines?’ ‘Gaaaaviiiin. Where aaaaare youuuuu?’ ‘Nines? Nines, I’m here, what did they do? Don’t you have this weird heat vision?’ ‘Diiiiiisc-c-c-connecteeeed.’ ‘Holy-‘ Gavin could finally make out a few shapes and a faint red blinking light. He immediately stumbled over to where the android had to be. ‘Nines, it’s alright! I am here. I am here. And Con is here too. And Hank and Fowler. They will send SWAT in here. You will be fine. I am here.’ ‘Wheeeeere aaaaare youuuu, Gaaav? Pleeeeeaaase.’ Nines moved his hand up and had nearly hit Gavin in the face in his erratic movements. He moved like the robots in these stupid 80s movies they liked to watch together would and Gavin knew that this was the complete opposite of good. He quickly grabbed the hand that had stopped in the air and swished from side to side with every move of his torso in a malfunctioning emulation of human muscles. The physical contact seemed to help, because Nines relaxed. Gavin could finally see his partner. He had taken a lot of damage to his abdomen, but his regulator seemed fine. He also didn’t lose any thirium, maybe he had re-sealed himself already. But his synthetic skin had retracted completely, and some parts stuck out weirdly as if someone had tried to pull them out by hand. The part around his eyes was one of them and it made him look the creepy side of uncanny valley. ‘I am here Nines’, Gavin tried to soothe him, squeezing his hand. ‘I am here, and I will stay with you until help arrives. Then we’ll get you back to health and everything will be fine.’ ‘Gaaav. IIIII loooove youuu!’ ‘I know Nines, I know. I love you, too. All will be fine, just hold on, okay?’

From outside, gunfire was flaring up and made Nines flinch just as much as Gavin. The man looked towards the door in worry, then let go of Nines’ hand, ignored his protest at the contact lost, just to hug the android from underneath his shoulders. He pulled him towards one of the corners, so any stray bullets that could pierce the door wouldn’t hit either of them. As he had finally heaved the android into relative safety, he just curled up next to him and held him, trying to calm the android and himself. Please, let the police overwhelm them. Please, let everything work. Please, let him get the android out safely and repaired.

It took some time until the noise subsided, and Gavin took out his gun with a bad feeling resting in his gut. Nines shifted next to him. ‘Gaaav. Whaaaaat i-i-i-is happeniiiiing? IIIII caaan’t see.’ ‘Shh, be quiet. All is fine. I am here with you. SWAT has won, I’m sure. They will come to get us out of here, I promise you. All will be good.’ Oh, how he wanted to believe his own words. He felt Nines hug his waist now that nothing else was available to him and Gavin was positively terrified that Nines – a literal war-machine – was hiding behind him like a scared child.

Hours seemed to pass until the door opened, Nines grip on him getting stronger. Gavin had his gun trained on whoever would be coming in here. He would empty his whole clip if need be.

‘So much to faster, better, more resilient’, a too familiar voice scoffed, and Gavin let his hands fall on his knees. ‘Phck you, Sixty.’ ‘Oh and isn’t that our asshole Detective? Maybe we finally found his weak spot?’ ‘Oh, please, Allen, spare me that bullshit and get us out of here!’

[bigskydreaming]

antifamutantdown replied to your post:

Thanks to a friend I got my grubby little hands on...

Kalen… You must review the rest I can’t do this anymore

So far the only other ones I’ve read are X-Men #1 and Marauders #1, and I have very little thoughts on them!

My X-Men #1 thoughts can be summed up as cool space house, Krakoan dish soap is neat idea but also gross, we don’t need to see that, why is Havok there, why is Havok anywhere, die Havok die, yay Gabe! Its so weird that I like megalomaniacal actually canon despot and father killer Gabriel Summers better than Alex but like, in his defense Corsair is a shitty father, the Shi’ar Empire is a shitty empire, and like, spending a decade entombed on an asteroid while Xavier mindwipes everyone into forgetting you ever even existed would make anyone cranky, also like, could be worse, at least he’s not Alex. But also, why is he talking like that, its so weird and unnecessary, and also also, I do need SOME context for why he’s suddenly bbq-ing on the moon with his brothers and dad like he never once flambeed said dad like he’s currently searing those steaks, like....did he just Get Over Everything or did Xavier give him a homicidal-otomy before sticking his consciousness back in a shiny new body? I need answers! 

But also lolol at him trolling Logan, even if it was in that weird ‘yo, Shakespeare’s dead, we don’t have to talk like this anymore’ kinda way. But also, Teen Cable calling Scott Dad and Jean Mom and asking them if he can trade guns with Raza and finally getting a chance to be parented the way Cable’s always deserved IS MY EVERYTHING, WHY AM I SO WEAK, and him and Rachel getting to be actual siblings and them all FINALLY having a chance to be an actual, somewhat normal FAMILY, like, this is the literal first time in any of their histories that they’ve all been together and just...enjoying a meal together, its....ugh. This is the good food. THIS is the food I’ve been waiting for. But now plz hurry up and tell me if they’re all being mind controlled by Evil Chucky, this is highly critical information and I need it and want it, please can I have it.

Meanwhile, my Marauders #1 thoughts can be summed up as:

Kitty being all yo-ho-yo-ho a pirate’s life for me in a sailboat is random as fuck, I don’t care about the story’s explanation, it just is. Also a million snores to the OH NOES, AM I EVEN A MUTANT AT ALL plot that I had hoped died with the Neo and all the other nonsense Claremont plot bunnies that never needed to be brought to fruition. I am TIRED. I do not CARE. Points to Bobby for making the Only Valid Top Joke, nobody needs to make any others ever, but minus those same points for the random switch of the Pyro that is gay and has slept with Bobby and has Sexual Tension with him for the Pyro that was basically just dead for twenty years, juuuuuuust in time for Bobby and the Not Gay Pyro to be teammates in the same book whereas the ‘Bobby just hit that fairly recently and you’d think this merited followup’ Pyro is once more, nowhere to be found. I am SUSPICIOUS.

But also, death times infinity to the equally inexplicable plot point of Why Is Kitty In Charge When Ororo, Whomst Canonically Is Like The Literal Best Leader The X-Men Have Ever Had and Also Has Actual Queen and Goddess On Her Resume....is like....literally standing right there. We get it. Kitty is amazing, she is the most amazingest maybe!mutant who ever did live, even if she’s not even a mutant or whatever. Like, I actually like Kitty, but part of that like is me maintaining that she would be equally Valid as a character even if she’s NOT the Most Important Maybe!Mutant in all the land, even when she is not on land, but is being a pirate on a sailboat. I just do not get this constant obsessive need to push her as the ultimate successor of Xavier’s dream, like, the figurehead of the next generation of X-Men....when the older generations of X-Men ARE STILL RIGHT HERE. 

Its okay to just have her be a super genius spy computer hacker and also canon ninja ghost girl! She doesn’t also have to be Head Honcho In Charge Of All The X-Men Even Though We Refuse To Render a Hard Verdict On Whether Or Not She’s Canonically Old Enough To Drink Yet. We promise to be impressed by her regardless! I am TIRED. I do not CARE. Let Ororo be the leader she’s always been and always should be, instead of just having her stand behind Punky Brewster: The College Years and co-sign her Important Declarations with an “I’m With Her” T-shirt because lol why even give Ororo dialogue if you don’t need to, am I right, X-writers? 

Like....you put Kitty in charge of a lineup that consists of Ororo, Bobby and Bishop, literally ALL of whom are older than her, more powerful than her, have decades more experience than her, AND have experience being team leaders themselves (yes, even BOBBY, albeit his experience wasn’t with an ‘official’ team lineup, but its well established that he was defacto leader of his oddball lineup during the O:ZT era, and he managed to get them all the way to the Final Boss Fight and win the day without a single one of the mutants under his care kicking the bucket in the betwixt time which is like, more than 90% of mutant leaders can say about their team lineups). 

I’M JUST SAYING that like, even if you want Kitty to be team leader because she’s obviously qualified, like I’m not even disputing that, I’m just being like bwuh, why THIS particular team though? Its so random and like, none of these characters need the girl they all used to babysit to hold their hands and tell them where to go next and who to zap with some of the most potent mutant powers in all of mutant-dom, all of which carry a degree of responsibility that she’s never had to struggle with herself and never will because like....she can’t accidentally wipe a city off the map when she sneezes.

LOOK I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ABOUT THIS PARTICULAR PLOT POINT THAT’S BARELY EVEN A PLOT POINT, I just...I don’t get Ultimate Boss Lady Kitty Pryde. I mean, again, its NOT remotely about whether or not she’s capable of the job, she’s more than qualified and competent out the wazoo, I just don’t get the seeming NEED they have to push her as Big Bad Boss Lady when again...Ororo is STANDING RIGHT THERE. It doesn’t make SENSE. 

Also, the colorist on this issue SUCKETH THE BIG ONES and needs to go back to coloring school until they can learn to shade and color Ororo’s skin tones appropriately. She should not look like she and Kitty go to the same tanning salon and then get called away to save the day before anything close to a tan is even gotten. Like, what in all the fucks in the great kingdom of Here’s A Lotta Fucks, was up with that fucking colorist. Who hurt you? Whomever told them it was okay for Ororo to look like that deserves a swift kick in the Oh No You Don’t’s.

Okay there you go! My review of the other two that I’ve read so far. Last week was pretty shitty for me so I didn’t even try to read Excalibur #1, because all I knew is it had Apocalypse ‘on the team’ and I noped in the other direction whilst saying, Lord, I do not have the patience this week to see what the fuck they come up with to justify Apoca-freaking-lypse just kicking it around the island and then being all yeah sure, let’s totally team up to go have magical shenanigans in Otherworld, like, I’m sure there’s a reason, but I do not have the brain cells to spare right now on the off chance that the reason is so dumb, multiple of my brain cells simply give up and willfully expire on the spot, rather than try and make sense of the idiocy.

Sooooo, I could just not be giving that premise enough credit, or I could be giving it too much. Time will tell. As for the rest, that about wraps up the current state of my thoughts on all things Dawn of X, with my ultimate takeaway being mostly cool stories so far dudes, but also, just FYI, I refuse to let myself get too too invested in any of this yet, on the off chance that Evil Chucky ISN’T riding shotgun in everyone’s brains and occasionally taking the wheel to use them all to make weird ass decisions like life is one giant game of Grand Theft Auto for him. Because if he’s NOT playing Gepetto to their Pinocchios, there are some WEIRD ASS character beats and story choices going down, and I actually Dislike instead of Like, so making a ruling on just how much of this is Evil Chucky vs how much of this is just Shitty Writing is like....pretty fucking key and I would like enough info to render a verdict on that matter, like, post fucking haste, so plz feel free to stand and deliver on that any day now, Marvel.

[kapanbenernya]

Far Cry 2 -- Toto ft. Ubisoft

It's currently May 2018, and Far Cry 5 has finally hit the shelves. If you want to know about Far Cry 5, let me give you a cheatsheet: it's Far Cry 3. Yes, there's only ONE Far Cry game after Far Cry 3: it's Far Cry 3, but with the sceneries changed and more toys added. That's why I skipped Far Cry 4 after playing the intro for about 5 minutes, because I'm basically replaying Far Cry 3 again. So with that in mind, let's revisit Far Cry before it becomes Far Cry 3

Now, come join me in Africa

The game starts with a Half Life style in-game railroaded cutscene-but-not-really thing where you're forced to sit down and enjoy all the hard work that went into rendering the foliage, the forest fire, and badly animated humans with blank stares. Great for showcasing the Dunia Engine, not so much for replayability. Especially if there's a game-breaking bug like 30 seconds after the game starts proper and there's no way to skip the fucking thing. After a few minutes, you contract malaria and proceed to pass out on the cab like you’ve had too many drinks. You are then saved by the Jackal, a legendary weapons black marketeer you’re supposed to kill. Starting to think we might not be as professional as our CV shows. The Jackal guy decides to spare your life and leaves you to the liberation front shoot-o-rama that’s happening outside. You then pass out again, and one of the liberation fronts pick you up at random. They then give you a stern talking to for killing their boys, and proceed to hire you and give you weapons on the spot.

