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amtrak12 · 1 year

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Lucifer Rewatch Liveblog: 1.05

I took my dog for a walk AND I ran OUTSIDE (which is much harder than on a treadmill) so I’m super tired and don’t know how coherent I’ll be. But I need a hyperfixation fix so let’s liveblog S1 ep 5 of Lucifer!

I have no fucking idea what episode this will be. Not the one where Maze meets Trixie because I know which ep that is. But could it be the ep where Dan meets Maze? :O

Let’s find out.

Oh I missed my blorbos over the past week. And I have a five day weekend thanks to holiday (today) and vacation (Monday and Tuesday) so lots of time for full Lucifer eps!

>>> ... Okay I have a vague memory of a designer shoe episode.

>>> "No sharp objects until we find out why." -- ROTFL Maze going full parent bodyguard mode there :P

>>> Really it's so boring that "reflection of your desires" always means sex. And always Hollywood thin women sleeping/wanting to sleep with Lucifer. You are a show about the devil. BE GAYER! (And not just gayer sex. I mean gayer everything! Give me more diverse desires!!)

>>> *snort* Dan always knows Lucifer's around before Chloe does.

>>> Dan: You need to stop hanging out with Lucifer. Chloe: Already did. Dan: *points at Lucifer behind her* Nope.

>>> Makes me giggle everytime lol

>>> Still so foreign to me for them to have a lieutenant/boss. In later seasons, you'd think Chloe and Dan (and Ella) just ran the department by themselves

>>> "I'll never get elected without support from the minority communities." -- Fairly certain that's never been obstacle before in becoming chief of police but okay.

>>> "My job's gonna totally get me killed." -- No, siding with Lucifer during an angel war to be the next God will, though. Sorry.

>>> Okay but I do adore that Chloe does in fact always drive. For the rest of the series. You know who didn't do that? Warehouse 13. And SUSPICIOUSLY Myka stopped driving when the show went from canon to those OOC and terrible videos written by fan wannabes. (And yes, I’m including S4 in there.)

>>> LMFAO!!! THAT'S WHY SHE SLAPPED HIM??? I've seen it in fanvids and had no memory of its canon occurrence.

>>> "So you want to feel new things?" *slap* - fucking hilarious. I'm dying.

>>> Okay I'm pretty sure the pig dies. :( RIP Pig Diddy.

>>> The only memory I have of a cop bar isin fanfic. But it was S1/early S2 era fanfic, so this is probably where the author pulled that from.

>>> Anthony Paolucci? No, no, no. That's Jack from Prue's old auction firm. #Charmed

>>> Is this the first time they said Malcolm Graham's name in the show? Does this mean we’re out of the character introduction stage and into the season plot stage? Always a good transition for a show.

>>> (Like both stages are super important. I’m not knocking the character introductions. It’s also just really fun to watch the show leave the intros and start walking on its own two feet.)

>>> "On behalf of myself and only myself, I think you're a sack of ass." *punch* -- He’s actually speaking for me too here. *shouts* Punch him harder, Lucifer!

>>> Oh Maze sends Amenadiel over to Linda? Well, then she really only has herself to blame for them sleeping together in S3, doesn't she? lol :P

>>> "I know Krav Maga!" -- LOL Okay Linda. I'm sure a bad guy would be real scared by you shouting that.

>>> "I have a key." ... "Yeah, let me start over." -- Yeah maybe you should there, Amenadiel LOL God I love his early days of pretending to be human. He's so bad at it!

>>> “Jealous of a mortal woman?" -- Maze, honey, you're jealous of a lot of people, so yeah probably.

>>> Ugh, I was so close about this being the episode where Dan meets Maze. They bumped shoulders but alas, no more.

>>> "Chloe is the mother of my child" -- I mean, she's also just Chloe who deserves not to get hurt/killed on her own merit but whatever. I'll blame the writers for that one.

>>> "Quite condescending if you ask me." -- Yeah, me too, Lucifer.

>>> "Act like a child, get treated like a child." / "Isn't it illegal to leave your child locked in a car?" -- ROTFL that was fantastic, both Chloe locking him in the car and Lucifer’s immediate follow up retort. Absolutely no hesitation from him. Love it.

>>> Is that a granny square door curtain? What weight yarn did they use? Surely it had to be weight 3 or lighter, right? Weight 4 would be too heavy to hang in a doorway. It would stretch too much.

>>> Yellow Viper -- Hold on the ending of this episode is coming back to me now. Isn't he helping kids get out of the gang now? Or was there a double twist with him? It was something like that.

>>> Yep. RIP Pig Diddy. :/

>>> "They really don't make bad guys like they used to." -- He means that literally, Chloe. He’s had every bad guy (and every person who simply felt guilty for something) in Hell with him since the beginning of time.

>>> "A fluid exchange." -- LMFAO Amenadiel, you really have no idea what words are coming out of your mouth, do you? ROTFL

>>> "If there's one thing the Devil knows it's that people need to take responsibility for their own bad behavior." -- Yet another blatant statement of what the end game is.

>>> "Yes, people do need to take responsibility for their own bad behavior." -- And that's the journey we take to get to the end game, and Lucifer not grasping Chloe’s implications there is why that’s the series journey.

>>> OMG there was a parallel 'Chloe shoves Lucifer down and lies on top of him' scene to the S1 finale’s 'Chloe shoves Maze down and lies on top of her' scene?? I had no memory of that, but of course that was a parallel. Everything in this show is a parallel.

>>> "Your bartender's a ninja? Of course, she is." / "Yeah." (casual and smiling)

>>> "Ass saved. You're welcome -- his ass. Not yours." -- Just give it a few more months to a year, Maze. You'll be blowing up cars on Chloe's behalf.

>>> GOD, they really do have some juicy Chloe/Lucifer conversations in S1, don't they? 'Addicted to creating chaos and seeing where the chips lay' -- which Lucifer obviously didn't like but he could laugh it off and then Chloe came for the jugular: "It's like you have a god complex." OOPH! That one hit Lucifer hard. That was both meaty and juicy. Delicious.

>>> "I saw your Marine tattoo." and thus knew exactly what it meant. AND YET, neither you nor Lucifer noticed the scar being badly hidden by Pierce's Marine tattoo and so didn’t realize he was CAIN????

>>> (admittedly, Chloe had no possible way of knowing that in S3, but I'm still blaming her and everyone else for Cain.)

>>> I abhor Cain

>>> THREE! Chloe has played Lucifer THREE separate times now and he still hasn't learned ROTFL. Like ‘oh yeah, I’m totally interested in having sex with you -- SIKE! and it gets him everytime!!! #dumdum

>>> Also, good for her for leaving him there! lol

>>> Maze is now stalking Chloe. Debates killing her. Imagines about 13 different ways she could do it without making a sound (and another dozen that are messier and rougher that would let Maze vent some of her anger) -- and then leaves without harming a hair on Chloe's head. God, I love Maze.

>>> Also cool that that's the first time we get to see her demon face. I like her demon face a lot.

Good shit! Good shit! Good shit! S1 is way better than my first impression of it was. Like, it's still ranked fifth when ordering the six seasons by favorite. But it's fifth favorite now instead of second least liked!

Be prepared for more liveblogs over the next few days since I'm on a long weekend! Catch you next time!

#I also need a break from Dreamlight Valley because I burned through the star path and the Easter event doesn't start until tomorrow #and I'm not touching Nala's next quest until I have confirmation that the bug is fixed #because I am not getting a mustache stuck on my character's face. I will lose my mind (negative)#Amber watches Lucifer #OMFG I"M SO ANNOYED AT TUMBLR!!!!#I can't figure out how to make line breaks in a bullet list stick so I'm crafting my own version of bullet points with >>>#and the quote block to try and make this list of thoughts more readable #it turned out ugly as fuck!#but it is more readable with the line breaks #ugh

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eatsbop · 3 years

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Okay, I retract the first one since Yeonwoo won't speak about his crush so openly with strangers.

Anyway, Yeonwoo just assumed that Taehoon doesn't have the slightest grasp of the english language.. cause.. Taehoon only cares about Taekwondo, he always says so himself.

So when they bumped to some foreign fans on their way to Yoo Hobin office, Yeonwoo elected himself spokesperson for the two of them. Also, come on. Taehoon's tolerance for small talk is practically nonexistent.

After the hi's, hello's omigosh can we take picture. You guys really are friends! Where are you headed? Oh we hope we're not bothering you? We got so excited. We miss your study videos! What are you doing now?

"Ah.. haaha. Just the usual, just studying. I have to prepare for college entrance exams.."

"Aw, no time for fun? Not seeing anyone?" Lighthearted laughs and giggles.

"Nah.. we- A-Ah. I mean-"

"Aww.. you're seeing someone! A newtuber? Haha!"

And Yeonwoo just shyly trying to dodge everything and failing and dying a little every second AND TAEHOON IS JUST STANDING THERE.

"Ah, no. I'm not, that is.. They don't even know. It's okay. We're both busy anyway and we're good friends. So. Uh. It's alright."

"Aww, oppa already has someone! We're so sad! Haha! Just kidding! Confess to them soon! Fighting! What's this special person like? We're so curious aaww, they stole oppa from us."

And Yeonwoo despite himself just told them, that person likes to act so tough and pretends to be cold but he's really soft-hearted. They talk roughly but it's only because they won't waste your time unnecessarily mincing words. They can be so funny and child-like sometimes but they always know who they are.

"I was on my way to visit some friends once and I caught this person at this narrow alleyway, meowing. Ah.. they were giving snacks to stray cats. They deny liking cats and said the cats make so much noise when they're hungry so they're feeding them.. And another time they asked me for help to study for exams. Kept denying that they didn't want their dad worrying over their future and kept insisting 'I just thought I'd get this high school crap over sooner than later!'.. I wasn't even asking for an explanation! So defensive.."

And so on and so on. When they finally parted ways with their fans, Taehoon turned to look at Yeonwoo and deadpanned,

"I thought you said you were only there for a minute? How come you know I was meowing?"

#viral hit #how to fight #seong taehun #seong taehoon #ji yeonwoo

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urmomsstuntdouble · 3 years

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89 for the writing promp game? 👀👀 whichever characters u feel like it fits

oof this took a while. wasn’t sure who to write it about, and i didnt use those exact words, but. yeah. here it is!

(3rd person pov, lithuania x romano)

Nobody enjoyed world meetings. It was a known fact, and one regular humans would probably assume without knowing what transpired at such meetings- Which wasn’t much, in all honesty. And while they weren’t fun, they weren’t always bad. Sometimes they’d be in a nice city, and flights would line up with those of friends, and so forth- Today was not one of those days.

Tolvydas had stumbled off their train at three o’clock in the morning, and into their hotel bed two hours later. Their body now ran on two hours of sleep, and the conditions of the meeting didn't do much to help them stay awake. Jackets and ties were folded over the backs of several chairs, and some of the other nations held small wooden fans in death grips. Some were slumped over, and others stayed at attention. Of the other Baltic states, Estonia had removed his glasses and Latvia was clearly more focussed on his smartphone than the presentation. Tolvydas couldn’t blame them. The heat of the room seemed a cage, pressing in on them and making sweat drip down their back.

Why did the meeting have to be in Southern Europe? Tolvydas could handle the heat, but being trapped inside for an entire day- On which nothing tainted the pure azure of the sky- was a lot. A glance around told them they weren’t alone, as nearly every forehead shone with sweat. Every now and then, Tolvydas’ head touched their chest and they jerked back to attention. Their efforts were futile, though, and they’d yet to catch a single word of Paraguay’s speech.

Someone tapped their shoulder- Feliks, sitting at their left. Tolvydas looked down at them, where they’d rested their head on crossed arms.

“So bored,” they mouthed, and Tolvydas nodded. They shifted their notepad into Feliks’ line of sight and gouged the word TIRED into the paper. Feliks nodded with pink cheeks and drooping eyelids, and swiped the pen away from Tolvydas. Wish there was air conditioning. LORENZO DOESN’T BELIEVE IN AIR CONDITIONING.

Feliks giggled at that, attracting the glares of some nearby nations. Pink cheeks turned red, and they sank down a bit in their seat, folding their arms. Tolvydas sighed, and rested their head in their hands. Would it be a good idea to tape their eyes open? No, and they didn’t have any tape…shame. Tolvydas tilted their head around, looking for the host nation. Lorenzo. Romano, or Italy- They hardly ever spoke of things related to their nationhood. In fact, they only spoke as a result of social happenstance, that being Feliciano’s friendship with Feliks, and the Italy brothers shared a car, and that Tolvydas had spent much of the 90s on Feliks’ couch. A coincidence Tolvydas was fond of, actually. It was rare that nations befriended each other purely for social reasons. Even Feliks came into their life for the sake of politics.

Tolvydas looked around the room yet again, this time searching for Lorenzo. Would he be drowning in sweat too, they wondered? The answer seemed to be yes, and they bit back a smile upon seeing him. He sat hunched over the desk, with his suit jacket resting on the back of his chair. Dark circles lined both his armpits and eyes. As if cued by their staring, Lorenzo opened his water bottle and took four hearty gulps, then returned it, empty, to the desk. Tolvydas blinked, and wiped some sweat from their forehead. When they returned to their hotel room, they would get rid of all these clothes and lay on the bed with the windows open until they fell asleep.

They shuffled their papers about, searching for the weekend’s itinerary. They gave their speech the day before, but about a hundred nations still had to take their turns…According to the schedule, today’s last presenter would be Qatar. So the meeting would be over by…seven, maybe? Tolvydas pushed some air through their lips and picked at a loose thread in their shirt sleeve.

It wasn’t until about seven thirty that Qatar gave her presentation, and closing the meeting took another half hour. Once that was done, the nations milled about and spoke, as per their custom. Rare was it that they were allowed to be people- Tolvydas would never understand how people could say they ‘didn’t pay attention to politics.’ Paying attention to politics was all they could ever do. Then again, they were Lithuania, not a person.

Fortunately, many of the nations elected to move outside after the meeting ended. They fit right in with the students, bustling around the university campus. Nations fragmented here, splitting off with friends or returning to their hotels. Most importantly, though, they were stopped by people asking to take selfies. Tolvydas smiled and laughed when required, and let themself be dragged around with the other EU members.

“Where are we going?” Asked Feliks at their side, and they nodded, glancing around. Tolvydas wasn’t sure they recognized this city- They’d been to so many, it was hard to remember, and European cities started to look the same after a while.

