#that + him spending half his life in the Emotions Are Bad cult = him being like fine in kh3? like 'reconcile w ansem' fine?

[dullahandyke]

autistically crafting ienzo thoughts in my brain

[plus-i-miss-you]

I LOVED THE OREKOTO AND MIKOTO HEADCANONS AUUAU!!! If it's not a bother, could you pls write a prisoner gn!reader comforting mahiru, fuuta, mikoto and amane after t2? Sorry if this is too vague !!

Seeing them all tired and beat up made me miserable... they deserve a kiss on the forehead or smth

▷ listening to:

"but i still forgive you" (gn!reader)

⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılıㅤ

♪ note: HI HI ELI so sorry this request has been gathering dust in my inbox for more than a month.. i really wanted to write this but life be life-ing.. i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy reading this too! (also so sorry if i sound weird but i'm assuming you meant comforting them after t1? ^^'')

♪ summary: es may have done some.. pretty strange decisions and now not only the guard and the guilty prisoners, but everyone has to deal with it, including you. you can't help but feel bad for the guilty ones, and hopefully, you can offer them at least some kind of support.

♪ warnings: description of fuuta and mahiru being in pain because of their injuries, the reader character doesn't know about mikoto and john being a system, but still treats them as respectfully as possible, mentions of cults and religious trauma in amane's section. fuuta, mahiru and mikoto parts can be seen as both romantic and platonic, meanwhile amane's part is strictly platonic.

fuuta kajiyama.

♪ fuuta was.. in terrible condition, to say the least. his personality was so different from the fuuta you knew, too. sure, you've met him not so long ago, but seeing him act like this felt.. weird. you actually kinda missed the old fuuta, yes, he was kinda rude, loud and said things without thinking, but you'd prefer that than seeing fuuta in pain and not being able to say a word. you wish you could help him somehow, but.. what could you do? you doubt that convincing es to forgive him is possible..

♪ you tried to support him at least in an emotional way, even though you knew that might not work. it's highly possible he won't be able to see with his right eye ever again, of course, that's extremely traumatizing. he also got beat up by kotoko out of all prisoners, who actually seemed to be similar to him in a way. but you told him that if fuuta wanted to talk to you about anything, like complain about something or vent, he could always do that. fuuta found your kindness weird and even suspicious at first, but.. fine, he could use a friend in a situation like this. or at least a person who could hear him out.

♪ fuuta finds himself coming to you more often than he thought he would. it's not like he has that many people to talk to here anyway. he's grateful to kazui (even though he doesn't want to admit it), but.. he's not sure if there is anything he can talk to him about. haruka and muu are really close now, it honestly feels like haruka has forgotten about everyone else. oh, but surprisingly, fuuta's been getting along with amane lately- what do you mean, you "have a bad feeling about this", y/n?.. 

♪ you will never actually hear this from him, but you can feel that fuuta is glad to have someone like you here. he looks calmer with you around and if he can't open up to anyone else about something, at least he can open up to you. it's easier for him to fall asleep when you're next to him, so you may find him suddenly doing so with his head on your shoulder or your lap. just, uh.. be prepared for him to be really flustered when he wakes up and sees you.

mahiru shiina.

♪ she's honestly surprised that you want to spend time with her and help her feel better despite her being voted guilty. she immediately starts joking (or maybe half-joking?..) about falling in love with you because of your kindness and you just roll your eyes and ask if she's okay and if she's in any pain. you remind her to take her medications, you ask shidou for help if her condition gets worse and you help her move around with her wheelchair, so that she doesn't feel isolated from the rest of the prisoners. being in milgram is already isolating enough.

♪ you try to help her feel better by doing things that are small and simple to you, but very meaningful to her. you brush her hair, you paint her nails (even if you can only do so on one hand for now..), you tell her that she still looks beautiful, and every time you do that, it makes her smile. it's still different from that usual smile of hers, but it's a smile that shows even though she's still suffering, she appreciates you being around. 

♪ mahiru doesn't understand why you're still helping her. is this because you love her?.. ah, please forgive her, that's just her being her usual silly self. but still.. she wasn't forgiven, right? that means she was in the wrong.. but she doesn't understand what made es vote her guilty. all she did was love her boyfriend a lot, right? does that mean that her love itself is a sin?.. is she not allowed to love at all?.. you gently interrupt mahiru and say that you don't know why es refused to forgive her, but you personally don't think mahiru's love is a sin at all. in fact, it's a blessing.

♪ mahiru feels like the sun itself personified to you and you hope that she gets better soon, but you're also grateful for the opportunity to take care of her like this. she always gives so much love to everyone, you wonder how much she gets back. you softly pat her head while making sure it's not painful considering her injury and ask what she wants to do today, but it takes a while for mahiru to answer because of your words still ringing in her head, but in a good way.

amane momose.

♪ .. so why exactly es decided to vote a child guilty? you know you probably shouldn't say anything about the guard's decisions, but.. this just doesn't make any sense to you. just what did es see in amane's video? or maybe something happened during the interrogation? amane's behavior has changed a lot, but you don't blame her for it. of course she would start acting differently. she's a 12 year old who was voted guilty and almost got beaten up by kotoko, kotoko ending up not doing anything to her was honestly a miracle. of course she would be mad. she should be.

♪ you try to talk to her and she kinda ignores you at first. however, you're not as bad as shidou, so.. fine, maybe she can hang out with you a little bit. it's hard not to feel sorry for her though, because of how messy her hair is and how empty her eyes are. you try to cheer her up somehow, like maybe you can do something really cute with her hair or maybe you can cook something for her (while still respecting her dietary restrictions and not forcing her to eat something she's not allowed to).. amane finds your attempts to become closer with her strange, but.. maybe she could use some company.

♪ every time she mentions her "god" around you though, you try to change the topic. you like amane and you genuinely want this kid to get better, but you're not really feeling like becoming a part of a cult.. amane just sighs and says you'll understand it someday. sometimes you catch her mumbling something about being forgiven this time and es needing to make the correct judgement. you can't really help her much when it happens and you can't do anything other than say that es will definitely forgive her, but amane manages to turn even something simple as that into rambles about her god. you can't help but wonder what amane's life used to be like.

♪ you can't convince amane that her family wasn't as kind as she thinks they were. you can't convince her that the way she was raised was too cruel. you know she won't believe you. and you know you're not a therapist. but at least you can be her friend. at least you can gently guide her, while still giving her a choice, so that she feels more free. more free than she possibly ever was in her life. and even though amane never talks about it, she does appreciate it. she feels strangely warm when you're around. she wonders if it's okay to feel this way and if god would ever forgive her for that. 

mikoto kayano.

♪ you didn't know why mikoto suddenly started to act like this. you tried to get at least some information from others, including es, but nobody gave you a proper answer, even though you had a feeling like kotoko and es know what's going on. for some reason, this mikoto just didn't.. feel like mikoto to you. it's like it was.. different mikoto? no, that doesn't sound right. it felt like it was a completely different person. you couldn't prove it and when you tried to say it out loud, it sounded weird, but.. it felt like a correct answer to you. 

♪ when it felt like it was the mikoto you knew, you always made sure to tell him what's going on, what happened, basically all the information he needed. he always looked so lost and confused, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him. you assumed that it was probably because of the trauma related to being voted guilty. you actually couldn't understand es's decision at all. just why would they vote someone like mikoto guilty? was his video really that bad? it didn't feel like mikoto was pretending to be less smarter than he is. why would he even have to do that? you all are murderers here, there's no reason for him to try and trick anyone.

♪ when it felt like it was someone else, you still tried to treat him with kindness. you couldn't understand why everyone started to avoid this person so suddenly. yes, this person was.. quite different from mikoto, but.. maybe at least they could try to accept him? you actually found it surprising how quickly he calmed down after you showed him that you don't intend to hurt him or mikoto. maybe this was the only thing he needed: someone telling him that he's safe and that he's not in danger. or maybe it was something they both needed.

♪ both mikoto and this person seem to actually like you a lot.. well, it's not like they have much of a choice here, considering that other prisoners don't really want to spend time with them. but it looks like they don't mind it that much. yes, mikoto is definitely still worried about it and he doesn't seem to remember what happens when the other person is here, but the other guy doesn't really care about the other prisoners and the only thing that bothers him is how possibly dangerous they can be. and even though he still has his suspicions.. you don't seem that dangerous to him.

[dufferpuffer]

In continuation of the 'pillow prince/ss/' topic.. Snape sex hcs? I remember you said it's basically impossible to drag him into bed but I'D TRY.

You're just spoiling me, aren'tcha? First Remus now Sev... Severus Snape is devoted to duty. Its the only thing holding him together. How often does he even go to bed…? A full-time teacher, a spy, a death eater, Dumbledore's dark little knight - He probably considers the time he spends marking 'rest enough'.

His self-esteem is dead. So dead he has come to terms with its corpse and uses it as protection. He's been teased his entire life for his looks. By his parents, by his schoolmates, by his teachers, by his cult, by his students... He's proud of how it has hardened him. It's become part of his ego: He's heard it all before - and now the words run off his oily feathers like raindrops.

Having someone say they think him anything less than hideous? Baffling. But while Remus would become a flustered mess... I think Severus would stages-of-grief it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression… Because his romantic, affectionate side is also a corpse. It died alongside his best friend and he's spent the last decade-and-a-half making sure it stays buried.

To bring it back? That will take a stubborn dedication that rivals his. It takes grit and damn near necromancy. He will fight back, too - because to raise it from the dead is to raise Lily along with it. That is the greatest hurdle: Best friend or love of his life - either way she was the only person he has been affectionate with. He will need to digest that. He hasn't worked through his grief yet, because it is a difficult thing to work through alone. …but he CAN reach Acceptance.

One step, one stage at a time - peeling down each layer of his onion, like an ogre... Things move slowly with Severus - and in the opposite order you might expect. I guess I will go through what a relationship would be like with Severus, in a sorta dot-point fanfic format:

First note: He is allergic to showing weakness - and what he considers a weakness can be... strange. Indulgence. Emotions, affection, touch, company - he has no time for that garbage. He is in control of himself, of his body, of his feelings, of his life. Meticulous, complete control. This man 'tops' exclusively**

He is ashamed of masturbation. It means he has lost control of his emotions - and it grinds against his ego like sandpaper. He almost never does it. Thinking about anyone in particular when doing it is an insult to them - and he hates feeling guilty. He keeps it simple and almost self-harmingly dry. He has more important things to be doing with his time than engaging with this weakness…

You make your interest in him clear. He goes through everything - he belittles and denies your feelings, he gets angry with you for bothering him, he asks you to stop saying such nonsense... and he gets frustrated that even when you've finally shut up, he is STILL dwelling on it. He spends so long just tossing things up, sorting through his grief, imagining it... so, SO sick of jerking off… …when the dam bursts - he fucks. If he is going to be spending all this time obsessing over these stupid feelings he may as well get something out of it. Only sex, though. Sex he is in control of. Clothes on, greedy, not pretty, not nice. 'Thats what you wanted from me, yes? Well you've gotten it. Happy?!?' ((He does not expect the answer to be 'yes'.))

He thinks one time was too many, and did it only to take it off his mind - and to stop having you bother him about it. But it is easier for you to get him to do it a second time. And then a third... fourth... The more times it happens - and nothing embarrassing or bad follows... well, if he has done it once, he may as well do it more, right…? You are evidently trustworthy. '…You may come to my chambers IF I call - at no other times. I am too busy to play silly games.' A casual physical relationship - to solve a problem of distraction and concentration. That's all.

He does start to call. Occasionally at first - and every time he almost shows surprise that you actually turn up. But he gets less and less surprised... and starts getting more and more needy. 'You're late. I sent for you half an hour ago. Do you think I am made of time?!' He doesn't even realize how needy he sounds, because this activity is now ingrained in his routine. He is used to it. And because he is used to it: He touches more. More clothes come off. But never his own. He has gone from 'hands-on-waist' fucking to caressing your naked body - slow rolls of his hips, making his own breathe shudder, enjoying every sensation.

One day his summons aren't replied to. At first he angry. How dare you. How DARE you waste his time!? The next time they are alone he snaps at you bitterly. 'Finally tired of me? Got your fill? Met a better man?' When the response is more along the lines of 'I was a bit ill' or 'I was out'... he realizes he has shown far too much of his hand. How embarrassing. He is speechless at his own foolishness. He showed an inch of vulnerability and expects to be raked through the coals for it. ...What he doesn't expect is acceptance, tenderness and respect.

He had forgotten that he wasn't the one to initiate this arrangement - that he was wanted. Desired. In his mind he had taken control: Everything happened when he wanted, where he wanted and in whichever way he wished. To be touched in a friendly way? To he apologized to - for being made to worry? To have make-up sex offered…? '…Yes. Alright.' Its the next layer peeled off. He starts listening to offers, enjoying being asked instead of being answered. It's still a casual affair - and yet seeing them talk to other people no longer makes his hackles raise in concern for his secrets. Running into them in the morning no longer makes his skin crawl with shame and embarrassment for the night before. He feels excited when they pay a visit in the midday, offering an impromptu meeting. It is oddly... comfortable.

Of course it can't always be sex in the midday. It is too much effort, takes too much time, energy and clean-up. It suits him fine when you jump on the chance to put him in your mouth. At first he is a little taken-aback - but it feels nice. He says nothing other than contented hums, but as you get better he groans and arcs his back a little. He doesn't care what happens when he finishes - swallow or not, as long as it is not a mess for him to clean up. …Well, he tries to be that callous about it… but it doesn't last long. There is a tenderness to the act he can't deny. It isn't the mutual-benefit fucking. This is a gift for him to enjoy. That realization settles and festers in him. It creates a soft feeling he doesn't recognize... and a desire not to owe you anything.

So, without much fanfare: he reciprocates. He gets you on his seat, or on his desk, and gets down on his knees... He is a little nervous about it - when was the last time he did this, if ever…? - But he has no need to be. He is a god with his mouth. It's his attention to detail. His devotion to getting things done thoroughly and properly - even this. What starts as an embarrassing action from the weakness of his heart turns into a strong pleasure for him. He LOVES oral. It isn't him losing control: it's him gaining it. Even when his hair is gripped and yanked, even if he is pulled close and suffocated a little on you - HE is making that happen. HE is making you do that. He never expected this to make him so happy, so hot. He never expected to undo the buttons of his high collar so his neck could move more easily, to unbutton and fold up his right sleeve so he could get his hands messy... To have enough fun to start saying some truly dirty things… 'That good, is it~?' 'My-! How delicate you are today!' 'Stop squirming. Too sensitive…? Just grit your teeth and bear it.' ...and he didn't expect to not be laughed at for such things.

He certainly didn't expect to get so into it that he kissed you to shut you up as you came. A shock to both of you… another wall crumbled. Turns out he likes that too. He starts initiating sexual activity with a kiss. He prefers kissing to talking. It is succinct and expressive. Walk into his office: as soon as the door is shut your back is pressed against it, wrists in his hands, his mouth against yours. If he starts losing control of the kiss he gently bites your lip, dragging his teeth along it teasingly. Your tongue invades his mouth before he has a chance to do it first: he just about shoves your hands into his robes, tearing into your clothes... This man lives for kissing now.

But he still doesn't realize this is more than casual, that this is something he needs… Until you chat. Its a quiet moment. You comment on the parchments rolled at the edge of his desk. 'Oh - that is just my own research into the effects of aconite. I had to work with it extensively a few years ago.' You take an interest, and he starts regaling deeper and deeper into his studies: how poorly documented others' research is; how it reacts to other ingredients; how modern brewing processes can draw so much more out of it - 'you know, the plant is often just passed off as toxic when even basic purification charms are enough to-' ...He is blabbering. On and on about a dull topic nobody cares about… yet you are listening. His jaw drops a little. He realizes that, for the first time in two decades, someone cares. Someone truly cares. About HIM. His thoughts, his interests... He never thought he could have this again. He didn't think that for the sex, either - but sex, compared to this, was easy to procure. He wants to kiss you again. But not for lust this time.

Suddenly it doesn't feel so embarrassing to allow his eyes to become wet, to draw a shuddering breathe as he builds the courage - of which he has masses of - to say something important: '…I am afraid I have come to love you.' It is a terrifying thing to say, but he has never once shied away from saying what is important, even if it results in pain. And yet this time, for once… he feels like he can trust that it wont.

** Many times later, he is laying down as his shirt gets unbuttoned, his collarbone kissed... He doesn't feel ashamed, even as he gently strokes his own dick, encouraging it to harden. He pulls his arms from his shirt sleeves, fearless of his dark mark being exposed. For once work is at the back of his mind as he allows himself to be pushed back down to into the pillows, chuckling as he is told: 'Shh… just lay still darling… I'll take care of you tonight…' ...And he does. Control well out of his hands and a smile on his face.

[sweetdreamsjeff]

‘An Emotional Lightning Rod’: Jeff Buckley’s ‘Grace’ at 25

Jim Shahen

POSTED ON AUGUST 22, 2019

Grace is 25 years old. Jeff Buckley’s debut is gorgeous and heartbreaking, ambitious, daring and eclectic, and, as the sole studio album released during his short life, the only fully realized vision of the artistic brilliance he possessed.

With the expectation that his first LP was the starting point of an iconic recording career, Columbia Records released Grace on Aug. 23, 1994. Entertainment Weekly deemed it “stunningly original” and “too good to be true.” Greg Kot of the Chicago Tribune heralded Buckley’s voice as having “a soulful intensity that sends chills.” Peers and legends such as Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, Paul McCartney, Bob Dylan, David Bowie, and Chris Cornell were effusive in their praise of the album and of Buckley’s tremendous gifts as a singer, guitarist, and composer.

Others were not so kind. Rolling Stone lauded his ambition, but gave Grace a three-star review that featured the one of the poorest-aging opinions in the magazine’s history: “The young Buckley’s vocals don’t always stand up: He doesn’t sound battered or desperate enough to carry off Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah.’” And Robert Christgau, the “Dean of American Rock Critics,” gave it a C rating and lampooned the hoopla surrounding Buckley by writing, “Let us pray the force of hype blows him all the way to Uranus.”