"This is the guy responsible for killing our boys with a pistol, a machete, and a fever. Let’s give him a rocket launcher when he wakes up”

So the game starts proper after you’re forcefully employed by the local liberation front by virtue of saving your malaria ridden ass 

Your first job is to save some guy like you from the rival liberation front. This person then becomes your buddy. Oh yes, there's a buddy system here, with 2 being active at a time. One buddy is your storyline buddy, the other buddy is your saviour buddy. The storyline buddy is your main buddy and will give you a slight variation to the missions. Usually calling you after you accept a mission from the usual guys, and tells you all about how the two of you could've done it better. I would've liked this to affect the story in some way, because there's a "buddy history" system, like an affinity I guess. It tallies how many times you've helped each other and how much they love you. Sadly, I haven't the slightest clue how this system changes the game because my buddy got killed in a normal shootout two missions in and I don't feel like reloading a save just to save her. What happened next is that I was sent to rescue another guy that becomes my replacement buddy. So I guess this system is very important for the game that you have to always have some guy. What bothers me is that there is a limited roster of buddies available, which means you can only have so many of them killed until they're completely gone. So what happens then, when all the guys have died? That is something I'm not interested in finding out.

The gameplay is your standard old timey sandbox shit. Although those words ring hollow since the gameplay has become the blueprint of sandbox games nowadays. Here's how everything goes: go to mission dealer > do the generic mission > acquire currency and/or XP > spend currency and/or XP upgrading yourself > rinse and repeat, probably do the side-missions which are also generic mission thingy. The missions themselves are kinda bland, they're always go to a place and kill/destroy/steal someone/something respectively. Now if I withdrew the title of the game and ask you to guess the game, you can say any sandbox game all the way from Assassin's Creed to Mafia III, and you'd still be fucking correct. I have to admit the newer ones have polished the elements through and through, but of course there's still only so much that polishing can do.

Perhaps my biggest complaint is that there’s no feeling of progress. The missions are so random and disconnected, it just feels like you're messing around and making money instead of tracking down the guy you're supposed to kill. Why are we doing missions for this liberation front instead of searching for the Jackal? Okay, granted, they DID save our ass on that shootout, but they're the motherfuckers who might've shot us in the first place. But how do you make sense of the fact that after we're done with those guys, we went out of our way to do missions for THE OTHER front? The one that rivals the first front? After seeing this, I decided to drop the game. It has nothing more to offer but generic missions, tedious commute, annoying checkpoint shootouts, and boredom. They do have meaningful events that happen, but everything in between is just making do with smashing puppets with guns and explosions until the next event comes along.

Now let's compare that to the current state of Far Cry games (And by that, I mean let's compare it to Far Cry 3)

In Far Cry 3, your protagonist is set, he's Jason Brody. His story is that he's a rich douchebag in a douchebag circle of friends and they went on a holiday to the tropical island that just so happens to be where the local pirates make a living.

Should've stick to Starbucks next time, eh lads?

They of course got captured, and Jason's brother get killed. This certainly gives Jason the motivation and incentive to fight back, which is to avenge his brother and rescue his douchebag friends. You see, this is called theming. It's about knowing what the goal of the game is and knowing that all the things you do is building up for that goal. You don't learn the multi-stab just to get sick-ass tattoos, you learn it so you can smack the pirates harder. You don't climb radio towers to check off a side quest, you do it because it unlocks new guns to riddle new bullet holes into your enemies. You don't fight a giant ink monster just for the promise of tribal titties, you do it for... uhm...

Actually on second thought...

My point is, the way the game is designed gives Far Cry 3 a great sense of progress and growth. You feel how you, the protagonist grow from douchebag doughboy to a ruthless killer with sick-ass tattoos. This is what in my opinion, Far Cry 2 lacks. You are always a badass mercenary from the get-go, and you don’t have any more motivation but the promise of money to go on. And that shit’s flimsy compared to Far Cry 3, isn’t it?

In Brief

I’ll be the first to admit that Far Cry 2 is fun. The gameplay is very much stellar. It’s become the pioneer’s blueprint for the gameplay of Far Cry games to come. Sure it lacks polish, but it’s good. But apparently not good enough that I eventually stopped giving a shit about it because the important sense of progress is just absent. And while it could be a trivial thing in some games, I believe it is important for a game as huge and expansive as Far Cry 2. After all, it’s the glue that holds the whole experience together, Without it, you’re just randomly setting things on fire and dying from malaria. 

With all the slamming I give Far Cry 3, it’s still my favorite of the series, and the only one I have played from start to finish. It made clearing checkpoints and killing baddies fun while also gets you invested enough to make you want to do so. And what about Far Cry 5? Well I told you in the beginning, it's just Far Cry 3 in rural America. Wait, there's fishing in this game? All bets are off lads, I'm going in.

24/5/2018

[whitlockienterprisespresents]

I kinda hated ‘The Last Jedi’

I know a lot of people have said as much already, and normally I avoid negativity on this blog. But I saw it a couple of weeks ago and it’s still bothering me. I gotta purge. Spoilers, obviously:

Look, the whole scene with the bombers and everything was objectively cool action (and the stuff with Paige and her eventual death was top-notch, I felt the weight of that), but basic entertainment aside, it was dumb as Hell. Why would you have those insanely slow-moving bombers, with their incredibly unsafe and idiotic set-up, and not even any shields to compensate? Why wouldn’t you get something with a nice compact missile that you can fire at range? How did they even get their bombers over to the Dreadnought before the Dreadnought deployed fighters to shoot the bombers down? There’s no element of surprise when your ships move at a fucking snail’s pace. Who cares if you took out the Dreadnought’s exterior guns when they have individual fighters to blast you with anyway? How were those slow as fuck bombers supposed to get away back to the main fleet after dropping their payload? Everything about the Resistance battle plan here was moronic, and the First Order’s failure to stop them anyway was illogical.

Normally, battle tactics wouldn’t bother me so much, but they used the Pyrrhic victory with the bombers as a reason to get Poe demoted. He obviously did not formulate that entire basic-ass battle strategy on his own, so the Resistance leadership should be slapping and demoting themselves for that, not blaming the Commander who flew the mission. Poe not calling off the attempt after he took just sliiightly longer to take out the Dreadnought’s surface cannons doesn’t actually change the fact that the battle plan was idiotic to start with. If they had retreated when Leia said, and I were the First Order, I’d have sent out fighters (or just used the cannons on one of the other ships) to blast those slow-ass bombers outta the sky anyway. They were super slow, guys. You can’t just ‘oops, abort’ those back to the fleet in an instant. The bombers were sitting ducks, essentially on a suicide run to start with. That ain’t Poe’s fault, that’s the entire Resistance’s dumbfuck fault. The fact that he ignored orders is still on him, but when the whole situation is so transparently manufactured for idiotic drama, that kinda steps on the message.

Leia engaging in the ancient and odious trope of ‘woman slaps man to express her distaste for his masculine antics’ is gross. She’s a fucking General, it makes her look bad to be ineffectually slapping faces. Delete this.

I totally expected to hate Poe in ‘The Force Awakens’ coz I thought he’d be the usual cliche insufferable ‘cocky hotshot pilot’. I was delighted when he was competent without being an egotistical wanker about it. The shoddy attempt to tell some half-assed ‘toxic masculinity’ story by making him into a hothead in this movie is basically character assassination (not to mention kinda racist to play that ‘hothead Latino’ cliche?), and I am not here for it.

Leia Force-floating her way back to the ship was really embarrassing. Also, having never had her use the Force so overtly in the past, something as significant as this felt out-of-the-blue. Her prior Force use has mostly been passive connection to others over vast distances, going from that to ‘oh yeah also I’ma Mary Poppins through space’ was a lot to swallow. But my main problem was just that it looked stupid. For all its flaws, this movie was mainly very visually impressive, and this was a low moment.

Where are all the other pilots we met in ‘The Force Awakens’? Are they dead? Is every side character we met just unceremoniously dead?

Also do not approve of the implicit suggestion that Poe doesn’t respect Holdo on sight (’not what I expected’) despite knowing of her credentials in past engagements. How does he not know this person who is high up on the Resistance roster, anyway? She’s a Vice-Admiral, and there’s not that many Resistance folks anyway, at least not on these few ships. Having a not-previously-sexist character respond poorly to new (specifically female) leadership just to service the aforementioned half-assed toxic masculinity plot is some bullshit. I fucking love dismantling toxic masculinity, don’t get me wrong, but they did it fucking badly here.

P.s. why is there a guy still on the med ship when it gets destroyed? He didn’t need to be there to steer it or anything, it was out of fuel and floating dead anyway. Why did they not fully evacuate. Why.

Look. Holdo was right to NOT tell Poe what’s going on just because he demanded to know, he is not actually entitled to the information. However, there is absolutely no good reason presented as to why she wouldn’t tell THE WHOLE FLEET what her plan was; when Leia says she was more interested in ‘keeping the light alive than in looking like a hero’, that’s a nice cushy sentiment, but you know how you keep the light alive? Hope. Keeping up morale. The Resistance spends almost the entire film just...flying...running out of fuel...nothing happening for hours...there’s really no sensible reason for Holdo NOT to let everyone know that there is a plan, there is hope, so hang in there. Poe is wrong to try and mutiny, obviously, but there is no logical plot reason for the narrative pushing him to that point. It’s not about whether or not Holdo capitulates to the aggressive demands of some guy, it’s about whether or not she keeps up morale by letting her own people know they’re not actually doomed. I don’t blame her for this as a character, I blame the shitty writing that is too busy trying to tell that aforementioned half-assed toxic masculinity plot. If your characters are all behaving illogically to service it, you’re not making much of a point. This shit was weak, and it reflected poorly on the characterisation of everyone involved.

Holdo and Leia talking about how they totally like Poe and whatever also weakens this whole plot. If your toxic-masculinity narrative ends with the women who have been wronged agreeing that they like the dude anyway (despite the fact that he committed treason?), you probably did it wrong. Also, they don’t know it yet, but Poe’s actions also get almost the entire Resistance wiped out due to exposing their escape plan, so, like. Cool guy. Yeah, I like him too. Coulda avoided all of this with some incredibly normal and expected level of information-sharing, but whatever. Poe is absolved and the attempted narrative thereby rendered useless. 

Holdo’s sacrifice, taking out the First Order ships? That shit was awesome, I won’t lie. Let the record show that Holdo was great, even if the story she was stuck in wasn’t. One complaint: what the fuck with this ‘Godspeed, rebels’ line? It sticks out like dog’s balls and it sucks. Stop trying to make ‘Godspeed, rebels’ a thing.

 Two complaints, actually: bad editing makes it seem like Holdo sat around for AGES before she enacted this plan, and that makes it seem like the First Order should have shot ALL of the transports well before she got the job done. Editing fucking fail.

MEANWHILE, Finn. Why is he barely in the movie? Why is he stuck in an asinine subplot that has no ultimate impact on the plot of the film whatsoever? Bullshit. One of the best, strongest, most dynamic characters from TFA, and they waste him on some pointless idiocy that does absolutely nothing with his character template. Nothing. Coulda replaced Finn with anyone in this subplot. Better yet, replace the SUBPLOT.

If Finn and Rose could jump ship easy-peasy like that, why did the Resistance not have most of their people jump ship in the same way? They coulda dispersed all over the place and regrouped later, or at least sent out messengers to get help (or...runners...for fuel?) instead of keeping everyone in the same place to be shot at by the idiotic First Order (who could have done about a trillion other things besides just flying after some ships for eighteen straight hours. Why does no one in this movie know how to plan anything?). Kinda kills the non-existent suspense of having the Resistance stuck and running outta fuel, huh?

Rose deserved better than this useless subplot where her chief function is to exposition-dump about Canto Bight.

Just-so-happening to get locked in the same cell with a guy who has exactly the skills you’re looking for is an old cliche, not a good one, but it feels extra weak and convenient here because it’s so late in the film and also, ultimately, so pointless. So fucking pointless.