“Not sure,” said somebody- Hungary. “I think Vene said something about a bar? I wasn’t really paying attention.” She snorted like it was punctuation, and Feliks laughed.

“Oh, Erzsi! Hey, I didn’t see you there!” Feliks launched himself at her, and was lucky that she reacted fast enough to catch him.

“Hi, Erzsebet,” Tolvydas said, suppressing a laugh.

“Hey, losers,” She said, arms clenched around Feliks’ waist. “Glad to see you here, that meeting was stuffy as hell.”

“Ugh, I know, right?” Feliks said. They righted themself, walking independent of Erzsebet again. “I was practically dying of the heatstroke.”

“I don’t think you can get heatstroke if you’re not in the sun,” Tolvydas said.

“You can,” a voice chimed in- Spain. “Trust me, summers are brutal at my place. Hey, can I ask you a question, Lithuania?” Tolvydas glanced over their shoulder, as if there was some other Lithuania he could be talking to.

“Uh, yes,” They said.

“Do you have nude beaches in your country?” Tolvydas choked on their own spit, and let out a strangled chuckle.

“Y-Yes,” They laughed, “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to ask something like that-”

“I was thinking about all the ways I’ve gotten heat stroke before,” Spain told them, holding his hands in front of his chest like a T-Rex.

“And one was at a nude beach?”

“Well, yes…” He narrowed his eyes. “More than one, actually. I don’t like nude beaches, Lithuania, because if you’re not careful you can get sunburned…I mean, you can on a regular beach, but it’s so awkward to be, like, in front of your people and putting sunscreen on your entire body, you know? And I’m a country, so it’s a lot of attention, and all that…You know?”

“Well,” Tolvydas said, “Not really, because I don’t get a lot of sun, but yeah, sort of.” They bit their lip- Since they’d been talking to Spain, they had totally lost track of where they were in the city. The university was out of sight, and Feliks was now absorbed into a conversation with Hungary and the other EU Slavs.

“Hm. You are pretty pale.” Tolvydas tucked some hair behind their ear.

“Yeah,” They said, not sure what else to say.

“Yeah,” Spain murmured, eyes darting about the street. “Where are you taking us, Feli?”

“What?!” Asked Italy. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, causing Finland to crash into him. “Oh, crap! I’m sorry, Finland.” Finland gave him a smile and assured him it was no problem.

“I said, where are you taking us?” Spain shouted, “I don’t recognize this street.”

“Umm, I actually forget?” Italy laughed, “My brother has a bar he likes that’s near here, but I don’t like it so I don’t remember what it’s called? And he’s busy now, so- Yeah. Oh, hi Lithuania! I didn't see you there, how’re you doing today?” Tolvydas started, eyes widening.

“Hi,” They said, “I’m tired, but it’s alright. You have a lovely home.”

“Thanks,” Italy said, “Though it’s really my brother’s, I…I don’t really like it that much down here, to be honest. Don’t tell him I said that. But it is nice to visit!”

“Excuse you, it’s lovely here!” Spain said, “I’m telling on you, Feli.”

“Don't!” Italy shrieked, “Please?” He turned to Spain with wide eyes. Even Tolvydas would have to oblige, and they had plenty of experience saying no to cute people. Well. Cute dogs. And Raivis. And Feliks, and Russia. Maybe they did have experience saying no to cute people after all.

“I’m only joking,” Spain said, “Besides, Lithuania here agrees with me, don’t you?”

“Uh,” Tolvydas said, “I do, yes. It’s- It’s a very nice climate you have here. And I like this street- Very, uh, very nice cobblestones.” Italy snorted, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Thanks, I’m glad you like them,” He said, though they weren’t his. Tolvydas hummed, and took a moment to really look at the street they were on. Buildings kept the sun from reaching them, but not the warmth. Storefronts beckoned here and there, with parked motorcycles at intersections and window boxes at second floor windows. Every so often they passed some graffiti, though most of it was nonsensical to Tolvydas. Not once did they see a street sign. If it weren’t for Lorenzo’s lead, Tolvydas would be completely lost.

Finally, the group made it to the bar. It was a nice, quiet place- Tolvydas felt bad for the staff. They hoped nobody would get kicked out, though it was unlikely. Who was a nation, really, if they’d never been asked to leave a bar before?

Tolvydas wound up sitting beside Spain, with Lorenzo on their other side. Neither spoke to them- Spain was discussing the art of bartending with Italy, and Lorenzo preferred glaring into his cocktail. Tolvydas wondered if they should talk to him- They’d only spoken a brief hello today, after all, and that was a formality. But he seemed annoyed, with his furrowed brow and crossed arms…And now he was looking at them.

“Why are you looking at me?” Tolvydas sat a little straighter.

“Um. I, uh, I was wondering if it would be okay for me to talk to you,” They said, mouth dry. Lorenzo bit the corner of his lip, eyebrows raised.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, you looked, like, a bit irritated,” Tolvydas said, “S-Sorry.”

“You’re right, I am,” Lorenzo said, “Fuckin’ hate hosting world meetings. There’s so many people who are just in my space, you know? And I didn’t even realize there were so many people following me when we were on the way here.” He lifted his cocktail. Black salt rimmed the glass, and Lorenzo licked some away. “Was talking to Belgium, got distracted. But she left to go back to her hotel, so. Anyway.” He hung his head between his shoulders. “That’s a bit much, I know.”

“No,” Tolvydas said, “World meetings suck, whether you’re hosting or not…I don’t hate it but also there’s that invasion-y feeling.”

“Invasion-y feeling, yeah,” Lorenzo murmured, and licked more salt from the rim of his glass. “‘M tired.”

“Me too,” Tolvydas said. “I need to bring hair ties tomorrow.”

“That sounds useful,” Lorenzo mumbled. He took a slow drink of his cocktail, wincing at the end. “You don’t have anything to drink.” Tolvydas glanced down at the bar in front of them, and no, they didn’t. Huh, they hadn’t noticed.

“I don't,” They said, and glanced over at the bartender. A young man with veiny forearms, chatting as he shook up a new drink. His hair was greased back into a pseudo helmet.

“Giulio!” Lorenzo shouted, catching his attention. Giulio paused in his drink-making and glanced back, then nodded and went on with his business. “He’ll get you in a second.”

“Thanks,” Tolvydas murmured, “I could’ve waited.”

“Yeah, but you’re talking to me right now,” Lorenzo said. He sipped his drink again. “And I don’t want to talk to you when I’m drinking and you’re not. Then it’s not equal.”

“Fair enough,” Tolvydas said, “I can just shut up if you want me to-”

“No, we’re talking now,” Lorenzo said, “I want to talk. And it’s my country, so…yeah.” He took a drink.

“I think it’s nice here,” Tolvydas said, “Very warm.” Lorenzo hummed, then glanced up- Giulio stood at the ready, finished with his previous drink. He exchanged some words with Lorenzo, who turned to Tolvydas after a moment.

“What do you want?”

“Um- Could I please have a krambambula?” Lorenzo relayed the message, and Giulio was up to drink-mixing.

“What’s a krambambula?” Lorenzo mused, peering over the bar.

“Wine and vodka,” Tolvydas responded, “Belarus’ favorite.” Lorenzo hummed.

“Didn’t you used to be married to her or something?” Tolvydas bowed their head, letting hair fall in front of their eyes. “So you did, huh?”

“Y-Yes,” Tolvydas stammered, “Briefly, a hundred years ago-”

“She good in bed?”

“What?” Their cheeks grew warm, too warm for it to simply be the heat. “No- I mean- I don’t know, see-”

“Hey, calm down, I’m just making conversation.” Lorenzo waved a hand, “It’s none of my business, I know.”

“We, um. Never slept together,” Tolvydas said, “She doesn’t like me very much, actually.”

“Oh. That’s a shame,” Lorenzo said, and Tolvydas nodded, though they weren't sure what the shame actually was. A shame they never slept together? Maybe- Since she didn’t reciprocate their feelings, it was hard to really fantasize. They could daydream about kissing her all they wanted, but they’d still know that acting on it would be assault. So their feelings were in the process of fading away. A shame she didn’t like them very much? Eh, they would get over it. Eventually, maybe. They had time.

Giulio returned with their drink.

“Can I have a taste?” Lorenzo asked, “Never tried that before.”

“Of course,” Tolvydas said, and handed him the glass. He took a sip, and struggled to keep his face from contorting in disgust. “You don't like vodka?” Tolvydas asked, taking a swig.

“Shit’s nasty,” Lorenzo said, “Tastes like sadness. And like, we’ve all got issues or whatever, but mine aren’t so bad I need to drink vodka.” Tolvydas snorted.

“Okay. Lightweight.”

“Lightweight?!”

“Yeah, vodka’s like 95% alcohol volume.”

“Psh, whatever.” Lorenzo scoffed, and Tolvydas giggled at the sheer nonsense of it. “Why are you laughing at me?” He asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Psh, whatever?” They repeated, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does so,” He said, “You’re too small-brained to get it.” That stung a bit, but Tolvydas didn't mind. They understood it was a joke, though they didn’t appreciate it any more for understanding.

“Whatever,” They said, looking away. Their eyes naturally picked Feliks out of the group- He sat on the bar, legs crossed, with a glass of wine held in both hands. He’d unbuttoned his shirt to the third button. Tolvydas shook their head- It wouldn’t be very long before they were completely drunk.

“I hope Feliks doesn’t overdo it,” They thought.

“Probably will. They look like they’d be wasted after two glasses of wine,” Lorenzo commented. Tolvydas jolted- They hadn't realized they were speaking aloud.

“They’re- Yeah,” Tolvydas said, “They like parties, always have, but they get drunk too fast to enjoy it.”

“Maybe that’s why they like parties so much. ‘Cause they don’t remember what one’s like, from all the drinking,” Lorenzo said, “Toni’s like that, sort of.” Tolvydas hummed, and swirled their drink around in the glass.

“I don’t think such heavy drinking is a sign that one likes parties,” They murmured, “After all, if you like doing something, wouldn’t you want to experience as much of it as you can?” Lorenzo scoffed, and they turned their head to look at him. His arm was thrown around the back of his chair, with his chest out and facing them. Sweat still clung to his forehead- It was less oppressively hot in this bar than the meeting room, but only just.

“Part of the allure of drinking is that it can make you forget about things,” He said, “Happy people don’t develop alcohol issues. And, you know, for people like us, it’s different, seeing as how we can’t fucking die.” Tolvydas shrugged in response. They shifted in their seat, feeling the cheap leather through their pants, and took another sip of their drink. Lorenzo was correct in that one liked to drink to forget. For people like them, there were virtually no downsides, save whatever you did while you were drinking. Once, Tolvydas had set a cow on fire and didn’t find out until the next morning when, in the clutches of a hangover, they were arrested.

“I guess,” They said. Then, mind caught on the cow-arson, “What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done while drunk?” Lorenzo sucked air in through his teeth.

“Done too much stupid shit to tell you off the top of my head,” He admitted, “But, uh, this one time, I drank up a town’s entire supply of wine. Bad move. Had to regrow my kidney.” Tolvydas winced, a bit less inclined to finish their drink.

“That sounds painful.”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo said, “Much like hosting the fucking world meetings.” Hosting the world meetings was terrible- It was a constant headache to have so many other nations around you, especially if it was in your capital city. Tolvydas had never had maggots in a wound before, but they imagined that was what it felt like.

“Oh, I know,” They said. It was a good thing they all shared the burden of hosting the meetings. Locations cycled through nations, such that Lithuania wouldn’t be the host country for another ten years- They’d still have to do smaller meetings, of course, like the EU and UN and such, but at least it wasn’t a world meeting. Over two hundred nations in the same city could make even the humans feel a bit off.

“I’d be better if all you people hadn’t- hadn’t fucking followed me here. I mean- I didn’t want my idiot brother to invite the entire goddamn continent.”

“I’m sorry,” Tolvydas said, “I was just going with everyone else-”

“I don’t- You know, actually, I need to continue this conversation outside,” Lorenzo said, and stood up. He said a few words to Giulio and turned around, making for the door. Tolvydas’ skin pricked- What had they done wrong? It was just a simple conversation- But of course they’d manage to screw it up. They remained on the edge of their seat, with their eyes fixed on Lorenzo, as he walked out of the bar. As he got to the door, they stood. Should they apologise? Or- Or did Lorenzo want to fight them now? They pushed away the idea, knowing it was all probably fine.

Tolvydas pulled out their wallet, and left a few euros beside their drink. They followed Lorenzo outside, stumbling when they left the bar. The moon had risen while they were in the bar. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, bathed in silver light save the faint glow of a lit cigarette. Tolvydas swallowed. While it was dark outside, the heat from the day had yet to evaporate. Tolvydas speculated that if they were to touch Lorenzo’s skin, he’d be as warm as if he were sunbathing. Right, Lorenzo- They were not here to stare at him.

“Are you okay?” Lorenzo jumped, turning around with wide eyes. His shoulders sagged when he saw them.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, “Just fuckin’ tired. Want to go home.”

“Oh,” Tolydas said, “Sorry then, I’ll- I’ll fuck off now.” They turned away, poised to return to the bar.

“No,” Lorenzo said, then bit his lips. “I mean-” He put his cigarette between his lips and took a long drag. He looked hollow for a moment before he turned his head and blew a ring with the smoke. “You smoke?”

“Uh, no, not really…not anymore.”

Lorenzo hummed. “Shame. I could teach you how to blow rings, if you did.”

“You still can,” Tolvydas said, voice paper-thin, “If you want. And if I could borrow a cigarette. World meetings are hard on the rest of us too.” Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket.

“Ah, but you’re not the host, Lithuania. And you represent your entire country.”

“You can call me Tolvydas,” They said, “I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“I just offered to teach you how to blow smoke rings. I don’t do that with everyone you know,” Lorenzo said, “Maybe I’m still fucked up from the meeting…But okay, sure. Tolvydas.”

“Thanks,” They muttered, “Also yeah, sorry about your. Brother.” Lorenzo shrugged, and took another drag.

“I don't want to think about him right now…No, I want to go home…” He bit his lip, and swayed from side to side. Was he alright? Tolvydas ran through a list of all the little things they knew to do if a nation was sick. Lorenzo coughed, and they twitched, hands reaching out for him. Instead of falling or even stumbling, Lorenzo put his cigarette to his lips another time. His cheeks shone in the orange glow. When he was done, he ground the butt under his heel. Three smoke rings floated away from his mouth.