But those less-than-stellar reviews engaged with Grace on the same terms as the glowing ones — that this was the starting point for an artist with sky-high expectations, talent, and potential. Buckley’s horrific drowning death at age 30 in the Wolf River, an offshoot of the Mississippi, in 1997 ensured it was also his end point. But between his own passing and the passage of time, Grace has only grown in stature.

In 2014, the Library of Congress added Buckley’s “Hallelujah” to the National Recording Registry. Rolling Stone, walking back its prior opinion, ranked the track 259th in its 500 best songs of all time in 2003 and put Grace at 303 in its top 500 albums list the same year. Over the past decade, essentially every music publication of note has included Grace on its list of both top releases of the 1990s and overall albums.

A Vessel

The son of prodigiously talented folk-jazz singer/cult icon Tim Buckley and Mary Guibert, Jeff arrived at music without the guidance of the father he met only once before Tim’s death in 1975 from a drug overdose. While a cornerstone of his legacy is his gorgeous, multi-octave voice, Buckley’s first passion and pursuit in music was the guitar, where he was drawn to the sounds of Led Zeppelin and jazz fusion.

After spending the latter half of the 1980s kicking around as a guitarist in various jazz, metal, punk, funk, reggae, and R&B bands, Buckley began to pursue his own songs. In 1991 he attracted industry attention when, accompanied by guitarist Gary Lucas, he made his public singing debut at a tribute show for his father.

Photo by Merri Cyr / Sony Music

From there, Buckley’s career trajectory changed. After collaborating with Lucas for a year, he went out on his own and became part of the New York City café scene. These shows, later documented on Live at Sin-é, became part of his legend, featuring both his original tunes and an eclectic mix of fare made popular by Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, Judy Garland, and Bad Brains.

These café shows regularly attracted record executives and power players, and in October 1992 Buckley signed a three-album deal with Columbia Records. The label had high hopes that Buckley’s brilliance would quickly reveal itself to a wider range of fans. The thinking was that he’d succeed labelmates Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen as someone who would flourish into the finest singer-songwriter of his generation and compile a legendary body of work.

For the band that helped record Grace and toured with him in support, that brilliance was apparent from the beginning.

“This might sound stupid, but I don’t give a shit,” his former drummer Matt Johnson says. “But one time when we were playing, something about his voice went through my body. It was an entirely metaphysical moment where something supernatural happened.

“The man was one of the most extraordinary musicians to ever live,” he adds. “Jeff was this lightning rod of the tone and tenor of all the human emotion in a room. He had this ability to act as an emotional lightning rod, and I always thought he’d hopefully become a vessel for that.”

Saving ‘Grace’

Johnson first met Buckley in summer 1993 and within a couple of months was recruited to be the drummer for the Grace recording sessions. Though the then-23-year-old had had some session and recording experience, Johnson had never worked on a project of this scale before. As he looks back on the experience, Johnson thinks his youth and relative inexperience played a large part in why Buckley wanted him in the band.

“Jeff seemed to be confident he could get what he needed from this ensemble,” he says. “We were young and, in my case, had a lot of insecurities. I think he wanted that — he didn’t want session musicians, he wanted the transformation younger players would bring and create a snapshot of that.”

Photo by Merri Cyr / Sony Music

While Johnson recalls that “the stakes felt high” and there was a “sense of importance of Jeff” to Columbia, he doesn’t remember the process of creating Grace as particularly laborious or fraught. Part of this can be attributed to the calming nature of producer Andy Wallace, who had previously worked on Nirvana’s Nevermind, Run-DMC’s Raising Hell, and multiple albums by Slayer, and his ability to nurture the creative process.

Johnson also attributes a large part of that to Buckley’s multi-instrumental capabilities, uncanny ear, instincts, and efficiency. Because of that, it only took about a day per song to lay down the non-vocal elements.

“I thought he was a very good collaborator, bandleader, and mentor,” Johnson says. “Jeff understood how to both be an individual musician, while also still keenly aware of how to be part of an ensemble.

“His listening was a very powerful thing to be present for,” Johnson continues, comparing Buckley’s auditory capacity to that of composer Johann Sebastian Bach. “It could be textures, entry points, Jeff just knew how stuff should be held together. He could get a pairing of two basic opposites and it’d sound idiosyncratic and perfect.”

While Johnson was there for the entirety of the recording process, Michael Tighe came into Buckley’s band at the tail end of the sessions. The guitarist had met Buckley through a mutual friend in high school and the two had jammed on and off. As Buckley closed in on completing Grace and was putting together his touring band, he reached out to his friend.

Much like Johnson, Tighe was impressed by Buckley’s ability to absorb so many influences and styles, then translate it into his own work.

“He would ruminate on the music a lot and when it came time for recording, he’d really focus,” Tighe says. “He’d usually come in very quickly or he’d obsess on it and get into a perfectionist mindset. But he wouldn’t release something until it was perfect.

Photo by Merri Cyr / Sony Music

“He was really taken with a lot of music,” Tighe says. “He could cast this spell and create a space that was quite meditative. We would sit or stand in a circle and drone on something. We all had very good chemistry; it’s why he put the band together.”

That natural chemistry Buckley had with Tighe and the rest of the group came in handy and allowed Tighe to come in with a late contribution that changed the complexion of Grace.

“One day I played him the chords to ‘So Real.’ It was something I played him in my room (back in high school),” he recalls. “This was after, like, most of the album was done. During rehearsals he said, ‘Hey, remember that song you played in your room?’”

Thus, “So Real” came to be. To make room for it on Grace, Buckley bumped “Forget Her” off the album. This move came much to the chagrin of Columbia Records, which had planned to issue “Forget Her” as the lead single. Neither Johnson nor Tighe can recall quite why Buckley held such disdain for “Forget Her,” a tune of his own composition, but both vividly remember his adamance in replacing it.

“‘So Real’ saved the record for him,” Johnson says. “And it points toward the sound he was going for, it’s the sound of a door opening to the future.”

A Cult Hero

When Grace was finally released, grunge rock, hip-hop, and The Lion King soundtrack dominated the charts. There weren’t many acts out there simultaneously channeling Nina Simone, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, the Smiths, and Led Zeppelin. As such, it took a long time for the record to take hold and capture the imagination of listeners: It peaked at 149 on the Billboard Top 200 albums chart that year and didn’t reaching platinum-selling status until 2006.

Photo by Merri Cyr / Sony Music

Even without immediate success, the participants knew they had made something special.

“You can go back now and think about the production and the mix from that time period, but I think it’s perfect in its own way,” Tighe notes. “I think Jeff was very aware of how good the album was, but I think it bothered him slightly the album wasn’t more successful. But he was already a cult hero. We all thought it’d be a longer career and that would change.

“The zeitgeist was so different back then. There weren’t bands like Coldplay, Radiohead had just started,” Tighe says. “When I play it now for people, I love watching the glaze that comes over their eyes. Ultimately, it’s his voice, people just have an immediate emotional reaction to his voice.”

Johnson’s feelings on Grace are tied strongly to the recording sessions, that moment in time they captured and what it all meant personally. The fact that it connected with people well after the fact is an added bonus.

“When it comes to Grace, I feel very, very lucky. I’m never in a position to look at it like anything but a fuckin’ penny from heaven,” he says. “There isn’t one song I don’t like. When I hear it, it’s like I made this amazing best image of me that could be captured in any scenario.

“I can’t find fault with it and it’s not like I haven’t heard criticism,” Johnson continues. “But the feeling I got recording it was absolutely spine-chilling. I did not ever more feel what the drive of my life was, and it could not have borne better fruits. To have Rolling Stone or whoever now praise it is icing on the fucking cake. I don’t ever feel like, ‘What the fuck took you so long?’”

Musical Echoes

It took a few years for Buckley’s influence on fellow artists to be heard. By Tighe’s estimation, it was around the early 2000s that he started hearing Buckley-esque melodies on the radio, including from bands such as Coldplay and Radiohead, who drew inspiration from Buckley’s chord progressions and structures.

“Now you just hear it all the time,” he says. “There was that moment a while back someone did ‘Hallelujah’ on one of those shows like American Idol. The zeitgeist has changed a lot.”

Of course, Buckley’s legacy is more than just the alt-rock waves of decades past and singing competitions designed to highlight vocal chops. There’s a new breed of singer-songwriters that have used Grace as a starting point for their endeavors.

Madison Cunningham (photo by Claire Marie Vogel)

Madison Cunningham is a 22-year-old musician who just released the LP Who Are You Now and cites Buckley as one of her heroes. On songs like “Something to Believe In” and “Last Boat to Freedom,” you can hear her use that admiration to create her own artistic statement.

She was gifted a copy of Grace from a friend as a teenager and at first she didn’t dig it. But once she revisited it a few months later, it was a revelation.

“I didn’t get it and I really wanted to get it, but it was a big palette stretch for me,” Cunningham recalls. “But once I did, it was like, ‘Whoa, I get it! This is like the song that’s inside my head!’

“Always his voice stands out. Still to this day I haven’t heard a voice like that,” she continues. “There was such a depth to his work, you’ve got to sit a minute to think about it all.”

While Buckley’s vocal range and power moved and inspired her, what’s seeped into Cunningham’s work was the way he played guitar and arranged his material to incorporate all the different sounds that moved him.

“He changed how I played guitar,” she says. “He was so bold with his chord progressions. There’s certain chords he played that are just very unique to him. Even now when I play something, I’m like, ‘Oh, those are Buckley chords.’

“There’s just something special to him,” Cunningham adds. “He had his own genre and sound and was very unashamedly himself. That’s very hard to find.”

Cunningham identifies why, 25 years later, Grace and Jeff Buckley are still relevant parts of the cultural landscape. It’s why there’s interest in the various bootlegs, live takes, demos, and the recent biographical graphic novel his estate has released in the past two decades.

The latest batch of such releases, timed for the anniversary, includes four concert albums as well as expanded digital versions of Grace (including “Forget Her”), Mystery White Boy (a full-length live album), and Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk, an album of material Buckley recorded in 1996 and 1997 and was first released a year after his death. All will be available digitally on Aug. 23.

In the years since Buckley’s tragic demise, both Tighe and Johnson have gone on to work on other major projects. Tighe’s written for and worked with Adele, Mark Ronson, and Liam Gallagher. Johnson has played with Rufus Wainwright and Jade Bird and had a five-year stint with St. Vincent.

Both men are active, talented, and in-demand career musicians. Neither needs to relive their time with Buckley as a way to boost themselves. But both are enthusiastic in discussing their friend and his gifts, and are doing their part to ensure people remember him.

“As a special talent, he was pretty ineffable,” Tighe says. “He was attracted to music with spirituality and he could embody that. It wasn’t something he learned, it was just given. He was incredible.”

“With Jeff, because he died in such an unforeseen way, I try to make the time to talk about him,” Johnson says. “Jeff had a certain intelligence and this explosion of emotion that was a soaring, insightful, penetrating whole vision of a man. I’ll always do what I can to honor that.”

To commemorate the 25th anniversary of Grace, Columbia/Legacy has shared a previously unreleased live video of “Lover, You Should Have Come Over,” filmed during a concert in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on Feb. 19, 1994.

[midnight-in-town]

Choujin X ch33.2 be like

Azuma keeps on learning the hard way that he’s not the hero of Tokio’s story anymore

“if I can’t have the power, then at least Tokio should get it”

Bless Ely, this girl is the absolute soul of this story

oh Tokio, my sweet, very sweet, summer child (poor boy can’t take on the heat of the hero trope)

okay so yeah we definitely don’t stan a goddess cult leader who forces her “prophecies” on a whim onto people around her

finally, i have my doubts about how long that trio of theirs can keep on working half decently without Azuma someone eventually leaving but…

i do enjoy them, they’re cute xD

TL;DR

(additional thoughts on the series overall under read more)

So by ch33 or so, we finally understand the premises of this manga. Slow built-up stories usually don’t bother me, but with the rather shallow depiction of worldbuilding so far, the Choujin X series really mostly has the cast holding the spotlight. And by that, I mean the main characters. So I hope it’ll pick up, because I don’t really understand how this series currently gets a full serialization?

Honestly, I really enjoy the rather strained dynamic between Azuma (who lacks self control) and Tokio (who can’t seem to give it his all) and, as a mirror, the more trusting and complementary dynamic between Tokio and Ely. The dynamic between Ely and Azuma revolves more around Tokio than either of them, but it’s slowly developing on its own terms, which creates a nice contrast between them. 

Ely is an absolute ray of sunshine, who seems more sure of her goals only because she lives with the bad example of her mother as a constant reminder of who she might become, whereas Tokio was sheltered so far by his sister and Azuma and has trouble deciding on how he should live his life. Azuma’s more in a blind corner, because he can’t seem to let go of his knight in shining armor role that he and Tokio bestowed upon him when they were kids: I’d say it’s Expectations™ that would eventually do the most damage on him, but he might still manage to change paths in time. :)

However, the rest of the cast isn’t particularly interesting or well written.

Kagomura’s tragic backstory and Momoma’s obvious kindness are too cliché and don’t cut it for me, though I’d say it’s interesting that Kagomura’s predicament doesn’t put him more at the center of the story. 

Sandek is boring as hell despite supposedly being some kind of mentor and leader figure. 

I enjoy Ichiro’s character, though it’s interesting that he’s not more morally ambiguous considering the emotional strain his choujin powers should put on him. 

As for the villains, the guy in the noh mask is creepy, but for now they’re all nothing more than cultists who believe in the “prophecies” of a mad woman, or mercenaries who get paid for the job. 

Biggest issue with this series and why, in my opinion, it doesn’t get a lot of hype is the lack of worldbuilding. While we now understand the first chapter of the series thanks to the latest released chapter, Choujin themselves and their related powers are still a huge question mark ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. This is most likely because the pace is slow and we have two or three worldbuilding elements which make barely any sense. Specifically, it’s an issue because, without worlbuilding, it’s impossible to replace everything that happens within context. 

If Sensei were to spend a little more thoughts on the worldbuilding, I don’t doubt that this series could become more interesting than it currently is. I don’t know how well it’s received by Japanese readers but, if I’m honest, Ishida-sensei’s previous success with TG is probably the reason why Choujin X has a continued serialization, because I find that on every aspects, aside from the main characters, Choujin X unfortunately doesn’t stand strongly. :/

Soooo, to be continued.

[asexualbert]

So

I wasn't exactly planning for the first installment in this AU to be a Christmas short but, here we are.

Enjoy!

-–—–-

It may have been a little much.

Tim stepped back, examining his handy work. It certainly was... Big. All the movies seemed to say that was a good thing, but it was also, apparently, seriously inconvenient to work with.

Though a seven foot Fraser fir was by far not the most questionable thing he'd ever hauled into the building at half past midnight, he was glad as ever not to have nosy neighbours. The trip had admittedly not been particularly graceful...

Tim sighed. Was he going about it all wrong? He probably should have asked the kid if he even wanted all this right? But, though for the life of him he couldn't understand why it had seemed so important, he'd wanted it to be a surprise. Hence, he supposed, his spending nearly five hours of optimal working time to track down, set up, and put lights on the Christmas tree now residing in the middle of his living room. Not to mention sweeping; apparently the stupid thing shed like a bitch too and, with the kid asleep, the vacuum was out of the question.

He'd never really done Christmas before. His parents had been Jewish as far as he was aware, though they hadn't really discussed it, as had the Waynes. The only religion the League followed was whatever the hell Ra's was on, and they certainly weren't pausing all the cult activity to celebrate a nice secular Christmastime once a year.

Tim himself had been decidedly agnostic despite it all for as long as he could remember and, since coming back, any and all holidays had been tucked neatly away in his mind, alongside his emotions, as irrelevant and inefficient; entirely unnecessary to his beautifully simple green worldview.

But then, as usual it seemed lately, there was Jason.

The kid hadn't asked for anything; he never did, but that was a different concern which Tim didn't have the capacity to go into at the moment. Nearly two weeks ago though, he'd mentioned in passing how he used to celebrate Christmas with his mother, and Tim had been thinking about it ever since.

———

"It wasn't big or anything. We'd go down to the soup kitchen early t'get one of the really good meals they only serve on the holidays and then build snowmen in the park. They were pretty bad, but mama always called'em "abstract"" Jason made air quotes as he spoke, giggling slightly. "Then we'd go home an' she'd give me a present. It wasn't ever anything much; new pair of shoes or a jacket from the Goodwill if she'd managed. And then she'd sing. Kept doing that bit even after she got sick, at least until it got too hard." His smile turned sad, "she had a real pretty voice. Didn't sing much cause dad didn't like it, but on Christmas she always did..."

Jason was quiet for a while after that, leaning timidly against Tim's side as he'd taken to doing as of late. Neither said anything for about five minutes until Jason, sounding half asleep, spoke quietly.

"It's special you know? Christmastime. Even if it is cold, it's still... Special."

———

Tim examined the tree again, shining with the rainbow coloured lights he'd fought with for nearly an hour. Maybe it was a little over the top, the whole event of dragging in and setting up a live tree in the middle of the night, just to surprise a ten year old he'd had for barely more than six weeks. It was ridiculous and unnecessary and nothing like him.

But his kid deserved the best. And if it made Jay smile?

Tim somehow knew that he would do it over again every year.

[plus-size-reader]

Hack Job

Jerome Valeska x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2315 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Jerome comes back from the dead with his face stapled on and she needs to help him put it back

—————————————————————————————————

You were bored.

Gotham was the kind of city where you could never really know what to expect, and you had to be ready for anything. There was always something going on, or going wrong, but tonight, that didn’t seem to be the case.

It was an unusually quiet Friday night, with nothing of note happening, and really, you were glad for it.

Having nothing going on was better than having to deal with the truth.

Since Jerome was killed, nothing had the same gusto as before. You didn’t find anything exciting, or worthwhile and that didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.

You missed him.