When Finn and Rose saw those racing animals, I literally sighed in frustration, because it was so obvious where the plot was gonna go. Most of the action of this movie was still fun to watch even when it was stupid. This was not one of those times.

Trashing Canto Bight is still pointless, and mostly just makes me concerned for the children minding the animals, and for the animals themselves. All the rich war profiteers will still go on, they’ll just party somewhere else for a bit while reconstruction is happening. They don’t fucking care. The poor downtrodden children, however, will be punished, and the animals will either be killed or returned to the race track, they didn’t get away, they were just right there on the hill. Finn and Rose didn’t achieve anything triumphant here, they just got the already-suffering into a worse situation. Nice job breaking it, heroes. Did I mention this was pointless? Also, anvilicious. 

Why even bother bringing Phasma back when you’re just gonna dispose of her after the briefest fight ever. TFA did a bad job of making her seem like she existed for a reason anyway, but this just hung a lantern on it. Stupid convenient pointless fight/death scene is stupid, convenient, and pointless. 

(on the subject of pointless characters: why does Maz Kanata exist? TFA at least gave her something to do, but it all just feels like Lupita Nyong’o and Gwendoline Christie were a big deal when TFA was made so they made characters for them and went ‘eh, we’ll find an actual purpose for them later’, but then they...didn’t. It’s a waste of talent, and egregious, too. You know who does exist for a reason, and yet both this film and TFA did fucking NOTHING with her? Leia. I can’t believe they wasted her so much. There are so many wasted characters in this film, and the fact that most of them are the female characters does not escape my scrutiny)

 Hux is also mostly useless, for the record. The narrative gives him more attention than he's due, considering he's basically just 'random First Order commander', he doesn't have more personality than that. I don't really require more characterisation for my neo-Nazi villains anyway, but when the character framing keeps acting like the dude matters, it gets conspicuous.  

 YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER THAN THIS??? A spy in the Resistance. The only logical reason for Holdo to NOT tell her own people that they had an escape plan would have been if there was a spy in the fleet (say, someone who could be broadcasting the signal that the First Order was tracking...); a spy in the fleet is also a good way to create some actual tension and, um, narrative, instead of the fleet just doing that flying-in-a-line-for-a-whole-day thing with the illogical Poe/Holdo drama the only complication. You can still keep the Poe/Holdo stuff! Holdo's secrecy just makes sense now! It doesn't even require that Poe not know there's a spy - he could just as easily suspect that Holdo IS the spy, or at least feel that she's not trying hard enough to find out who is and is just consigning everyone to death instead of going on a witch-hunt, there's plenty of potential for different ways to play that without losing the core story (and while also, maybe, improving it...). But most importantly: we could keep Finn ON THE FUCKING SHIP INSTEAD OF OFF HAVING A RANDO POINTLESS DRAMA. Finn, as a former Stormtrooper, would be a prime suspect for a spy in the eyes of plenty of people! People get irrational under pressure! Finn's past making people mistreat him now would be a solid way for his actual characterisation to be part of his narrative, plus opens a lot of avenues for telling worthwhile socio-political narratives! Concern for Finn's safety and the desire to prove his innocence enhances Poe's story and motivation too! Rose can easily be made part of that narrative and can go on a character journey instead of being physically transplanted places just to provide exposition and jewellery! Having two narrative threads (Rey, and Poe/Finn combined, instead of Rey, Poe, and Finn) helps streamline the storytelling AND frees up time to actual explore those narratives thoroughly instead of wasting time on useless stuff and axing important plot developments to make it all fit! I COULD GO ON LIKE THIS FOREVER!!!

I have seen a lot of people insisting that the only reason Rose professing her love for Finn ‘comes out of nowhere’ is because Rose wasn’t presented like a sex object so audiences didn’t think of her that way, but, guys, no. It came out of nowhere because the two characters just had a buddy adventure over the course of a day and now suddenly Rose is in love? After a day? Her sister died, she went on an adventure, and now she loves this guy she just met. If they didn’t try to call it a romance thing (at least not yet! I got no problem with them developing a relationship after, y’know, more than a day!), it would have worked better; she can still stop him from sacrificing himself because she cares for him as a PERSON, not as a prospective partner. We need more of those narratives, tbh, and we need more young pretty female characters who don’t spontaneously develop romance subplots just by existing. 

SPEAKING OF WHICH, Rey. Rey’s story was so consumed with Kylo Ren, I keep forgetting she was there. How did the other great break-out character from TFA get co-opted into a vehicle for the Kylo Ren sob-story? Rey barely gets her own story here, it’s all really about either Kylo, or Luke. Female protagonist reduced to prop in men’s story. Whoopdi-fucking-doodah. 

 Look. I know Mark Hamill was very vocal about how much he disapproved of literally everything written for Luke in this film. He was right, too: it's fucking OOC garbage. BUT credit where it's due: the guy is still fucking delightful. I love bitter hermit Luke, but I'm giving all the credit to Mark Hamill for doing a fantastic job with the material he hated so much (plenty of that bitterness drawn from a real place, methinks), zero credit for the writing because the writing is, indeed, moronic. It's not that I don't believe Luke could become disenfranchised after what happened at his Jedi training temple: I can't buy that he'd end up in that situation in the first place. Luke Skywalker, who famously ditched his lightsabre in front of his Actual War Criminal father, Darth Vader, and saved the day by compassionately appealing to the goodness he solemnly believed could still be found in the old man despite all the genocidal evidence to the contrary? That Luke Skywalker is not gonna look at his young currently-innocent-of-any-crimes nephew and go 'shit, you've got evil in your heart' and decide to maybe just kill the lad in his sleep. I don't even buy that 'for a second'. Dude wouldn't slice a confirmed war criminal, guys. And then even after the massacre at the temple and all, you're telling me Luke Skywalker wouldn't try to rescue his own nephew from the clutches of evil? That he wouldn't try to fix his mistake? That he'd just shrug his shoulders and mooch off and hide while his nephew got to genocidin' just like gramps used to do?? Come on guys. You might as well retroactively kill Luke at the end of Return of the Jedi and have it over with.

 Why does Luke milk a beast. Why did this happen in front of my eyes.

 They don't spend nearly enough time on Rey's interactions with Luke, it makes her 'lessons' with him feel perfunctory, and their conflicts forced. Also, Rey never gets her third lesson that Luke promised, but rather than it feeling like she just left before she could finish (as with Luke on Dagobah), it feels more like they just forgot to tie that off. As I understand, there's a whole deleted scene/sequence involving the third lesson, so it wasn't deliberately omitted, they just didn't bother to cover the editing mistake. Fuck y'all. You kept the bullshit Canto Bight animal-race, but this...

 Rey's mirror-vision thing was super boring because it was so predictable. Why did it go for so long anyway.

 I never want to see Kylo Ren's nipples again. I can't believe they shamelessly subjected the audience to this obvious bait. He's a genocidal maniac, guys. He's a mass murderer. You cannot make fetch happen with him, and it's disgusting that you're trying.

 Related: I normally barely notice/care about costuming, but there were several faux pas in this film and I was irritated. Kylo Ren's pants were one. Rey's outfits being sleeveless but thick on the shoulders was two, it made it look like she was cold and uncomfortable and walking around with her shoulders up around her ears the whole time and it made ME really uncomfortable to look at her. Three is the older women's outfits, Leia's but especially Holdo's: they're Resistance leaders, why do they look like some idiot costumer prioritised them looking like classy older women over them wearing functional practical outfits? Holdo's dress is great, objectively speaking, but in context she looks several degrees overdressed. Did she not have time to ditch the formal gown when she got called in for emergency Resistance-ing? I have seen it suggested that the outfit is supposed to be part of the whole Poe-not-trusting-her-to-know-what-she's-doing thing, and if that is indeed what they intended, it's triple stupid.

 Kylo Ren's sob story is not really a sob story. Yeah, even if your uncle was standing over your bed holding a lightsabre, that's a rough deal but it doesn't entitle you to SLAUGHTER YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS AND RUN OFF TO JOIN THE NEO-NAZIS. What the actual fuck. Why did we spend so much time on trying to pretend Kylo is sympathetic. I mean, he was also supposed to already be being seduced into evil, that's what Luke saw that made him wanna kill 'im up, so. If they wanted us to sympathise with Kylo, maybe they should AT LEAST have focused on what it was that Snoke was using to seduce him in the first place, explain what gave him the in (as deeply, wildly flawed as the prequel trilogy was, it at least did a thorough job of exploring the how-did-it-come-to-this for Anakin). I mean - same as with Anakin - explaining why someone decides that genocide and dictatorships are the way to go does not make it acceptable, and Kylo Ren would still be a whiny little dickhead in need of a nice beheading, but if they explained his susceptibility to Snoke's logic that would at least be character building. Pretending the whole training temple massacre was 1. Luke's fault, and 2. a sympathetic backstory is pretty grotesque. Great way to make it seem like a certain writer-director thinks that the neo-Nazi sith is actually an ok dude, though...

 On which note: Kylo's 'justification' for killing his own father is also, uh, not justification. Just vague-ing about 'destroying the past' does not an explanation make; maybe if we had some of that aforementioned backstory on what made Kylo so susceptible to corruption, that could also have been used to make this bullshit excuse sound slightly less bullshit? As above, it'd still be bullshit anyway, but at least it wouldn't be faking being deep quite so hard. I'm a bit embarrassed by how stupid this was. The idea that any of Kylo's 'justifying' for any of his murderous actions is convincing to Rey is an insult to her intelligence as well as the audience's.

 Remember at the start of the movie, when Kylo smashes his wannabe-Vader mask? I frowned at it then, not realising how much I was gonna end up frowning about it later: Kylo Ren sucks and has always sucked, but in TFA we had this widely-applauded portrayal of the new Big Bad being an entitled white manbaby, and everyone was talking about how great that was as a reflection of modern society's issues, etc. Smashing his Vader-mask in the elevator was the closest moment this film had to acknowledging the tantrums Kylo threw in TFA, which were simultaneously hilarious and disturbing as they did indeed reflect that kind of childish yet violent acting-out you see with entitles young white men these days. Thing is, where Kylo of TFA chucked tantrums and idolised his former-Nazi grandfather and tried to make himself in gramps' image, this movie is subtly ditching those less-than-flattering details. Kylo smashes his Vader-mask, and while Snoke at various points goes on about his potential to be 'a new Vader', Kylo himself expresses no further desire to follow in Vader's footsteps. Smashing the mask has symbolically severed him from that aim, and thus, from one of the most prominent aspects of his neo-Nazi-modelled characterisation. It's almost like a certain writer-director wants to make the character more sympathetic by giving him a 'sad backstory' and distancing him from his neo-Nazi dreams...

 Speaking of ditching plot though, there are two incredibly egregious examples here: Snoke, and Rey's parents. As much as Snoke was a dud of a character who I definitely did not care about or enjoy, and as much as disposing of him is a surprise that opens up a lot of potential for new and different storytelling, the fact that he was apparently some colossal Big Bad who appeared out of nowhere with no explanation and then was treated like a big deal only to get killed off halfway through is...weak. It doesn't seem clever, it seems like they should have just not invented him in the first place if they weren't actually gonna do anything with him. We didn't have to waste time on this.

 The 'reveal' that Rey's parents were 'nothing' is even worse, tbh. They made such a big deal out of the identity of her parents, in this film and in TFA, and TFA is retroactively weakened as a film every time TLJ ditches one of the plot threads or characters that TFA introduced, because it renders swathes of the content of TFA pointless. Not content to just be full of pointlessness yourself, huh TLJ? Gotta fuck up your predecessor too so that you don't feel lonely? I have seen it argued that Rey not having some fancy pedigree and 'coming from nothing' like a normal person instead of doing the Secret Princess trope is a great move, and I agree with that in theory, but as presented in this film? Hell no. Sure, it woulda been a huge predictable cliché if she was secretly Luke's daughter or something, and the entire universe expected that sort of a reveal so there wouldn't have been much point pretending it was a secret, but this 'reveal' feels less like a cool twist-with-commentary and more like a certain writer-director going for cheap drama points by subverting expectation for no other reason than to be shocking. This feels more like laughing in the audience's face for the fact that they FOOLISHLY expected that a built-up mystery would actually deliver a surprise. Subverting audience expectation is only clever if you have an original twist; just going 'ha! You thought there was something there but there was nothing!' is not clever, it just means the writer-director wasn't smart enough to actually find something to do with the plot set-up he was handed after the previous film. Considering how much he fucked up the characterisation of literally everyone and filled this movie with meaninglessness and plot holes, maybe that's not surprising either...