“I’m gonna go get drunk at home now…You can come if you want.” He turned on his heel, reducing the cigarette butt into a stain of ash. He had a nice gait, Tolvydas thought. A medium sized stride, and they couldn't help but notice the sway of his hips…

Several short and fast steps later, Tolvydas was by his side.

song lyric asks

#oof i thought tumblr ate this ask and i was about to be so pissed #fortunately it did not!#anyway this was fun to write #i hope you enjoy it !#hetalia #hws #hws lithuania #hws romano #my writing #my fic #ceros posting #ask #romaliet ?

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Fun and Only

Summary: During a night out, Y/N and Arthur bump into someone from Arthur’s past. Y/N tries to decipher him.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,088

A/N: This was a request from the sweet, kind @imdeaddear2! I hope you like it! Thank you for making the request, because I never would have written this scenario without it. 😀 Special thanks to @arthurflecc for the beautiful intro pic! Also, thanks to @hhandley80 for reviewing the exchange in the middle section!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

"Y/N, it's little league season. Know what that means?"

Needing to finish the paragraph she was reading, Y/N raised a finger. The dense case on her desk was a tough assignment; she'd been toiling at it most of the morning. She liked her new position. Truly. But the pace at which she prepared files was slower than she would have preferred. The particulars of labor laws were, well...laborious. Reviewing evidence types she wasn't familiar with took time. It made her impatient. Anxious to soak up all the information she could get her hands on.

But, she supposed, no longer being plagued by guilt for indirectly supporting the Waynes was worth the learning curve.

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her ankles, swinging her foot back and forth as she regarded Terry. While he was incredibly friendly, chatting with everyone and anyone, they remained acquaintances. Periodically, she conferred with him over a motion or sought to get his opinion about the upcoming mayoral election. ("I've seen Wayne's legal bullshit. He's not getting my vote.") Those discussions didn't go far. Usually, he tried to bond over parental matters - she and Arthur didn't even have a plant.

She could tell this was going to be another attempt. "You're doing a fundraiser and I should buy chocolate bars?" she asked.

"Even better." Digging into his too-tight pants pocket, he retrieved a checkbook-sized pamphlet. "The Gotham Squires are selling these to charter a bus for the All-Stars tournament. They're the number two team in the state!" He shoved a photo of his kid at her.

She murmured a polite, "He's all grown-up." He spoke of the team's new uniforms and his nine-year-old's batting average. Half-listening, she flipped through the booklet. It was a coupon collection, mostly two-for-one sales at various restaurants and vouchers for discounted movie tickets, good on weekdays only. They were quite pricey at fifteen dollars apiece. But she was inclined to buy one. The savings might help Arthur practice letting go of his wallet. Allow him to stop worrying about money and indulge a little, the way he deserved.

What made the cash fly from her purse to Terry's palm was the certificate in the back: a half-off deal for Amusement Mile. Satisfaction was written all over her face as she studied the yellow cardstock's terms and conditions, the outline of a circus tent, the faded ink encouraging her to "Enjoy the Ride!" Coming from a rural area, she'd never gone to an amusement park. One had been four or so hours east, but her father had preferred to stay close to home, fearing he might be needed in an emergency.

The annual county fair had been a must. Everyone had worn his or her Sunday Best, the occasional breeze kicking up dirt as they toured the fairground. The rides had been creaky, unsound, and should have been reported to the local safety commission. She'd gone on the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant slide, waving at her parents and hanging onto her burlap sack. One year, Mabel had screamed and cried until Y/N grabbed her hand and led them out of the house of mirrors.

Swinging the mallet as hard as he could, her father had impressed her mother with the strongman game. The puck wouldn't hit the bell. Doily and needlework competitions had been her mother's purview, crafts Y/N had practiced but quickly tired of. She'd preferred the pie contest. Her mouth had watered, hankering for a taste of the first-place winner. The agricultural exhibits had been the largest section, with its prized horses, pigs, and chickens. She'd broken the rules and stuck her fingers in the rabbit cages to feel their soft fur; she'd been bitten once.

Wistfulness wasn't the only reason the theme park appealed to her. There was Arthur's history with it. He kept a postcard of the Ferris wheel pinned to the divider in his writing nook. And he'd described some of the odd jobs he'd done. Carrying boxes of merchandise, filling in for other clowns, picking up litter (and keeping the returnables). It hadn't been steady, merely hours offered to him if he'd inquired. But it'd given him pocket change. Enough to buy cigarettes and keep the utilities on for another month.

The week had been warm up till now, and the good weather was expected to continue. He loved taking her to new corners of the city, had ever since their first date. Introducing her to his old stomping ground wouldn't take a lot of convincing.

When she got home, he was perched on the sofa, clad in a thermal shirt and a pair of her too-short pajama bottoms. (A funny combination that meant their laundry was in the machine.) Elbows on his knees, journal on the coffee table, and pen at the ready, his concentration was plain to see. The discipline he had to pursue his dreams, the way he studied comedy specials on TV was admirable. She got a glass of water and smiled at his ill-timed laughter. That he didn't understand the host's humor was logical. Roasts were usually unkind. While Arthur's jokes weren't always funny, they weren't mean-spirited.

She crouched next to him, peppered kisses along his shoulder. His damp curls brushed her cheek, and she breathed in the zesty musk of his shampoo. "I wouldn't waste too much effort on this guy," she said. Her caress followed the freckles on his bare forearm, feeling the muscle flutter under her fingertips. "He's kind of an asshole."

"The audience helps me figure out the timing." He muted the television, lips quirking. "You like some of his songs."

"He makes a better singer than comedian," she rebutted with a peck.

They went over their respective days, how his earlier appointment went, the paperwork she'd done. Tuna casserole was their choice for dinner, and Arthur put on an LP while they cooked. Once the dish was in the oven, she hugged him close. "I have an idea for Thursday night." She went over the Amusement Mile discount, enthused about his expertise, reveled in how her praise softened his features and brightened his eyes. "I'd love it if you took me around. Taught me all the magic behind the scenes. And I'm dying to see where you do your street performances." She massaged the nape of his neck. "Maybe I'll stop by and give you a tip."

Crooked tooth peeking out, he nodded. Then he grasped the counter on either side of her hips and pressed his forehead to hers. "That sounds great."

~~~~~

A small memorial flowerbed, filled with alternating swirls of white gardenias, purple pansies, and yellow daffodils, was situated just beyond the park's main entrance. The marble fountain bubbling in the center reminded Y/N of a bird bath. It was modest, from a bygone era in which the wealthy hadn't dared to flaunt their fortunes for fear of strikes. The bronze plaque declared the city's thanks to Benjamin Wayne for funding Amusement Mile's construction during the height of Gotham's industrial boom. Before most of the factories had fled. Before times had become tough for the majority Gothamites. It was annoying, how the Waynes had their fingers in everything. She hoped not one nickel of what they spent tonight went into their bank accounts.

Arthur paid it no mind. His head was tipped back a degree or two, his clear green eyes darting from attraction to attraction. Smoking was one of his habits she disapproved of. But she couldn't dispute how attractive he was, puffing the cigarette dangling from his puckered lips. The chestnut tones of his brown hair were brought to the fore by the grounds' multi-color lighting, and a lock or two fell over his temples. The loose curls at his neck bounced with each step, a boyish buoyancy to his gait.

Her stomach growled as soon as the aroma of fair food hit her. They picked a booth that claimed it sold Gotham's original franks. He asked to order for her. She let him, watching as his grin widened and he stated, "Four hot dogs for my girlfriend and me, please. With relish and mustard." Then they shared a candy apple, taking turns nibbling at the fruit's hard, sugary shell. Its juice dribbled onto her pale pink top, staining the embroidered neckline. Her groan of disapproval became giggling as he stole chaste kisses, wiping her off as she chewed.

His palm at the small of her back, guiding her as they walked down the midway, fanned a glow in her heart. He'd made headway when it came to displaying his affection in public, though he still tended towards timidity. Early on, she'd concluded his reticence had nothing to do with her - he never pulled away if she grabbed at him. He was simply a gentleman.

Most examples he followed were from an older era, one lost to the bluntness of the eighties. Those moments he'd let himself go, when he'd make it clear they were a couple, lifted her spirit. Not only due to the pride she felt at being on his arm, but also because it meant he was finding his own way. Arthur wasn't a shy suitor or a contemporary romantic hero. Rather, he was somewhere in the middle. Old fashioned, through and through, with threads of modernity woven into his fibers.

As they strolled, they stumbled onto a black and white photo booth. She sat on its cracked wooden stool and tried to tug him inside. But he wanted a picture of her, he said. To put in his wallet. To look at if he was having a bad day and wasn't at home. Her response was to snag his collar and yank him to her lips. Snorting, he shut the nylon curtain. At the clink of quarters in the coin slot, she straightened her puffed, cap sleeves and fixed her hair in the scratched featherweight mirror. The camera's flashes blinded her, but she thought she'd managed to smile naturally enough.

Before she had a chance to stand, he whipped open the drape and showed her the strip of portraits. "I knew I was dating the prettiest woman in the city. Maybe even the sweetest."

She cupped his cheeks as she stepped out. Rubbed the tip of her nose to his. He was unfailingly generous. Too generous. While she was fine with her appearance, she wouldn't win a beauty pageant. Hell, she wouldn't even be a runner-up. Or a contestant. And sweet was one of the last words she'd use to describe herself. But she wasn't going to correct him. "And I found the handsomest, funniest man." His stare was wide-eyed. After releasing a stuttering breath, he pulled her along.

Upon entering the gaming area, he slung his arm around her waist. Mischief laced his whisper as he spilled secrets. The darts for the balloon pop were dull, the balloons underinflated. He advised her to stay clear of the baseball and milk bottle stand, saying, "The bottom bottles have lead in them. You'll never knock them over."

Then he warned her off the ring toss, saying the rings were too small to win the best prizes. She decided to take her chances, regardless, and paid the attendant. Arthur tutted gently as she gave him the last ring, having already wasted four. A step to the side, then he paused to line up his throw. A short clap announced his victory. The prize options included a dinky toy car and a rubber snake. She picked a plastic, red keychain, embossed with "I was Amused in 1982" and the silhouette of a coaster. It was an improvement over her old car dealership tag. "I'll think of tonight whenever I see it."

Gaze fixed on her mouth, he sighed happily. He began to reach towards her, his arm raised ever so slightly-

"Art!" a rich baritone called. "Hey, Art!"

Arthur flinched. She moved to peer behind him. The approaching man was tall, his balding head half a foot higher than Arthur's. A blue and red flannel shirt with gray trousers covered his portly physique. Confidence oozed from him with every stride, a pleasantly surprised smirk on his round face.

Y/N's interest was piqued. Unless it was someone who remembered Arthur from Live! with Murray Franklin, no one ever approached him on the street. And she hadn't heard him be referred to by anything other than his proper name (besides Penny's terrible "Happy.").

But his reactions concerned her. Arthur's back tensed as the man closed in, stopping a yard away. "Hi, Randall."

"How's my boy been?" Randall asked jovially, hands at his sides. "Gary told us about your mom. Could you use a little cheering up?"

Arthur blinked faster than usual. "No. She's okay. And I feel a lot better now."

"Oh. Well, good for you," Randall said.

Going back and forth between them, she tried to puzzle out their dynamic. Their familiarity was obvious. Randall seemed caring enough, although she found it odd he'd referred to her thirty-five-year-old partner as "boy." Arthur had mentioned Gary was a former colleague. It would make sense Randall was, too.

He threw her a glance. "Hey, you have family visiting. Is this your cousin?"

She brushed off the assumption and extended her hand. "I'm Y/N L/N. His girlfriend."

"Oh, yeah. The paralegal." He shook it firmly before addressing Arthur again. "Gary said you finally got a date."

The pat to Arthur's bicep was a little too hard, jolting his stiff frame. The set of his jaw and flaring of his nostrils betrayed a turmoil she hadn't initially picked up on. She touched his hand but he shoved it in his pocket.

All right. She had to get to the bottom of this. It was hard to ascertain if his current reaction was due to his social challenges (which could cause discomfort) or Randall's words. She didn't want to jump to conclusions. After all, she and Patricia teased each other whenever they met for lunch or chatted on the phone. A good ribbing was needed every once in a while.

Starting a cross-examination in front of Arthur would contribute to his unease. After a moment's deliberation, she nudged him. It took a couple of tries to get his attention. "Would you please get us a large lemonade?" His brows rose, anxiety in the wrinkles of his forehead. She stretched to kiss his temple. His eyes narrowed but he got the hint, scuffing his shoe and glowering at Randall as he walked off.

When Arthur rounded a corner by the water pistol race, she lounged on one of the booth's metal poles. "Have you known Arthur long?"

Randall nodded in the direction Arthur had gone. "We worked at HaHa's. I'm a clown, too. We did parties, the children's hospital, store openings."

"Arthur loved that job." She crossed her arms over her chest. "It's too bad the slow season hit. But he's doing pretty well on his own."

Confusion crossed the big man's visage. "Uh, yeah. The slow season." He chuckled, then. "Anyway, you and Art, huh?"

Smiling broadly, she folded her arms over her chest. "Yes, me and Art."

"Pretty serious, huh?"

If he wanted gossip to bring back to the workplace, she'd gladly give him some. Especially if it reflected well on Arthur. "We live together. It's been great."

"No kidding." With a sardonic grin, he shook his head. "A woman like you. I didn't know he had it in him. It was always just him and his mom. Talked about stand-up sometimes. Mostly kept to himself, though. Never really talked much." Randall shrugged lightly. "But we liked him. He did all the shitty jobs no one wanted and never complained."

Arching a brow, Y/N felt her suspicions grow. While Arthur was learning to disagree and contradict her without hesitation, he nevertheless had the inclination to go along. It was plausible he hadn't argued about gigs. Had they taken his preferences into account?

Then Randall confirmed her skepticism, saying in a jokey tone, "That laugh really got everyone going, too. And his laminated cards. We had a pool on whether it was part of his act. I mean, him being in Arkham and all, who knows what the fuck he could have come up with?"

Deciphering what kind of man stood in front of her was suddenly uncomplicated. She'd run into his type all too often. They lurked in garages and offices. Diners and restaurants. Courtrooms on both sides of the bench. People with no real power who walked on others. Persons who threw their weight around to feel in charge. Bullies who hid behind a veneer of kindness.

She understood why he'd called Arthur "boy."

What she said had to be chosen carefully. Randall and Arthur worked in the same field, likely competed for clients. If her big mouth came back on Arthur, she wouldn't forgive herself. She straightened, squared her shoulders, and forced her voice to stay professional. "If you liked him, wouldn't you have split the less desirable jobs with him? I'm sure he didn't like being taken advantage of."

His looked at her in disbelief. "Hey, he was paid fair and square, like all of us."

"And he understands how to speak to a 'woman like me' more than you ever will." A sharp exhale as her cheeks burned. "From what Arthur has said, you could learn a lot from Gary. Please tell him hello from us and have a good evening." With that, she headed off to find Arthur, ignoring Randall's lame attempts to call her back.

Arthur was in line when she spotted him. He stepped forward and pointed to the menu. As she approached, she noticed how he fidgeted with his cigarette, tapping it repeatedly though there was no ash. The subtle tremble in his knee. If he continued to carry himself so tightly, his muscles would cramp.

Clearing her throat, she slipped behind him and hugged his back. "Did you have to deal with that insufferable know-it-all every day?"

He grabbed the proffered cup from the clerk and headed to a nearby table. Plunked himself down and took a drag off his smoke. Stress poured off him, clear in every flex of his fingers. His palm went to his stomach as he practiced controlling his breathing. "What- What did he tell you? That everyone thought I was a freak? How much I fucked up?" His voice lowered then, barely above a whisper. She could tell he was talking to himself. "The hospital?"

"Enough to know he was a jerk. I'm glad you're not there anymore." She put her chin on his shoulder. Watched him take a sip of lemonade. "Nothing he said matters, but I told him how important you are to me." She tucked a hair behind his ear, and he leaned into her touch. Their gazes met, his shining in the dim light. The evening had been fantastic so far. She wasn't going to let some asshole ruin it. "Come on," she urged, jutting her hip towards him. "We still have half the park to explore."