So, rather than think about anything else, you decided to keep doing what you’d been doing all this time. You were going to spend the rest of your life on your couch with a bucket of popcorn and shitty news coverage.

Shitty news coverage all about Jerome.

Evidently, the rest of the world was celebrating the death of the man you loved, even though you were more miserable than you had ever been. You didn’t want to do this whole thing without him.

Even tonight, which started out fairly normal, was dull and dreary.

You had a pint of your favorite ice cream and a spoon, as well as the newest episode of your favorite show, but you couldn't have cared at all.

Nothing was going to make you feel better.

Unfortunately though before you could feel too bad for yourself, all that had to be put on hold when the doorbell of your apartment went off, echoing through the small space like the abrasive chiming of church bells.

“Coming” you groaned, standing from your couch with a groan, leaving the old blanket you had been cuddled up with in your place. You were desperately hoping they would just go away.

You weren’t in the mood for any company but you knew that whoever it was would just keep knocking. In this city, you were painfully aware of everyone who lived around here and they all sucked.

They wouldn’t go away.

...But it wasn’t like something terrible was going to happen.

You had no idea who could be visiting at this hour, but you doubted anyone would try to pull anything on you.

Everyone knew you as Jerome Valeska’s girlfriend so they didn’t dare inflict the wrath of his killer cult, who basically worshiped you as a goddess, even now.

The fact that Jerome was gone wasn’t going to change the way they felt about him, or how they felt about you by proximity. As long as you were alive, everything that Jerome had believed in was alive.

That was all they needed.

However, the moment the door swung open, you knew your ice cream would be long forgotten, left to melt without a doubt. 

After all, the last thing you expected to see on a Friday night was your dead boyfriend but in Gotham you had to be ready for anything.

“Jerome?”

The word came out as a single gasp from the back of your throat, your jaw slack as you tried to collect yourself. All that did, of course, was cause hot tears to spill from your eyes and down your cheeks.

It was weird.

You had never been super emotional, in all your life, but for some reason, this was really getting to you. You couldn’t handle the rush of emotion that hit you as you tried to fathom a million things at once.

Jerome was dead.

You had seen him die, and the coverage of his murder was all over the news. It wasn’t like you’d imagined the whole thing, or forgotten to take your medicine again.

It was real.

Though, before you could get too worked up in that, you pulled Jerome into your body as tightly as you could. You didn’t want him to disappear again, even if you couldn’t figure out how this happened.

It didn’t really matter as long as he wasn’t going anywhere.

You sighed, taking in his scent as deeply as you could just to make sure that he was really here. 

He smelled faintly like formaldehyde but buried beneath all that was his calming scent that a few moments ago, you would have killed to smell again.

Somehow, you’d managed to forget just how much it meant to you.

“Are you real?” you whispered into the crease of his neck. You were no stranger to the odd hallucination in the past, but this was much more than that.

Hallucinating Jerome like this would be far too cruel to handle.

“Course I am” he grinned, pulling you closer before letting go completely, heading inside the apartment as if he owned it, which technically he did. After all, you’d bought it with the money he’d stolen.

The scene that Jerome walked into was hilarious, it was as if he hadn’t even left and you had been waiting for him to return.

The blanket you had been cuddling with was the only thing that was out of place, it had come from his closet, not from your shared bed.

He picked it up and looked back at you in questioning with a smirk dressing his lips. “It smelled like you” you level, shrugging and making your way over to him, before crashing down next to his body on the couch.

It was just like it always was, like it should have been all along.

You let yourself melt into his chest as you crawled into his lap, letting him wrap the before-mentioned blanket around you both as you moved closer.

...but there was one thing that you’d yet to address, and one thing that you needed to talk about.

Jerome wasn’t completely the same as you remembered because as you snuggled into him and let your fingers dance over the skin of his jaw, you were met with the cold chill of metal.

That was certainly new.

You pulled your hand away quickly and looked up at him in shock “What was that?” you whisper, keeping your voice low so as to not disturb the peace. You still hadn’t gotten any answers as to what was happening, but you certainly should have noticed that.

In the dark, it must have skipped your mind. You hadn’t noticed, but now that you had, it was kind of hard to go back to cuddling as if everything was fine.

It definitely wasn’t.

Apparently, Jerome's had his face stolen and as best you could tell, had attempted to reattach it with a staple gun.

“Oh no J, what did you do?” you whined, naturally concerned that he’d made some kind of half-cocked choice that was going to hurt him. He was prone to irrational solutions and you were worried.

There was silence between the two of you for a moment or so as you thought about what you were going to do before you stood from the warm cocoon you’d created on the couch completely.

You had to do something about this.

“How did this happen?” you muttered, taking his hands in your own to lead him to the table where you could get a better look at him. You didn’t really want an answer from him, of course.

It was just more of that nervous prattling you tended to get up to when you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“I did the best I could with what I had” he shrugged, as if there was nothing wrong with the way he had chosen to attach his face. In his mind, he didn’t think that he could have done any better but you knew differently.

It looked like a mess.

“You might as well have super glued it” you teased, sitting him down and getting to work looking him over. It was an absolute chaotic solution to what had happened, and frankly, you weren’t even a tad bit shocked.

The edges of his skin, held together with a few thick staples, were jagged and ridiculous.

“Careful princess, I didn’t exactly have you around to put it back on for me” he chides, admiring your concentration as you studied him. Your tongue peeked out between your lips as you did your best to pick at the staples without hurting him.

They had to come out.

Anything was better than having rusty metal holding your lover’s face on, and you were sure it wasn’t comfortable. As unpleasant as it was to look at, you could only imagine it felt that much worse.

“Stop me if I’m hurting you” you suggested, knowing fully that he wouldn’t. No matter what he was feeling, he was never going to admit that he was hurting. He was never going to do that, not ever.

Instead, all you could do was smile as you looked him in the eye, continuing to pluck at the metal in his face.

“I missed you” Jerome hummed, moving on completely from what you’d been talking about. He didn’t care about if his face hurt or about the fact that he was literally back from the dead.

Nothing mattered to him any more than you did.

“I missed you too” you whispered, taking in the predatory look in his eyes as he looked at you. You found yourself admittedly taken aback by that because you hadn’t seen that look in almost a year.

You really had.

Jerome was your greatest friend, and the love of your life. Having to live life without him for so long was awful, and you never wanted to do it again.

If you could help it, he would stay by your side forever.

“Y/N” he sighed, catching you off guard. Jerome very rarely used your real name so at first you were concerned you had hurt him, or that something was wrong. 

However, all he really wanted was for you to give him the attention he’d been craving.

You were trying desperately to get his face cleaned up but he was already bored of that. So bored, in fact, that he slid his hands under your ample thighs to pull you into his lap, earning a heavy sigh from you.

This was going to take forever.

“Jerome” you scoffed, doing your very best to get away from his hold so that you could finish up here, but he wasn’t having any of it. In fact, the more you struggled against his hold, the more Jerome laughed.

This was one big game for him.

“I have to get you cleaned up J, you need to let me” you grumbled, doing everything that you could to figure this out. You were well aware of how difficult he could be but this was serious.

He could really run into trouble with this.

“But that’s no fun at all” he huffed, pressing a kiss to your face as gingerly as he could. It had been too long since he’d been able to hold you and right now, the last thing he wanted to do was wait for anything.

Especially not for you to sew his face back on.

Without hesitation, you stood from his lap and headed over to the medicine cabinet before he could argue with you over it. 

He wasn’t happy about it, of course, which you could tell because of the hefty slap on your ass as you did so.

Thankfully though, you didn’t have to care about that because you had a job to do right now and it was far more important than whatever he wanted to do. You had plenty of time to spend together now that he was back.

You didn’t exactly have any experience reattaching faces but you knew anything you could do would be better than the hack job he was currently walking around with.

At least if you took over, it would be clean.

After quite a bit of going back and forth, you decided that a spool of thread and a sharp, disinfected needle was going to be your best option. 

You practically soaked everything in 95% pure alcohol, and if it wasn’t clean, not was.

The last thing you wanted was for Jerome to be walking around with a painful, infected face, so you let the needle disinfect for a little longer just in case.

Once you felt it was good enough, you headed back over to the table where Jerome was now pretending to be dead against the hardwood, always the drama queen.

“Get up you goofball” you ordered, playfully smacking his shoulder with the back of your hand before setting everything you had gathered down in a huge pile.

You weren’t looking forward to doing this but it had to be done and you couldn’t exactly take him to urgent care to get it done.  After all, the man you loved was still a wanted criminal, even though some people didn’t know he was alive.

“Okay J, this might sting a little” you sigh, biting into the plump flesh of your bottom lip to stifle your own nerves.

Jerome wondered if maybe you were more bothered by this than he was, but he thought it was cute so he said nothing regarding it.

“That’s okay kitten, I’ve got something to hold onto” he smirks, grabbing onto you before you could even ask what he meant. 

Jerome Valeska was always a terrible flirt but considering you hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year on top of that, you couldn’t imagine how bad he was going to get.

It wasn’t until you felt his hands snake around your waist that you understood the meaning of his words, your suspicions were confirmed when he took two big handfuls of your jean wrapped ass and kneaded the flesh through the fabric.

This was definitely not how you thought your night was going to go this morning, but at least he was alive.

[sunderedazem]

SWTOR Commander ask game!

Tagged (via DM) by @sithwarblade and tagging @voiceofthetraveler (in case you haven't done it yet!)

Mostly under a readmore because oh my GOD i have so many blorbo thoughts. and all of them are completely self-indulgent

1) Who’s your Alliance Commander? What class are they? Alignment? Random other facts you wanna share?

My Jedi Knight, Corrain Gealai! Functionally, he leans Light Side, but by the time of Zakuul's attack he's far less unwilling to dabble with the Dark Side, and is remarkably skilled at throwing Force Lightning when he's angry.

2) What’s a reason or two you like that this character is your Commander?

Honestly? Corrain becoming the Alliance Commander actually - finally - allows him to grow past what Vitiate did to him aboard the Emperor's Fortress, and even though he leaves the Jedi Order in the process of choosing the Alliance, he becomes more of a true Jedi than ever before.

Corrain's biggest, most detrimental attachments weren't actually his relationships with others, as he feared - they were his attachments to concepts. Concepts of an idealized image of himself, the Republic, and the Jedi Order. He spends so much effort trying to be Perfect, to live up to this idealized version of himself that he believes is expected of him, even while his faith in the Republic (especially Saresh's government) is crumbling, that ironically he fails as a Jedi. He's attached to his failures - he refuses to process the pain he's felt, refuses to acknowledge the open wound that was his agency and free will being stripped away - and therefore, because he cannot let go, because he represses these emotions, he lashes out- at Saresh, at a Republic he believes is failing, and at Satele.

Becoming Alliance Commander - and leaving the Jedi Order, with Satele's blessing - essentially strips him of these self-imposed expectations. Satele is the one who eventually smacks him with that reality in the fic, but it's the distance he needs to come to terms with what he's suffered and who he's become outside of the hyper-strict framework he's created for himself.

But beyond Corrain's arc, the main reason I like him being the Alliance Commander is that, well - he's a Jedi at heart, and pretty much always will be. But unlike my consular Kalvonût, who's quieter and more bookish, devoted to healing others and being the conscience of the Senate and Jedi Order, Corrain is passionate and loud about it. He's an idealist who's had to re-center his ideals on something sustainable - who's had to rebuild his identity, ethics, and beliefs around something healthy after being broken down - and he will NOT sit around and wait for someone else to Fix Things. He challenges authority he thinks is illegitimate or self-serving, and is, generally speaking - a spark, waiting to burst into flame. He's all fire on the inside, he just has to figure out how to channel that fire constructively and not into some kind of cult of personality. looking at you, Sekulyn

3) What’s a reason or two you don’t like about them being Commander?

He's young, hurting, and trying to lead a rebellion against his tyrannical half-siblings in the midst of a self-identity crisis while the ghost of his own father is stuck inside his skull. He's well-past needing therapy. And on top of that entire mess of a sentence you just read - Corrain has still not told a soul about the fact that he's under Vitiate's Castellan mind control.

Therefore, the leader of the Alliance can be controlled - or forced into a life-threatening series of tonic-clonic seizures, depending on how hard Corrain fights it - with the revelation of a single phrase. (Valkorion - who's shown to be at least somewhat separate from Vitiate and Tenebrae - does eventually discover this keyword. It's bad.) This is a Massively Glaring Weakness and Corrain refuses to bring it up out of fear that acknowledging this weak point will lead to someone finding and using his keywords again.

Furthermore, his hatred and fear of Valkorion (while rational) makes him act irrationally. He lashes out more than once at Senya and Koth when they bring up Valkorion's generosity or benevolence, and it makes him sneer at Zakuul rather than try to understand Valkorion as anything more than the monster he'd been, rather than an individual with a complex agenda, preying off a complex society.

4) Why did this character of all your OCs become Commander?

Honest answer - Corrain is the only character I've completed the KOTXX expansions on, because he's the center of my hyperfixations on this game asjdhfkjsdfaksd. I've made five toons of him. help.

In-Legacy answer - 1) It's a Scion prophecy that Corrain ends up fitting into 2) Corrain hates Vitiate with a blazing passion and will do ANYTHING to destroy him once and for-all and 3) Corrain is the only one of my OCs who's disillusioned enough with their government AND selfless enough AND fiery enough to ignite a cross-faction joint rebellion and then work himself to the bone to keep that rebellion going in the form of an independent nation committed to galactic peace allied with Zakuul and the Sith Empire even though he's a former Jedi.

6) Are there any NPC’s from the class stories you’d like to see/HC join the Alliance? Ex: Master Timmns, Ardun Kothe, Watcher One, etc.

I'm assuming this doesn't involve companions, so - of the class-story NPCs, Lord Praven is the one I'd most like to see in the Alliance. Honestly, not many of the other NPCs stood out all that much to me in terms of making an impact, save Kothe - but my Imp Agent was too loyal to the Empire and too bitter about the mindfuckery to leave him alive.

7) How’s your OC feeling about the current Malgus situation?

Well, in the Moonrise legacy, the Onslaught expansion....doesn't really happen. I've repurposed Zildrog for something else entirely, and so there's a fairly strong canon divergence following the Nathema Conspiracy arc. But Malgus still does his Malgus Things - it's just smaller scale - and so Corrain is more irritated by his antics than anything, and lends Acina some Eternal Fleet support in her efforts to quash the Nuisance.

8) Are any of your other OC’s part of the Alliance? If yes what do they do for the Alliance? Do they get along with your Commander?

Eiri and Iomlan Greine (Corrain's mother and uncle) both end up joining the Alliance properly! Eiri is my Sith Warrior, and for the most part he actually ends up teaching in the Force Enclave as the Overseer of the Combat Division. He also acts as an Emissary of the Alliance to the Knights of Zakuul after Zakuul's reconstitution as a constitutional monarchy. Iomlan, who was once a Scion, acts as an aide to Sana-rae and assists in the Alliance's medical center as a healer.

As for the semi-affliated folks:

Kessin and their fleet of pirates and smugglers also do plenty of discount work for the Alliance - it's nice having reliable employers - and Kessin in turn keeps the worst of the Nasty Gangs out of Zakuulan and Alliance space where they can. The Exchange and Hutts get everywhere though.

Astayr and xir husband Torian are officially designated as Mandalorion Emissaries to the Alliance and Zakuulan Empire. Xey are one of Shae's top lieutenants, and after Mandalore the Vindicator's death, xey are a powerful voice in Clan Lok and end up allying with Clan Viszla.

Elennye, as a rogue agent only loosely affiliated with the Empire and still puppeting the strings of the remaining Star Cabal, often acts in concord with Alliance interests and is a known ally, but her loyalty falls more with Vaylin than anyone else. She's a permanent contact on Alliance intelligence reports.

(Jury's still out on Deitente - her class quest is the only one I haven't completely played through, but she's not likely to join permanently)

9) How does your OC feel about Odessen? (Bonus: how do you feel about it)

Corrain loves Odessen. It became home for him in a way that no other planet has, and he personally oversees the construction of non-military settlements on the planet (long after the galaxy settles into an uneasy peace)

Personally I like Odessen's design too, it's pretty, especially at night. It...feels kinda lonely, but peaceful, in a melancholy sort of way. I appreciate it.

10) How does your Commander feel about being the Commander?

He hates and loves it. He hates it because he doesn't like the fact that all this responsibility is on his shoulders, and he hates the whole Public Persona thing, but in the same breath he loves it. He loves leading his people, loves taking care of them and Odessen, loves negotiating and problem-solving and collaborating to come to solutions- he loves the fact that he's built a community that's spanned planets and star systems, and he'd give everything he has to keep that community safe and free.

The Eternal Alliance - and later, Zakuul too - are his people. He's found home there, and he will serve his people as long as he's able.

11) Favorite place in the Alliance base?

Hm...Corrain's favorite is the clearing where his personal ship sits. It's very quiet.

Mine? Definitely that little pool where Valkorion drags you off into the Ether to Learn a Lesson or whatever. (fucking valks) it's pretty

12) Favorite mission in KotFE?

Probably "Chapter 8: Taking Flight" - in my Moonrise Legacy, this is where Corrain and Arcann first confront the fact that they're half-brothers - and Corrain almost dies in the confrontation when Valkorion tries to wrest control away from him.

Ironically, it's the odd Force Bond with Vaylin - which developed while he was frozen in carbonite - that saves Corrain's life. Through this bond, Vaylin can sense that Corrain can hold Valkorion at bay, even dying from a lightsaber through the chest, and this concept of Valkorion being caged is DELIGHTFUL to her, so she. helps.

Gameplay-wise, I appreciate how the companions change - and how the companion that comes to save you from the final battle with Arcann changes depending on your relationships in the story.

13) Favorite mission in KotET?