 You know what would have been surprising? Kylo ACTUALLY SWITCHING SIDES. I was so ready for them to throw us a REAL curveball by having him actually turn, and have to spend the rest of this movie and however much of the next one trying to make amends and work through all the colossal awfulness that would bring up for everyone (before, ultimately, dying a nice redemptive-sacrificial death, because the genocidal maniac is NOT allowed to live happily ever after). That woulda taken some real guts though, right, and we're all about cheap meaningless thrills that don't ultimately change anything, here.

 Why were there so many Praetorian Guard guys. I swear Kylo and Rey fought all of them twice in the course of that battle. Who choreographed this editing nightmare?

 Remember, a thousand words ago, when I started off by criticising the idiotic battle plans of the Resistance? Same goes for this useless assault they launch against the First Order cannon on Crait. Lets run these rust-buckets straight at all their guns and things, even though we've only got thirteen of them and nothing to do but drive straight at our enemies guns! Visually exciting, but completely devoid of intelligent design. Using this second DUMBASS BATTLE PLAN WHICH INEXPLICABLY GOES WRONG as a trite-neat way to show how Poe 'learned this vital lesson about when to retreat to fight again another day' is kinda undercut by the fact that the Resistance is still sending people out to die stupidly in suicide runs, so...maybe they still haven't learned the real lesson here, the one about ACTUALLY PLANNING. You wouldn't have to worry so much about your 'dead heroes' if you made sensible strategic decisions in the first place. Pretty weird, that.

 Force-projection Luke was great, but this seems like it's supposed to be demonstrating some character arc for him when actually it's just repeating his whole passive-resistance thing from the original trilogy, just in a less significant way; as a projection, he's not actually endangered as he was with Vader, so it's less of a statement and more of an '...oh yeah I literally can't fight you anyway, peace out I'm dead now regardless'. Like most things in this film, it's only surface-level cool, as soon as you engage thought processes it becomes as empty as a Jedi cloak in the wind...

 Rey and Poe apparently meeting for the first time at the end of the movie was Hella jarring. They may not have met on-screen in TFA, but they were on the Resistance base at the same time, both personally attached to Finn, etc. We coulda just assumed they had met at some point before Rey left. This awkward meeting was awkward and also hung a big ol' lantern on the fact that our characters all got split off for completely different adventures in this movie instead of doing anything together, like, pretty much at all. Nice.

 Why does this film end so many times. At first I thought it was gonna end after the space battle, and then there was this whole extra action scene on Crait and I was like 'that's weird, why would you add an extra small action piece AFTER your big climactic space battle?', then I thought it was gonna end on a cliffhanger with Luke stepping up to confront the First Order alone (they had this shot from behind, showing the fire around him and the First Order arrayed out across the horizon, and the music was swelling and it would have been a PERFECT cut to credits, but then it cut to Poe's face instead and I was like 'whaaatt, momentum of final shot destroyed!'). Then I thought they were gonna end after everyone got away, but THEN there was that useless end scene of the kids back on Canto Bight being like, sooo filled with Resistance Feelings, and it was fucking dumb. Why would you include such a weak finisher when you had at least three solid final moments already? Honestly I think there were several other almost-ends in there that I'm forgetting now (like maybe also right before the fight on Crait started? I dunno). It was a mercy when they finally picked an ending, but it was the worst ending they had at their disposal.

 Am I finished purging now? Probably not. I'll probably think of a bunch of other things after I post this, plus I see a lot of dumb posts and articles defending various aspects of the film, some of which I can shrug off as differences of opinion, and some of which stick in my head for being nonsense to rival the film itself. For every whiny neckbeard out there complaining about diversity and 'woman heroes', there's a 'progressive' writer who defends the decisions in this movie for seemingly no other reason than because it makes the neckbeards upset, and that's just annoying. You can admit that the movie sucked without that meaning that the misogynists were right, the two options are mutually exclusive, and you lend credence to all the problematic crap this movie pulled if you refuse to admit its flaws. But whatever. It wasn't the worst film I ever saw. It was mostly irritating because of how much potential it had, if someone had just bothered to do a proper critical edit of the script and maybe think about telling cohesive stories with it and maintaining characterisation across the franchise, etc. Maybe the third film of the trilogy will fix some of the shit from this film, but the fact will remain, it shouldn't have to. Trying to patch up the holes made by the previous film should not be part of the third film's job; this movie shoulda just been solid to start with. A lot of what was bad about it is structurally unsound anyway, and a third film won't change that. This movie was a dud. A stupid, largely pointless dud. Delete this.

[overwatch-imagines-hub]

Fictober - Vampires (McCree)

You bet your ass I used a nickname from that list of nicknames by Denny’s during this. I’m also pretty sure that this is my longest piece so far. What can I say? McCree’s my huckleberry.

An old non-Overwatch RP scenario I did a few years ago inspired this lovely little piece.