~~~~~

About a third of the way through their ride on the Mad Hatter, Amusement Mile's famous coaster, Y/N realized eating had been a mistake. A big one. Thrown to a fro in the sharp curves, she could nearly taste the bile in the throat. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, willing her nausea to pass. For his part, Arthur appeared exhilarated, laughing with every peak and valley. Seeing that happiness was a gift, one that gratified and partially distracted from her queasiness.

Fortunately, the enclosed cabins on the Ferris wheel were a respite. They waited an extra turn to board the outer wheel, which rotated at a leisurely pace and allowed her stomach to settle. The view from the top was beautiful, Gotham Cathedral's lit spires and the Westward Bridge prominent against the night sky. Wayne Tower was also visible, but she did her best to ignore the high-rise and its gaudy "W." He pointed in the direction of Burnley and said, "There's our home." She was unexpectedly moved. Then he kissed her soundly, which quickly advanced to mild necking when the wheel paused.

The carousel was antique, according to the sign. The only original attraction left in the park. A massive wooden structure with a mirrored center, it had three rows of horses, broken up by the occasional bench. He stepped onto the gray platform and picked one, painted red and yellow, roses etched along its back. But she climbed a nearby leaping horse instead, its black mane and tan body faded by years of sunlight.

He quirked a dark brow until she beckoned him with a nod. Cheeks pink, countenance tender in the lingering blinks of the incandescent bulbs, he followed suit. "Hang onto me," she instructed. As the calliope's whistles began their jaunty tune, he cupped her hips and pressed into her. A flutter tickled her stomach. She reclined against him, let her eyes fall shut as his warmth surrounded her. Round and round they went, chuckling airily. Not at any jokes or amusements, but at the joy of one another.

Arthur picked the last ride, an old mill called Romantic River Caves. She had to stop herself from snickering at the idea of a middle-aged woman and her nearly-middle-aged boyfriend cruising along in something built for teenagers. But he delighted in cliches and corniness, a preference she attributed to his inexperience and kind nature. Though such gestures hadn't thrilled her since she was a girl, she appreciated them with him.

The boats were short and narrow, just wide enough for the two of them to sit side-by-side. Curved backrests encouraged cuddling. Off-key versions of old standards played through tinny speakers. Myriad displays were inside, a mix of plaster dioramas and paintings. Two swans swimming, their beaks touching. A couple on a picnic under a tree. Bouquets and hearts galore. There were five or so seconds of darkness between each one. He took advantage of those breaks, kissing her again and again until she was breathless.

She scanned the starry painting above them, the comets' trails stretched across the tunnel's ceiling. "It's been a long time since I've done anything like this. Twenty-five? Thirty years?"

"Me, too. I snuck in when I was a kid. To see the circus and the merry-go-round." He smoothed his hair back, pressed his legs tighter together. "When I moonlighted here, I could've gone on the rides and to the shows. I- I didn't want to alone."

He paused and she put her palm on his thigh. Gave him an encouraging squeeze. "That postcard I have?" he said. "By my desk? It was in my locker at HaHa's." His fingers covered hers, tips tracing her knuckles. "It's good to have a person to have fun with. To have you."

She beamed at that sentiment, for she felt it, too. Yes, she'd been complete on her own. No, she hadn't been lonely. But he added to her existence. Introduced her to activities and experiences she hadn't previously considered or realized she'd needed. Going to a comedy club. Dancing despite her lack of skill. Or enjoying vulnerability during quiet conversations in their bedroom rather than fearing it. He'd broadened her life in ways she was still discovering. And he regularly told her she'd bettered his. "You're my favorite ride," she said.

A sharp snort left him, followed by a bashful chuckle. He shook his head. "You're crazy."

"I didn't mean that." She batted his chest playfully. Tried to cross her legs under the safety bar. "This relationship we've started." Light appeared at the end of the tunnel, the shallow pool's grimy floor coming into view as the water level fell. Soon they'd be amongst the crowd. "Remember when I said we'd never be perfect? I like our imperfections. They fit. Like..." She contemplated. "A pen and paper. They're good on their own but they're best together." Cringing, she covered her face. "God, that didn't even make sense. A pen needs paper."

"Didn't you say you needed me?" he teased, pulling her hand from her brow to place it on his sternum. "I don't mind being your paper." Blushing, Y/N turned to him when he cupped her jaw. Ran his thumbs over her cheeks. She joined him in ignoring the attendant's instruction to disembark. Arthur kissed her, a delicate graze to her mouth before he drew her bottom lip between his. "You're the best ride, too."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve, @howdylilflower, @sweet-nothings04, @stephieraptorr, @rommies, @fallenstarsabyss, @gruffle1, @octopus-plasma, @tsukiakarinobara, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile, @another-day-in-chuckletown, @hhandley80, @jokerownsmysoul, @64-crayon

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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thegeekerynj · 3 years

Text

Short Reviews, when the Big Mouth doesn’t have much to say… Or is trying to get caught up from COVID / Election Overload

An Occasional Attempt to Read, Discuss and Review the Wonders of Comics

By: John Rafferty, cranky old man, and Fan of All Things Comics

Short Takes

Short Reviews, when the Big Mouth doesn’t have much to say… Or is trying to get caught up from COVID / Election Overload

Legion of Super Heroes 6-10 (DC Comics)

Writer: Brian Michael Bendis Pencils: Ryan Sook (#6 - 7, 10) Various (8 - 9) Inker: Wade Von Grawbadger (#6 - 7, 10) Various (8 - 9)

‘You want to be called Bouncing Boy?

Looking at the Memexes, we were considering “The Bullet”.

Bullet?

It’s a projectile that——

No, with me, it’s all about the BOUNCE.

———————————————————————————————————

Can Brian Bendis write everything?

Between story, and downright FUN, this is a great book. Team books are hard to do well, if for no other reason, because of the characterizations.

Multiple characters mean multiple personalities, and some of those will always get underdeveloped in relationship to the team, as the writer invariably has favorites Unless…

What we are seeing with LSH is development of characters from across the spectrum. Every book has development of some of the characters, even if they’re not directly involved in the story. This is a far cry from what you see in other books.

Add to this Ryan Sook’s breakdowns, and Wade von Grawbadger’s inks, and you get a pretty package, all tied up in a big bow. More importantly, this is a story with a legacy reaching back 60 years, and is being truly refreshed for a new audience.

This isn’t the Legion I read in 1967, but it’s damned good!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

===========================================================

Suicide Squad #9 - 10 (DC Comics)

Writer: Tom Taylor Artist: Bruno Redondo

I have Kord’s location.

Okay. Do you also have the Senator?

Oh, did you want him back for some reason? That spineless mouth-breather championed a law to dump more waste into the sea. Delusional, greedy @#$% thinks he owns the world.

I have some friends reminding him he does not.

———————————————————————————————————

Floyd Lawton, first appearance, Batman #59, June 1950, as the man who never misses.

Floyd Lawton, a man who feels no rereason to continue living, but has no wish to die: who puts his life on the line to save his teammates time and time again, to save his daughter and her mother, all with the wish of dying in a truly spectacular fashion.

Floyd Lawton, who finally finds a reason to live, in the eyes of his daughter, Zoe.

Floyd Lawton. Deadshot. Perennial member of Task Force X, finally earned his pardon.

Game Over.

By all that’s Unholy, Tom Taylor is a hateful SOB! But the man writes a great story!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

===========================================================

Marvel Zombies Resurrection # 1 - 4 (Marvel Comics)

Writer: Phillip Kennedy Johnson Artist: Leonard Kirk

‘Fine. I guess we came all this way.

Might as well do something really stupid.

———————————————————————————————————

This sums up exploring the World, any world, during a Zombie Apocalypse. Especially when those with Super Powers have been turned into Super Zombies.

So, we pick up with Peter Parker, Forge, Karla Sofen (Moonstone), Valeria and Franklin Richards, a Flerkin named Chewie, and the reprogrammed Sentinel lovingly called ‘Nana’, moving from defendable place to defensible area, seeking a ‘safe place’. Somewhere they can rest for more than one night… if that is possible.

Always realizing the next tree could be hiding a zombified Avenger, or Defender, or Loved one…

Johnson’s Miniseries is another version of the Marvel Zombiepocalypse, which begs the question, what happens when Zombie Galactus infects your world? Or, more importantly, when it CARRIES the infection to your world?

Leonard Kirk’s art style is perfect for this story, a very dark, visceral style which is a little hard on the eyes, making the reader work for every panel. Yes, it hurts to read, but IT SHOULD! It’s Zombies!

This is worth the read if you can get all 4 issues (the first issue came out in July).

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

===========================================================

Rorschach #1 (DC Black Label)

Writer: Tom King Artist: Jorge Fornes

‘They won’t talk to me. Treating me like I’m a damn Kindergarten kid. I got twins in Kindergarten. Duane and Dwight. I’m not a Kindergarten kid.

Jesus Christ. What’d they say to you?

That you’re dying.

Shit.

===========================================================

In 1985, Walter Kovacs died.

It went unnoticed, but for the few in attendance, for Kovacs died following the Alien Invasion of New York, which, in effect saved the world.

Yet, unnoticed, but for the few, Walter Kovacs became a red splash on the Antarctic permafrost.

And Rorschach, the Crime Hunter, died with him.

Or. did he?

In a world existing somewhere between Watchmen 1985 and Current Multiverses, Tom King and begun a noir-ish tale… Did Rorschsch come back, to foil an assassination attempt, and die in the process?

Did he come back, and fail at an attempt at assassination?

Or, Gentle Readers, is there a whole slew of balls in the air we just haven’t seen yet, that we are going to be expected to juggle deftly, as they drop just into sight?

I can’t wait for the answer!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

===========================================================

Justice League #54 - 57 (Death Metal Tie-In) (DC Comics)

Writer: Joshua Williamson Artists: Xermanico (54, 57), Pencils: Robson Rocha (55 - 56), Inks: Daniel Henriquez (55 - 56)

“Don’t you get it Cyborg? We’re not the Justice League!

We’re the Suicide Squad!

———————————————————————————————————

I have said before I am not a fan of Joshua Williamson’s writing.

Maybe I just don’t like him on the Flash.

Four issues, each of them a very good story, each building, with some action and humor, to a smash mouth endpoint, that brings us to Death Metal #5.

I have to say, I’m enjoying this run of Justice League, even with the switch of artist teams mid - tale Xermanico’s work os beautiful, right into the valley of the Starros (that gave me giggle fits!) Rocha and Henriquez’s work is very pretty, and a little darker than Xermanico’s, giving a more atmospheric touch to the Antenna of LOD.

I have to admit, they do a mean Kori, as well! Really FIERCE, with a Full Length mohawk!

Well worth the cost of admission, and a strong addition to the Metal storyline.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Nightwing #75 - 76 (DC Comics)

Writer: Dan Jurgens Artists: Travis Moore and Ronan Cliquet (75), Ronan Cliquet (76)

‘We have to talk.’

———————————————————————————————————

Four words.

Four words that have ended more relationships than violence.

Dan Jurgens has done a masterful job of tying up the Ric Grayson / Amnesias storyline that seems to have run for nigh on ever… by bringing it full circle to Anatoli Knyazev, the KGBeast.

The artwork in these two issues was pretty, with obvious switches between that of Travis Moore (the Titans / Batgirl pages) and Ronan Cliquet’s Batman / KGBeast pages.

Nicely tied up, completing multiple storylines in two issues. Ready to move forward/

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶.5

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Young Justice #19 - 20 (DC Comics)

Writers: Brian Michael Bendis and David Walker Artist: Scott Godlewski

Red Tomato?

I think he said Tornado, and you know it.

Honestly, he talks so fast, I can’t understand him most of the time.

———————————————————————————————————

Damian Wayne, Robin. Cassie Sandmark, Wonder Girl. Bart Allen, Impulse. Conner Kent, Superboy. Stephanie Brown, Spoiler. Keli Quintela, Teen Lantern. Zan and Jayna. the Wonder Twins. Jinny Hex, Naomi, Amethyst,

Twenty issues in, and the book is cancelled… or is planned to end. Either way, this is a suck way to do things, DC.