This is tough. Either "Chapter 2: Run for the Shadows" or "Chapter 6: The Dragon's Maw." I love the mission with Acina - especially playing as Corrain - because it's so CRUNCHY to get into the politics. The Republic's former Chancellor - who Corrain's yelled at publicly at least twice - tries to assassinate him and Acina by hiring the amoral GenoHaradan? While he's having peace talks with the Sith Empress? Like this is precisely the shit he hates about the Republic AND Empire both, that some asshat somewhere wants revenge over resolution. Plus, I like Acina. She seems more sensible than some other Sith and I'm very gay for hot Sith ladies.

but then you contrast that against Sneaky Gameplay in the Dragon's Maw and- god. that mission was so fun to try and figure out. AND THE DOGS IN THE MINI MISSION! Perfect. Plus, in my Moonrise Legacy, Vaylin is a lot more stable by this point. Corrain's presence - which is lightside - and their bond has given her space to refamiliarize herself with some emotions, and it culminates here. She comes to the understanding about herself - on her own - that she's not actually holding on to the throne because she wants it, but because that power gives her freedom. Therefore, if Corrain can prove to her that he's strong enough to keep their asshole father from influencing her, she's more than happy to get rid of the responsibility that is the Eternal Throne. So, she challenges Corrain to a duel, as long as he's willing to wait for her to figure out how to unlock her full powers - if he wins, she abdicates and he can take the stupid chair.

14) Least favorite mission in either? Why?

The Iokath mission. Like, I get it? But I'm really not a fan. It annoyed me more than anything, and the whole Iokath arc felt underdeveloped. (hence why I'm repurposing Iokath, Zildrog, and etc for my last, canon-divergent arc of the Moonrise legacy)

15) Is your Commander successful because they’re skilled? Or are they perhaps just really lucky?

In battle, Corrain is successful because he's stupid powerful in the Force - which is a(n un)lucky accident of parentage and family issues - and because he is genuinely a master of lightsaber combat. It's a mix of innate talent and extreme hard work, and lots of practical application.

However, as a leader Corrain is successful because of whom he trusts and surrounds himself with. He's the spark for the flame of rebellion, but it's Lana and Theron and Senya, Koth, T7, Beywan, Oggurobb, Sana-rae, Hylo, etc that make him successful. It's his ability to trust the right people - and sometimes even to forgive the right people - that makes him a successful Commander. Sure - he does a lot of hard work himself, and does his utmost to inspire everyone who looks up to him. But ultimately he succeeds because he knows he can't do everything alone, and he chooses good people to help him. So...neither luck nor skill. Or maybe, his luck and others' skill?

16) From your OC’s point of view, SoR -> KotET wasn’t a fun experience, did they develop any fears as a result?

Corrain didn't develop any new fears - only worsened existing ones, really. Namely - his crippling fear of Vitiate and his own powerlessness in the face of his keyword. It comes back to bite him in the ass HARD later.

Instead SoR -> KOTET was actually more a time of personal healing for him, oddly enough. SoR is where Corrain started shedding his unhealthy expectations of himself as a Jedi, and grew close with Lana and Theron, allowing himself an emotional outlet he'd never had before. Sure - both Lana and Theron had heard of him, but they hadn't met and known him *before* he was under Vitiate's thrall, which meant he felt a lot better about just...being himself around them.

17) AU time! If your Commander wasn’t Commander, which of your other OCs would have likely taken their place?

If Corrain wasn't my Commander, it more than likely would've been Eiri and Kalvonut who took his place, working in tandem. Kalvonut would've handled the administrative back-end, and Eiri would be the face of their operation.

18) Who’s someone your Commander hopes they never have to deal with again?

Besides Vitiate/Valkorion? Saresh. Corrain's got a spiteful streak, to be honest, and he's more than willing to keep her in jail until the Republic grovels enough - not that they're particularly keen on having Saresh back.

19) Does your Commander hold on to/still use any titles they earned before KotET?

No. Corrain will still allow Kira to call him "Master" because he knows it's a tough habit to break, but he officially drops all titles related to the Jedi Order after he leaves and becomes the Alliance Commander. He knows that being a Jedi is a commitment - it's a paramount commitment - and it's not a commitment he can make anymore, not after finding a home in the Alliance and Zakuul, and leading them. He has obligations to them now, and he does choose the Alliance and Zakuul, and his family over the Jedi. He still gets invited to all the Jedi Parties though :P

20) Share something, anything at all, you want about your Commander that you’ve not really gotten the chance to share before but really want to.

Corrain's affinity with Force Lightning is in part due to his constant torture-by-electrocution on board the Emperor's Fortress. He has an extremely tactile connection to the Force for some reason, with physical sensation nearly always accompanying his perception of it, and therefore after suffering electrocution in pretty much every way, shape or form, he's extremely familiar with the physical sensation of lightning, and forcing that lightning into a constricted conduit. Therefore, he's also particularly good at recreating it.

This Force Lightning affinity is, however, a Dark Side ability. It's not one he can conjure with the Light side of the Force. What happens instead, when he finally is at peace enough with himself to find out, is that he manages to ignite a 'Force Flame.' This particular expression of the Force isn't an offensive ability in any way and it doesn't burn or harm others - it's just what happens when the Light side of the Force, like Force Lightning, presses a lot of power into a small conduit, i.e. his body.

He figures out later that this specific power is meant to destroy? heal? Force voids (such as Nathema). So this weird little made-up Force ability I invented that is certainly Not how the Force Actually Works but fuck canon my city now is meant to burn away nothingness by- existing, setting Nathema alight in the Force again.

After all, a void ceases to exist the moment something appears inside it - because then it is no longer nothingness. There's something there. And Corrain is the little light that the Force put in place to destroy the void - Valkorion.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE TAG i am VERBOSE tho

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me's SPN Advent Calendar 2020. prompts (II & III): childhood memories + motels.

dedicated to @xojo <3

"Dude, I swear."

Dean enters the room to Sam's laughing voice, and glances around to take note of the occupants. Cas is sitting with his chin in his hands and wide eyes, cross-legged at the edge of one bed (his and Cas's, Dean guesses), while Sam is sprawled out on the other, pink-cheeked (drunk) and shaking with mirth (drunk again), the storyteller of the evening.

The sight makes his stomach drop — kind of — but in a good way, and he bites his lip to contain a smile as he puts the dinner on the closest table and goes back to lock the door.

It's been a while since all of them shared a room, but it's almost Christmas and motels are crowded, so here they are.

And as much as Dean loves sharing a bed with Cas every night, even if they're not at the bunker (also, minus the unenviable cost of Sam bitching his ears off about needing brain bleach the entire next day, even if all they did was spoon and Sam's obviously the one with the problem) — sometimes he misses the three of them just hanging out. And there's no better place than a shared motelroom for it. Case-free, stuffed with diner foods, and up to absolutely nothing of 'import'.

"Dean wanted to be Santa so bad." Sam finishes, and Dean's pulled back to reality; the one where letting Sam and Cas spend time without him mostly just meant them feeding each other fodder (blackmail, usually for laundry-related situations, or plain, simple annoyance ammunition) about Dean.

"That's fascinating." Cas says, sounding absolutely delighted, because of course he is.

Dean picks up the food.

"Screw you both."

"Hello, Dean." Cas smiles up at him, reaching up with a hand Dean belatedly realizes he's supposed to take. He does then, blushing, and Cas beams, squeezing as Dean sits down beside him (and starts untying his boots with just one hand because goddammit, he still wants to get his feet under the damn covers) and turning back to Sam. "What happened then?"

Sam gives up on his (failing) attempts to fake-gag effectively, easily ignoring Dean using his not-occupied-in-being-held hand to flip him off, and continues. "Epic things, Cas. So Dean shows up, right, at the audition — or, you know, whatever it was supposed to be, choosing ceremony, christmas cult initiation, something — and there's all these kids, about his age, but they're all dressed up in tights, and —"

Dean groans, cutting him off.

He remembers this story.

It had been one of the longest hunts until then, and Dean credits that now to having been just a month away from thirteen — the perfect age, John decided, to leave Sam with him for days without checking in. That's about when it started to become the norm.

Dad had moved them from a ratty motel to an even rattier, and considerably colder apartment before leaving. One bedroom, one couch (although Dean avoided it with a passion; it was springy, smelled odd, and felt too obviously not theirs, so they ended up living almost entirely in their beds that December) and a kitchen so cold Dean remembers debating with himself if he should just bring the damn plates to the bedside table and call it a day.

God, he'd hated living there.

Way more than he ever did in worn-out, roadside motels with staff you could befriend and most guests (albeit concerned, but) easily persuaded to make conversation. It had felt more deserting, more abandoned, and certainly more alone.

But of course he'd played it up for Sam — the kid was eight for hell's sake — and the building-wide Christmas gig (weird, for such an otherwise to-each-their-own sorts of people, but semantics didn't bug Dean at the time, and they don't bug him now) had seemed like a perfect opportunity to solidify his claims of this being a better place to spend the holiday season, Dad or no Dad.

So he'd decided to be Santa.

(In Dean's defense, when the building manager had showed up — old, gruff, but not unlike Bobby Singer — he'd told them they could participate in whatever way they wanted to, and shortly after, told them about the Santa Claus & Elves gig.

Probably because he thought Sam (not Dean, right?) might be into something like that.

He'd obviously not anticipated a skinny twelve year old boy would pick up from those informations that he wanted to be Santa, or he would've stressed a little more on the options, well, skinny twelve year old boys had.

More specifically, green-pointy-hat and striped-tights-wearing options.)

He sighs.

Dean can tell Sam notices it all coming back to him, because the bastard's dopey smile widens. (Way too little tolerance for being the size of a friggin' door, Dean would've claimed, but he's more than familiar with Sam's eggnog recipe.)

"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam snorts, clearly pleased with himself for having brought up an embarrassing enough story, god knows how. "Let me finish for Cas, at least, geez. Don't —"

Dean buries his face in his palm.

"— be elfish."

Cas tilts his head. "I believe you mean selfish, Sam."

"Oh no," Sam cackles. "I really don't."

*

The night ends soon after a late dinner, with a smug Sam passing out and starting to snore the minute he's on his pillow (bitch really just played into all ridiculous drunk stereotypes, Dean scoffs) and Dean emerging from the shower to find no Cas in the room, and the door unlocked.

He spots the ex-angel staring at the sky the moment he steps out of their room to look, and joins him, circling an arm around his waist to slide a hand into Cas's warm pocket, entwining his fingers with the latter's.

Cas leans into his warmth. It's midnight. "Merry Christmas, Dean."

Dean presses his lips to Cas's cheek, just for a second, because they're not in their room and he isn't keen to get into a fight at twelve am on Christmas Eve because a random dickhead sees them. "Merry Christmas, babe."

The air is cold, heavy, but it doesn't remind Dean of that godawful kitchen — just waking up blanketless, because the love of his life is a sworn-to-denial blanket hog. Similarly, the sky's speckled with stars, and he can tell it invokes emotions — nostalgia? — in the former angel, but he doesn't look sad. He just squeezes a little more snug against Dean.

As if in each other, they've found ways to forget the pain, the guilt, and the sadness. It's not just the proximity, not just the heat, but the reassurance, the company and the comfort.

And isn't that exactly what love's about?

"So," Cas gently breaks the quiet, as if he understands that Dean's thoughts have drifted somewhere. "Santa Claus, huh?"

"Man, I'd even borrowed a hat." Dean grumbles back.

"Don't elves wear hats too?" Cas teases, mouth quirked in a half-smirk, radiating happiness and fondness, with a hint of pride at probably understanding a relatively human concept, and he sounds so much like himself, and so adorable, and god, Dean loves him.

So he buries his face in Cas's shoulder, hiding a smile he can't hold in.

"Okay, screw you too."

[veronicamarsconfessions]

Editor’s Note: TV moves on, but we haven’t. In our feature series It Still Stings, we relive emotional TV moments that we just can’t get over. You know the ones, where months, years, or even decades later, it still provokes a reaction? We’re here for you. We rant because we love. Or, once loved. And obviously, when discussing finales in particular, there will be spoilers:

There was a time when Veronica Mars’ legacy was that of a beloved cult show that was canceled too soon by network executives who didn’t understand it. With the arrival of a crowd-funded feature film in 2014, its legacy evolved as one of the first shows to see the benefits of a revival. Now, it simply brings thoughts of sadness, rage, and betrayal.

When Hulu first announced it was reviving the series for an eight-episode fourth season, the news was met with resounding joy from a vocal and passionate fanbase that had never given up hope it would return after the crowd-funded feature film reunited Kristen Bell’s Veronica, a pint-sized private eye with a sharp mind and even sharper wit, with her one true love, the reformed bad boy Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring). But the fire that had burned for more than a decade and twice-revived the show was suddenly extinguished in a single, heartbreaking, and wholly unnecessary moment when Logan was killed by a bomb left in Veronica’s car shortly after the couple exchanged wedding vows.

I can still remember the shock I felt when I reached the end of the screeners Hulu sent. The whole thing felt kind of surreal, like if I didn’t acknowledge what had happened out loud maybe it didn’t actually happen. But it did happen. And I’m still filled with a fiery rage and a deep sadness when I think about it now, nearly two years removed from the episode in question, because needlessly killing Logan was a betrayal of the worst kind. The character’s untimely demise felt engineered for nothing more than shock value, like it existed only to leave Veronica even more isolated and cynical. But the interviews that series creator Rob Thomas gave in the aftermath, in which he tried to defend the decision, revealed something much worse while only driving the knife he’d stuck in fans’ backs deeper.

“In order for us to keep doing these, I think it needs to become a detective show—a noir, mystery, detective show—and those elements of teenage soap need to be behind us,” Thomas told TV Guide of the decision to kill Logan, noting that he also hoped to take Veronica out of Neptune and on the road in potential future seasons. “I sort of viewed these eight episodes as a bridge to what Veronica Mars might be moving forward.”

Instead of being a bridge to the future, it was a bridge to a grave of Thomas’ own making. Not since How I Met Your Mother ignored literal years of character development to deliver a half-cooked series finale the creators had come up with several years prior has a show felt so out of touch with its characters, the story it was telling, and its fans. Thomas’ decision to kill Logan is the perfect example of a creator being unable to recognize their own biases to the detriment of their creation.

He wrongly believed that Veronica needed to be hardened by years of nonstop torment and trauma in order to prove she was a great detective whose story was worth continuing. In putting her through the emotional wringer (again) after spending the entire season attempting to dig into her flaws and determine the root of her problems, Thomas swiftly undermined his heroine and her trauma with one misguided act of devastating violence. The fact that Thomas then chose to also skip over Veronica’s grieving process entirely reveals how little he ultimately thought of Logan or Veronica’s relationship with him, which had pushed her to be better and work through her longtime trust issues.

It is common knowledge by now that Logan was not intended to be Veronica’s love interest when the show debuted, but the fans took to the character more than they took to Teddy Dunn’s Duncan “He Used to Be My Boyfriend” Kane, so the latter was jettisoned from the show after Season 2. And in the end, Logan turned out to be a much better partner and match for Veronica’s personality. So what’s truly unfortunate about Thomas killing Logan, and killing him so violently, is that his thought process during Season 4 has the potential to color everything that happened in the show up until the moment the bomb went off. There is also the issue that Thomas apparently believed that Veronica achieving some level of romantic happiness was a one-way ticket to the grave, as if shows like Friday Night Lights hadn’t already soundly debunked the myth that happy couples did not make great TV.

Obviously an emotional family drama does not play by the same rules as noir, but Veronica Mars had already proven that you don’t need to play firmly within the sandbox of the genre to excel creatively. So why should the more adult version of the show attempt to put itself back in the box to be confined to something more traditional or stereotypical? Furthermore, love and contentment are not character flaws or weaknesses. They are not an element of “teenage soap,” as Thomas put it. In fact, one could argue that by allowing herself to believe that she and Logan could have a happy future together regardless of everything she’d witnessed in her line of work, Veronica had shown more personal and emotional growth in the show’s fourth season than she had in the entire run of the series.

At the heart of the matter, though, is one simple, glaring truth: Logan’s death was a fundamental misreading of the entire Veronica Mars fandom and what they liked about the show. Storytelling should never be dictated by the fans and their desires—one of the loudest and most common complaints critics had about the movie was that it felt too much like Thomas was just giving the fans what they wanted rather than attempting to tell a good story—but when your fandom has dug their hands into the cold soil of the TV graveyard to raise your show from the dead, you should probably have a grasp on what exactly the fans like about it in the first place. After all, they’re the reason you still exist and will be one of the final arbiters of whether or not you get to continue to exist in the future. And the idea that fans would somehow be interested in watching a version of Veronica Mars in which Veronica was on the road, completely alone, and Logan was blown to bits is just a wild miscalculation.

This isn’t to suggest Veronica Mars could not ever survive without Logan. That would be to undercut the rest of the show and the woman Veronica has become since we first saw her cutting Wallace (Percy Daggs III) off the flagpole in the series’ pilot. But there is a difference in writing Logan out of the show’s ongoing story arc—his secretive Naval career offered the perfect out—and violently killing him in an attempt to shock viewers and show just how resilient your heroine is in the face of trauma. A survivor of rape who had to solve the murder of her best friend (Amanda Seyfried) while still in high school because the sheriff’s department was too inept to do it (or simply did not care to do it), Veronica had already been through more in her young life than anyone should ever have to live through.

Although Logan’s death led to her finally seeing a therapist, it seemed to be a one-time thing, so nothing has really changed. Veronica is still the same person she was before the show returned, except now she’s also a widow and Thomas has alienated an entire fanbase to the point that many fans, though likely not all, have no interest in revisiting her story. And they’re not likely to either, since Hulu chose not to move forward with another season.

So much for that bridge to the future.

[inkdemonapologist]

Tfw it’s like 6am and your penpal shows up at your hotel room but he’s like partially a demon and also won’t stop smiling????

Hi again Allison we’re all Very Normal

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

ANYWAY HAVE SOME, OUT-OF-CONTEXT QUOTES for Session 6!!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[GM] You said you were there for... inSPECTION?? [Jack] In hindsight, that must've been a HECK of a Fast Talk considering half the group is in pyjamas.

[Henry] It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to sacrifice Henry.