Alternatively titled “Oral Fixation?” Enjoy.

~~~

You hummed along to some song on the radio as you pulled your second batch of Halloween cookies from the oven. You swayed a bit to the beat and bumped the oven door shut and placed the assortment of ghost, pumpkin, and witch hat shaped cookies on the kitchen counter.

You weren’t always a hugely festive person but when it came to the last three months of the year, you jumped on the holiday fanatic bandwagon. You’ve had the house decked out in anything and everything Halloween since September twenty-fifth and by noon on November first the Halloween hovel would be turned into a Thanksgiving cabin; the day after Thanksgiving struck Christmas tree hunting and colored lights strung up around the outside and inside of the house. Of course, making Halloween treats and pumpkin spice goodies until Christmas preparations rolled up--where pumpkin spice would turn to sugar cookies and candy cane--was a necessity and this explained the several end table trays around the house filled with homemade sweets, tupperware containers being filled with cookies and sent off to neighbors, friends, and family, and no lack of candy for trick-or-treaters when the time came because an entire kitchen cabinet was filled with bags of store bought candies.

You were taking in your wonderfully festive handiwork when something caught your eye outside the kitchen window. However, you saw nothing when you peeked outside, so you shrugged and carried on with your business. You plucked freshly baked cookies of the cookie sheet and placed them in a swirled pattern on a large plate.

“Hey, babe, cookies are done!” you hollered. You were hoping to get Jesse’s attention from where he was hanging out upstairs; he was the biggest fan of your homemade treats, after all, and one of his favorite parts was watching you using the icing to draw pictures.

Still, you were given no response.

With a shrug you got the icing ready and muttered, “Fine then. I’ll decorate these beauties on my own and you won’t get to see it.” You put the bag of icing’s tip to the first cookie’s surface and began to work. After a moment you added to yourself, “Maybe I’ll eat the first cookie too.”

Suddenly, the same movement from outside caught your eye again, this time coming from the back door’s window. You stopped your icing mission, eyebrows raised curiously.

“Don’t you dare be trying to scare me while I’m in the middle of the most tedious part cowboy,” you warned, placing your icing on the counter and wandering over to the door. However, a nervous shiver crawled up your spine as you peered outside for a few moments, then checked the door to make sure it was locked for the night; you were sure Jesse was upstairs cleaning his Peacekeeper, which made this scenario all the more creepy.

After a few minutes of hesitation and checking to see if the movement happened again, you made your way back to the counter and continued your work. Five cookies in and you’d mostly forgotten about the events that had happened, until a growing shadow on the kitchen counter from something walking up behind you caught your attention. You couldn’t help but hold your breath; Jesse had never been a quiet person but whoever was behind you was dead silent. You for a knife nearby, in what you hoped was a discreet fashion, as you waited for the intruder’s next action.

Then a low voice, clearly Southern but attempting to mask it with some other unrecognizable accent, hummed against your ear, “Good evening, darling.”

“Jesse motherfucking McCree,” you breathed, relaxing and leaning heavily on the counter in front you. “I could have stabbed you. What the fuck is that accent you’re trying to pull off?” You dropped the knife you had just caught in your fingers and turned around to face your partner.

Jesse took a step back with a wide and cheeky grin plastered on his face, cosmetic vampire teeth plainly visible where his canines were. He wore a well-tailored black tailcoat suit of slightly shimmery material with a long cape of black satin draped over his shoulders. His jacket had only the center button done up, revealing a collared white dress shirt that clung to the man’s broad chest and the white bow tie that matched it. The cowboy’s hair was slicked back, shining in the kitchen light from the amount of product needed to force the usually unruly mess down, and his irises were blood red as a result of colored contacts. His eyebrows and facial hair were controlled and styled with just as much effort as the hair on his head and subtle eye makeup--shadow, liner; everything but fake eyelashes because his were already those of gods--was not subtle enough to go unnoticed by you.

When you glanced down, however, he was still wearing those god forsaken roughed up cowboy boots.

“How the hell did you sneak up on me in those?” you inquired aloud. Then you met his cocky gaze with a quirked eyebrow. “How the hell did you sneak up on me period? I thought you were upstairs cleaning your gun or napping or something.”

“I snuck into the pantry when you went to the bathroom earlier,” Jesse replied. He dropped the bad Dracula accent for the time being but kept his proud stance.

You stood on your tiptoes to glance over his shoulder at the small dark room he’d exited, then looked at him incredulously. “That was like an hour ago. You stood in there for an hour?”

“Genji was doing the flashy thing outside the windows.” Jesse took the edges of his cape in his hands then raised his arms, giving him the appearance of bat wings. In his bad accent, he asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“An ass who put way too much effort into this?” you answered, pretending to answer his question. “Oh, wait, I know. Someone who not only isn’t going to eat the first cookie but who is also going to sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Vampires don’t sleep,” Jesse countered, though his grin deflated slightly and his pointed eyebrows furrowed.

“Hm, you’re right,” you replied, “Do I have a stake anywhere?”

“Aw, angel cake,” Jesse said, dropping his act completely and shuffling up to you, “did I bother ya that bad? I’m sorry, bubbles. I just wanted t’ do have some Halloween fun; I thought you’d enjoy it.”

You turned back to your work pointedly and gestured at the cookie you had been working on when Jesse initiated the final act of his prank; the cookie’s icing was smeared and you had dropped the bag of icing on the others that had already been decorated, ultimately rendering your icing mission pointless. “Boy, you ruined the cookies.”

Jesse wrapped his arms around you, overall wrapping the both of you in his thick cloak, and rested his chin on your shoulder. His facial hair softly tickled your cheek and you look see out of your peripherals that he was now pouting. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

You felt a rush of regret for making him feel bad. You weren’t really upset with him, after all, just the fact that he--and Genji, apparently--had made you think someone had broken into the house.

“You smell like hair products,” you commented. You leaned back against his chest and turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss to his jawline.

“I am wearing a lot of ‘em, so it’s not surprising,” he replied, partial grin grin returning. He discreetly tried to reach over and scoop up some discarded frosting on a finger, only to get his hand smacked away. He let out a whine, similar to that of a puppy wanting attention, and placed his arm back around your waist.

“They’re still not done,” you warned.

“Could use the frosting for somethin’ else,” he mumbled; it earned him a smack to the shoulder. “Ow!”

“Vampires don’t feel pain,” you said with a snicker. “Now shove off, Dracula. I fix this mess.”

“How about I drink your blood instead, blah,” Jesse suggested, the terrible accent returning. He began to sway with you where the two of your stood and buried his face in your neck, tickling your soft skin with both facial hair and the edges of artificial fangs. You shivered slightly, then felt McCree’s smile widen against your neck before he started nibbling on your skin, quietly murmuring “nom” as he did so.

You felt blood rush to your face and your knees wobble a bit; damn this cowboy vampire man.

“Is Genji still around?” you asked suddenly.

Your vampire cowboy raised his head and gave you a look of confusion. “I sent him off after his part was over. Why?” He paused, then continued slowly with raised eyebrows, “Do, uh, ya want him to be?”

“Jesus, Jesse.” You rested your head back against his shoulder and laughed, which was a very nice feeling after being mildly terrified a few minutes before. After calming down you squeezed McCree’s arm and replied, “That is not at all what I had in mind, my dear Dracula. I just figured Genji peekin’ around while you’re giving me hickeys is not the prefered scenario.”

“We can go somewhere else for me to give you hickeys,” Jesse suggested, giving you a light tug back against him.

“Sorry, cowvamp,” you replied, slipping out of his grip and looking at your mess of a cooled cookie plate. “I have cookies to fix and finish. We can talk about frosting, hickeys, and bloodsucking later.”

“Sounds like an ideal way t’ spend the night to me, sugar.” Jesse hummed and moved to lean against the counter beside you. He eyed the cookies.

“You put a finger on those cookies and I will consider stabbing you again,” you stated. You started to carefully remove the icing tube from the mess of cookies.

“Here’s an idea though,” Jesse said carefully,” How about I eat the frosting off the icing thingy? There’s no use for it being outside the tube if it’s not on the cookies.”

“How about you help me decorate the cookies,” you countered, “so we can move onto more fun events of the night.” You wiped the frosting tube clean with a rag hanging from a drawer then set it aside while you used your fingers to clean up the messy cookies. Sticking a frosting-covered thumb into your mouth, you glanced over to the man questioningly.

You were greeted with a look that made you wonder if you were about to be picked up and hauled to the bedroom at that moment. Then Jesse grabbed the tube of frosting, gave the cookie plate a red-eyed glare of determination, and asked what he should do first.

[rumdaydreams]

meta|☠—— Disability and Killian’s Hand

Under the cut because this got LONG. But, god, anyone who wants to RP with me and not tick me off should honestly read this because it is so fucking important.

I wanted to put this up because it’s an important part of Killian’s character and why I play Killian.

( Disclaimer: As much as I love Colin and OUAT, the way he and the show portray a person who only has use of one hand is largely inaccurate and really does bother me and that’s honestly the reason for this. )

Background

This is the part when I jump the gun on something I’ve been working on and hope my superstitious ass hasn’t ruined it.

I’m an honor scholar at my university and as such, I am required to produce a thesis, or final project, on research I’ve conducted over the course of my undergraduate career. I’m getting to the jumping the gun part now--I am officially supposed to announce my thesis topic this April--I am going to bring it up here, though, because it pertains to what I’m about to talk about ( even though I swore myself to secrecy on it until April ).

My thesis topic is William Carlos Williams’s poetry of stroke. And yes, before I continue, I know that stroke manifests differently for people, there are a variety of stroke types that indicate differing causes and effects of the “stroke.” The stroke types my thesis focuses on are apoplectic stroke and transient ischemic attacks because those were the type Williams experienced. This is all to say--at age 66, Williams lost the use of his left arm as a result of stroke. My research deals with the manifestation of that change in his poetry. And again, let me draw more of a background for you--I am researching this topic because my mother suffered an apoplectic stroke at age 7, the damage left her with hemiplegia--she is paralyzed on the entire right side of her body and, thus, has use of only one hand. While her paralysis does extend to her leg, physical therapy in her teen years has given her improved motor skills in all but her arm--she can walk, the only blatant disability she has now is a fully paralyzed arm. I have grown up in a household that accepted her form of “disability” as the norm. I know, from watching and speaking with my mother, that navigating the world with a physical disability that others can see is challenging both physically and mentally.

I should note that my research with Williams takes into account an individual’s age at the point of disability. For instance, my mother, now well into her life, has vague memories of the use of two hands, but for all intents and purposes, has not know an able-bodied life. She was only a child--because of this, her perception of her disability differs drastically from Williams who, late in his life suffered stroke that left him similarly paralyzed. Williams was 66, all he knew before this point was able-bodied life and so his self reference trends towards deprecation and disgust while my mother, though those elements are present from time to time, accepts herself as the norm and simply lives in the world.

A lot of this meta goes hand in hand with the way Killian lost his hand--it was traumatic. He likely suffers some form of PTSD or phantom-pains, but as I genuinely have no authority on either of those subjects I won’t be talking about them in this--though I do acknowledge their importance to the subject. If I do discuss them, it will be when I have done enough research to address the topic with the gravity it deserves.

Hook’s Concept of Self

Killian, in all but a select few instances, has only one hand. When writing him, this is a crucial thing to keep in mind and, I admit, on occasion it has lapsed from my mind as I write a reply. But the point remains, that he has only one hand. He is, in fact, a disabled character--if only because that is the label society provides to those who do not fit the “ideal.” ( My overwhelming issues with the label of “disability” is not my point here, but it’s worth a mention, and can be boiled down to this; If a bird flew over to you and said “I’m sorry you can’t fly/don’t have wings” how would you react? ) He interacts with the able-bodied world differently than others do, he even perceives the world differently than others do.

Killian is very much a mix of the two mindsets I’ve described with my mother and with Williams in his opinion towards his disability. He was a full grown man, a sailor even, when Rumple took his hand. And so, directly following that encounter, it is safe to say that he saw himself much the way Williams does--as deformed and disgusting. As I just mentioned, Killian is a sailor, he relies on both of his hands to do this job, and so the sudden loss of one hand renders him immediately useless. However, the Hook we see throughout the show is one that is, decidedly not useless. Instead, we see the Hook that parallels my mother’s view of herself--one who has spent more time without a hand than with a hand. ( Because we need to remember that he loses his hand before Neverland, so the century and a half he spends in Neverland is without his hand--putting him squarely in the territory of “this is the state of being that I have known the longest” ). As such, the Hook that we see in most of the show is the one that has learned how to live in an able-bodied world as a disabled person--again, I strain to use that term because as we see in Killian and as I see in my mother, their “disability” is merely a different state of being ( in the same way that a bird who can fly is in a different state of being than a human who cannot. Our realities do not align and it is fruitless to apply our lens for what is “ideal” to someone or something that was not meant to and does not have to conform to it ). It’s fair, then, to conclude that Killian does not lament his lack of hand, rather it is simply his normal. He has adapted to live and sail in the world.

Hook in Storybrooke

Now, I know what you’re going to say, “What about when he wanted his hand back for the date with Emma?” My answer again, points to how people with disability interact with a world built for able-bodied people. Until this exact instance in the show, Killian makes no indication that he is unhappy with only one hand. We see that he is a competent sailor, swordsman, etc. So I’m rejecting, outright, the suggestion that this is a deep seated wish of his--it’s not. Rather, his desire for his hand back stems from an external pressure. He thinks that Emma thinks he is unwhole. Whether or not he believes it himself is more nuanced.