This is a great group of characters. Much better than the roster in the Young Justice cartoon, simply for the diversity. Some heroes just coming into their own, some who have existed for years, (the Wonder Twins have been around in MULTIPLE iterations since the 1970’s), all helping each other… This was a great jumping in book for pre-teens who weren’t up for all the violence / hyperkinetic action / storytelling of a true adult book.

And, it was FUN!

Bendis, Walker and Godlewski produced a fantastic product every month.

One which is ending too soon. Unless, of course, it is going to come back in a new package…

Hint, hint, hint…

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Amazing Spider-Man 50 - 53 ‘Last Remains’ (Marvel Comics (duh!))

Writer: Nick Spencer Artist: Patrick Gleason

‘You’re going to love it, Pete. There’s no better feeling in this life — Than being surrounded by those you love.

———————————————————————————————————

So, what are the rules around DEAD Characters returning?

Do they have to be relevant after so many years? Shouldn’t they be, well, driven to do something? Not take more than 50 issues to finally get around to saying…”Bazinga!’, or it’s equivalent?

I must admit, issue 50 is the first issue of a Spider-Man book I picked up, and started to enjoy, until I realized I needed to pick up the LR issues also in order to get the whole story. Didn’t’t we get enough of this in the Shooter Years?

What about a year and a half ago, when Marvel vowed they would never pull this crap again??

I guess they forgot… (Insert comparison to jackass in office here).

Too much work, don’t really care.

Especially when the reveal of who Kindred is happens in issue 50, and Peter finds out in #53… Puh-Leez!

At least it’s not Professor Warren and his Gwen Stacy clone. **BRRRRR** Freakin’ Creepy Old Perv!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶

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Batman 101 - 102 (DC Comics (bigger DUH!))

Writer: James Tynion IV Artist: Guillen March (101) Pencils: Carlo Pagulayan Inks: Danny Miki Artist: Carlos D’Anda (Pages 13 - 16)

‘DOUBLE RENT! And you don’t talk to the other tenants! They are good people.

Little Santa Prisca is a community. We live through BANE. We live through JOKER. Don’t blow it up with all your nonsense!

You got it Charlie, No Nonsense. Not Here.

Hey! What’s your policy on Hyenas?

———————————————————————————————————

So, Lucius Fox is one of the richest men in the world.

Selina Kyle has put the Bat on a One Year Clock to get his stuff together, or she walks.

Clownkiller might be the Bernard Goetz of Superhero Vigilantism (look up the reference, I can’t do everything!), but he goes about proving you can’t keep a good vigilante killer down if he has Google.

Ghost Maker is more than we thought, and knows who Bruce Wayne keeps in the closet (or cave).

Is there anyone in Gotham who doesn’t know who Bruce Wayne is?

Tynion continues to pump out some great product, the stories and characters do not disappoint. Including Grifter as Fox’s ‘bodyguard’ was a nice touch, having him get the drop on Batman, a nicer one.

The art in both books, while vastly different, is simply gorgeous. I want to see more od the team of Pagulayan and Miki, I’m hoping to see their work grow with the storylines.

Next issue, BATTLE Sequences! Should be fun, not that it hasn’t been so far.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Shang Chi #1 - 2 (Marvel Comics)

‘I have to save my Little Sister!

I have to kill my Big Brother!’

———————————————————————————————————

Only meetings should have agendas.

-Me, just now

Once upon a time, Sax Rohmer wrote stories about the machinations of one Fu Manchu, and his oft overturned attempts to take over the world.

In 1973, Steve Engelhart and Jim Starlin brought Shang Chi, son of Fu Manchu into the Marvel Universe, where he and his MI-6 partners Clive Reston and Black Jack Tarr were responsible for being the monkey wrenches in the machinery of Fu Manchu’s Plans.

It seems that Shang Chi is back, without his prior father. He is still proficient in all forms of martial arts, but now, he is ‘Champion of House of the Deadly Hand’ (like that name isn’t going to come to but him in the butt like a Karmic werewolf), and since the passing of his ‘Father”, now the Commander of the Five Weapons Society.

The artwork is pretty, and the story, steeped in Asian Mysticism, is a little draggy so far. Is the story good? Yeah, it’s a nice reminder of a character I exjyed a long tome ago.

Will it get better? Time will tell.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶.5

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The Rise of Ultraman #1 - 3 (Marvel Comics, by way of Tsuburaya Productions)

Writers: Kyle Higgins and Matt Groom Artist: Francesco Manna

Oh. You’re here to fight because you think we’re one of the species that can’t evolve.

No. I know you cannot evolve.

Fifty-Four of your years ago, my brother came to assist you. And you killed him.

———————————————————————————————————

In the late 60’s, on certain New York television stations, the Saturday Afternoon hours were filled with Japanese imports, Kaiju - United Science Patrol, and of course the story of the death of Moroboshi, and the coming of Ultraman.

Ultraman, a human - alien symbiosis, who fought the Kaiju menace coming to take over the Earth.

Forward to 2020, a new Ultraman, with a new team of USP helpers / friends, and what looks at this point to be a corrupt system surrounding them.

This creative team has done a marvelous job with the material thus far, reviving this character for a modern reader.

It’s just a shame it’s only 5 issues…

It is definitely worth the read.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

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American Vampire 1976 #1 - 2 (DC Comics)

Writer: Scott Snyder Artist: Artist: Rafael Albuquerque

‘DAMMIT! Before what happened with Gus, you were the best vampire tracker and killer around. I’m asking you to help me take down whoever this PEELING MAN is.

But if this shitty music and LASERS is your life now, then just say so, and I’ll leave you to it.

It’s not a laser, you goddamned idiot.

It’s a SOLAR LAMP. **klik**

———————————————————————————————————

Ten years ago, Scott Snyder, Rafael Albuquerque and Stephen King started a journey which has spanned 10 Years in real time, but 200 years, and 12 separate cycles in series time.

The current iteration has our favorite group of vamps and exterminators running around 1976, wrecking discos, trains, and graveyards, all in the name of bringing back Stoker’s primary villain.

Snyder proves again he is up to the task of creating a world of whimsy and horror, providing mayhem, madness, and the occasional snorting giggle. His droll wit, and ability to write a phenomenal action piece makes this cycle of the American Vampire story a must read.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

#Legion of Superheroes #suicide squad #marvel zombies resurrection #rorschach #jusice league #Dark Nights Death Metal #nightwing #young justice #amazing spider-man #last remains #batman #Shang chi #the rise of ultraman #American vampire 1976

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tiny-cloud-dragon · 5 years

Text

FF7: Random Bits 4 Chapter 4

Here it is, the final chapter for this Random Bit! Thank you to all of you who wait so patiently for me to update!

[Setting: Zack is having a bothersome tooth pulled, and Cloud is elected the lucky man to pick him up from his appointment.]

[Location: The car Cloud borrowed - Mid afternoon, almost at 7th Heaven]

Cloud felt nothing but relief as he turned down the street leading to the 7th Heaven. His enhanced vision could pick out the familiar store front and the sign that shone in the afternoon light like the beacon of salvation beckoning a lost soul home. In the seat beside him, Zack was in the midst of a heated argument with his hand. What he was arguing about was a mystery, as he was currently shouting in 'Boom Shaka-Laka'. The phrase had long ago stopped tickling Cloud's Funny Bone, and had begun to grate on his Last Nerve.

The dragon part of him uncoiled and was pacing, tail lashing peevishly as it hissed in utter vexation and tried to convince him that it would be a very good idea if they ate Zack. Cloud tried to shut out the dragon's ranting as he drove as fast as he dared while still staying mostly within the posted speed limit. He had no desire to be pulled over with an angry dragon in his head and a friend high on general anesthesia, and have to say "Sorry, Officer. I was speeding so I wouldn't have to eat my friend." while Zack shouted BOOM SHAKA-LAKA! the whole time.

Cloud gratefully pulled up to the bar. He got out quickly and wrestled Zack out of his seat belt. Zack was not not on speaking terms with his hand. Cloud had thought that drawing a little face on Zack's hand would keep him entertained so he wouldn't keep licking the window. The hand puppet idea fell into the Cloud's mental list under the heading Things That Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time. Zack had started out talking enthusiastically to his hand, then making out with his hand, and then came the intensely emotional break up. Cloud had been witness to the entire Courtship Process from hook up, to break up, to appearance on family tabloid scandal talk show compressed into the space of three minutes.

Zack was frowning so hard at his hand that the corners of his mouth could have almost been deemed a tripping hazard. Cloud couldn't help but smile at the sight as he shut the car door and pulled Zack's arm across his shoulders to help steady him. "Don't worry, Zack, " Cloud tried to soothe him, "At least you don't owe child support."

Zack harrumphed and glared at his hand. It blinked back at him and sneered as Cloud helped him inside. The door opened like a mouth, rolling out a long tongue like a red carpet welcoming an esteemed guest. They stepped through, the potted trumpet shrub in the corner played a brief fanfare, and the door closed with a genteel burp.

Tifa was behind the bar, getting clean glasses ready for when the bar opened. She began speaking with Cloud, but Zack wasn't paying attention to the conversation because a small Sephiroth had just scampered down his arm and seated itself on the hand Cloud was griping Zack's wrist with. Zack stared at it. It smiled almost benignly at him before pulling out its sword, darting up Cloud's shoulder and, after pausing to giggle mischievously, sliced the string tethering Cloud's balloon head to his body.

Zack gasped as if sucking up all the air in the room and stood by helplessly as the yellow balloon with Cloud's face on it slowly floated up. Right into the briskly spinning blades of the ceiling fan, where it met its end with a loud pop!

Zack shrieked and looked from the falling bits of yellow latex to Cloud's neck. There was a hissing sound, and a new balloon rapidly inflated and floated up out of Cloud's collar, bouncing on the end of its freshly tied string.

Cloud was filling Tifa in on the details of how the appointment had gone when Zack gasped like a set of dying bagpipes. They both looked at Zack as he loosed a lung-shredding shriek that threatened to liquify their eardrums. "What on earth-?" Tifa began as Zack all but gibbered with relief and grabbed at Cloud's head.

"He's been like that ever since I picked him up," Cloud replied, pulling Zack's frantic hands away from his head. "He's got this weird obsession with my head. You should have seen him when I picked him up!"

"I can only imagine," Tifa commented wryly.

Zack looked at Cloud and whimpered "Boom Shaka-Laka?" in the same tone one would use to ask 'are you alright?'

"Don't ask," Cloud said flatly as Tifa raised an eyebrow in question. "Let's just get him upstairs so he can sleep it off."

Tifa pulled Zack's left arm across her shoulders, and helped Cloud walk Zack towards the bar.

"Are you sure he's okay?" she asked, concerned as Zack went "Wheeeeee!" and started making random video game noises when she lifted the flip up counter top.

"Yeah, he's actually looking a lot better than when I first picked him up," Cloud grunted as he turned sideways and maneuvered Zack behind the counter.

"How can you tell?" Tifa grunted, giving Zack a helpful push as he decided to come to a dead stop halfway through the bar access door to stare around the room.

"Well, both of his eyes are looking in the same direction, and he's not falling down every half step."

"I'll take your word for it." Tifa said as Zack looked back and forth between her and Cloud, laughing hysterically.

The magical rainbow portal they had entered deposited them in an alternate universe where everything was the same, except the bar now had an odd 16-bit look to it. One might even go so far as to describe it as 'pre-rendered'. Zack turned his head to mention the observation to Cloud, and bust out laughing. Both of his friends had turned into bulky, low polygon, 3D versions of themselves. Their bodies were made of simple shapes, and they didn't even have hands, just stumpy hooves on the ends of their arms.

Polygon Cloud turned to give Zack an unreadable look, Zack jerked his face in the other direction to keep from being stabbed in the face by a spear of polygon hair, and almost lost an eye to a polygon tiddy. Tifa patted Zack with a hand stump, and he started laughing all over again.

He continued to giggle as they shuffled up the pre-rendered stairs. The confined space barely left enough room for one person, let alone three, and this caused a storm of frantic clipping as various parts of Cloud and Tifa passed through the walls and themselves.

Zack's brain, still reeling from the general anesthesia, found the whole thing highly amusing, which was nothing of note, considering that in his current state, he would have laughed at the color of dryer lint. One of Cloud's hoof hands clipped through Zack's neck, while Tifa's face clipped through his head, and that was when it went from hysterically funny, to bowel twistingly unsettling. Zack blanched, the color draining out of his face like a flushed toilet as he got a good look at the inside of Tifa's head. He was about to scream when everything went black for half a second as the scene transitioned, leaving them standing in the pre-rendered hallway, all nice and separate.

Wilting with relief, Zack allowed himself to be led down the hall towards the bedroom. They met with a temporary delay when Tifa got stuck on the wall next to the bedroom door. They had to wait while she aimlessly turned in circles and glitched against the wall before finally getting unstuck. Cloud opened the door, leaving Zack wondering how one turned a door knob with a hand that lacked fingers, or even a wrist, and they stepped back into the normal world.

Cloud sat Zack on his bed by the window, where it had been ever since Zack had gotten lonely in his apartment on Base, and Tifa and Cloud had insisted that he move in. He ended up sharing a room with Cloud after he and Tifa got into a row over Zack not wanting her go to the costly expense of renovating the bar to add a new room. Cloud had stepped in with the offer to share his room before Zack ended up having to be carried upstairs in a bucket.

Tifa went back down to the bar to get a glass of water for Zack, while Cloud tried to get Zack comfortable. He pulled off Zack's boots, pushed him over onto the mattress, and was about to toss the blanket over him, when Zack abruptly sat back up with a cry of "Wait!"

"What? What is it?" Cloud asked, slightly startled at the outburst.

"I forgot to floss!"

"What?"

"I forgot to floss!

"You just had a tooth pulled! You don't need to floss right now-!," Cloud began as Zack jumped up.

Tifa returned, glass in hand and found Cloud arguing with an agitated Zack.

"What are you two doing?" she asked as she set the glass down on the desk.

"I forgot to floss," Zack babbled.

"You don't-!" Tifa started to say before Zack shoved Cloud's hands away and started Flossing. Something told Cloud that the immediate future need to be preserved for future generations, so he whipped his phone out and started recording while Tifa gave him a disapproving frown. He noted, however, that she made no effort to step in and stop the shenanigans.