[GM] *about Sammy's sacrifice attempts* He was very polite about it. [Sammy] Yeah, he was! [Henry] He was very polite, he gets points for politeness. [GM] And then he got yelled at, so unfairly! By someone. [Sammy] And then melted! So everyone was on the whole very rude about it. It's your own fault he's like this now.

[GM] We'll say it's ajar, how about that? [Joey] Oh, I thought it was a door.

[Sammy] You can spend Luck!! [Jack] Do I want to use Luck points, though? Here's the problem, I'm the person who finishes the JRPG with twelve thousand healing items, and has used TWO. [Sammy] Here's my counterargument: if your Luck gets really low, you start failing Luck checks, and bad things happen to your character. [Jack] ...that's a perfect counterargument, I'm going to do it.

[GM] You both spot the hat with the press card! Lying on the floor, over by one corner of the sliding doors. [Jack] Oh that's BETTER than taking sanity damage! [Sammy] EMOTIONAL DAMAGE!

[Joey] There's another jug of space juice. [Sammy] I don't want space juice!! I WANT PAINT.

[Henry] *tired* Hey, Sam. [Sammy] What providence, my little sheep! [Henry] ...Good to see you too.

[Sammy] Go into the other room and introduce yourself! [Joey] With two hats on. [Sammy] ASSERT DOMINANCE!

[Jack] Jack is going to take the hat. He's going to have, uh, at least one emotion. [Jack] Maybe more [Jack] Imagine

[Joey] Joey is immediately going to clamp his hand onto Sammy's shoulder, and ask him if he can feel it. [Sammy] UHHH? His... hand...? [Joey] Not-- No, the stone. [Sammy] OH

[Jack] Jack, how are you going to communicate this if one of your hands is taken up by a hat? [Joey] Interpretative dance! [Sammy] Put hat in elbow while writing, you can juggle stuff, [Henry] Put the hat on. Over your other hat.

[Sammy] Sammy will scurry with or without the sheep, but they are his navigation system, so,

[Joey] That is a place we are known to be by the people who tried to... murder us?? Or something. Snake us??????? [Jack] (Snurder.) [Joey] Snurder us.

[Henry] We're just gonna grab our stuff and head out and... let you finish dealing with the sNAKE, I guess!! [Jack] (the snake has already been dealt with!) [Henry] Okay, but the aftermath of the snake! The snaftermath.

[Sammy] In case we get grabbed by an Angel [Sammy] the much less well-liked sequel to Touched by an Angel,

[Sammy] You traitorous sheep, this is not what I asked you for! [Joey] Do you want to die. Is that what you’re interested in?! Just, sacrificing yourself, without doing the proper rituals, not getting anything done--?! [Sammy] What do you know of proper rituals?! [GM] (....quite a lot, actually,) [Joey] Yeah! Much more than you do! And I will make an intimidation roll! [Jack] Boys,... you’re both pretty,... it’s okay....

[Joey] We’re pretty sure there’s Angels.... does she know how to kill them. [Jack] What a first thing to—! No pleasantries, no “please excuse the fact that I’m grinning and have weird eyes and also Sammy has weird eyes and also I have a tail,”

[GM, speaking for Allison] She would like to know what all this is about! [Joey] We’re having problems— [Sammy] He tried to contain something that should not be contained!! [Joey] Shut up, Sammy! We’re having problems!

[Joey] Joey is just going to quickly explain that he.................... [Joey] *mumbling to himself* how do you explain this???

[Joey] Um... I guess he’s going to mentally ping Bendy and ask him how he would describe himself? Like... what was his job, I guess?? Security??? [GM] Bendy says that he’s an eldritch construct that was defending a cult... and now he is something else! That he doesn’t have a word for. [Jack] !! He’s a FRIEND now!!! [GM] He’s friend-shaped! But not at the moment. [Joey] No, right now he’s Joey-shaped.

[Sammy] I mean the whole body is garbage but you apparently want Sammy to wear clothes, so whatever.

[GM] Allison adds that she thinks she might have a connection to get you guys in to the party, if you need that -- [Joey] Wouldn't hurt! [GM] -- so long as you don't mind pretending to be the help! [Joey] ...hm,,,

[Joey] Admittedly, having two angles would be better than one. [GM] Two angels, what? [Sammy] There's an "I can be your angle or yuor devil" joke somewhere in this campaign...

[Sammy] Well, we've learned how to bind an angel, [Jack] Gotta teach the angel proper binding techniques!

[Sammy] Sammy will thank Allison for her help. [Joey] Oh god, there IS something wrong with him!

[Joey] Let's go get Norman tied up in this more! So we can hire him later!!

[Sammy] Jack over there like "I hope it doesn't taste bad" meanwhile Sammy's been grimacing as he swallows paint for the last two hours, [GM] Ink is much better, didn't you know! [Sammy] Ink is better... this tastes wrong... [Joey] I just really love the idea of Sammy longingly looking at Joey's flask like, "aw, you have the good medicine, mine tastes like the terrible cherry crap!"

[GM] So you all have shots with Allison! Space juice shots. [Jack] What a way to start the morning!

[Jack] These boys are gonna heckin' pass out! [GM] They got, what, maybe 3 hours of sleep? [Jack] And all of Jack's sleep last night was sat upright in bed, with his glasses on, surrounded by notes, [Henry] sounds like college [Jack] You're exactly right, Jack's sleep was exactly like college! He was stressed, he didn't sleep for very long, he was surrounded by notes, Pete was there,

[Joey] *saying farewell to Allison* Keep yourself safe; don't go out where we're going. [Joey] Unless we don't return, then pLEASE COME OUT AND FIND US,

[GM] Norman says, "Oh, I see you're back with your friends, Smiley." [Jack] I love the concept of Norman calling Sammy "Smiley," and then Prophet Sammy, in response to this, smiles, and Norman has no idea if this is like, weird? or some kind of strange power move to assert dominance.

[GM, as Norman] When I said I saw things happening on the 2nd, you're the one that went pale! [Joey] How's Prophet Sammy's cONCEPT OF TIME, [Sammy] Not great!!!! [Sammy] I don't think he... knows when the 2nd was.

[Sammy] Forgive my memory. That doesn’t ring a bell! [Joey] He's... a little affected right now. [Norman] ...you don't say...

[Joey] Listen. I have $75 here for you, to take us out to the lake, as soon as possible. [a couple minutes of googling later] [Jack] That's equivalent to $1,464. Joey. [Sammy] CAN YOU IMAGINE?? "We need you to take us to the lake please" "Alright, but explain to me what's going on?" "SORRY, the guy who said that is clearly HIGH OUT OF HIS MIND, here's A THOUSAND DOLLARS, take us to the lake please!" [Jack] its a trip to the lake, what could it cost, $75 [Joey] *laughing* I should've looked up how much money I was saying before I was saying it, [Sammy] No, no, I think this is accurate to JOEY DREW

[Henry] Henry is just watching everything happening... [Sammy] Henry is waiting for the next video game breadcrumb trail to show up. [Henry] YEAH, [Jack] “Oh! Looks like I need to put three gears in this thing!”

[Sammy] I'm so angry on Sammy's behalf that you've made him meet two different people like this.

[Joey] If he does ask for money later, Joey's going to give it to him, because he has no concept of.... money.... [Sammy] No concept of GIVING OUT ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS [Jack] Can Joey Drew meet me, in real life, please? [Joey] I don't know if you want that to happen,, that might be more of a curse,,, [Jack] I'll take a curse! Gimme money! [Sammy] vOICE OF EVERY JDS EMPLOYEE

[GM] And you've got suits, and dress shoes...... [Sammy] We are not dressed for this. [Sammy] ...We are more dressed for it than we were earlier. I promise you, Norman, this is a step up, believe it or not.

[Sammy] Probably making a face because it tastes bad. [Henry] Tastes like paint! [GM] The cab driver might just wonder if that's a new drink this year. [Sammy] If nobody jumped on top of Sammy to stop him from using his mouth, he would probably say something with vibes of "this is beyond your comprehension" [Joey] Joey might try to stop that, and instead just be like, “Yes. It is.” [Henry] He's high. Don't worry about it. [Jack] Driver's just like "oh, I should try some of that when I get off work, seems like a good time!" [Sammy] You should! It'll open your eyes! [Sammy] (I'll stop evangelising the cab driver now.)

[Henry] Henry is: Sims Tense Moodlet.

[Joey] Joey instantly does not like this, and it is apparent on his face, if Sammy can see it in the mist. [Sammy] Probably not! [Jack] You could say he mist it!

[Henry] We need to hurry—! [Sammy] *screaming* THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING!!!!!!

[Sammy] Sammy will be, sort of... whispering reassurance? I don't know how reassuring it actually is, [Henry] I'm sorry Sam, nothing about you is reassuring right now. [Sammy] Just kind of like, hush hush, come my sheep, that sort of thing, [Joey] Prophet ASMR Channel! [Jack] I'm sure Jack would appreciate this actually, it's a shame he's not the one getting this, [Joey] No, he's getting whatever comfort Joey can offer, which, uh, [Sammy] Well, and I will say, he's not like, whispering it in Henry's ear, like-- [Jack] I don't think Sammy in any form is capable of whispering. [Sammy] ...y'know [Sammy] that's fair

[Sammy] Well everyone's doing alright! We're doing great, it's going great! [Jack] Nooooo! No going great! I want more insanities! [Jack] ...I can stop at any time, I swear.

[Sammy] We can hold Norman's hand if you want, like, that's up to you. [Joey] Roll for gay, Norman! [Henry] Take him to dinner first,

[Sammy] This is such a bad idea that we're having.

[Joey] Joey is probably at this point holding onto someone else to guide him, and more in his head than not. [Sammy] Sammy's out of hands at this point, Joey, so you'll just have to figure this out. [Sammy] Got his hands full of sheep.

[Joey] Did Norman drink the juice. [GM] Did he...? Did he...... I think he was convinced enough by “this drink will save your life” that he does take a drink! [Joey] I'll roll intimidation if that helps! [GM] Yeah, you can roll to see how quickly he does it, or if he drinks enough of it. [Joey] *rolls* That's an EXTREME SUCCESS. [GM] Well, there we go; there's a preview, Norman, of your work environment!

[swanpyart]

The Short Lived Adventures of RAPH and Casey Jones

This is an old pic that was made for a zine that was never published. So I’ll leave it here. It might not ever be finished, but I think the story is decent enough on its own.

Part 1:

Casey was completely fine by herself.

Sure, her parents never really paid her any mind, but she never needed them to; Casey was a fast learner, and was able to cook, clean, and do pretty much anything the adults could do.

“Look!” Ten-year-old Casey held up an English vocabulary test, with an “100%” written in the corner in cursive. “I passed!”

“Honey,” her mother barely looked at her from her seat at her desk, “One hundred percent is the bare minimum. Anything less means you practically failed.”

There was always an empty space in the bleachers whenever Casey had a hockey game. She would cross her arms as she waited for her parents to pick her up and watched as the people in the audience rushed down and hugged their own children after a game, regardless of whether they won or lost. When her parents finally showed up, she sat in the car quietly as they drove.

Casey spent almost everyday after school at her Granny’s while her parents were at work. The old woman’s house was always warm, mostly because she was always baking; cakes, cookies, and especially her famous brownies - made with a special ingredient.

At twelve years old, Casey had failed a math test for the first time, and burst into tears as she walked through her Granny’s front door. “I’m a failure!”

“Sweetie, everyone fails every now and then,” her Granny wiped a tear from Casey’s cheek and got out an antique mixing bowl, “but I can tell you tried really hard. That’s what matters; that you don’t stop trying your best.”

Afterwards, Casey and her Granny spent the afternoon baking brownies, and that was when she was granted the knowledge of the secret ingredient. She swore her secrecy and never told anyone.

Of course, that was a while ago; her grandmother had passed away sometime afterwards. Her parents reacted with more emotion when Casey had shaved her head than when they attended the funeral.

They also seemed only mildly surprised when, at thirteen years old, Casey was accepted into the Foot Clan and never came back home.

There, Casey promised to herself to show the world just how much of a not-failure she really is! Even if she had to work with the most vile Clan in all the world to achieve it and release the Shredder, the ultimate evil, unto the world. She had worked above and beyond to get where she is, and no one could stop her!

At least, that’s what she thought before the Shredder disappeared, and with him, the Clan’s purpose. And way before those strange, overgrown turtles with no sense of honor or discipline showed up and destroyed their chances, time and time again.

Suddenly, the group she had worked with since she was a preteen, and the closest thing she had to any family, were dragged away by outside obligations she never understood.

Foot Brute and Lieutenant were better parents than her own, but, in the end, they were her bosses and coworkers, and no replacement for a family.

Sure, everyone else may have given up, but she would stay committed to the Clan’s ultimate vision, even if she had to use her dear Granny’s recipe for evil. Grandma CJ’s Brownies were an absolute bust, but she had to try something.

Then, she met this weird, giant, smelly rat with a Japanese accent dressed like a teenager who somehow turned out to be the father of those overgrown turtles.

And, as weird as it was, despite not even being human, he sat next to her and heard what she had to say; and, for those few minutes, it was almost like being next to her Granny again.

“Just because you failed doesn’t make you a failure.”

If she had been smarter, maybe she should have listened a bit harder to what he was saying. If she had been smarter, maybe she would have calmed down and talked to the girl that was beating up the Girl Scouts. There were so many opportunities to just talk.

But then the Shredder was restored, and she really thought it would be the return of her Clan’s glory. Even as she looked at the beaten down forms of her previous bosses. Even as she saw Splinter and his family struggling for their lives. Even as she realized winning would mean the end of everything, including her.

There was no more Clan. She was still alone. She was just alone with a giant evil suit of demon armor.

But, now, she wasn’t.

Even after everything, Splinter offered her an invitation into their...

Family.

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

He had invited her to the lair a few weeks after the fight with Shredder.

“I’m working at the Foot Shack. After my former clan disbanded, they got bought out by another company, Splinter, sir.” She squeezed the mug of tea in her hands.

“Just ‘Splinter’ is fine,” Splinter had opened a bag of chips, and was reclining in his seat. The turtles were out with April at the arcade, taking a break from repairing the lair. “Where are you staying? Do you have a place to live?”

“Yes, I actually have my own apartment.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. Splinter sighed. “Listen, Casey, I know that it’s probably hard having to... uh, sort things out by yourself-”

“What?! No, I’m fine!” She flapped her hand dismissively. “My life is fantastic! It’s definitely not in complete shambles after losing everything I know.” She blinked, realizing that she overshared, and collected herself. “I’m doing great.”

“I-I never said it was in shambles,” He massaged his temple with two clawed fingers, his beady eyes squinting in frustration. “Look, all I am saying is that, if you ever need help, or if you ever get lonely and just want to talk, I am here. And my sons would probably say the same thing. You’re a Hamato now, at least in spirit.”

Casey’s eyes widened, then she looked down. “Thank you, but I’m a very independent person. I’ll be sure to not bug you unless it’s an emergency.”

Splinter nodded, but he’d dealt with enough children to see that Casey was a bit lonely. Still, he said nothing.

For a good while, Casey stuck to what she said; she didn’t really come by the lair unless she really felt the need to or if they needed an extra set of hands with repairing.

But… occasionally, she found herself asking questions. She found out Michelangelo loved cooking, and somehow he got her to agree to bake her Granny’s brownies together. She realized that Leonardo wasn’t just annoying in battle, but all the time, and that she started getting more and more used to it, even occasionally laughing along. She found out while playing video games with them, that Donnatello was just as vicious as her, and that April was equally as competitive.

And Raph, well… they didn’t talk very much. But he seemed nice every time they spoke.

But she kept her distance. After all, it was better if she didn’t get too attached.

She occasionally goes down to the local hockey rink and plays a few rounds with total strangers, and usually gets kicked out due to a combo of delinquent children and complaining parents.

So, here she is, lying on her bed, staring blankly at her phone, with a half eaten sandwich laying on her chest, and old sweatpants that she’s been wearing for a week because her clothes are in the laundromat. For a ninja-slash-ex-cult-member, her life had fallen into a fairly mundane pattern.

Everything could always be worse. So why did she still feel like such a failure?

And for some reason, Casey found herself at the sewer grate. She didn’t even know why she came here, really.

She was about to turn back when a feminine voice spoke from behind her. “Hey, CJ, what’s up?”

She spun around. It was April.

“I was just coming to visit.” Casey tensed up. She hadn’t expected to run into someone else.

“Oh, me too!” She opened up the grate, and started climbing down the ladder. “You coming or what?”

Casey gulped. She couldn’t back out now.

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

Raph paced the lair, quietly groaning as he tapped his chin.

It had been about six months since the fight with Shredder, but another challenge had presented itself; cleaning up the lair after it had been almost completely demolished. Thankfully, with Draxum’s help and Donnie being able to scavenge some old tech that didn’t get destroyed and whip up some devices for reconstruction, the place was finally fixed up after about a month and a half.

Now what? Well, in Leo’s words, it was the time for “rest and relaxation.”

That was pretty easy for the rest of his family to do.

Leo’s entire existence hinged on “rest and relaxation”; Mikey has an assortment of hobbies to keep him busy; Donnie had a tight schedule trying to repair all of his broken inventions; April was trying to adjust to all of the changes at school due to all of New York recovering from the recent Battle Nexus catastrophe; and Splinter, of course, was parked in front of the TV, finally at peace after the Shredder was defeated, and helping himself to milk and cake.

Raph should be relaxing, or at least recovering from all that’s happened to them. The fight with the Shredder was the most stressful and terrifying time of their lives. They lost their Gram-Gram, and even if she was now able to rest with their ancestors and her father, it still stung.

But it’s been such a long time since he’s been in a real fight, and he can tell he’s going a little bit stir-crazy.

Of course, the turtles would spend a lot of time out of the lair; but whenever Raph gets a call on the phone, he finds himself hoping it’s some kind of an emergency, only to turn out to be Todd calling them about the puppy farm, or Leo pestering Senior Hueso with an order for pick-up. It seemed like even their strongest enemies have gone on hiatus as well; there was no word of Big Mama as of late, and every other major bad guy they fought recently seemed to have been exhausted by the Shredder ordeal as well.