I mentioned that my mother’s stroke was at 7. She remembers the use of two hands and she lives in a world of two handed people. Even though she can navigate the world, one-handed, perfectly well ( I have yet to see a thing that she cannot do--and she does everything, she had to, she lived and worked on a dairy farm and there was no option not to contribute and do work like everyone else ), she still feels inadequate because those around her who do not know her assume she is. Thus, her momentary lamenting for the use of her right hand is not because she, intrinsically, feels inadequate, but because interacting with an able-bodied world has pigeon-holed her into thinking that she has to feel inadequate. This same concept applies to Killian. It is absurd to assume that after a century and a half of living without a hand, Killian has suddenly come to the conclusion that he is inadequate and needs another hand. Hook’s crew in Neverland, is much like my family is to my mother. We have known her only without the use of her hand--similarly, Hook’s crew have spent a century and a half working with him and know he is capable and competent without his hand. Thus, he has never been pressured by people that assume able-bodied ideals until he is in Storybrooke. With this new, and likely uncomfortable pressure, Killian was forced into a “realization” of sorts that he does not fit what all the other denizens deem “normal” and as a result, and because he wants to give Emma the best of himself, seeks to attain that idea of “normal.” His desire to have his hand back, then, should not be seen as discontent with himself but as an attempt to give Emma the “ideal” he has come to accept since interacting with people in Storybrooke.

Hook and Living in an Able-Bodied World

Back to the original point for this post: writing a character with only one hand and writing opposite a character with only one hand. The most common misconception is that Hook cannot do certain things. This is utter bullshit. He’s lived for two centuries. If you think he hasn’t worked out how to do everything he needs to do with one hand by now, you’re missing the point of this post. So, when writing Hook and when interacting with Hook, it’s presumptive to think that he a) cannot do a certain task because you think there is no one handed option and b) he will ever ask for help with it ( Hook is fucking proud and stubborn, he won’t be asking for help from anyone except, maybe, a very close friend or lover ). If a character does assume Hook needs assistance he’s likely to respond with anger at how patronizing the offer seems. Imagine for a moment, that someone offers to cut your sandwich into bite sized pieces--you would be offended that they think it’s necessary. The same can be said for Hook. No matter how well meaning the character’s offer, he will see it as an insult. Again, I point to my mother--she responds in the same way. People who do not know her well offer her help zipping a coat or tying shoes, and though the offer comes from a place of care, it’s insulting to her--because it assumes that she is incapable of a task that simple. Hook has sailed for a century and a half without a hand. He knows how to button a coat or tie a knot with one hand.

Similarly, approaching Hook with pity or “insulting barbs” about not having one hand is not going to have the effect you think they will. He’s only ever going to get mad at being pitied. As I’ve said way too much, he’s lived without a hand for a century and a half. He doesn’t think it’s anything to pity because he doesn’t think there is a problem with it. That said, he will be angry but it’s not going to trigger him into a violent reaction. He has been living with this for a century and a half he knows pity from others is a common response. It will make him mad, sure, but it’s not going to get him to act out. As for the insulting barbs, Hook is a sarcastic, self-deprecating  bastard. If the barb is supposed to get him mad, it won’t. He’ll probably laugh along with you and catalog it away for later use. He doesn’t see his lack of hand as anything particularly insulting, but he also remembers how raw the feeling was just after loosing it, so insults are a coping mechanism for him. Suffice it to say that trying to use Hook’s lack of hand to get him angry is a fool’s errand. It won’t work.

Something else to keep in mind is how you describe the way he does things. While I’ve just stated that he can do everything, I want to point out that these tasks are achieved differently than they usually are. When writing about how he accomplishes traditionally two-handed tasks it’s important to consider what means of modification and invention he must use to complete it. Contrary to what the show might have you believe, he will use his body as a “second hand” more than he will rely on tools or external objects. His mouth, in many situations, will suffice as a second hand. However, it’s safe to assume that he can do smaller tasks with just one hand. He can button a shirt, zip a coat, open a bottle, type etc. with just one hand--no need for modification. Things like tying a shoe or opening a bagged package would warrant the use of his mouth or, in the case of the bag, his Hook. He’s also not going to make a big show of any of his alternate methods of doing things. The last thing he wants to do is make a process more complicated than it is. If he needed a big show of rolling the sails, he would have asked for one. He’s going to do these things quietly and as normally as a two-handed person does basic tasks. The nuance of his interactions with one hand are going to be subtle and do not always warrant note. That said, to someone who does not know him, these things are going to appear strange.

With more complex tasks, he will use small tools to aid himself. For instance, rolling up a sail, which is easier done with two hands might be achieved by taking a piece of rope and using that to roll the sail. When I write Hook, I like to take stock of the setting of the RP because when more physical things are involved, it’s crucial for Hook to use his environment to help him.

Conclusion

When you’re writing Hook, you cannot ignore that he has only one hand. You also should not assume that his lack of hand is a big deal for him, it’s not. 

[sinfulfolk]

Poem: Paradise Lost - a contemporary adaptation

Paradise Lost: A Contemporary Adaptation

Ned Hayes

  Book I

lines 1-75

Calling the Angel of Song

Let’s agree to tell the truth, for once, about that first time: the deadly fruit They ate that night, the lethal lust that spreads still through the universe, An eternal poison eating like acid through our once-perfect little world.

None of us can get back through Heaven’s door, until that One comes for us: But only you know this story, only you can tell what happened. Oh creature Of the stars, I was in love with you once and I’ll still sing any song you choose.

For I long for your music, oh Muse of every angel-dusted poet from here to eternity – Lover of Moses and Marvell, Byron, Blake, & Burroughs – help me sing something No one has ever heard before. Come to me, sweet Spirit, take me to a higher plane.

I know you were watching as the quanta winked into time, when the lizards Crawled out of the slime, you nested infinitely on the Mountain of Dream, Spreading your wings vast over the deep, until the void gave birth to light.

Now I toss and turn, straining to open my blind eyes, wanting to know God Trying to understand something I’ve never had the guts to believe before: I’m begging you, please, bring into my great darkness some kind of holy light!

The Fall of Satan Where does this story begin? On the skyscrapers of Heaven, or down in the Hellstorms of the Pit? Tell me one thing: that’s all I want to know: Why? What caused those two great lovers to throw all our lives away?

Once, I know they had it all, and yet they smoked everything away. They ruled the world, yet like any dream of a new world, it couldn’t last. You’ve told me how they could not resist that last taboo – the one restraint.

So they fell with broken wings and empty hopes, betraying all they had. I swear he was a lying snake from Hell who dealt her that first hit: That shit was pure envy and revenge, and he lied as he put the needle in.

For he’d seen them living large on the beaches of Eden, a lordly life he’d had Before he’d made the hostile takeover attempt, and split the infinite Company Into shareholders and outcast useless rebels, Heaven’s union broken forever.

In his own fantasy, he was still CEO, an Executive staff and an Angelic masseuse At his beck and call. He didn’t plan on the business ending in gunfire and death. But he did pull the first weapon, he fired the first shot in God’s own Boardroom.

The conspiracy revealed its plans for takeover during the attempted assassination Just before his bomb detonated an explosion more powerful than any loaded 747. Heaven’s immense towers burst into fiery shards and fell. All Hell broke loose.

Yet the battle was in vain: each of the conspirators were launched into dark depths. In unbreakable chains, they were hurled into orbit towards some hideous prison. All those who defied the omnipotent law were destined for that eternal smoking pit.

Time twisted and tore on the voyage: pain was all they knew for nine days and nights. He’d met the worst fate an immortal could imagine: a place of endless anguish. His friends lay stunned, half-buried in the lava sea, but his agony was interminable.

Rage pulsed through him at the memory of lost happiness and the torment of defeat. When he opened infrared eyes, a deluge of flames seared away every last hope; Yet even this scorching vista gave no radiance across the plain, only darkness visible.

Their world had been destroyed by Justice, their lives rendered into a burning prison, Utterly dark from any sun, it was a sulfurous wasteland in which to blaze and die. Or, for these immortal rebels, a place to suffer forever and to long for their lost light.

……………….

Book II

lines 650-720

At the Gates of Chaos

From light-years across the cosmos, Satan could see guards standing at the Gates: The first one had tits and a lovely pair of hips, but her legs were gone, only Rotting snake skin coiled incessantly over the rest of her body, and a stink rose

From the mouths of the hell-hounds that were welded into her reeking thighs. The dogs howled until the stars quivered at the sound. Then they ripped their way Back inside her sick cunt, the sound of their howls resounding through her flesh.

You’ve heard the old tales they tell about Hecate, the mother of all witches, who Hurtles yowling through the night, called down by the blood of murdered babies? You’ve heard how she dances insanely until the moon drowns in gore? This was worse.

The second guard at the Gate was hardly there at all, but Satan shuddered a moment At the Absence of it, a shadow emptier than any night, a nothing terrible as Hell. The thing had no limbs – not even any coiling snakes or clacking spider-claws.

On the head of this black fury a red crown glowed radioactive in the endless gloom. Satan watched as a hollow hand held out a stinging spear throbbing with dark energy. Then the shadowy monster walked to him, space itself shaking apart under his stride.

But Satan feared nothing that could be created in the universe except God Himself and God’s unearthly Son. He sneered at the wraith of doom that stood before him, and spoke:

“What kind of damned terror are you to hold me up here? I’ll tell you now that I’m going Through the Gates of Chaos and I’m not asking permission. You mutant spawn of Hell – I am the One born in Heaven itself, so get the fuck out of my way, or taste annihilation!”

The perverse shadow raised its voice and roared back at him: “Are you the Traitor? Are you the one who obliterated Heaven’s eternal peace? Are you the one who was Too proud and rebellious to bow – and took a third of the Stars of Heaven with you?

“You swore to destroy the Highest, and for that I know you were condemned to Hell And you still have the balls to claim you’re an Angel in Heaven’s Company? You’re doomed to spend eternity in agony, yet you’re still breathing defiance –

Even here, where I myself am King of Chaos – and let me twist the knife for you – In this Place, I am also your Master and your Lord. Get the Hell back to that pit, You lying sack of shit, fly fast on wings of fear, or I’ll lift my endless whip of

Scorpions and flog your lying ass! If you’re slow to go, I’ll fire a volley into you too, Sending volts of unbelievable pain that will resound through centuries in your soul!” The shadow grew as it spoke, deforming into something ten times more dreadful.

Yet Satan stood still upon the deep, indignant and incensed, flaming like a Comet Whose deadly tail wipes out constellations, he burned across the cold night-sky, And when he shook his head with fury, pestilence and war rang across the galaxies.

Each of them aimed to land a lethal blow, one that would end the battle immediately. Their faces were contorted with rage; they moved like two immense thunderheads Frozen over a reflecting sea of night, lightning shattering from them as they hovered

In deep space, a cosmic wind forcing these two together. Hell would falter and The galaxies darken under their vast weight. Each of them had met their match in fear. Yet then the coiled snakes of the Sorceress by the Gate hissed and rushed between them:

Her voice was a hideous screech, echoing between the suns: “Oh Father!” she cried. “Why are you killing your Only Son? And you, my child, what kind of hatred Would cause you to slaughter your own Father? You think you’re serving God,

“But God has damned us all – He sits above and laughs at your slavish devotion. God calls this screwed-over mess Justice, but one day He’ll turn the guns on Both of you!” She howled, and Satan’s great foe shrank back against the stars. ……………….

Book III

lines 318-395

God Speaks to His Son

“You, My Son, will be Executive Supreme over all the Company of Heaven, For all creatures will bow to you, in Heaven, on Earth, and even those in Hell And I will grant you an entourage of Angelic warriors when you appear in the sky

Then you will send the Arch-Angel to appear and sound a final warning to the Earth, And from every direction, the Dead from time immemorial will rise out of the ground Roused by the resounding notes of that last trumpet call from their everlasting sleep.

All your chosen Saints will help you choose between Evil and Angels. Those condemned by you will sink back down beneath your judgment, and When Hell is full of demons and their kin, You will lock that pit forever.

The World itself will burst into flame, and from its ashes will be created A New Heaven and a New Earth, and those chosen by Justice will live there. Their torture will end in golden days of bliss brought by their golden deeds.

The Joy and Love of our kingdom will triumph, and we will know its Truth Finally, you’ll be able to lay aside your Dictatorial Duties and your Royal Sceptre We’ll have no need of Kings or Queens, for even God will no longer need to rule.”

The Almighty’s light blazed out as bright as dawn: “Now all you Gods and Servants Of my Kingdom, I command you to praise My Only Son, the Ruler, who has chosen To die, so that we might bring all things back to right. Honor him as you would Me.”

The sound of the Almighty’s voice had barely died away when the collected crowd Of Angels began to shout, an infinite echo of His voice repeating without number. Heaven’s towers rang out with joy, and happiness spilled over in an eternal flood.

Solemnly each one of them bowed, and with a heartfelt reverence they cast Every one of their gold and jeweled crowns to the ground. As they rose again Each eye saw the immortal amaranth, an undying flower, once planted on Earth

By Eden’s Tree, now brought to the center of Heaven for safety. They saw this flower Bloom above the fountain of Life, its petals shading the stream of endless happiness That flows out of the eternal reaches, a molten river of golden light that never dies.

Decorating their hair with beams of this light, Heaven’s Spirits glowed themselves, Refracting like rose-colored diamonds, they danced along Heaven’s glassy walks, And took hold of the glittering instruments that hung like weapons by their sides.

The song of a unceasing symphony rang out, rapture sweeping across the spheres A melody of sound that was irresistible, as every voice joined in the harmony. The chorus went: Omnipotent Executive! Immutable, Immortal, Infinite, Eternal King!