Zack started out Flossing slowly, as if testing his coordination, and then went a little faster. Cloud expected him to stop after the first five minutes or so, but to his surprise, Zack began to speed up. His arms just kept moving faster and faster, becoming mere blurs as he Flossed as if his very life depended on it. Cloud feared that he was going to dislocate either a hip or a shoulder as the motion began to stir up a breeze. The wall calendar began flapping slowly, and random papers on Cloud's desk began to lift slightly. Cloud began to really worry when the curtains started fluttering. He swore he heard a faint whirring noise before Zack Flossed himself into exhaustion and collapsed backwards across his bed, snoring faintly.

"Well, color me impressed," Tifa whispered in admiration as they quietly left the room.

Zack woke a few hours later, jaw a little sore, but feeling much better than he had that morning. He had the vague and suspicious feeling that a lot things (most of them embarrassing) had happened, but darned if he could remember what they were. He sat up as Cloud came in to check on him.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Zack responded, his tone uncertain as he noticed the blank expression Cloud wore. He was very familiar with that look, or lack there of. Cloud usually had that look when he was hiding various emotions. By the way his mouth was tighter than usual at the corners, and the way his eyes were slightly crinkled at the corners, he finding something funny. And it had to do with him. More specifically, something he had done.

"What happened?" Zack asked in such a way that his question covered multiple contexts.

"What do you remember?" Cloud asked, enigmatically.

Zack, feeling more and more uneasy, searched though the jumbled box of hazy memories. He described the events starting from waking up in the exam room, all the way until he Flossed himself to sleep. Cloud listened, not saying a word until Zack was finished. Now everything made sense, including Zack's fascination with Cloud's head.

They spent a few minutes laughing at some of the more outlandish hallucinations, and the more humorous things Zack had done on the way home.

"But the best hallucination was the rainbow unicorn! It had a rainbow mane, an diamond horn, and get this: it flew by farting rainbow glitter!" Zack howled with laughter, wiping his streaming eyes.

Cloud chuckled with him for a few moments before stopping and saying in a dead serious tone, "The unicorn was real,"

The seriousness with which Cloud delivered the news hit Zack's ears like a granite slab. Silence rang loud in the room for a few heartbeats before Zack stuttered in disbelief and no small amount of suspicion that Cloud was pulling his leg, "It what...?"

"The unicorn was real. That was 3rd Class ELITE Eunice Cornelius, who just made his first Shift today."

Zack stared at Cloud, not sure of what to say, so he settled for nodding and saying "Well, Boom Shaka-Laka!"

The End.

#cloud strife #zack fair #clack #if you squint #ffvii #ff7 #ffvii fanfic #ff7 fanfic #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #random bits #ff7 random bits #humor #final fantasy 7 fanfic #final fantasy vii fanfic

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filipfatalattractionrblog · 5 years

Quote

Dr. Heiter (Dieter Laser) in the first film is never explicitly called a Nazi, but he is implicitly coded as one, from his taste in music to his misanthropy and affinity for medical experiments. He's what you would imagine Dr. Mengele to be. And he's rooted in both the notion of Europe reckoning with its fascist past, and Six's own fear of medical procedures. The anticipation and description of the surgery is almost worse than the actual cutting; Six uses this to spread things out and give us time to expect that maybe the victims will escape. Nope. If they had, the movie probably wouldn't be as memorable. Instead, it gives you the shocking thing you paid to see. And it ends with everyone either dead or dying. But then, in the sequel, we meet Martin (Laurence R. Harvey), a socially awkward, physically unattractive, living-at-home introvert who becomes obsessed with the first film. And like so many toxic fans online, he identifies with Heiter rather than his victims — think Rick and Morty fans who somehow believe Rick is meant to be a hero and role model. He plans his own Human Centipede for real, which will involve one of the actual actresses from the movie. It's an elaborate plan, carried out in detail...and then, in the last moments of the film, we find it was just a fantasy. He doesn't have it in him to actually do the thing. The "It's all a dream" ending is usually a cop-out, but not here, and here's why: threats on the Internet by obsessive fanboys like Martin, in real life, blur the lines between fantasy and reality, deliberately. If caught, they'll claim their threats were just for the LOLz. But sometimes the threats involve actual stalking, or swatting, i.e. calling in a fake crime at the subject's home address, summoning police with guns drawn who may shoot someone by mistake. Feeling powerless, many of today's alt-right recruits idolize powerful figures both real and fictional, and draw up revenge fantasies about a world they feel rejects them. And yes, those are often directed at favorite actresses who wouldn't give them the time of day in real life, and the characters they admire are often fascist. Part three takes it a step further. The next step is that those nascent Nazis invade real-world politics. In the third film, a maniacal, racist, misogynist prison warden (Laser again) is inspired by his accountant (Harvey again) to watch the first two Human Centipede movies. He does, and is inspired to make his real-life (mostly nonwhite) inmates into a centipede as a formal punishment. The idea has gone from a fringe Nazi concept, to something giggled at by Internet "incels" (involuntary celibates), to becoming actual policy — critics of the White House's "Muslim ban" architect Stephen Miller would say this describes him. It's no coincidence that Laser and Harvey play the inspired and the inspirations; it's a shorthand for saying that in fact, there's no appreciable difference between Nazis and people who flirt with Nazi ideas. The third film ends on a note that implies things will only get worse from here. Back in 2009, the news cycle wasn't quite what it is today, but those looking could see a pattern: fringe blog says something outrageous (think "birtherism"), semi-mainstream commentator discusses it as an item worth considering, then mainstream news pick up on that commentator's take and make it a headline that begins "Some people are saying..." That cycle has only gotten worse, when the president retweets conspiracy theorists and says there are good people on both sides of a pro-slavery debate; meanwhile, right-wing actors like Adam Baldwin deliberately stoke the anger of hardcore video gamers by bolstering misogynist fears that women use sex to get good game reviews, and feminists are coming to ruin and censor violent or sexy titles. The mainstream media spends the day talking about it, the president (who got elected on some of this stuff) sometimes retweets it, until the next crackpot notion takes root in the online fever swamps. The regurgitation and egestion may be metaphorical, but it's a human centipede all its own.

10 Years of “Human Centipede” And It’s Prediction Of The Alt-Right

#nazism #fascism #racism #misogyny #media manipulation #stories shape us

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hooryayy · 7 years

Text

TWO YEARS TO THE DAY LATER and I am finally ready to share the story of when I fangirled hard enough to Edward James Olmos that he gave me a free autographed photo of him and Mary McDonnell

So this might get a tad longish, so I’ll be under a cut, but here is a brief summary: a Trump supporter pissed me off so much that despite me being high as heck on adderall, I had to go talk to EJO

In July 2015 I got my then romantic partner and his roommate to watch BSG with me so when I found out EJO was going to be at San Jose Comic Con in August, it only took a little bit of pestering to get them on board.

It was a 2-day convention and my always broke ass had to work late Friday night so we were only going to make it for half of the first day. Saturday morning rolls around and the boys are tripping out because our usual drug guy fell through. It was kind of a ritual for us to pick up some uppers anytime we went out of town, and tbh we were all heavily drug dependent back in those days SO you bet we took 2 extra hours to pop in and out of the city to pick up.

Finally dosed and got on our way, hit the usual weekend bay area traffic and arrived to the con at 3pm. We walked in and the line to meet this guy stretched wall to wall and I was immediately intimidated and tried to walk back out lmao. An announcement was made that they were ending for the day at 4, so I felt a lot less pressured to overcome my anxiety yet. Spent that hour in Star Trek collectors heaven though..

Rest of the eve/night we spent doing things GROWN ASS ADULTS shouldn’t be doing like sneaking into mini-golf and climbing trees with bottles of Jack and hot-boxing our hotel room while watching the series finale of Hannibal...

OK so Sunday. This was my day. We were having breakfast at the Red Robin in Morgan Hill with all the white families that just got done with church, the three of us doubled-down on 60 extended (okay this is a pretty big dose) and I’m starting to get anxious again (with or without the drugs it wouldn’t have mattered) like “I’m not/I can’t meet this guy, I don’t know how to approach him or even what to say blah blah blah” and the boys are getting mad at me because I talked about this for weeks (and planned what i wanted to say) and I’m being lame and I’ll be fine..

We show up to day 2, 12pm.. and literally no one is in line and now I am hella freaking the fuck out because literally it is only me that is stopping this from happening. My friend immediately walks up and shakes his hand and chats for a second and comes back and says the obvious that he is a nice dude, and I am like frozen, second hand embarrassment even though nothing bad happened. But my scared ass walks to the exact opposite corner of the building to slowly browse and psyche myself up for this.

so I got sucked in to this guy’s 90s scifi trading card collection, specifically the x-files binders lol and then he starts to make small talk and stuff, he asks what I study. OK I studied Political Science and Religious Studies, and it LITERALLY does not matter which answer I give it always starts something. but I choose the easier one and say politics.. and hooo boy

This fucker just goes off on me, saying shit like how stupid and lazy my generation is and that we don’t work hard, are entitled and have no idea how the real world works (the usual propaganda), and if we did we would be thinking about voting for Trump in the 2016 election (mind you this was VERY early on where Trump was still considered a joke even to the republicans)

Remember I am HIGH AS Shit. I am 2000% extra aware of and feeling the aggressive and hateful energy coursing through my veins from this interaction. Now Im sure he said other things I don’t remember because all I could do is focus on my breathing as to not get manipulated into whatever space this guy was trying to create but I heard a break in his rant, looked up, smiled and said “Thanks for sharing your collection with me” and dipped for the back exit to smoke 18 cigarettes.

Here is where I am letting myself get fucking pissed off, pacing and chain smoking. Neither of the boys are answering their phones. Then I realized how badass I was just then, and proud of myseelf for spiritually blocking out a nazi (again this is before they identified as such and punching them was a thing). I was like if I can handle this asshole, I can go meet Edward James Fucking Olmos no. problem.

I march back in and go straight to his table but then I took a detour to sit in a white folding chair about 20 feet away for 25 minutes first. Eventually one of his security dudes comes up to me and is like “Are you waiting for an autograph?” and I’m like “no, but I do want to talk to him for a minute if that is possible”

The guy asks for my name and we walk up to EJO together and he goes “This is Amy. She would like to talk with you.” And now I am realizing that everyone here is trying to gauge how severe my social handicap is.. but he puts out his hand to shake

“Hi, I am Ed.” I shook his hand!!

“I’m Amy. I just had the most awful interaction with a Trump supporter here so Im a little put off. He kept telling me how stupid me and my generation are and it makes me very grateful that you are a humanist and philanthropist. I’d recently watched the UN Panel and you talked about the invention of race as a tool for genocide and it means so much to me that you would use your voice and influence on that platform to address these kinds of things...”

and I trail off cuz Im about to ramble and shit and I noticed how he was just taking everything I said very seriously, like wasn’t expecting any of that at all. HE pauses and looks back up at me and says how special that panel was to him, that he’ll never do something as important again in his life. Then he asks me where I go to school and what I study, so I tell him and he is impressed with all the creds. Asks me if I am planning on going into politics.

“Not in the public sense. I want to do policy research targeting intersections of poverty, race, and education” And I swear to god his eyes snap up so fast to meet mine, like he is in admiral mode here and I am captivated. Straight in the eyes to me he goes

“We need you. All of us needs you up there doing that, fighting for that, for us. I have a feeling we are about to enter some tough times. I can tell you are special and it takes special people to make things happen”

I said thank you but I am about to burst into tears. I mean we all know this but let me reinforce it.. Ed is such an intense human and I had all 100% of this guy in my presence, overwhelmingly so, and I am mostly shook because he literally had no obligation to say anything. This guy fucking met me 5 minutes ago but he is ready to say that, and I sense he isn’t the kind of guy to just say shit. Also I AM STILL VERY HIGH lets not forget

So I change the subject because that other stuff is getting too intense for me, and I switch over to BSG lol and I ask him about Adama’s tendency to punish himself physically when he feels he has played some role in pain or negativity coming into his loved ones’ lives. He talks particularly about Adama’s alcoholism in season 4 and how he approached it as a combo of punishment and escapism (which let me tell you is..accurate). He finishes up his answer and all of a sudden I fucking blurt out for some ungodly fucking reason

“I love you and Mary, you are so cute together, I hope to meet her too”

Mortified. I am overstepping boundaries. I am dying inside and I can’t believe I got 3 thoughts out before I stopped.

He smiles and giggles and grabs this pic to sign for me for freeee and says “I hope you will too”

Amy- all of my love to you.

Like is that something he would normally sign for someone? Is that something anyone would sign to a random fan?

Anyways he gave it to me, I said thanks and I literally ran out of the convention clutching this picture to my chest and sat down against the building and started crying of the ultimate level embarrassment I could personally possibly be on. My boys find me and laugh at me and I cried the whole way home.

I still get major embarrassment even today just thinking about this interaction, no matter how well it turned out and how much of an impact EJO had on me.

Feels good to finally share my story in its entirety!! Thanks for reading

#first full account #im serious i have psychological issues surrounding this #personal #edward james olmos #spaceparents #sjcc

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ginnyzero · 4 years

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Completely Harmless Ch. 33

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Thirty-Three Rainbow CRASH!!

The first day of Rainbow Week couldn’t have dawned any better. Clear skies, warm breezes, everything looked like it was going to go off without a hitch. The girls scrambled through the daily chores and then dressed in outfits for a day of having fun.

They stood in a circle and put their hands on top of each other.

“Right, girls, time for fun,” Regina said.

“Get ready to party!” Brittany shouted.

“Go Silver Drakes!” They shouted and raised their hands together. “Whee!”

“To Moorland!” Tyra pointed.

“To Moorland!” They all agreed as they mounted their horses and rode out.

The main part of Moorland’s festivities were taking place at the festival area. So, that’s where they went. First stop, they went to the tent to choose what friendship bracelet they wanted for their charm bracelets. There were two different rainbow styles to choose from and one that was hearts.

They would have to talk to Jenna at the stable to get their charm though.

They took photos at the selfie wall, browsed the Jojo and Rainbow Week shop. It had clothes and mysterious powders for their horses and interesting tack. They made bows and put them on at the crafting stall.

There was a large table where they could make and write Rainbow themed Friendship Cards for everyone. That took the longest, and was perhaps the most fun. They made them for everyone in their Clubs and the other Clubs. They even made them for the Bobcats, because no one wanted to be mean. It was Rainbow Week. Embrace the power of friendship! There were huge sacks of letters they stuck theirs in to go to the post office later.