Raph’s usual sparring partner, Frankenfoot, is absolutely wonderful, but fighting him wasn’t exactly what Raph had in mind; it was fun, but couldn’t really be compared to the thrill of a real fight.

“Come on, guys,” Raph stood in front of the screen, blocking Leo and Mikey’s view of a Jupiter Jim rerun while Pops was passed out on the couch, snoring, a bag of chips lying open on his stomach. “We’ve been cooped up in the lair for a million years. Who wants to go wreck some bad guys?” He pounded his fist in his opposite hand for emphasis.

“Raph, I can’t see!” Mikey waved his hand in a dismissive way as he said it, and leaned to peek around his older brother and continue watching the screen.

“Ugh, we’ve been over this,” Leo exasperated from his spot on the ground, on his stomach and his head resting on his propped arms. “No crime fighting while we’re on vacation! This is the time to chillax, my guy.”

“How long are we gonna be chillaxing, exactly?” Raph put his hands on his hips, an inquisitive look on his face, even if, deep down, he knew what response he’d get.

“I don’t know, until some other crazy evil mutant guy tries to take over the city? There’s bound to be another one of those eventually.”

“What, so we just wait until some evil mastermind has some evil plan and gets all of New York in their evil clutches? It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Raph tried to summon the energy he usually exudes when he attempts to make a rousing speech, but the rolling eyes and groans from his youngest brothers quickly made its effect futile.

“You know,” Donnie said from the back of the room, the other three having not noticed him walk in, “We did, oh, I don’t know, save all of New York City, take down Big Mama’s Battle Nexus scheme, and, most importantly, defeat our bloodline’s greatest enemy?!”

Raph furrowed his brow, his sharp fang digging into his lower lip.

“We deserve an indefinite break, and I need it, because I actually refuse to do any fighting until I have all my stuff back online. I’d love to fight with only my impeccable mind, but let’s be realistic.” The sandwich in his hand was brought to his face and he swallowed it whole. Donnie knew he had made an excellent point.

“Don’t worry,” Mikey beamed, tucking his arms and legs into his shell, “We’ll get back into the groove of things before you know it!”

“Yeah,” Leo agreed, “Think of it as, like, you know, self-care. Sometimes, you need a break from what you’re used to. Now, can you move out of the way?”

Raph sulked out of his siblings’ view of the screen and sunk into a beanbag, next to the couch their father was snoring in.

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

“Hey, guys!” The turtles turn around to see April and... Foot Recruit walk in.

Raph didn’t really know what to think of Foot Recruit, or Casey, as she preferred to be called. Pops insisted that she wasn’t dangerous anymore, but it was hard for him not to be a little wary; I mean, come on, she used to work with the Shredder!

 She’d been over only a handful of times over the past few months, usually to speak with Splinter and Mikey.

“Casey! April!” Mikey stuck his hands out of his shell in joy. He ran over and hugged them both. “It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Apes. And, hi to you too, Casey.” Leo kicked his legs up behind him.

“Above ground has been pretty hectic,” April leaned on Donnie’s shoulder as she spoke, “Everyone has been freaking out about disappearing from New York for a few days. Relaxing on a yacht sure beats coming back to the city in shambles. And finding another job is so hard when everyone’s paranoid we’re gonna all disappear again. Ugh, I wish we did, then I’d get another break!”

“Well, if you want a job, you can help me repair what’s left of my s- I mean, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. The Shredder tore him apart.” Donnie put his hands on his hips and relaxed his posture to cover his slip-up.

“Aw, your cute robot son isn’t repaired yet?” April teased.

As the two bickered while walking towards the lab, Raph looked back at Casey, who was standing by the entrance, visibly tense. 

“Hey, Casey. Um, why are you here?” Raph asked innocently, not realizing how rude he sounded.

“Smooth,” Leo chimed in unhelpfully.

Before he could take it back, Casey spoke, with a glare on her face. “I’m here for the orange one.”

Raph blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re gonna bake brownies!” Mikey clarified, his chest puffed out with pride. “Casey decided that I’m worthy of learning an old family recipe.”

“Yes!” Casey grinned, in a way that was far too menacing for someone talking about brownies. “I decided that, as a new member of your- um…” clan? Group? Committee?

“...Family?” Raph assisted.

“Uh, yes, that,” she turned shy for a few brief seconds, only to return to her previous bravado, pumping her fist in the air, “I will honor you with the knowledge of my grandmother’s most nefarious secret!”

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

Raph peeked into the kitchen as Mikey and Casey got to work. Of course, he trusted Mikey; but he had a hunch that Casey might be up to something.

Or maybe the boredom was just making him a bit more paranoid than usual.

Dirty dishes, half-full cups and brownie mix were strewn about the kitchen counter. Whatever this recipe pertained, it must be pretty intense.

“And, now, for the final ingredient. This one was given to me by my grandmother.” Casey pulled a canister of brown powder. She leaned over and whispered close to Mikey’s head. Whatever she was saying, Raph couldn’t hear.

Mikey gasped. “PUMPKIN SPICE?!”

Casey shushed him, then yelled herself. “It’s a secret, remember?!” She poured a generous amount into the mixing bowl full of batter.

The two of them looked so happy baking together, and Raph felt a pit of guilt in his stomach for assuming the worst. He really needed to chill out.

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

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Leo sunk into the bean bag chair, “You’re a fan of Lou Jitsu, right?”

“That is correct.” Casey was sitting stiffly in her seat. Her expressions were intense, like she was about to strangle someone, but Raph had realized pretty quickly that this was just her default.

“You have all of the movies memorized?”

“Of course! I used his guidelines for self improvement in my schemes to take over the world! I mean, that’s not really relevant now, but-”

“And you said you spend almost all of your available money on Lou Jitsu merch?”

“I hide them all so my guests don’t see.”

“And, yet, you’ve never watched a Jupiter Jim film? The Jupiter Jim, his longtime franchise rival and co-star in Jupiter Jim Vs Lou Jitsu?” Leo clutched at his chest, as he held up the DVD case of the movie he was talking about for emphasis.

“Leo,” Raph warned, looking up from his phone, “don’t make her feel bad-”

Leo chuckled. “Oh ho ho, trust me I won’t. I’m definitely putting on a Jupiter Jim Vs. The Galaxy Riders Part 1 and Part 2, and you are going to love it!”

Casey cackled ominously. “You really think this ‘Jupiter Jim-’” She made quotation marks with her fingers for emphasis, “-can measure up to the greatness that is Lou Jitsu? Fine, I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Raph ended up dozing off after the fifth film, and woke up to see Casey and his brother still openly debating whether Lou Jitsu would beat Jupiter Jim if they were both in a desert completely unarmed and at full strength.

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

“I’m not scared of much,” Donnie mentions offhandedly one day, while Raph was doing a bicep curl, “but she -”

He points to Casey eating a sandwich like a hyena, while April sat next to her, texting.

“She terrifies me to no end.”

Donnie’s strange relationship with their new friend took Raph a while to comprehend. Then it became clear as day. If anyone could match Casey in moral ambiguity, it was his immediate younger brother.

“I made you a little gift,” the softshell grinned smugly, as he handed Casey what looked like a metal hockey stick.

“Oh, um,” Casey's eyes were wide, and a little watery, and her lips were in a warbly smile. “Thank you… no one’s ever given me something so nice.”

Donnie grinned. “Press the button on the side.”

When she did, the widest end of the hockey stick flipped open like a lighter, and a stream of fire shot out of the tip. Casey’s tears of joy gave way to maniacal laughter. “Those kids at the hockey rink won’t know what hit ‘em!”

Donnie joined her in glee, his eyes and teeth shining menacingly in the light of the flames. Raph watched in mild horror (He was plenty used to Donnie’s antics), at least until the fire alarm sounded and they were all drenched from the sprinklers.

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

Another month had passed since Casey started coming around, and Raph seemed like the only one in the lair who hadn’t quite jived with her yet. Sure, his suspicion had pretty much subsided, and he liked her company plenty, but the two of them hadn’t really clicked.

However, he noticed some slight changes over time. Casey’s eyes had bags under them which were more obvious in brighter lights, and sometimes she fell asleep on April’s shoulder (and snored louder than his Pops, somehow). Sometimes, there were hints of sadness on her face, even when she was laughing along with everyone.

Raph didn’t mention it for fear of being rude, but he couldn’t help his concern. After all, if she was upset, she probably wouldn’t mention to him all of the people.

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

Hockey wasn’t a sport Raph and his brothers knew much about, but he couldn’t help but get excited as Casey gushed about it, holding tightly onto the treasured tech-hockey stick Donnie had gifted her, wearing a huge grin on her face.

The two humans and four turtles (disguised as humans, of course) were just entering the hockey rink. The hall to the auditorium was cold and echoey.

“I come here every other Friday. The regulars here know my face, and they fear it. It’s ‘cause they know I’ll decimate everyone in my path!” She pumped her fist as she spoke, a sinister grin on her face, before she caught herself and straightened out. “Well, I do until the rink’s supervisors kick me out for making a scene and being mean to children.”

“Don’t sweat it, Casey,” Donnie spoke up, “You’re not the only one whose been kicked out of establishments for scaring kids.”

“Uh huh, exactly!” April agreed a bit too eagerly, and Raph looked back to see the distant, traumatized look in her eyes, and he could tell she was remembering the screams of children and the  sinister laughter of animatronics at a certain pizza joint.

The six teens got to the rink’s auditorium, and put their bags down on the bleachers. There weren’t too many people around.

Mikey whistled. “This place is massive!”

As Raph put on a maroon hoodie and pulled on his skates, Casey rolled onto the rink, over to a huddle of teenagers wearing hockey gear. “Hey!”

One of the teenagers - a boy with messy brown hair covering his eyes - responded. “Oh, you again. Guys, look, it’s that crazy girl from last week.”

“The name is Cassandra Jones!” Casey pulled down the hockey mask she was wearing and held up her stick. “I’m challenging you to another round! Did you really think you’d escape my wrath?!”

The kids started laughing. “You challenge us every time we’re here, and you always lose. What makes today so different?”

Casey laughed. “Well, for one thing, I’ve got my own team now, so you better get ready to go crying to your mommy!”

The group hadn’t stopped laughing, even as Casey walked back to the bleachers. Raph raised a brow. “Uh, what was all of that?”

She looked down. “Those are my enemies,” She clenched her fists, “A group of jerks who manage to beat me every time I come here.”

Raph paused for a second. The look on her face was determined, but had a hint of sadness to it. Raph understood how she felt; wanting to fight, but getting beaten down time and time again. He’d realized a while ago that he didn’t have to do it alone; and neither did she.

Raph put an arm around Casey’s shoulders, and cupped a hand to his mouth, shouting to the teenagers from across the rink. “Hey, knuckleheads! You get ready for a match; you’re not just dealing with Cassandra Jones anymore! you’re dealing with the Mad Dogs, now!”

“Yeah, right!” One of the kids, a girl with a ponytail, shouts back.

He turned to face his brothers and April, who were sitting on the bleachers, their attention already on Raph from his shouting. “Hey, those guys over there are saying we’re gonna lose! What do we say to that?!”

“Oh ho ho, I like this energy!” Leo stood up on the bleachers, joining in the hype. April and Mikey stood up beside him.

“Yeah, you chumps aren’t even at our level!”

“Ya’ll ain’t seen nothing yet!”

Donnie stood up slowly, his arms crossed from the cold. “Yeah, we’ll definitely beat you! But-” He switched to his normal volume, “let’s not make promises we can’t keep.”

Raph dismissed him, and looked at Casey, who was smiling. Together, they were able to beat the Shredder. This would be a piece of cake.

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

“Are we done? My mom is here to pick me up,” One of the kids, a girl with pigtails, mentioned as she walked towards her belongings on the bleachers.

Raph was gasping for air from his spot on the cold ground. Hockey was hard. Like, really, really hard.

In hindsight, their loss made sense; this was the turtles and April’s first time playing hockey, and even Casey, who’d been playing since she was a kid, wasn’t able to beat these kids. They really were just that good.

“Is that all you’ve got?!” Leo had fallen in front of the goal, two huge purple bruises visible on his face; one on his forehead, and the other under his eye, popping out from his green skin and red birthmarks.  

Mikey was crying on his knees, while April patted his shell, cussing out one of the kids who she felt pushed him too hard. Even as the kid was walking away. “And another thing-”

Donnie lay flat nearby, looking like a purple stain on the white shiny floor. He was never good at sports, but he tried. Geez, it was almost more embarrassing, with just how hard he tried.

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

They found a vending machine, and after Raph gave Leo a cold soda can to hold over his bruises, he walked past Casey, sitting with her head in her hands.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and looked around to see if the others were watching. April, Mikey and Donnie were going off about losing the match, while Leo sat dejectedly in the corner, nursing his injuries. “Are you alright?”

She looked up, tears in her eyes, and her lower lip wobbling. She hastily rubbed at her face with her sleeve, her eyeliner smearing. “I’m...I’m fine.”

“Is this about us losing?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” She sighed. “It’s a lot of different things- It’s just…”

She trailed off, and Raph sat down next to her on the bleacher. He realized this had definitely been bubbling up for a while. If only he’d talked to her sooner.

“Ugh, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a success. Taking over the world was everything for me- helping the Foot, working for the Shredder, making that whole brownie pyramid-scheme. But now? I don’t have anything. I’ve hit rock bottom. Now, I’m stuck in a stupid rivalry with a bunch of kids in a hockey rink.”

She began to cry again. “What am I going to do? Am I just doomed to be a failure?”

“Just ‘cause you’re not taking over the world doesn’t make you a failure. Most people just stick to regular, everyday stuff and they turn out fine.”

“It’s not just about taking over the world,” Casey sighed. “I don’t have a purpose. No Clan, no commitments, no future. It’s like everything I do is a failure. I’m a failure.”

Raph felt himself start to tear up, too. What she was saying felt way too familiar. “You’re not the only one whose failed.”

“Huh?”

“My Pops told us we were supposed to die in order to protect the Dark Armor. We failed to do that, but we realized how messed up that was, and we decided to do our own thing. And it totally worked out for us, ‘cause we ended up destroying Shred-face once and for all.”

He stood, wiping the small tears from the corners of his eyes. “Think about it. So what that you don’t got a purpose? I get it, but your ‘purpose’ was handed to you by those Foot-faces. What do you wanna do? What do you wanna succeed at?”

Casey sat quietly for a few moments, thinking, and Raph feared that he might have said something hurtful. He was never as savvy with people as Leo or Mikey.

Then she spoke. “I spent all of my life trying to be the best, even if it meant being the biggest bad guy in the world. Now, I want to be the best good guy!”

Her expression softened. “I guess what I really want - I want to stop people who were like me once. I want to stop evil people who want to control others. But...how?”

Raph thought. Then, an idea struck him. “You and me can team up!”

“For what?”

“I was a vigilante for a little while. I mean, I used to be, but I guess since I was already part of a team, and with the whole Shredder thing, I just sort of stopped. But, since my bros are on hiatus, you and me could fight crime undercover!”

Casey was looking at her lap, her head bowed. Raph cleared his throat. “I mean, only if you wanna, it’s just a suggestion-”

“That sounds amazing.” Casey looked up at him in awe, her dark eyes glossy with unshed tears. Suddenly, she stands up, and pumps a fist into the air. “Raph and Casey, the most feared vigilante duo in all of New York!”

“Yeah, Go big or go home!”  Raph pounded his fist into his other hand in excitement.

“Oh me gosh, stop yelling!” The two look behind them to Leo, still holding the can to his face. He turned in the direction of his twin. “Donnie, get me another can! This one’s warm!”

Casey was giving him a big smile, a far cry from her previous mood. Raph smiled back. Finally, he’d be able to go out and fight crime again; and this time, he wouldn’t be at it alone.

[siriannatan]

Beeduo Oneshots - Technoblade and Foolish interjection #1

Technoblade spends a lot of his time napping. Naps were nice. No voices, no governments, no people trying to use him. Steve and all the other bears and wolfs were enough to keep the place safe from monsters. Between his naps, he would catch up on rare news with Philza, gathered more firewood, chucked some snow at Ranboo, remove some snow from the roofs. The longest he was up was when Quackity recruited him to help with the Egg, and as much as he didn't like the guy he didn't like the Egg even more. He just regretted they couldn't save everyone the eggheads lured in with that party.

That day Techno said 'hi' to Phil who seemed a bit distracted, and in a hurry, he said something about having to check something in Manberg. He would have to ask about it later. The plan for that day was to gather some firewood, he bid Philza farewell and went out with his axe, not his combat axe he got from Ranboo... It was weird that he was suddenly moving in with Tubbo, not that it was Techno's business, he was still part of the Syndicate and the last president of Manburg seemed to be very much against governments and formal wear on anyone but Ranboo.

It wasn't all that cold that day, for a cold snowy tundra it is, anyone not used to cold would have a bad time but Techno was used to it.

Foolish wasn't having a good time. After the trip to Tubbo's mansion, he made the genius decision to visit 'Philza', he wasn't looking for Phil, he was looking for Technoblade. Everyone was afraid of him and if Foolish managed to befriend the anarchist maybe they wouldn't mess with him and his building projects... Why was everyone living in snowy tundra's can't they live in a nice warm jungle or even better, a dessert. It was far too cold.

As far as wood gathering trips go this one wasn't so bad. Just half an hour was enough to gather enough wood, no lost monsters under the trees, hiding from the sun. Some wild wolves run away as soon as they saw him approach. On the way back, in the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of the sun reflecting off of something. Turning around he saw a person? Should the sun be reflecting off of people's faces? Walking closer he poked the person with a long stick. No response. It was a person, with golden shining skin, both his piglin side and the voices were screaming in his head, conflicting, agreeing. Gold! GoLd! EEEE Help. help. Foolish... Shark-man, Blood for the blood god. EEEE GOLD help Technoblade just pushed it all to the back of his mind. With a heavy sigh, he dropped the bundle of firewood he carried, took off his cape, wrapped it around the person, threw them over his shoulder and after picking up his wood again began the march towards his a little more distant than he thought buildings, plumes of smoke from chimneys and fluffy warm Steve. He really should get over how tall Ranboo is and stop wearing high heeled shoes. At least the golden person wasn't heavy. Techno soft GOLD EMERALDS SOFT Technosoft Philza PHILZA EEEEEEE At least no one was home to mock him in person as he came back with ab unconscious person.

