#wait til i get over

[sinceileftyoublog]

Durand Jones & Kara Jackson Live Show Review: 5/9, Lincoln Hall, Chicago

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Even if you’re familiar with the retro stylings of Durand Jones & The Indications, Wait Til I Get Over (Dead Oceans) is a reintroduction. The solo debut for Jones is inspired by his roots in Hillaryville, Louisiana, a town established as part of reparations to previously enslaved Black folks, and it sees him grappling with his biographical history while gaining a greater sense of self. Contextualized in the duality of the South--the beauty of the landscapes and the simultaneous institutional racism that’s devastated it--Jones’ record traverses a swath of Black music, from soul and rock and roll to R&B and gospel. With spoken word interludes, hymnals, prayers, and laments, all backed by guitar, bass, keys, and drums, he’s provided a contemporary classic.

Playing his first solo show in Chicago on Tuesday at Lincoln Hall, Jones brought many of the album’s players with him, including drummer Ben Lumsdaine, guitarist Drake Ritter, keyboardist Matt Romy, and bassist Glenn Myers. They gave all the songs on Wait Til I Get Over the “Lord Have Mercy” treatment. On that first single from the record, Jones sings, “Can you see me in those sad, smiling eyes?” emphasizing the further contradictions within himself, his desire to overcome by keeping on. Similarly, it was the celebratory aspects of the music that shone live, the raw guitars and slinky bass and Jones’ dancing. He let out cathartic James Brown-level screams during “I Want You”, a described prayer for music written during a stint working at a science lab before music was his full-time employment. Though the orchestral flourishes on the studio versions of songs like “Gerri Marie” and “That Feeling” give them a cinematic feel, the songs didn’t lack drama on Tuesday. The moment Jones walked out on stage, clad in a fitted blue suit with white stripes, a saxophone in one hand and a drink in the other, you knew you were in for a show.

Further, sharing the stories behind the album, both in the rollout to the release of Wait Til I Get Over and Tuesday night, proved therapeutic for Jones, who has been citing James Baldwin’s belief in “strength in vulnerability.” That includes both the blue-eyed doo wop of “Sadie” and “That Feeling”, the latter of which was not only the first breakup song Jones has ever written but his first love song written to another man, effectively his coming out as bisexual. During the middle of “Some Day We’ll All Be Free”, essentially a Donny Hathaway cover with a verse from rapper Skypp injected in middle, Jones cited another vanguard of Black art, Nina Simone. “To be free is to live without fear,” he quoted over the band’s percussive funk, later declaring, “Love will win.” It’s the same sense of radical optimism that permeates a song like “See It Through”, existing alongside the doubts and sorrow, and the very ethos of Wait Til I Get Over. Towards the end of the show, Jones admitted that he almost had to cancel the tour; a bout with food poisoning led to 3 ER trips and a lost voice. But with patience and belief, Jones has used the spirit of the album and seemingly every show to move one step closer to where he needs to go, personally and communally. 

Oak Park’s Kara Jackson has also released a hell of a debut, Why Does The Earth Give Us People To Love? (September); like Jones’, her set acted more as an introduction of a newfound voice than a faithful recreation of her released songs. Playing acoustically, Jackson sang a few new tunes in a short set, plus two from her 2019 EP A Song for Every Chamber of the Heart and Karen Dalton’s “Right, Wrong or Ready”. The latter showcased a few of the talents that would extend throughout the set: Jackson’s smoky, controlled, octave-leaping voice, her dexterous finger-picked guitar playing, her effective tempo changes. But the songs from Why Does The Earth were the true indicators of her poetry. At multiple times, the audience howled with laughter at Jackson’s directness. “Every man thinks I’m his fuckin’ mother,” she sang on “therapy”. “And if seeing you naked wasn’t such a bargain / It would be a home run,” she quipped on “no fun/party” right as her dress strap inadvertently fell, an admitted possible cosmic wink. Of course, “dickhead blues”, whose very announcement garnered the most cheers to an audience clearly already familiar with Jackson, was the highlight. The crowd wowed at how her wordplay and delivery followed along with her guitars during lines like, “My dilemma is always a dickhead / Who’s drunk on the daily news / Like coyotes in culottes / Clawin’ for coffee in open-toed shoes.”