And then when Jojo got on for her first set, they went and did a line dance in the front row.

Jojo jumped up and down she was so happy to see them and insisted for the second song that they dance with her. Which was tons of fun.

They promised her to come back later to listen to a full set.

They had just enough time to get their bow charm from Jenna before joining the parade to go to Fort Pinta!

Loretta insisted Lily ride with her. “Tan’s outfits were a disaster,” she said.

“Which is why you’re wearing the black on black,” Lily observed. The vest and capri pants had rainbow piping, and there was a rainbow bow at their necks.

“It was so tacky. I told her that next year, I’ll have someone else do the Festival grounds if she can’t focus on decorating and coming up with a reasonable design.” Loretta rolled her eyes.

‘I’m sure she tried her best. Rainbow is challenging.”

“Well, this was like a rainbow puked over everything. So not tres chic. We have fashion police on Jorvik and I don’t want to be arrested!”

“I don’t think that’s what the fashion police do.”

Loretta gave her a long look. “Nobody is supposed to know what the Fashion Police do. They’re, they’re this secret agency that we know exists. Think of all the Fashion crime they’re stopping by merely existing. Do you want to wear 100% polyester? The Fashion Police put a stop to that,” Loretta shuddered.

“For being secret, you know a lot about them.”

“Look, Tan might want to be a fashion designer, but I think I’m a top pick for the Fashion Police if I can’t make it in Eventing. I have studied everything. Fashion history. Fashion laws. I know it.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine at it,” Lily said trying to hide her dubiousness. Okay then. “Whatever you end up doing, that is.”

“I’ll win the eventing circuit in Jorvik if Anne Von Blissen doesn’t come back. Just watch me,” Loretta tossed her head. “I’m a shoo in. And, between you and I, I’m prettier than Anne. And everyone thought she was going to be a model before she went after the dressage circuit. Then, she’s gone. You know what I think.”

“No. I’m not psychic.”

“I think she was losing and couldn’t hack it. So she elected to disappear rather than face the shame of it all.”

“That’s a wild theory. I don’t know Anne at all.”

“She’s stuck up.”

Lily bit her tongue. That was rather hypocritical of Loretta to say.

Behind her, Pauline snorted.

“Like, Herman told her she had these fancy magic powers, that don’t exist, and I mean, she already thought she was better than the rest of us and that made it worse.” Loretta rolled her eyes. “She started hanging out with complete losers like Alex and Lisa and that nerd, Linda.”

“Isn’t Lisa a music star like Jojo?”

“She wasn’t then,” Loretta huffed. “Come on, it’s like you don’t get how this works.”

“No, Loretta. I don’t get how you do friendship,” Lily’s voice turned tart. “If I waited to be friends with someone before they were somebody, then I’d have no friends. You’re friends with Tan.”

“Tan gets it.”

The parade ended at the gates of Fort Pinta. Fortunately, because Lily was about to lose her temper. She rode straight into Fort Pinta without even saying good bye. She just, she couldn’t or else she was going to say something she’d regret later.

Pia ran over. “You came!”

Lily smiled as she looked around. There were pinatas in the trees and people of all ages lining up to look at them and take a swing to crack them open.

“Of course we came!” Pauline said. “Forgive Lily, she’s in Loretta daze.”

“Ugh. I understand. Mayor Peanut has the charms,” Pia explained. “So, you can head over and get them there.”

“The art show is,” Lily paused. “Colorful.”

Arrayed around the fountain were stands and little tents and umbrellas, all were rainbow themed, and under the rainbow themed tents and umbrellas were more, well, rainbow themed things.

Pia led them and their horses around the edge of it. DJ Kai was blasting “I Hate Plastic” in the disco. The floor lights turned random colors, the disco ball turned radiating small square lights onto the walls and the door of Disco Daze Clothes Shop.

Pia put a hand to her forehead. “I didn’t even ask for it and they, they showed up with tie dye. All of them! I mean, there’s pillows, and blankets, and wall art, and I don’t know what that is,” she gestured at something. “And t-shirts, I mean, get yourself a rainbow tie dye t-shirt.”

“We will,” one of the girls said.

Mayor Peanut had a rainbow sequin band on his new shiny black top hat. And someone, cheekily, had put a large rainbow tie around his neck.

The girls put up their horses in the stable first before coming back to see him.

James had rigged up a motion sensor and a bunch of recorded phrases it seemed as Mayor Peanut was talking almost non-stop. They got their charms, the pony head. And took selfies with him. He had a snack station too. And the tourists were using it egregiously. The girls though gave him extra scratches that he enjoyed just as much.

“It’s a good thing that James has to take him out with Fussywithers,” Tyra murmured. “Or he’d be getting fat.”

Eyes widened.

They found the backdrop near the statue and took more selfies with it.

Lily leaned against the sign as she waited her turn that explained who the statue was, one Governor Gareth. It popped open.

Lily jumped. “What in the world?” She went to close it and stopped. Inside was a round seal. She swiped it out and shut the sign up. It had a sun on it, like, the sun on Elizabeth’s dress design. It felt warm in her hand and her skin tingled. Lily glanced around. No one had noticed. She slipped the seal into her pocket. She’d show it to Linda later.

She didn’t think much of the hiding spot though.

They browsed the art show and there were purple t-shirts with rainbows on them. Of course, they bought them. The purple was a light purple and dark purple tie dye, then with the rainbow tie dyed in as well. They were perfect.

They decided they’d have to wear them the next day.

Of course, they had to dance to DJ Kai’s music and eat some cookies at the café. They stopped to look at all the cute piggies at the Pet Shop. The owner warned them that they wouldn’t be that small for long. Pigs, even dwarf pigs, could grow as tall as a person’s waist. Though normal pigs were taller than an average human.

The short take away was that pigs were big and were a commitment.

“Oh, we’re browsing,” Lily said. “Do you know anything about pet ducks?”

“No,” the owner said slowly.

“We have lots of ducks around our stable,” Linn said.

“Some of them want to adopt us,” Pauline giggled.

Once the pigs had gotten enough pets, and there was some stomach rumbling, they decided to head to the next place.

“All the sugar cookies are making me hungry!” Stacy said.

“Sugar does that,” Elsa said flatly.

They all rolled their eyes and headed to the Farmer’s Market where all the different restaurants had stands. They chose what they wanted and reconvened outside to eat in the sunshine.

They were halfway through the meal when something strange happened.

Across the Golden Fields, a rainbow appeared. Now, it didn’t appear like it shimmered into being. No. It appeared as if it had been spilled down from the sky (that was mostly clear still) and rammed into the ground.

“Is that?” Regina asked.

“Normal?” Melody finished.

“That’s not scientifically possible,” Elsa said.

It didn’t fade away either. It stayed there, exceptionally bright and vibrant.

As one, they got up and walked over finishing their meals. When they arrived at the base of the rainbow, they received no more answers.

Near the base of the rainbow pranced a being. They were dressed in a green jacket with an equally green top hat, and had two arms and two legs and one head, but that’s where the similarity to humans ended. For one, this being had grey brown fur all over their body. Their feet were cloven like a goats. They had a tail. And set in their rather beaky face were two big black eyes like, well, a spider.

“Krampus,” Brittany murmured.

They all looked at her confused.

She shrugged.

Lily approached cautiously. “Excuse us, good neighbor, is there something wrong?”

“Wrong!” The being’s voice was definitely male. “Yes. Much wrong. Rainbow crash. Rainbow gold go flying all over. Chaun flung to ground.”

“I’m sorry,” Lily said. “That sounds painful and terrifying.”

“Sounds like sabotage.”

“Brogan!” Chaun waved his fist and jumped up and down. “Brogan hate Chaun. Wants Chaun’s rainbow gold. Get gold. Chaun give gift. Gold scattered in dirt.”

The girls looked around, and sure enough, scattered around the area were piles and piles of dirt.

“So, if we go through the dirt and get the gold, you’ll give us something in return,” Lily said just to make sure.

“Fair. Chaun get gold. You get gifts.”

Right then. The little being or Krampus was gruff and short, but Lily didn’t have a reason not to think he wasn’t being honest. He was being pretty clear after all.

“And if we see Brogan?” Brittany asked.

“Capture. Bring to Chaun. Chaun deal with Brogan.”

That seemed reasonable. They didn’t want to get involved in a feud between Krampus leprechaun creatures.

The girls scattered to the different mounds to rummage through them for rainbow gold.

“Not what I thought I’d be doing today.”

Thankfully, it wasn’t difficult to find. They brought it back to Chaun who had a selection of items they could trade the gold for like he had a shop in magic space.

Chaun turned his head like a bird and seemed happy enough with what they’d returned to him. “Chaun go now.” He said and hopped onto the end of the rainbow and it drew upwards back into the sky.

“Okay, that was weird,” Lily said.

“Only on Jorvik,” Tyra said.

“Like, are we just going to accept that happened? We, we talked to a leprechaun,” Abigail waved her hands.

“Krampus,” Brittany corrected.

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes.”

“Does it matter?”

Brittany bit her lip. “For the sake of this discussion, no.”

“Right. And found his gold for him? Like, I’ve heard at gold at the end of the rainbow,” Abigail trailed off again.

“I need to wash my hands,” Lily said.

“We should pack the heavy gloves.”

“You think he’ll come back?”

“Well, he’s not the only one running around and it is Rainbow Week and if this,”

“Don’t say his name!” Brittany interrupted. “Do you want to call him to you?”

“If it makes him easier to find.”

“It’s not like the rainbow damaged anything.”

“Other than our sanity,” Elsa said.

Lily ignored them. She strode off to get her horse and headed to Steve’s farm. A quick use of the water bucket cleaned up her hands. The other girls joined her. Thankfully, they were all in short sleeves. There were some grass bits sticking to knees, but mostly they were fine. It wasn’t like the dirt had been damp.

Kate raised her brows at seeing all of them. “Do I want to know?”

“If you see a rainbow ending in a field, there’s a little guy named Chaun at the end that needs help retrieving his rainbow gold.”

“Are you ill?” Kate asked.

“You’ll see.” Lily warned. They went and got their charms, a rainbow with a cloud that now felt more ironically appropriate, from Steve. “Oh, and there might be another one named Brogan running around. I want to make a teddy bear,” she said brightly before Kate could respond and leaving her horse at the stable, she headed into town to see Daxton.

The other girls fervently agreed.

“Pack thick gloves,” Tyra warned.

Kate stared after them. “Well, that happened,” she murmured.

Making teddy bears with Daxton was soothing and grounded them back into reality. Harold had plenty of cookies for dessert. And Lance and Lillith were rocking it out on the steps of the Village Council house.

They really weren’t that bad.

They’d drawn a crowd too.

But they’d promised Jojo they’d go back and listen to her sing and sewing teddy bears by hand took a lot of time. And if they didn’t go now, they’d be late. So, they grabbed their horses and headed back to the festival area in Moorland.

On the way between Steve’s Farm and castle, one of the girls scouted a bit of red where red wasn’t supposed to be. “There he is!” She shouted.

The red thing stopped scurrying about, stiffening.

It looked almost exactly like Chaun, except it was wearing a red coat and a red felt flat topped conical hat with a long tassle.

“Get him!” Another girl shouted.

Wisely, Brogan took off at a sprint. He was fast, but the girls on their horses were faster and knew the area better.

They cut him off.

“Hello,” Lily smiled. “You must be Brogan. Chaun is unhappy with you.”

“Chaun greedy.” Brogan stomped his cloven hoof foot and then jumped up and down. “Keeps all rainbow gold for himself. Brogan likes gold too. It shiny!”

“Uh huh, it’s not nice to crash his rainbow though.”

“Brogan get rainbow gold,” Brogan said with a smirk showing off his pointy teeth.

“Red cap,” Brittany breathed in horror.

“I thought Chaun was a Krampus.”

“This is a Red Cap type Krampus.”

“Do you mean fae?”

Brittany waved a hand at the other girl when she realized Brogan was staring at her.

Lily cleared her throat.

“Help Brogan!” Brogan wheedled. “Get gifts in exchange for rainbow gold.”

The girls pursed their lips and looked at each other.

Brogan wanted dandelions. Not that he would explain what he wanted dandelions for. They needed to bring him dandelions.

Lily was suspicious. But they went and got him some dandelions.

As soon as he got them, Brogan cackled and disappeared with a pop.

“Oh, that!” Regina waved her arms.

Brittany sighed. “He wasn’t very specific was he.”

“Oh, I will nail his little hooves to the floor.”

“That will kill him,” Brittany sing songed.

“So, they are fae.”

Brittany shrugged. “They didn’t lie. I’d say they might as well be fae.”

“Well, we’ll have to be quicker if we see him again,” Lily said.

They rejoined the now much larger crowd. Jojo’s last set went through sundown and the sky turned dark. They used their cellphone lights like lighters, and waved them in the air. As she finished her last song, a huge display of fireworks went off behind the Silverglade Castle.

Jojo jumped and spun around. Her eyes widened. She squealed and waved her arms about how awesome it was. They overheard her say she couldn’t believe they’d done a rainbow themed fireworks show just for her.

Lily rolled her eyes. They’d given Jojo a schedule. The fireworks had been on the schedule.

No one was willing to burst Jojo’s bubble and tell her it wasn’t.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

#star stable #star stable online #sso #fan fic #jorvik reimagined #star stable salt #rainbow week #silverglade reimagined #completely harmless #many nods to ruth westside #Brogan is mine

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thisdaynews · 5 years

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Why Trump Should Be Thanking Alec Baldwin

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/why-trump-should-be-thanking-alec-baldwin/

Why Trump Should Be Thanking Alec Baldwin

No one in American politics understands the dark art of ridicule better than Donald Trump. (“Welcome to the race, Sleepy Joe.”) And when it comes to seeing himself on the receiving end, nobody in American politics has a thinner skin. His fury at President Barack Obama’s roasting of him at the 2011 White House Correspondents’ Dinner may have motivated his own run for the presidency. More recently, his sensitivity to ridicule has been on sharp display in his seething reaction to Alec Baldwin’s running impression over the past three years on “Saturday Night Live.”

Baldwin has carved out a late-career niche as the nation’s highest-profile interpreter of Trump. For most viewers, his performance, all preening and bluster, has settled into comedy-staple territory. And for most presidents, rolling with SNL’s punches is just another part of the job. Neither is true for this particular viewer-in-chief. The performance gets further under Trump’s skin with each passing season.