You are the Creator of all life – the fountain of Light itself, Invisible, All Powerful! You are Bright Glory on an inaccessible throne, and we must wait for you to shade Yourself, to draw a cloud around your radiance, so that we might see your Glory!

Dark with shining brightness we see the edge of your garments – you dazzle us! Even the strongest Seraphim must use their wings to shield their eyes from your Glorious Light, oh God! We sing to You of the endless multitude of your Creation,

And we sing of your Only Son, whom you have now chosen to make Executive Supreme, the one ruling Kingdoms, Thrones, Princedoms, Dominions, Powers! You’ve laid the mantle of succession on his shoulders – for you are all powerful!

For He was the One who put down the first insurrection, let loose the terrible Thunder Of God’s immortal wrath, charged out with flaming swords and righteous anger And cried as Heaven’s great structure shook to its foundations! Oh Warrior Strong!” ……………….

Book IX

lines 725-793

Satan Causes Eve’s Fall

“If, as you say, God did make all things, who put Wisdom into the leaves and Fruit of this Tree here? Why would He make it possible for someone to eat? So where, I ask you, is the wrong in doing what is natural with this Tree?

After all, if it’s possible for you to know – you should know! And how, I ask you, would the fact that you know something hurt the Company? After all, you’re owned by Heaven, and so is the Tree – you’re just part

Of the same Family. You don’t envy the Tree’s inborn Knowledge, do you? I can’t believe that a beautiful woman with such incredible breasts would envy! God you’re so wise and beautiful! I’ve given you all the reasons, but most of all

I know you’d like a hit!” Satan ended with a smile, his words laced with lies Dripping into her veins, a needle sliding easily, deep into a beating heart. Transfixed by the hanging Fruit, his speech sang through Eve’s empty ears.

In her own mind, all he said seemed persuasive, impregnated with logic, And she was hungry: the mere smell of that Fruit gave passion to her desire She longed to touch it, to taste it. She watched it swell in the mouth of the snake.

Yet she paused, unable to take her eyes away, and talked, as if to herself: “God made you a Great Tree of Knowledge and the best kind of sweet Yet He’s kept it from his creatures – making it impossible for us to eat.

So where is the wrong in doing what is natural with this luscious Fruit? After all, the merest taste of it gave human speech to this forked-tongue beast And shouldn’t we praise God by knowing you – after all, He made this Tree.

Of course, the Company prohibits us from touching you, from tasting you, Yet we are part of the same Family, for we are all made of Good, are we not? To be clear then, he forbids us to be good – and that kind of law is not a law!

And if we die in eating such a Fruit, then perhaps it would be better to be free Perhaps it is our doom to simply eat, and die. Yet look again at the Snake – He ate the thing, and look – he lives, and knows, and even speaks so wise!

I saw him yesterday, and he was deaf and dumb to me. Is Death only for us? Or is it only that we can’t become smarter – only the beasts can get wise? It’s not envy that beats so passionately in me, but joy at the good in this snake.

For he has found great good, it seems, and shared his discovery with all so free. He doesn’t lie or fake what’s happened to him, and so what do I fear? I live in ignorance – I don’t know Good or Evil, God or Law or Death.

I am sick with stupidity, and here, in front of me, is the cure for my ill. On the Tree it grows, this divine Fruit that will take me to a higher place: Beautiful to look at, incredible to the Taste, and oh – so full of Wisdom!”

As she spoke these final words, she reached out rashly and plucked the Fruit. It was an evil hour when she ate, the planet shuddered apart from the stress, And the universe quaked on its moorings, bleeding from that fatal wound.

All was lost, and quickly the serpent slithered away through the quaking bushes. It didn’t care anymore: Eve was slurping up the taste, intent on getting more. She felt she’d never known a fruit so ecstatic, yet perhaps this was imagination.

For she thought of endless knowledge as she ate, and of becoming a Goddess too: Everything spun in drunken frenzy as the lust for that Fruit sang in her veins. She gorged herself without restraint, and yet was blind as she ate her Death.

  [Read more Poetry Posts]

Poem: Paradise Lost – a contemporary adaptation was originally published on Ned Hayes

[olmopress]

Episode III: The Return of Manovich

week 11: Vincent Miller, “Key Elements of Digital Media” / Lev Manovich, “The Language of New Media”, Principles of New Media: 2. Modularity, 4. Variability, 5. Transcoding

Today I am very Happy. Even if yesterday night AS Roma lost to some unpronounceable and unspellable German team. You know why? No, it’s not because I am going out why someone I like. And neither because I decided I want to try and go to a rage room once. None of these romantics things.

NO

It’s because today, Hideo Kojima’s long-awaited and frankly strange-looking new game Death Stranding is out!

This is me being happy with the copy of the game I just bought from this pedantic guy at GameStop who really wanted to sell me their useless (and of course expensive) fidelity card. I do not fidelize. I do not permanently associate with the revolting logics of media capitalism. Btw yes that in the background is Patti Smith’s Horses signed by herself. I am so cool, I know. What can you do.

ANYWAYS

Why is this relevant? Well, for a number of reasons. First of all because a videogame is a digital object, a digital medium. So it’s important to us. Secondly, because the themes of this game are SOOOOOOO damn interesting and appropriate for what we are doing in this class.

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY

Because I decided to have yet another theme-based post. So Ladies, Gentlment, and all the other 7456 genders out there in the wide wild world, let me introduce you to this week’s issue of my blog, which will be entirely

VIDEOGAME-THEMED

Yes, I will. Sorry not sorry.

OK so as it is now customary I will skip Miller because I don’t like riassunti and synthesis and also I want to continue my honeymoon with Manovich.

Here’s me with my boy Lev.

Today we deal with the last three of Manovich’s Principles of New Media. Today I also want to be reader-friendly so I tell all of you from the start that I am going to explain briefly the principle and then pick an example, of course from some videogame. OK fellas? Ready to go.

Principle No. 2: Modularity

Well, modularity is quite easy. Manovich uses it to explain how digital objects are assembled through independent parts, which working on their own constitute the totality of the aforementioned object. A good example from videogames is the phenomenon of pop-up textures: that thing that happens when you’re playing a game in 3D graphics which uses real-time rendering, but optimization hasn’t been done well enough (or you’re just pushing the graphics beyond your hardware capabilities) and so you get some textures to be rendered with a delay. And this sucks because, well, it’s not very realistic and it makes you realize you’re just playing a videogame.

:( this is extreme tho. Sometimes it’s just OK.

[Btw pop-up textures are essentially what Manovich is referring to at page 39 when he writes about “distancing” and “level of detail”]

Manovich refers to this also as the “fractal structure” of digital media, which very cool and very LSD-like. So, yeah, cool.

BUT EVEN COOLER THAN THIS

is how this made me think of Aristotle. Your friendly neighborhood Western-culture-generator philosopher loved to talk about how the whole of something is more than the sole value of its components. Which, in some ways, doesn’t really seem to apply completely to digital media.

SOMETHING TO REFLECT UPON

Oh. And I was also thinking that maybe, MAYBE

MAYBE

all this modularity in our daily lives is also affecting the way our minds work. Like we now struggle to create coherent, consistent (“hardwired” Manovich would say) arguments or chains of reasoning, but instead rely completely on modular frames of understanding. Like we now tend to see things as separate and independent from each other, and we have trouble in looking at the bigger picture.

“OF COURSE YOU MUST BE WRONG, WE’RE AS CAPABLE AS EVER IN UNDERSTANDING ISSUES IN THEIR TOTALITY. BUT NO KID CLIMATE CHANGE IS NOT REAL BECAUSE ADMITTING IT WOULD MEAN RECONSIDER THE PRIVILEGES I GREW UP AS EXPRESSIONS OF A POST-INDUSTRIAL COLONIAL SYSTEM OF EXPLOITATION  YESTERDAY SNOWED IN BERGAMO SO NO TROUBLE”

But let us not be distracted by such irrelevant issues.

Principle No. 4: Variability

Now this is obvious but still so cool. However, the question of variability is so multifaceted and complex that is difficult to pin it down to a single definition. I’ll try my best, though. I would say that

the concept of variability refers to all the ways in which digital objects can be modified, altered, or updated at the source of their distribution.

That is, without having to physically change anything. The only thing that variability needs is some form of the refresh button. It is a sort of physically invisible mutation, a “liquid” transformation, as Manovich says. And of course this has to do with Numerical Representation, Modularity, and Automation.

Before getting into the real interesting stuff about variability, Manovich makes seven examples. A couple of them will help grasp the concept better. So yeah, example three reads like this:

“Information about the user can be used by a computer program to customize automatically the media composition as well as to create elements themselves” (37)

In that unfortunately incomplete masterpiece that Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain is, you get to play as badass Venom Snake aka (sort of...) Big Boss, a super amazing and incredibly skilled soldier who has to infiltrate military compounds and all sorts of other infiltrable things between Afghanistan and Zaire around the mid-80s. In this game, you can decide what kind of equipment to bring with you, and approach the mission the way you like best. You can bring big-ass noisy weapons and just have a crazy battles, you can use assault rifles of sniper guns with silencers and be very quiet, and you can also use guns with tranquilizers so that you don’t kill anybody. You just put them to sleep.

Now, the cool thing about it is that the more you progress in the game, the more enemy soldiers will adjust to your playing stile. For instance, I remember using only tranquilizers with pistols and sniper rifles. So I would get lots of headshots, because when you headshot someone, he instantly falls asleep. After a few missions, most of my enemies adapted and started wearing helmets! So it was much harder for me to get those headshots.

See? This is an example of automation and variability.

There is also of course example number six. The one about periodical updates. Again, for anybody who ever played a videogame online, this is usual business.

I remember I once was thirteen. Yeah I know that’s hard to imagine, but for a moment just please bear with me. When I was thirteen I was very much into multiplayer FPSs. At that time particular, me and my friends would spend entire days on Call of Duty: Black Ops. Now, the online multiplayer was constantly updated and amended, so that if someone discovered that a certain build for a weapon made that weapon totally over-powered and impossible to play against, the guys at Activision would correct the flaw and balanced the game again. But variability in the game also occurred when DLCs were released: new maps, new weapons, new elements would ‘enter’ the world of the online game and of course alter it. It was cool, really. Cause the game evolved throughout the season. But the you had to buy the new one and spend other money and start back again and… really, can we just say fuck capitalism? That game could have lasted decades. Damn.

ANYWAY

By far the most interesting thing to me came at page 40, when Manovich discusses variability in terms of interactivity and hypermedia. In particular, he distinguishes between two ‘versions’ of interactivity.

Open interactivity: an interactive object “in which both the elements and the structure of the whole object are either modified or generated on the fly in response to the user’s interaction with a program.” (40)

Closed interactivity: an interactive object “that uses fixed elements arranged in a fixed braching structure” (40) and therefore on which users have only ‘liberty of order’. That is, they can only choose in which order to interact with the elements.

Now, try to follow me for a second. I think this distinction opens up one possibility of categorizing videogames. But we need to add one more category. We have

Linear games (Super Mario, the first Metal Gear Solid, Resident Evil 4…) which display a ‘limited’, ‘scripted’ interactivity. That is: you have to follow the path that has been chosen for you by the developers. You cannot decide in which order to do things. You go ahead with the game – interact with it, sure, but you basically witness the story unfold in front of your eyes passively.

Open world games (GTA, Spiderman, Pokémon games…), which essentially function on a principle of closed interactivity. You’re free to roam around and do whatever you want, to choose your own ‘order of interaction’ with the elements on the map, but you cannot act on the storyline, which is still linear and scripted for you. The story doesn’t change, no matter what you do inside or outside of the main missions.

pure RPGs (Fallout 4, Final Fantasy, Skyrim, Mass Effect…) which instead function on a principle of open interactivity. Your choices inform the way in which the game unfolds in terms of story, world, and sometimes even gameplay. The interaction is open because it allows to be formed in response to what the player does.

I should totally write a narratology of videogames.

I’ve already written a lot and I want to get to the last principle, but

I NEED

to point out something that comes around the end of page 41. Ready? So Manovich writes:

“The principle of variability exemplifies how, historically, changes in media technologies are correlated with social change. If the logic of old media corresponded to the logic of industrial mass society, the logic of new media fits the logic of the postindustrial society, which values individuality over conformity. […] In this way new media technology acts as the most perfect realization of the utopia of an ideal society composed of unique individuals. New media objects assure users that their choices—and therefore, their underlying thoughts and desires—are unique, rather than preprogrammed and shared with others.” (41-2)

Now, I am not sure precisely where Manovich stands on this argument, but this definitely rang a bell for me.

HEY LEV, EVER HEARD OF A LAD CALLED PASOLINI?

Because yeah, digital media gave us this fantastic possibility of escaping omologation because anybody can see, read, do whatever they want without any authority providing them with univocal content.

But are we really sure this is the triumph of individuality? Couldn’t this be just a new, and much more subtle and devilish form of conformity?

My bro and spiritual-granddaddy PPP believed so. And you, he was writing in the early seventies – not long before being brutally killed by neo fascists with the complacency of the State a Roman kid in Ostia – and virtually all of his predictions are becoming a terrible reality. Because Pier Paolo believed the (back then) new consumer society (which let’s face it gave birth to digital media the way we know it today) was only a new, horrible, de-humanizing form of fascism.

This is for anybody who understands a little italian and loves tragic heroes talking about the horrors of late capitalism on winter beaches.

BUT WE HAVE TO COME TO AN END, DON’T WE?

Principle No. 5: Transcoding

I’ll be very brief, this is easy. Manovich defines transcoding starting from the difference between the “cultural layer” (pretty much the visual, the interface) and the “computer layer” (basically code) of digital media. Using the example of videogames again, the cultural layer of a videogame is all that you see happening on the screen, while the computer layer is the code ‘behind’ it that makes it all happen in that way.

Fine, cool. Transcoding, Manovich says, happens everytime these two layers—these two languages, really—start to mix and mesh with each other.