The last thing Foolish remembered from before he passed out was cold. What he felt now was warm, fluffy and was tickling his nose "Achoo".

"Let's hope the cause was Steve and not cold," he hears an unfamiliar voice. It wasn't hard to see who it was, the room was small and full of furniture, Chests, alchemical stands a table and two chairs. Very shabby craftsmanship, Foolish was close to screaming at how simplistic it was. By that table sat the Blade.

Long pink hair let loose reached way past his waist adorned with a golden crown decorated with gems. Narrow thin shoulders devoid of the red cape he heard about, high heeled knee-high boots. Every part of Foolish screamed that this man was dangerous. Especially the red eyes focused entirely on Foolish, he could feel them moving between his forehead and eyes. Foolish didn't want to look him in the eye, instead, he focused on the emerald earring hanging from his ear.

"Steve?" Foolish asked. He could barely feel his limbs.

"My emotional support bear," The Technoblade said, little pig ears in his hair twitched as his jaw pointer a little to Foolish's right. With barely a move of his head, Foolish noticed what was the fluffy thing keeping him warm. A fully grown polar bear, softly breathing as it slept, "he likes ear scratches, I blame Philza and Ranboo for that. I'm Technoblade, but you probably know that," the host introduced himself as Foolish slowly moved his arm to scratch the bear behind his tiny ears, discovering that Thechnoblade's famous cape was currently wrapped around him, helping him keep warm.

"Foolish G. The God of Immortality, Sky and Oceans," he introduced himself, "I've indeed heard about you, Technoblade."

"And what is a god doing in my little anarchist commune?" The blade asked suddenly getting up and moving out of Foolish's eyesight, the right of his vision was just Steve, who was indeed rather happy with behind ear scratches he was receiving.

"Looking for help?" Foolish had nothing but two of his lives to lose, he could as well say it.

"Is there an anti-god government here now?" Technoblade almost sounded amused.

"Not really, it's just... even though I'm a god I'm not good at fighting, I swore off my violent days and people are kind of taking advantage of that, messing with my hard work, with me..."

"And you thought you'd ask me to kill them for you?" that sounded rather threatening.

"Not kill, just hang out around from time to time to spook them? Like if they think we're friends they might leave me alone?" This conversation was going bad way "I can... build something for you? I'm good at building. You saw Tubbo and Ranboo's mansion? I build it. If you need like... a separate house for Steve? Orafakemarriagetoavoidtaxes?" the last part was said very quickly and not necessarily was meant to say.

"Haeh?" Technoblade looked shocked, for the first time since he woke up Foolish saw him lose confidence. For a split second, he wasn't that threatening.

Once the confusion passed Technoblade laughed, loudly, and for a while. Steve gave his master (?was he ever tamed or did he enjoy the warmth and free food?) a puzzled look.

"That beats everything anyone ever used to get me to help them, I haven't laughed that much in a while. A marriage for taxes? There are no taxes here and I pity anyone who would try to tax me o my friends." That was it Foolish was going to lose his second life while trying to protect himself. "Achoo," suddenly the Blade sneezed. "Sorry, so why now? You've been here for a while."

"Ponk moved into my dessert, build a big red eyesore and put a cursed pumpkin on my head. At first, I was planning to take Sam out for a date but apparently, he isn't safe, at least that's what Tubbo said when I went for advice to him."

Techno laughed a bit more. "Why Tubbo? I never heard of him having any dating experiences."

"He and Ranboo are married aren't they?" Foolish asked still petting Steve. Techno's confused face was enough to answer "You had no idea?! It makes sense why they would... with Tubbo being a former president... I messed up. Please don't tell them I told you, knowing Tubbo he'll want another mansion, I can't do it, I hate chandeliers because of the last one I build him!"

"I won't tell them." Techno seemed to be confused at this reaction "I had my suspicions anyway, they spend too much time together for me to not be suspicious. What is your stand on governments?" the pink-haired warrior asked standing up and again disappearing behind Steve.

"Don't like them," Foolish said with a sigh of relief. "I destroyed a few back in my God of Death days..." he smiled fondly at old memories. No one would dare to put a pumpkin on him back then.

"Why did you stop fighting?" Techno asked giving Foolish a mug of tea. "I'm out of sugar, sorry. I would ask Phil for some but he went out and Ranboo is with his husband. Don't feel like going through their stuff."

"There is a limit to how much bloodshed one can handle, how many friends you can die because of your action, how many towns you can raise to the ground," he muttered looking at the dark liquid, it was warm, warm was nice, "I wonder, what is the Blood God's limit?"

"What is any other man's limit?" Techno said, "I know people call me that, I don't mind, it keeps some away  on its own, but in the end, I'm just a man, I may not age but I can still be killed."

To say Foolish was shocked would be an understatement. He took nearly on everyone Dream brought to his realm, almost alone not counting an army of Dogs and Philza. He fought them amongst a rain of TNT and Wither's. That was beyond anything any mortal was supposed to be able to do. "I think there is a God who very much enjoys your actions," he said sipping the tea, it was bitter but warm. Steve was snoring again.

"You were there at the Red Ball of whatever?" Technoblade asked ignoring what he had said.

"Yes, I...."

"I'm sorry we couldn't stop them earlier," that was surprising. hearing the most feared person apologise...

"It's okay. I'm not a fan of dying but it's okay, everyone else survived and that's all that matters, the Egg cult is scattered to the four winds, some have left it even. In the end, I'd call the day a win."

"I see..."

For a while, they sat in silence, crackling of fire and Steve's snoring being the only noises in the room until Technoblade sneezed again.

"Do you want your cape back?" Foolish asked, "Steve's plenty warm."

Techno just nodded as he was passed the garment. "I take it you don't like cold."

"Not really, I prefer my summer home, it's in the desert, it's warm there."

"I see... do people often miss with your building projects?"

"Not recently, I don't think many people know where I live and I like it that way. Nice builds don't last long in these lands. But I'm glad I'm here. I made some new friends meet some old friends. It's not all bad here."

Techno just nodded, He looked a bit more like a fearsome warrior now that he had his cape on. "So you need help keeping it that way?"

"And maybe keeping people from requesting outlandish stuff, if possible." Now that the main subject was back the atmosphere turned awkward again.

"So I'll just need to hang out around you sometimes, glare at people if they bother you and be an 'I'm sorry I have a plan with Techno' excuse?"

"Yes?" Foolish muttered into his mug.

"Any relations I need to be aware of? Friends, enemies, family members?" Techno asked.

"Puffy is kind of my father, Eret I used to know a long time ago, we once faked a marriage, destroyed some cults together, doesn't seem to remember me, Tubbo... we're kind of cousins and Ranboo is his husband... most other people I'm rather neutral towards, don't like eggheads... Sam creeps me out lately... Tubbo said he cut off Ponk's arm, don't know if it's true. Dream... Dream is in prison so I guess we won't have to worry about him. Dream XD tends to avoid me." Foolish never really thought about his connections to people on the server. "I'd rather we not cause much bodily harm unless necessary."

Technoblade just nodded, voices were rather quiet ever since Mr God of Immortality Sea and Sky woke up, it was like they were coming to him through a lot of water, and they were much less intensive. That was a nice change. "Okay, so I help you and you build my dogs and bears a nicer kennel? I don't mind what Phil build but the herd outgrew it rather quickly. I hope we don't have to be too showy about it." he finally said.

"I hope you're not agreeing because of what happened at the Ball," Foolish looked at him rather seriously, at least as much as someone buried in blankets, leaning on and petting a bear could be.

"I'm doing it so Quackity stops flirting with me, and to gave bragging rights over Dream," Techno said mate factly, "Look at me chat, I have a Husband and the Teletubby is in prison..." Techno forced a joke out "a warning, I owe Dream a favour. That and voices are quieter near you, is it some part of you being a God?"

Foolish blinked, he didn't know many people with voices like Technoblade's. "I don't think so, I can bring down lightning, enrage the sea, cause sandstorms, nothing to do with voices."

"Hmm, it's getting dark." Technoblade noticed, "want to stay here or should I walk you back to your dessert?"

"I can stay here with Steve and start on that new kennel tomorrow," Foolish shrugged, he wasn't ready for another trek through the snow, "We can go to Eret when coming back to do Ranboo and Tubbo and sign wedding papers."

"Okay, I'll try to figure out somewhere to sleep for you," Techno said with a bit of a laugh at the last part, "and you better tell me about those governments and cults and cities you wrecked."

[apomaro-mellow]

Powers at Work

Read on AO3

Snoke looked upon the trooper before him, his mouth curling up into a smile as he felt the indignation boiling inside Kylo Ren for having to stand side-by-side with this one.

"Remove your helmet. What is your designation?"

The irony of being asked to show his face while also reciting that which gave him anonymity was not lost on the young man. But he obeyed without hesitation.

"FN-2187."

"Tell me boy", Snoke addressed Kylo Ren this time. "What do you feel from him?"

"Nothing", he answered. His own mask giving the illusion of cold indifference. But behind it was a petulant expression. And Snoke could feel it, as well as the particular sort of energy the emanated from the storm trooper.

"He has Force potential. It is weak. But it is there."

Neither of the young men said anything about that. Kylo Ren was slowly simmering from petulance to seething while FN-2187 didn't really know what any of this meant. He knew little of the Force. Just that it was part of some strange technique that the Knights of Ren and Supreme Leader Snoke utilized. There were a lot of rumors about what it could and couldn't do.

"He will become a knight", Snoke continued. "I see great things in his future."

From then on, FN-2187's life had flipped on its head in some ways, but had mostly remained the same. He still had to get up early, dress in a uniform, wear a mask, and go through training that pushed him to the limits of his mind and body.

But one significant change was the way he was taught to process his emotions. Stormtroopers were meant to be unfeeling and simply follow orders. As a Knight of Ren, he still had to follow orders without question. Every time frustration and anger built up inside of him though, he was told to harness it. To channel it into an energy that he could use. Mostly for destruction.

And it felt good.

Shooting with a blaster and using other weapons had their charm. But there was something cathartic about using your own hands, even though he wasn't technically touching anything. When FN-2187 reached out and grasped the neck of a Resistance fighter, he felt it as if his hand was actually cutting off their air supply.

With every insurgence that was squashed, he grew more powerful. And with more power, he became more capable. It didn't take long for him to forget the troopers he had known. Why should he remember them anyway? They were nothing but cogs in a machine. FN-2187 was still a cog himself, but a much bigger one than he had been. And in the end, their goal was the same - to destroy.

The other knights believed the same, having given themselves to the cult of Ren that cared not for right and wrong, only what they wanted. FN-2187 believed that there was no right and wrong. If there was good, how could the First Order ever come into such great power. If there was justice, then how would it punish all of the crimes committed by the vast armies?

There was no hope, no righteous glory to strive for, no happy ending where the bad guys lost. There was only those with power and those without. And if he could use that power to break, to wreck, to crumble, then why shouldn't he?

It wasn't like he was going to get punished for doing wrong, so what incentive did he have to do right?

He wasn't like Kylo Ren. FN-2187's powers within the Force had grown. And he could feel the turmoil within Kylo Ren like it was his own. It was why FN-2187 was glad that they didn't spend too much time together. Eventually, one of the other knights had told him the story; that Kylo Ren had originally trained under a fledgling jedi order under Luke Skywalker before tearing it all down and succumbing to the dark side.

And that explained the torrent that raged inside of him. Some part of him was still clinging to hope. Hope for what, FN-2187 didn't know. Maybe he wanted to be saved and leave the First Order. Maybe he wanted something more than this. Whatever it was, FN-2187 wished that part of their training included learning to hold things in. But they weren't taught much about the spiritual side of the Force outside using hatred to fuel them.

It was supposed to be a mission as easy as any other. They had gotten intel that the Resistance was harboring a very important piece of information.

"We are to find the one who has it. And take it", Kylo Ren said as they were en route.

No one asked what the information was or why it was so important. But FN-2187 was curious. And Kylo Ren's mind was always such an open book. So he flipped through the pages and found that what was so important was a droid with a map to Luke Skywalker.

"GET OUT!", Kylo Ren barked, pushing FN-2187 out of his head.

"Don't keep yourself so open then", he said in reply with a shrug.

FN-2187 had seen other things floating on the surface along with that tidbit. An old man's face, probably Skywalker himself, as well as a few other faces. None that he recognized of course. But he at least understood why the Knights of Ren were being put to such a task.

Luke Skywalker was a dangerous man and had the power to end everything. FN-2187 had heard the legend of Skywalker. But like most things, it was impossible to tell what was actually true and what was just gossip, exaggerations, or stories to soothe children.

When they landed on the planet, stormtroopers had already begun terrorizing the people that lived there. FN-2187 felt nothing as he watched innocent people get gunned down. Because if he felt something, he would have to admit that this was all wrong. And if this was all wrong, that meant there had to be a right side. But there was no right or wrong, only strong and weak.

The Resistance was full of weaklings, those that clung to loft ideals and died because of them.

So imagine his surprise when one of these weaklings, the ones trying to uphold some twisted form of justice and good, snuck up on him and landed a blow on his helmet, nearly knocking him to the ground.

FN-2187 had been checking one of the homes for the Resistance fighter. He had sensed something behind him but only at the very last second. It was why he was able to get away without the full brunt of the attack hitting him squarely on the head. As it was, he only had a crack in his helmet. The fighter closed the distance between them, probably thinking that they could corner him in such a small space.

The amount of room stopped being a hindrance when FN-2187 used the Force to push him back, crumbling one of the walls in the process. The fighter lay limp on the ground on top of the rubble. Fn-2187 approached and narrowly dodged the blaster shot that came at him. A last ditch attempt from the fighter before having a strong boot step on his wrist. The crack in the helmet crew, and a piece fell off. That last shot having done a bit more damage to it.

"Any last words?", FN-2187 asked.

The fighter coughed up a bit of blood and sounded like he was choking before he could answer. "You've...you've got...got a pretty eye... for a bastard."

He gave pause at that. "...Just one?", he asked, bending over.

"Well I can't see the other one, so I can only imagine."

Poe Dameron truly hadn't expected such a pretty brown eye when he shot off that chunk of helmet. Honestly, he'd been hoping to shoot right through their head and get a chance to escape. But now that it looked like he was at his end, why not be honest? It wasn't like this guy would repeat his last words. So no one on either side would know that Poe had complimented the man who had killed him.

He took in shallow breaths, waiting for the final blow. How would it come? Just a shot? Would his skull be crushed under a boot? Or would this one be using the same laser sword as their oh so charming leader?

FN-2187 lifted his foot off of the fighter's wrist and knelt down next to him. He had to know one thing. Just one thing before he left this man for dead.

"Why do you fight?"

The immediate response was laughter. "We fight because your side didn't give us a choice. We fight in defense of everything we love."

FN-2187 could have laughed himself at such a cliche response. Then an idea occurred to him. Something that he had thought about from time to time but had never imagined he'd get a chance at. If wanton destruction in the name of desire was the way of the Ren, then what glorious ecstasy would it be to destroy something as grand and enormous as the First Order?

"Play dead", FN-2187 said.

He dragged the fighter by the arm, walking towards one of the many piles of bodies that had begun to accumulate. Thankfully the other knights were deeper in the village, searching for the droid and its owner. Keeping his half-covered gaze forward, FN-2187 continued. Being a knight had the perk that any trooper he passed by quickly put their head down and pretended to work harder than they already were.

He counted himself lucky that they got as far as the gangplank before someone called out to him. Not looking back, he threw the fighter deeper into the ship, blasted the trooper before he could report and hit the button to lift up the plank.

"You fly?", FN-2187 asked.

With a groan, the other man got to his feet. "I fly!", he exclaimed with a lightness that made it easy to forget he was injured. He put himself in the pilot's seat and got the ship going. FN-2187 felt out for the other knights, especially for Kylo Ren. He felt confusion most of all. And then numbness. And then they were too far away to feel much of anything.

He stopped looking back and only looked forward; to the Resistance that he'd be joining, and the pilot he had saved that was his ticket in.

[revchainsaw]

Bumblebee (2018)

Good Evening worshippers, and welcome! Today the Cult of Cult goes a little more mainstream than usual. It's been a while since i've tackled a big Hollywood superhero film. But I do believe that these sorts of films will be remembered fondly my small groups of people in the future, especially the smaller films that are being overshadowed by the big bad MCU, films like 2018s Bumblebee.

The Messsage

Bumblebee was originally released as a prequel to the Transformers franchise that had started all the way back in 2007. However, reboots had really hit the market as a way to breath new life into struggling franchises, and the Transformers series had already gone to just about every absurd extreme you could imagine. No changes were made to the movie as it was released, but with it's more childish and heartfelt tone, and a new aesthetic that was softer, smoother, and all around just generally more pleasing to the eye, I think it was a wise choice to rebrand Bumblebee as a new beginning.

Our story is of two friends from two very different worlds and how they came together. Our first character is Bumblebee, then known as B- number sign/it doesn't really matter. Not yet Bumblebee is a soldier set with securing a safe location for the Autobots to regroup and make their home as they suffer a pretty serious defeat on cybertron at the hands of the tyrannical Decepticons. Optimus Prime, here again voiced by Peter Cullen and looking so much more like himself, assigns this task to Bumblebee promising him that they will meet him there when the time comes. Then Optimus fucks off for the rest of the run time making way for our little hero.

Bumblebee lands on Earth and is immediately set upon by John Cena and his military goon squad. It probably would have been wise for Bumblebee to avoid John Cena but in his defense, he couldn't see him. Hardy har har. In his attempt to flee his voice box is damaged, he seeks sanctuary by taking the form of a run down little VW bug, and suffers from amnesia.