I admit that I can’t wait to hear what Jackson’s new songs sound like with a full band, should she decide to play with one. On the album, she collaborated with Chicago wunderkinds KAINA, NNAMDÏ, and Sen Morimoto, whose lush, shimmering instrumentation alongside Jodi’s slide guitar gives many of the album’s songs a borderline theatrical feel, the furthest thing from Tuesday’s stark arrangements. Jackson was never going to play 7-minute epics like “free” and “rat” in a short opening set, nor the heartbreaking title track of her new album, an ode to romantic and platonic love, inspired by the death of a dear friend in high school. “I’ve buried old and young / I’ve watched them lower a saint / We’re only waiting our turn / Call that living?” she sings. Its wistfulness would not have been the best way to prime a crowd for Jones’ life-affirming songs, which Jackson undoubtedly knew. What she does have in common with Jones is the sheer ability to punch you in the gut, with a one-liner, bluesy guitar lick, or an octave change. Inevitably and deservedly, in due time, they’ll both be headlining bigger stages and reaching more people with the power of their stories.

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[journey-to-the-attic]

one thing about ik is that she will always reach out

[wardingshout]

Family for day 6 of SpeSilverWeek! Edition uuh found biological and crime I guess...

[slyandthefamilybook]

I think a lot of people's politics (especially on here) can be summed up in that they'd rather wait for Nazis to sprout than remold the conditions that allow them to exist

[hellomagicalsouls]

i had a dream about Klaus and Five fighting then five brought up Klaus being a junkie and thennnnn

Klaus brought up how Five is the reason every bad thing has happened to him. five LITERALLY did it to himself.

nobody pushed him out the door to go attempt to jump into the future infact everyone tried to stop him because they called after him.

five literally made his life the way it is because he's a stubborn bitch who thought he knew better

i woke up @ 4am after this dream and haven't slept since

also he called Klaus a junkie who has no idea what it's like being alone but Klaus literally was on the streets for like 12 years so he probably understands better than anyone

cause five and Klaus both probably had no food and had to eat out of dumpsters and do things they absolutely didn't want to do in order to survive

dream verse has it out for me honestly

[shukruut]

man chappell roan really said it best im so sick of online love

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

Americans who file for tax refunds: if you haven’t already,

🚨MAKE A NEW IRS ACCOUNT 🚨

you need a verified ID.me account to file your taxes, even if you “have a guy” or “use the software” you still need to be verified first.

this coming tax season is the first year that it will be mandatory, and if you wait til everyone has their W-2s and gets blindsided by this newfangled technology, you will experience wait queues in excess of twenty hours for a video verification. That’s how it was last year, and it wasn’t even mandatory yet.

For non-video verification, a selfie is required and biometric data is stored for 36 months. If you don’t like that, opt for video verification, no biometric data will be stored.

Again, wait queues are unbelievable during tax season.

Get it done NOW.

[gaytobymeres]

Sat down whilst cleaning the house and now I can’t get up :(

[segernatural]

what is castiel's greatest regret?

link to panel is here, timestamp: 20:54, images below cut

when he was god he could've fixed the world but failed to

'he harboured his feelings for 10 years without actually sharing them, and waited until he was about to die to share his affections'

he never really patched things up with his angel brethren in heaven

he never actually felt like he belonged on earth

(likely connected to above but) he had very few friends

he had a very, very limited wardrobe

as cas looks back on his life, it's probably nothing but one giant sweep of regret

misha did book-end it with:

"Well, I think, in the big picture, Cas... the thing that I like about that character is that he always tried to do the right thing, always tried to do what he thought was good and righteous. And sometimes he made mistakes, but that was always his North Star, and I quite like that about him."

[transgirltrish]

.

[originemesis]

//adam's a weird muse in that he has basically ultimate power (like God-daddy) over a select demographic (namely human souls) in that he has been given the go ahead to basically vaporize them into nothing (rip my snake man but not really-) , yet he has this 'switching to different dynamics in both channels' take where he absolutely rolls over for angels or other pegs above whatever 'half archangel' niche he's filling if he gets push back, though he attempts to play it off as pandering (looking at his interactions with Sera who clearly gives him the inch he needs to take a mile).

though he's perfectly willing to just go batshit on someone like Lucifer with whom he has history that clouds his better judgement at those tactics that he still employs against him in like a political/peace treaty zone kind of area, but all bets are fucked in the thick of battle and there are folks watching the dick measuring contest.

[samsrosary]

[bilestat]

insane how quickly something small can tank my mood

[theeyeofthetigger]

Remembered that this post existed and had way too much fun with it

If you’d told me a month ago that my first DS fanart would be these two, I would have never believed it 😂

[naomiknight-17]

SHINY NEW DISH TRAY YYYEEEEEAAAAHHHHH