The best example that I can come up with right now—and I am sorry if I can’t think of anything better but you know I have a graceful lady waiting for me, his date—has to do again with open world videogames.

SO HERE’S THE THING, I THINK

Open world videogames emerged and became the next big thing of gaming when the internet was already a big thing. And there’s a reason for that. It’s because the structure of an open world mimics, in many ways, that of the WWW.

THINK ABOUT IT

An open world is somewhere were you can roam around (I want to say navigate so badly!) pretty much everywhere you want. Most of the times you can jump from one places to another, sometimes using a nice menu/database of possible locations (reminds you of anything? Hyperlinking? Search engines, anybody?). You can’t really create much, but you can see everything. Well, that to me sounds like WWW.

COULD IT BE LOVE? TRANSCODING?

I think it is, baby.

We’re sadly at the end of our ride

:(

But don’t be afraid!

THERE’S STILL ROOM FOR MUSIC AND VISUAL ARTS

Today we celebrate videogames, so what’s better than a collection of some classics in videogame music history? Enjoy.

As for visuals, I want to come full circle. Hideo Kojima’s game have always been blessed with amazing character design and illustrations by his bro Yoji Shinkawa. Death Stranding is no exception. Except that there is an exception, because these times the characters are actors! Great actors! Like beautiful Lea Seydoux who I hope one day to marry. Or at least to hookup with, come on. Anyways, that’s beyond my point. I just wanted to introduce this beautiful promotional picture for Death Stranding.

It really is beautiful.

до свидания!

Image Sources: Parade, Pure Nintendo, Tech in Asia, GIPHY, Know Your Meme

[shirasade]

Writer’s Tag

I was tagged by @drakamena who said: “… I’m gonna do a short paragraph of fics that I started but haven’t finished…”

Alright, so apart from the WIPs you can find on AO3, here’s a selection of other unfinished fic from my Google Drive:

Sex pollen!Jalec

Later, Alec put the blame squarely on Jace. It was usually true, but this time, it was Alec’s arrow that grazed the weird-looking purple flower bulb, causing a shower of golden pollen to erupt from it, coating Jace from head to toe.

Dark!Jalec (the one I’ve been obsessing about today)

This is when Alec Lightwood, dutiful son and model Shadowhunter, should stand firm, repeat the mantra of the Clave and take a step back, put an end to what has to be a momentary lapse in judgement. Yet what Alec actually does is nod abruptly, rendered speechless, and smash his mouth against Jace’s.

Riverdale threesome

Long before the triangle of Archie, Betty and Veronica took over the Riverdale rumor mill, there was another threesome of inseparable kids: Archie, Betty and little Jughead Jones shared a long history of hide-and-seek in the neighborhood, of elaborate games of make-believe and homework in the Andrews’ kitchen.

MCU:

Mild D/s Steve/Bucky

Before the serum they have to be oh so careful. Not only because it’s illegal, could not just get them beat up (which happens anyway), even thrown in jail, but because Steve’s body is so fragile, asthma attacks a constant risk. So when Steve pushes his scrawny ass against Bucky, demanding “harder, Buck, harder!”, Bucky has to be firm, wrap careful fists around those thin wrists and trap Steve underneath his body, immobilizing him with a hiss of “stop moving now, Steve, or I’ll pull out!”

AoU!Clint/Natasha

Her childhood had had no room for love, and neither had her adult life - right until an assassin who preferred bow and arrow, children’s toys in many people’s eyes, to guns offered her a fresh start, a chance to reclaim her life, her self. She’d chosen to accept his offer, just as she’d chosen to commit her new life to trying to wipe away the blood she’d spilled in her old one. Those had been the first real choices Natasha had ever had the chance to make.

She hadn’t chosen to love Clint.

The Martian!Stucky AU

It was the serum that saved Steve’s life. Again, because without it he’d probably have died years ago. As it was, when the storm tore him away from the rest of the team, the last thing he heard was Bucky’s frantic voice, then came a sharp pain in his side and everything went black.

The Martian OT3

Commander Lewis had definitely been onto something when she gave both Mark and Beck the speech declaring Johanssen off-limits. When he was being honest with himself, which had become something of a habit during those long months on Mars, Mark could admit that just maybe he’d kept his distance from the two of them deliberately, although he wasn’t sure which half of the pair gave him the stronger pants-feelings. That NASA had expected to put six exceptionally attractive people into such a confined space for so long and there not to be any sexual tension proved to Mark that no fancy psychological evaluation could replace common sense.

Private Romeo fic

“Fuck, look at Romeo and Juliet… He better be careful before something happens to the little fag!” Carlos’ pointed comments disrupted what could have been a relaxed way to spend the evening. As if it was still necessary after his reference to what had proven to be very fitting casting choices for their English Lit reading, he gestured derisively with his beer bottle.

Everyone’s eyes followed where he was pointing, and suddenly the discomfort settling over the table became palpable. It wasn’t as if there were rules against fraternization at McKinley, but this was an all-boys military school, and two students kissing in full view as if they were alone in the world was definitely not a normal sight.

X-Men: Wolverine/Rogue sequel

He walked the hallways in a daze, looking at but not really seeing the crowds of happy students, free from the burdens of war and death. Only once did he stop short - a door opened and there was Marie. Marie, smiling at him while she was holding Iceman’s hand, walking away from him.

Logan was not sure of much anymore, but he knew with bone-deep certainty that this was wrong. 

Ever After coda

Danielle understood, on an intellectual level, why they were rushing things along so hurriedly. The scandal of the ball was still fresh, and people would no doubt soon make the connection between the unmasked servant girl and the Dauphin’s mysterious fiancée. As Henry’s wife, she had the protection of the status, and they could begin to convince people that a love match with a French girl from a good background was much preferable to a foreigner. Luckily the display the Spanish royal family had made of itself would be working in their favour.

This is only a selection, fic I haven’t completely given up on yet - some of them might even get finished one of these days...

Tagging: @dnteverdoubtme, @ourheartsbeatas1, @morgandeeyue, @missbeizy, @witchunters and anyone else who wants to do it.

[ecotone99]

[SF] The Winners

How many people miss these letters, anyhow? It's 2095 for fuck's sake. I can't believe we haven't solved the spam problem yet. Our inability to deal with Viagra emails is probably the sole reason the reapers exist at all. You miss the notification for your murder appointment and you only find out when the sky darkens overhead as your skin begins to boil. Anyone next to you is suddenly covered with what used to be inside of you, and all because we lost the spam war. Even worse, your beneficiary doesn't get paid if the reapers have to dispatch you. It's fucked up.

I didn't miss my notification. There was a time when missing a message wasn't the end of the world. Maybe a deal didn't get signed, or you missed a party. That was before the Rejuvenation Office came into being. Now you explode into a pile of goo if you miss a message.

The elections of 2058 will go down in history as the first election won by sheer fire-power. The People's Liberal Party ran on a platform of pure science. Gene splicing, human cloning, laboratory conception, it was all on the table. After two generations of the gods, guns, and bibles of the deeply conservative Nationalist Party, citizens were hungry to reclaim their humanity. Not surprisingly, the Nationals had all the guns and the god-given authority to “save” us and they used every goddamn bullet they could find. Martial law was imposed and nobody was allowed outside for months leading up the election. I still remember the endless gnawing in my gut for lack of food.

It was going to be a landslide victory for the Nats until, two days before the polls opened, the sky darkened and we saw a reaper for the first time. Millions of people just simply disappeared that day. Not quietly – oh god no, not quietly at all. The guns stopped long before the screaming or the scraping of wings against my shuttered windows. I still wake up in the middle of the night hearing the inhuman cry of a reaper swooping out of the sky gleefully chasing its prey.

When it was over and we dared venture outside to vote, it seemed like there were only Libs left. The election results were called within 90 minutes of the polls closing – the Nats had been completely decimated with less than 5% of the vote. We wanted the Libs to win, but now we exchanged haunted looks as we passed in the street, deeply afraid of what we had put in charge. The Libs never spoke about what happened. Cleaning crews just appeared in the morning, sprayed all the goop into the sewer, and that was the end of it.

The first few months of Liberal rule were peaceful and full of change. The Libs immediately struck down decades-old legislation that we were hungry for. Within days of repealing the Religious Obligation Act of 2030 neighbourhoods underwent dramatic changes. Churches that were once required on every block became abandoned shells over night. Women were seen in the streets for the first time in most people's memories, and there was an observable up-tick in people “forgetting” their government mandated personal weapons at home. In addition to repealing Nat laws, the new government was introducing new legislation and standing up new administrations with hurricane speed. It was a hopeful time, full of potential.

But we still kept one eye on the skies.

One of our most pressing problems was overpopulation. Generations of citizens were unable to access contraception due to strict conservative rule which led to a lot of breeding. Humans do what they do, and the Nats took god's command of “go forth and multiply” literally and outlawed contraception decades ago. On reaper night, we learned that the Libs had a very effective solution to overpopulation, but even they knew it would be unwise to make that part of the landscape. Instead, the Rejuvenation Office was created to administer a newly created program named simply “The Draw”.

This isn't the type of draw a sane person wants to win. There isn't a street in town without a refuge on it. Rich, rich, motherfucking rich-ass beneficiaries – fairies – lounging around the place, living out their days on the last breath of whoever died to bequeath them this eternity of uselessness. Most of them didn't even look human any more. The boredom of having more money than anyone has ever spent before led to most disgusting of contests. Contests that usually ended without a clear winner after decades of increasingly bizarre body modifications. Some fairies used their riches for good, most did not.

Libs told us that the draw made sense as an overpopulation solution. Ten die so one can live. Perfect. Perfect opportunity for human greed to get a toehold.

Not everyone is entered into the draw. The whole point of it is to save precious resources, and centenarians don't have a lot of resource-hogging years left; it's the kids that give the biggest bang for the buck. When a 10-year old dies, 120 plus years of resources are suddenly freed up. But the Libs couldn't just kill all the kids. We'd just end up with the opposite problem exponentially compounded by entire generations of angry vilomahs filling the streets. Vilomah. There's a word nobody knew before the Libs took office.

To keep things palatable, the draw was “random”.

Random people received letters to report in for draw. Getting lettered was a bitter-sweet moment. Sure, nobody wanted to die, especially people young enough to matter most. But the opportunity to choose someone to receive the mass riches the Libs dole out to your beneficiary? Well, that was enough money to be a very strong lure. Everyone wants to be a hero. But, of course, not everyone wants to die for money so some run, some hide, and some hire the scum of the world – the draw brokers. The reapers take care of the runners and the hiders, but don't worry too much about the others. As long as one body for each winner shows up at the Rejuvenation Centre, the reapers slept.

Draw Broking is simple. You “win” the draw. You don't want to die. You make a deal with a broker and name them your beneficiary. Someone else shows up at Rejuvie looking enough like you to pass, even through the recent medi-scape scars, and the broker collects. The nicer brokers give you a decent cut. Most don't.

Ten die so one may live.

The reapers are fast; flitting by noiselessly like huge ungainly bats in their winged armoured suits. Suits that look like they should be shiny and catch the sun, but instead just exude a terrifying feeling of black. Ironically, their initial arrival was ponderously slow. Large orbs, miles across, slowly slid into the sky. Their lengthening shadows telegraphed the arrival and gave us lots of time to flee before they disgorged their swarms of reapers. A few months of fruitless hunting trips schooled the Libs in tactics and now the orbs are there all the time, casting permanent shadows across continents and souls.

After the initial election night cull the reapers didn't swarm as much. Most folks went along with their draw letters, reporting for death like good cattle and only the most unfortunate ever found themselves close enough to a reaper to see its eyes and live.

Those most familiar with the reapers can't tell what they know. All they know is that there's always three. A commander of some sort, and two...others. The Others do the brutish work. Flying in a jerky, marionette-like fashion, unpredictable and brutally fast. Those that can still speak after an encounter with an Other tell of spooked, human-like eyes barely visible through the shaded helm. Eyes haunted with madness and confusion. Then, quick flashes of cognition before spinning on their wings and dashing back to their commander's flank to await new orders.

Early resistance groups managed to capture a few triads in the first couple of months. Net missiles proved to the the most successful, expanding in the air to mushroom over a reaper triad and bring them all crashing down. The reapers would all die when they hit the deck and leave behind empty smoking exoskeletons. Whatever the reapers were, they lived their lives inside their black chitinous shells until they simply ceased to be at the whim of some inaudible command. Aside from being able to fly gracefully, the only visible difference between the commanders and the Others was the razor sharp dorsal fin rising from the commanders' backs between their wings. Nobody knows the purpose of that little addition but the best guess is that it gives them the added stability to fly right.

It didn't take long for the resistance to find out that attacking a triad would result in the mother orb darkening what light was left in the sky. The closest orb would react by belching out a seemingly endless stream of reinforcement reapers. Entire city blocks of people would be murdered, rendering the area inhabitable for months until the goo dried up or was cleaned away.

The hunting parties stopped.

That was a while ago. These days things are pretty calm. Hunting runners and hiders is pretty grisly work. The big secret is that 10 don't always die. 7, 8, sometimes 9, but the medi-stim work and psycho-rehab necessary to make a triad kills a lot of candidates before they even get near the armourer. There's a never-ending need for capable bodies and killing all ten every time would deplete the reaper ranks too much. Most of them barely make it as-is and end up on the job with almost no control of their armour, careening insanely through the sky trying to zero in on a runner.

I spend a lot of time screaming instructions through our commlink to keep them afloat. Mostly, I just try to call them back to me to regroup before they flame out into the deck or crash into a building. But, I can only do so much. This ridiculous fucking fin on my back getting hooked up on electrical wires and street lights just makes the whole job harder. But it's better than being one of 7, 8, or sometimes 9.

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