Then we have Charlie. Charlie is not like other girls. She likes cars, all the retro music, which wasn't retro when the movie takes place, so I'm supposed to just think she's a rocker but it kinda seems like she'll listen to just about anything. I think in 2018 liking Motorhead and The Smiths (who are used ad nauseum in this movie) is perfectly common, but I feel like in the 80s that was a much different and much older attitude to take.

Anyway Charlie's poor family lives in a super fucking nice house and are poor because the dialogue keeps insisting they are so it must be true despite all the shit they have that actually poor people would sell blood and teeth to attain, but hell, this is Hollywood and Hollywood poor is like regular people upper middle class. Charlies family is so poor that instead of giving her a one time graduation/birthday present to buy a part for a car she already has, they just give her a moped, She also spends all her time at a pull apart where the manager (who might be her uncle that wasn't super clear) is willing to just give her a Volkswagen so I don't understand why she didn't already have the project car up and running. Whatever, it's a plot contrivance. All you need to know is that Charlie is tenacious and hard around the edges cuz her dad is dead and she's not yet mature enough to process that in a healthy way. Maybe her character arch will teach her to let others in, we'll have to find out.

There's also a wacky nerd named Memo, and some bad guys, and John Cena. They are all also pretty archetypal and contrived and don't really do anything of note that isn't just filling a beat that this kind of movie needs to walk. Charlie starts Bumblebee up, discovers he's a robot and the two begin to bond. Charlie learns to make a friend, and bumblebee is learning about himself. They get into hijinks and get revenge on a bully girl who makes Regina George look like a saint, she pretty much only picks on Charlie exclusively for having a dead dad.

The moment Bumblebee is woken back up, some technology goof em up that both he and Charlie are unaware of brings two Decepticon baddies into the picture. I don't remember their names, but since I love The Venture Brothers let's say they can be "Jet Boy and Jet Girl". Jet Boy and Jet Girl are sometimes cars, sometimes various flying military vehicles, and they make friends with the deep state and plan to get all the adrenochrome from all the orphans, or just to go find Bumblebee and beat his ass good cuz their bad guys. Let me tell y'all though, Jet Boy and Jet Girl are so bad that they don't even care that the government is listening when they reveal that they are planning on bringing a Decepticon Invasion and after they rough up Bumblebee real good they are going to destroy all life on this planet. So they start by killing a military scientist.

John Cena is after Bumblebee and he's homies with Jet Boy and Jet Girl until the military scientist butt dials him and he hears the evil plan. John Cena goes from heel to face and helps Bumblebee and Charlie save the day. It's a giant CG clusterfuck climax a la any superhero film in the last 10 years and I basically stopped watching. BumbleBee pulls a Hellraiser on Jet Boy, and then he hits Jet Girl with a freaking boat. Charlie uses her diving skills do dive down and save him, but he's a Giant Robot and he was okay and it was literally pointless for her to to except as a way to show that her character has completed her arch by doing the thing that was representative of her connection with her lost father.

Bumblebee turns into the Camaro from the first movie, meets up with Optimus prime, and the stage is set for this prequel to squeeze more prequels out. So it wasn't very creative, but was it bad? Let's find out.

Please Stand to receive the Benediction.

Best Aspect: Transform the Franchise

Bumblebee was directed by Travis Knight of Laika fame and it shows. This movie marks a stylistic change in the transformers franchise, as in it doesn't look like utter dog shit, but it also represents in many ways a tonal shift. It does hold on to a lot of gross sleaze that has unfortunately been forcibly jammed into the DNA of the franchise but it also attempts to be a more heartfelt entry. The characters of Bumblebee might all be sort of a waste of time, but at least they are doing something with emotions, even if the emotions of the characters are only explored as deeply as a children's cartoon I'm glad they are there. In the previous installments the only thing the characters did between running from action piece to seizure inducing action piece was drool over underage girls like a bunch of chimpanzees at the facility where they test experimental E.D. meds. It was nice to see that at least somewhat tampered. This transformers movie feels more like it's for kids and young teenagers, and strangely that more friendly tone makes for a much less juvenile product.

Worst Aspect: Remember I Love the 80s from the 2000s

I hope you really like Stranger Things. I do, but because Stranger Things was so successful it' s going to be everywhere. Not true Stranger Things just 80s nostalgia porn. This 80s nostalgia is going to be forced on you whether you like it or not, and it's not going to be fun. It's gonna be in your shows, in your music, in your Sunday like Bacon in 2010. It's that or Marvel Franchise Brand Whedonisms. Bumblebee is that brave movie that says, "Why not both?" It would seem fitting that a property as quintessentially 80s as Transformers should feel completely comfortable doing a period piece set in the 80's but it's so fucking half hearted it's depressing. It wasn't done to appreciate the roots of the IP, it was done to cash in on a trend and it feels it. All they did was throw up a date and insufferably force an 80s soundtrack down your throat as if that was enough to convince you that this movie needed to be set during this time. Other than that you could have told me this film was set in 2007 and I couldn't tell you any different.

Best Character: Charlie's an Angel

I liked Charlie. Sure her Arc is predictable, her taste is dumb, and she isn't exactly a master of her own destiny to any degree. But at least she is a woman in a transformers movie who's got something going on. Sure she's defined entirely by grief, but that sure is better than pretending that being able to work on cars is a feminist character trait instead of a weird fetish thing. They certainly do that thing with Charlie, but at least it's not the only thing they throw at the wall. Bumblebee is by no means out of the woods in this department, but it garners a lot of goodwill for trying. Like a racist uncle who just started his journey out of ignorance, but hasn't yet realized he has to stop asking mortifying questions to the barista at Starbucks. Okay, maybe that's an extreme metaphor. I'm saying that perhaps Charlie is not a great character but she's a great character for a Transfomers movie.

Worst Character: It's JOOOOHHHNNNN CEEEENA!!!!

Why is John Cena in this movie? I don't hate the guy, but his character seems pointless. You could remove him from the movie completely and replace him with any one of the random military goons at any point and it changes nothing. What was with that dumb salute at the end? It seems like they put him in this movie in post and it was just to pump up cast list. I wish he was given anything to work with. I can't remember his characters name, and it's not like John Cena did a bad job, I was just annoyed every time they kept giving him hero shots. I felt like I was watching a trailer for a different movie.

Best Actor: Optimal Primo!

Every time Peter Cullen speaks I want to listen. There's a reason they haven't had Chris Pratt or somebody with a bigger name come in and take over the role at this point. He's why the audience keep coming back. Peter Cullen IS Optimus Prime, and there's no changing that. He also wins twice. He's the best actor in the movie AND he's barely in the movie. Good call Peter.

Worst Actor: Mean Girls 2, Meaner and Girlier

I don't want to be cruel so I'm not going to go into to much detail, but there's an actress in this film who's performance is so mustache twirlingly evil and stupid that it ruined my suspension of disbelief when i knew going in that i was about to endure a 2 hour toy commercial about robots that turn into cars. Beldar Conehead was a more convincing human being than Tina.

Best Effect: Goo Be Gone

I really appreciated when the bad guys shot the government nerd into a blast of snot. That was pretty fun for me. Best part of the movie hands down.

Worst Effect: Live Action?

Bumblebee is a cartoon. It's a great looking cartoon but it doesn't sell itself that way. If we were doing a Roger Rabbit thing I'd have no gripes. However, I think CG is just getting worse. I'm criticizing this and it's still lightyears better than the previous entry's on the franchise. No transformation or fight sequence in Bumble Bee had me straining to make sense of what I was looking at. I think it was a great idea to start using some basic shapes and outlines to these characters, and return somewhat to their 80s designs. But at certain points, especially when there were no humans in the shot, i was pretty convinced I was watching Clone Wars. There may not be anyway around this, as the Transformers concept might not be able to be pulled off in any more effective manner. It's a minor gripe, but I just didn't think it looked like anything other than a very expensive cartoon, and in this franchise that's a compliment, because it least it looked like SOMETHING!

Best Scene: Space Opera

I am not a Transformers fan. I missed the boat on the cartoon as a kid. I would sometimes catch it at friends houses but I was more into Batman, Star Wars, and Ninja Turtles. By the time I came onto the scene the world had moved on to Beast Wars. I did one day arbitrarily decide that my favorite Transformer was Sound Wave. He looked great in this. I am a big fan of the return to form with a lot of the character designs in this. They really did keep the things that worked from the other adaptations, and they are steadily removing the things that didn't. For this reason, the scenes on Cybertron, particularly the battle with Soundwave (i prefer for personal reasons) looked great and were exciting to watch. I remember thinking Cybertron used to look like a Marilyn Manson shot a music video from inside to dumpster. This is so much better.

Worst Scene: Blocking the Box

There's a scene in Bumblebee where Charlie's family decides the best way to save their daughter was to cause a pile up of vehicles in an intersection, and it's pure contrived writing that saved any character in that sequence from being killed in a horrific traffic accident. It was stupid, played for laughs, and it wasn't exciting as much as it was anxiety inducing. I also thought that there was no reason the covert military group covering up extraterrestrial life wouldn't just disappear this family of fucking morons in their little piece of shit car. The logic of the scene was just so childish like, "No they won't hit me, I'm a good person."

Summary

Bumblebee may be remembered fondly in a decade. I think especially if the Transformers franchise were to end here. It didn't get the publicity of the other films, and that really is a shame. For my money, this was the best Transformers movie so far. I was very tempted to give Bumblebee a C, it does just enough to right what was wrong from the other movies to make me appreciate all that work. This movie has heart, and if you are at all into Transformers then l think you should see it. It's still pretty stupid, and pretty basic. It's not offering anything new to the genre, and it feels like a commercial for more movies. I really wish we could just get movies that want to tell a story. I thought it over and decided that it wasn't fair not to grade Bumblebee on it's own merits. Bumblebee is substantially better than the films that preceded it, but that's not saying a lot, when the films that preceded it are joyless exercises in self abuse.

Overall Grade: D

[prinz-alexiares]

Deputy Blair R. O’Connell

I’ve had this OC since, like, 2018 but I was too lazy to assemble her design together so here she is lol

BASIC INFO

Name: Blair Rhiannon O’Connell

Nickname: Deputy/Dep, Blair, Ree (only by family)

Age: 26

Birthdate: January 19th

Gender: Female

Ethnicity/Nationality: Irish-Welsh-American

Height/Weight: 172 cm / 68 kg

Blood Type: B

Occupation: USAF Marksman (former), Deputy Sheriff of Hope County 

Hair Color: Black with red-brown undertone

Eye Color: Grey

Likes:

Winter

Guns ‘N Roses

Rain

Open nature and mountains

Spicy food

Canine animals

Warm bath

.50 cal firearms

Dislikes:

Sweets

Summer

Crowded places

Being teased/played with

Shotgun

Empty desert

Hobbies:

Outdoor related activities such as fishing, hunting, camping, and hiking

Looking at animal memes

Randomly wandering outside or sit somewhere in the forest and do nothing

Reading peculiar books

Petting all the dogs in the ‘hood

Fixing/cleaning/modifying her weapons while blasting classic rock songs on the radio

Soaking herself in a bathtub full of warm water

Personality:

Blair has a bold style and vibe, and she carries a rather thuggish demeanor. She looks and acts more masculine, although she also shows her femininity in a lot of ways as well.

She is somewhat reckless, often acts first before she thinks. She introspectively sees this as her weakness, as she repeatedly made bad decisions in the past that negatively affected people around her. But on a brighter side, she comes out as an ‘action’ person who gets things done. It also makes her seem more courageous and reliable than most people.

She can get very selfish. A lot of decisions she makes would consider her ideals stronger than anything else. But the good side is that she always wants to do the ‘right thing’ by helping others or solve problems, although the result still relies heavily on her own judgement.

She describes herself as ‘childish and mature at the same time’, hinting at her recklessness and self-centered tendencies as being ‘childish’, while her natural leader and calculating nature as the ‘mature’ side. Her service in the USAF had helped her to polish her leadership and logical thinking skills, although they sometimes are hindered by her emotions.

Five Songs in Her Playlist:

Metallica - Nothing Else Matters

Guns ‘N Roses - November Rain

Queens of The Stone Age - Make It Wit Chu

Guns ‘N Roses - Paradise City

Radiohead - High and Dry

‘GET TO KNOW THIS FELLA BETTER’ SECTION

Childhood

Blair was born in Boston, Massachusetts, to a devoted Catholic family as an only child. Her business consultant father was an immigrant from Ireland, and her teacher mother was a Welsh-American. They enrolled her into all-girls Catholic schools throughout her elementary and a half of her junior high-school years. However, that didn’t stop her from developing interest in hobbies more commonly enjoyed by boys. She enjoyed baseball, soccer, wall climbing, skateboarding, and plenty of other outdoor activities. She also made friends with boys around her neighborhood and used to walk her dogs with them as well.

During her school years, she was very competitive at school and very confident with herself. She liked presenting her work, actively asking and answering questions during lessons, and she was becoming more and more critical about her surroundings. Her teachers disliked her boldness, as it was seen as a sign of disobedience. They tried to shut her down by treating her differently than her other peers; giving her more disadvantages and having her voice ignored in the classrooms. Young Blair got discouraged and frustrated that she threw a lot of tantrums and started to become less and less compromising when she was faced with problems. She then began to show her violent tendencies as she repeatedly involved in fistfights and physical bullying. Her parents were mad at her once she was given detention from school, but upon learning the truth, they moved her to a mixed, secular private school.

However, her violent tendencies were never addressed properly thus carried until later in her life.

Before Eden’s Gate

Blair was first introduced to open nature, firearms, and hunting when she celebrated winter holiday at her grandfather’s place in Montana. He was a Vietnam War veteran, and through him she learned about the old M1903 Springfield and Winchester Model 70 for the first time. Blair had been visiting him almost every winter holiday since she was 13, learning all the stuff about guns and hunting. She was very fascinated and inspired by her grandfather that she planned to follow in his footsteps to live as a hunter.

But her metropolitan parents were against her ideas, which disappointed her. They later discussed her future and agreed upon a condition that Blair would return to formal school, taking defense studies, and/or enlisting herself in the military or police department. She did enlist to the USAF, spending about 4-5 years in service. She was in the marksman course and tasked as sniper for an Advanced Designated Marksman team in the Middle-East. She was known to be a formidable marksman with plenty of kill records. Although she didn’t experience much combat, it was enough for her to see how complex and dangerous things were, and killing people because she was told to do so wasn’t a pleasure. She also lost her teammate once; a spotter, shot by an enemy sniper.

Once she got home, she spilled the surprising news to her parents that she quit the military. She tried to seek redemption from the extreme guilt she brought home from the war. She went to Montana and stayed in her late grandfather’s cabin while thinking about what to do next. She then applied to several police and sheriff offices in Montana, wishing she’d make things up by protecting people as a police officer. Not long after, she got accepted in a sheriff office located in a remote county, telling her that they’re in dire need of someone capable of handling civil unrest situations. She wondered why, and chose to go.

PEG Turmoil

Blair tried to make peace with her past, but being involved in PEG turmoil forced her to relive her past instead. At first, seeing no way out, she decided to play along; rescuing resistance members, destroying PEG infrastructures, and becoming the pawn for the local residents’ revenge against the cult. But the more people she killed, the more destruction she created, the more frustrated she became. She started to put the Seeds’ words into her consideration. She also spoke to some of the locals who wished there would be another way to deal with the Peggies instead of going all out civil war.

She is stuck between acknowledging that the cult is probably right, that what she’s done is a severe crime and makes her no different than the cult, but she can’t leave behind the people and everything she has been fighting for.

Relationships:

Joseph Seed: The man just feels unsettling for her. Like there is something about him that makes her guts tell her how he is a trustworthy person. But her brain tells her he’s a psychopath who murders everyone to get his way with the world he resents. She hasn’t figured out whether she can trust his words or not.

John Seed: She thinks of him as a typical upper-class man with enormous wealth and power in possession who likes to exploit those who are more inferior than him. He has a superiority complex, perhaps, and Blair has heard about what happened between him and his adoptive family. She also knows his ‘obsession’ towards her, and she prefers to use it as a weapon to taunt him.

Jacob Seed: The Seed she can relate to the most, but also feels like an intense rival of hers. She has complicated feelings about him; she respects him. His values and views make sense to a certain extent, but she can’t deny that he IS a war criminal and he must be held responsible for all the horrible shit he has done. But after all the destruction she created, she comes into terms that they both are of the same kind after all. However, she won’t be intensely facing him off if not for the brainwashing trials and his hunting rituals.

Faith Seed: She feels nothing but pity towards her. She has heard what Joseph has done to her, and what happened to the previous ‘Faiths’. She treats Faith as nothing more than Joseph’s pawn, who probably has no freedom in making any decision at all.

Trivia:

Her name ‘Blair’ is of Scottish-Gaelic origin. It means ‘plain’, ‘field’, or ‘battlefield’, while her middle name ‘Rhiannon’ is of old Celtic origin which means ‘divine queen’. Her surname ‘O’Connell’ is a common Irish surname which means ‘wolf’ or ‘hound’. 

When her hair isn’t tied up, it has medium length that almost reaches her shoulders.

She equips red and grey-checkered MBP .50 with cylinder suppressor, cherry-painted silenced M60, red-painted silenced SMG-11, and a red-painted RPG. When she isn’t in her stealthy mood, she packs Jacob’s rifle and M249.

She has had a smoking habit since high school. She stopped smoking for a while during her service in USAF, but continued after she quit the military. Her favorite cigarette is Lucky Strike.

She is addicted to eyeliner.

She wears her military dog tag as a memorabilia.

Her type of man is someone who can tame and handle her ‘chaotic side’.

Unlike her family, she isn’t religious.

She believes that she is sterile, that’s why she feels like less of a woman.

I want to add some more details but shit isn’t this a freaking long post. I’ll just update them later. Procrastination is the key to better original character design.