Story Continued Below

“Alec Baldwin portrayal stinks. Media rigging election!” he tweeted on October 16, 2016, three weeks before winning the election. By early 2018, safely ensconced in the White House, Trump was still taking it personally: “Alec Baldwin, whose dying mediocre career was saved by his terrible impersonation of me on SNL, now says playing me was agony. Alec, it was agony for those who were forced to watch.”

This year, Trump was back decrying the unfairness of it all, to the point of calling for an investigation by the Federal Communications Commission. “Nothing funny about tired Saturday Night Live on Fake News NBC! Question is, how do the Networks get away with these total Republican hit jobs without retribution.”

The SNL season wraps up on Saturday, with many fans wondering whether Baldwin will make an appearance. His sketches are by now guaranteed crowd-pleasers, expertly crafted portraits of the inner boob behind the blowhard. They’re eye and ear candy for the mostly liberal urban sophisticates at whom the show is aimed. But if those viewers think they’re watching an evisceration of Trump, they should look more closely at what the sketches are really saying about their nemesis. And while it’s certainly within the president’s rights to refuse to laugh along, he’s dead wrong in suggesting that Baldwin’s portrayal is politically damaging. In fact, it may be one of the best things he has going for him.

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The sheer relentlessness of Trump’s disdain suggests that Baldwin’s impersonation must go beyond satire into something more subversive—that the 61-year-old actor is spewing poisonous propaganda against a duly elected leader. But to look back over the full Baldwin/Trump oeuvre since 2016 is to realize just how tame it is—and, in an important way, what a favor it does the president. Baldwin’s Trump bears a closer resemblance to the befuddled governor on the old “Benson” sitcom than it does “Dr. Strangelove” or “The Manchurian Candidate” or any other of the darker historical figures to whom he’s been compared. In Baldwin’s hands he’s foolish and self-deluded, all right, but he also sometimes seems abashed by the reactions he provokes and the trouble he accidentally stirs up. (“It’s awful. Everything’s falling apart. Sometimes I wish I had never been president,” he moans at the start of an “It’s a Wonderful Life” parody; “All alone again. No one understands me,” he sighs in a skit on his trip to South America.)

By giving Trump qualities he’s shown little evidence of in public—conscience, introspection, even regret— “SNL” does him an enormous favor. It offers a glimmer of sympathy about his motives, inviting the generous assumption that there’s a better and more self-aware man lurking behind the Twitter feed. In portraying the president as a beleaguered figure, it even allows the conclusion that the real threat to democracy isn’t Trump’s venomous rhetoric or disregard for constitutional norms, but the ruthlessness of the Washington system that confronts this blustering, fumbling uncle.

Now, as House Democrats debate the level of the president’s culpability for a series of actions that might reasonably appear to be attempts to obstruct justice, the “SNL” skits seem like grounds for exculpation. In the wake of the Mueller report, politicians, along with average Americans, are struggling to separate two competing notions of Trump—the fast-talking interloper who just got in over his head on some legal stuff, and Trump the deliberate lawbreaker. For instance, when the new president asked Chris Christie to tell then-FBI Director James Comey, who was overseeing the investigation into Russian interference in the 2016 election, how much he liked him and considered him “part of the team,” did he know—as Christie, a former U.S. attorney, immediately did—that the request was inappropriate?

Baldwin’s characterization, as harshly as it may be intended by the actor and the writers who shape it, offers up an answer to that kind of question: No, of course, he had no idea. It’s a picture of the president as an uncomprehending naif. In the high-stakes argument about his fitness for the presidency, it amounts to an exhibit for the defense. Perhaps Trump should be thanking Baldwin, not threatening him.

The hidden influence of this kind of comedy, the widely seen late-night material that ends up as YouTube clips and watercooler fodder, lies in its ability to shape a narrative outside the news, interpreting people’s motives rather than just character. The comedian professes to peel off coats of varnish and reveal an essential but hidden truth. Often that truth is anodyne but amusing, and becomes an instant trope—a predictable laugh line, like Bill Clinton’s lustfulness. Baldwin’s vain but incompetent Trump is well within this tradition, with the audience chuckling along with his every ego-shattering overreach. But the long history of late-night comedy, especially the 44 years of “SNL,” shows that sometimes these comedy missiles really do land on the target. That’s the charge that Trump is leveling against Baldwin and “SNL.” He’s right about the power of late-night hit jobs. He’s just wrong in pitching himself as a victim.

***

Like many great satirical portrayals, Baldwin’s Trump is built around a single mannerism that isn’t so much copied from life as interpreted to express an inner truth. When this Trump messes up, his lips turn into a stupefied O. This gesture of surprise—the signature of Baldwin’s portrayal, which draws the biggest guffaws—usually comes when Baldwin/Trump does something impetuous (such as naming Kanye West his new strategist) or merely embarrassing (picking up a phone and finding Stormy Daniels on the line).

The narrative that emerges from three years of Baldwin’s Trump skits is that of an overeager salesman who gets swept up by a political wave he can’t control and washes ashore at the White House, the unintended victim of his own stunt. There he is, armed with nothing but his reserve tank of bluster and bravado, trying to brave his way through a job for which he is manifestly unprepared.

Like the subgenre of political movies in which average guys accidentally end up president, typified by “Dave,” the Trump sketches on “SNL” are essentially fish-out-of-water comedies. The humor comes from watching the imposter fake his way through the White House obstacle course. That may not be entirely flattering to Trump, but it is closer to his own view of his situation—which he once described as “surreal”—than to that of his most worried critics. For the jokes to work, the audience has to sympathize, at least a little, with his predicament.

For a franchise built on having an edge, especially when it comes to culture and politics, it might feel like “SNL” has gone soft. But despite its reputation for pushing boundaries, earned mostly in its early, pathbreaking days, “SNL” has only rarely been a source of political blasphemy. When it comes to public figures, it draws more giggles than gasps.

Over its four-plus decades, the show has cut down eight presidents (nine, if you count its early retrospective Nixon skits) and dozens of candidates, all without drawing much electoral blood. Its skits about Bill Clinton and George W. Bush were built around great comic turns by Darrell Hammond and Will Ferrell, but otherwise tracked closely to other late-night depictions of Clinton as louche and Bush as a dim-witted cowboy; “SNL” only added to the archetypes. That was better than it fared during the eight-year presidencies of Ronald Reagan and Barack Obama, who were their own archetypes. The show failed to produce consistently funny portraits, striking pure comedy gold only once in those years, in the late Phil Hartman’s memorable “Reagan Mastermind” sketch at the height of the Iran-Contra era. The joke then, unlike today, was that the president might actually be a master of self-control.

Dana Carvey’s memorably wacky, way-out-there take of George H.W. Bush remains a milestone of comic impersonation, though it’s arguable whether it had any political impact; the same with Dan Aykroyd’s know-it-all Jimmy Carter.

In retrospect, the show’s most politically lethal presidential portrait was its very first. When what was then known as “NBC’s Saturday Night” went on the air in October 1975, Gerald Ford had been in the White House a little more than a year, and America still wasn’t sure what it had gotten in its first unelected president. The amiable Ford arrived with a barrel full of goodwill from his decades as a popular House leader, but struggled to project himself on a broader stage. “Saturday Night” filled in the gaps. A former college football player (at the University of Michigan, no less), Ford was one of the country’s most athletic chief executives. Assuming the presidency at 61, he spent his vacations slaloming down the slopes of Vail rather than sipping wine on Martha’s Vineyard. But one of those ski trips included a rather mundane spill caught on camera, which combined with another slip when he carried his own umbrella down the rain-soaked steps of Air Force One to make a trend.

Enter Chevy Chase, the floppy-haired, insouciant writer and sketch comedian who became the show’s first star. He started interpolating falls in which the president tumbles within an inch of his life only to emerge with his chin high, his expression a Peter Sellers-like deadpan. Pretty soon, the show’s opening act every week was Ford falling down, and Chase began enacting other made-up gestures of presidential clumsiness, like hearing a phone ring and putting a full water glass to his ear. The message sank in: The unelected president was truly an accidental president.

Ford never quite survived that depiction; Chevy Chase’s falls cut him down to size, emphasizing his ordinariness. They became the physical expression of his illegitimacy and lack of charisma. When Ford lost the 1976 election by 2 percentage points, one could argue that “SNL”’s role in shaping his image had really hurt him.

Nonetheless, the good-natured Ford praised Chase and even appeared briefly on the show, thereby cementing his nice-guy reputation. In so doing, he started a trend in which the targets of “SNL” skits gritted their teeth and pretended to play along with the joke. George H.W. Bush invited Carvey to perform for his White House staff; in characteristic Bush fashion, a friendship ensued that lasted 25 years.

No doubt someone told the stories about Ford and George H.W. Bush to Sarah Palin, the subject of an epic impersonation by Tina Fey that was both as inspired as Carvey’s Bush and as devastating as Chase’s Ford. The real-life Alaskan governor and 2008 vice presidential candidate appeared on the show, looking like she’d rather be elsewhere, and offered a few uneasy one-liners, but the good-sport vibe didn’t carry over: Viewers kept laughing at her, not with her.

Palin’s flop didn’t deter the Hillary Clinton of 2016 from trying her own version of the Ford approach for dealing with “SNL,” appearing as a world-weary bartender while Kate McKinnon, playing Clinton, soaked up her advice. It was a funny moment, and the real Clinton looked reassuringly human standing behind a bar and calling herself Val. But like a dash of spritzer in a very dry wine, it barely reduced the acidity of McKinnon’s years of skits mocking Clinton as power-hungry and insincere. In interviews, McKinnon has expressed her admiration for Clinton, and no one doubts her sincerity. But McKinnon happens to be the most unsparing of caricature artists, a sketch-comedy assassin. Just ask Kellyanne Conway, Jeff Sessions, Lindsey Graham or many other targets of her image-shaping lacerations.

Trump may have been the one grumbling, but Clinton was on the losing end of 2016’s “SNL” primary. A transparently phony, cackling laugh; a finger wave that managed to be both withholding and condescending; an unquenchable thirst for power that provided the undercurrent for almost every skit: This was the Clinton-from-hell of voters’ nightmares, just plausible enough to settle over the campaign like an indictment. (If you aren’t convinced, just compare with the far more flattering, earnest Clinton portrayed by Amy Poehler during her 2008 run.) Yes, McKinnon’s Clinton was better-informed and far, far smarter than Trump—that was the rub, however. Where was her moral core? McKinnon provided an answer: ruthless ambition.

Like Chevy Chase and Tina Fey, Kate McKinnon is a writer as well as a performer, and her characterizations seem to come from somewhere outside her own persona: They’re like a few devastating paragraphs in a satirical novel. Alec Baldwin followed a different path to fame. He was a cinematic leading man who grew into a character actor. He learned in the proving ground of situation comedy how to show glimpses of humanity in otherwise objectionable figures—thus securing at least a winking share of the audience’s affection. That put Trump in the hands of a gentler satirist.

Despite his well-known aversion to the president—he has said it pains him to play Trump, and has described the president as a con man, a stooge of Russian President Vladimir Putin and worse—Baldwin unconsciously allows some of himself to spill over into his Trump. When Baldwin’s Trump listens to a barely coherent ramble from Kanye West in a sketch from late last year, he is in on the joke. “Oooh, this guy might be cuckoo,” he says to himself, in one of Baldwin’s verbal thought bubbles. He compares West to Dennis Rodman and Kim Jong Un (“and they made a lot more sense than him”) before musing, “He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t listen to anyone but himself. Who does he remind me of? Oh my God, he’s black me!”

***

If these types of self-aware interior monologuesserve a humanizing function, warming up Trump’s image, why is he complaining? One reason is, of course, Trump’s renegade populism, which requires enemies. Trump has to appear as the victim of powerful elites in order to define himself by what he’s up against. His assault on Baldwin and “SNL” is of a piece with his similar rants against Jim Acosta and CNN.

There’s also vanity. Attacks on Trump’s competence and intelligence land on sore spots. For a candidate who scores his best numbers, by far, among the demographic that never attended college, he’s surprisingly quick to assert his Ivy League bona fides. He even ordered Michael Cohen to keep his educational transcripts under wraps, lest any bad grades from half a century ago find their way into the media.

These two possible explanations for Trump’s attacks on Baldwin frame the key question of his presidency, the one people are grappling with in post-Mueller Washington: Is Trump calculating, or is he improvising?

Trump-the-calculator presumably knew that his out-of-the-box praise for Putin during the 2016 campaign would increase his chances of a lucrative score with Trump Tower Moscow, using one of the sacred rituals of American democracy for his business advantage. Trump-the-improviser was just faking his way through, letting politics and business become intertwined mostly because he was acting on instinct and didn’t know the guardrails.

What appears to be authenticity is one of Trump’s greatest electoral calling cards, and Republicans tend to take it at face value. He’s an amateur in a professional game, and that explains why he sometimes breaks the rules. There’s a kind of everyman logic behind his actions, and his supporters want him to shake up the system. Despite their antipathy toward him, there are many Democrats who assess him on similar terms. In their eyes, Trump is woefully, agonizingly, even dangerously unqualified for the presidency, but he’s not fundamentally ill-intentioned, except perhaps in some of his prejudices. This may seem to them like a devastating judgment, which is embedded in Baldwin’s portrayal on “SNL.”

But there are, of course, much harsher assessments of Trump. One, suggested by the Mueller report, is of a man who willfully used the tools of his office for his personal benefit, who demanded illegal and unethicalacts from his subordinates, threatened them and tried to replace them when they refused to go along and shredded legal and political norms in the process. In trying to save himself, that version of Trump isn’t some rogue elephant acting on instinct, but a narcissist who puts his own interests ahead of the country’s. There is, presumably, no twinkle in Trump’s eye when he orders his Treasury secretary to refuse a congressional subpoena of his tax records, no sharp intake of breath when he invokes executive privilege to shield an investigation into his own campaign. His mouth doesn’t twist into a petrified O when he maligns Robert Mueller or calls on Republican appointees of the Supreme Court to protect him.

This Trump isn’t the stuff of caricature, or the hapless figure of fun portrayed on “SNL.” He’s the one who shows up on TV nearly every day, president of the United States despite the disdain of all those knowing elites, bending Washington to his will.

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