#i just think it’s way funnier if the different species have these stupid differences

[the-travelling-witch]

Mc: *sneezes*

Mammon, leaning towards Levi, whispering: What does it mean when humans do that?

Levi, whispering back: I think they just took a screenshot

#“but the demons in game sneeze too—” #okay and #when has canon ever stopped me #/silly #i just think it’s way funnier if the different species have these stupid differences #(see my ‘demons can’t eat salt’ hc) #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me crack #om! shall we date #om! mc #om! mammon #om! leviathan

[duchezss]

All my favorite moments in blue beetle: a very long and silly list because this is my new fav movie ever (latinos on top fr)

The fact that the entire movie is low key a representation of how lost people can feel after they finish college and don't know what to do with their life.

How celebrated it is that Jaime is a first gen college student

As much as I loved him being from el paso, I love that he now gets his own city that it still deeply rooted in latino culture

How despite the fact that everything is going bad for the family, Jaime still tries to keep moral up and be positive

Jaime stands up for Jenny without thinking

How his persistence is what ends him landing up with the scarab, and subsequently keeping it out of victorias hands

Am I allowed to say his entire family? The scene where they're all pushing him to open to the box was so funny. Their dynamic felt so real, and it makes even more sense because apparently any time they were bickering it was improv.

How well the movie handled micro-aggressions against latinos. Like the receptionist didn't even attempt Jaime name, and how Victoria would never get her scientist's name right. They are subtle, but very real problems.

Maybe this was just me, but from the trailers I thought Jenny and Jaime already new each other, but I liked that they just met. It made their story more interesting.

The body horror route they decided to take with the suit was so cool.

The suit in general. I missed practical suits so much, and it just looked so amazing.

Another thing, that has already been talked about a lot but idc, is that I still am so in love that his family knows from the get go. Of course it wasn't really his choice, but I love how there is never any big secret, and they are constantly in the picture.

I know the Khaji-Da doesn't have as much personality compared to the comics, but the whole sequence where Jaime first gets the suit was so funny.

Notoriously in the comics the beetles were sent out to worlds to be the harbingers for their creator species to invade said world. I loved the small detail in the intro of the blue beetle crashing into the green beetle and then having a flash of electricity. I wonder if that was to hint at a malfunction, since the Khaji-Da never goes to evil with Jaime.

I love Rudy's truck. It's stupid but that's why it's so good.

The whole family debrief was was funnier than it should've been, and the beetle on Jaime spine looked wicked as well.

I thought it was interesting how much of a presence Ted Kord had on the movie, mainly because. of Jenny, but it was still there.

Every. Single. Latino. Reference. I could barely keep up there were so many good ones omg, the details were amazing.

For Jenny being an original character I thought she was done very well

I love how Rudy was useful and basically got them into kord industries.

I love the way we only see Jaime eyes in the suit. It's a different approach to what we've seen with masked heroes so far and I love it

How much they talked about the first two blue beetles, I thought adding that context made it better

They made it very evident how lonely Jenny feels, and I think her small emotional moments really paid off in the end.

I love how Jaime was so openly affectionate with both Rudy and his father, it's something uncommon with men in latino cultures and I loved seeing it.

The entire sequence where Jaime's house was being raided was so uncomfortable. And it was in moments like this were I thought Soto did a great job of weaving real world problems latinos face within a superhero movie.

The moment when Jaime's father had a heart attack, and Jaime was being dragged away, and his sister was screaming was just so heartbreaking and powerful. All of them were hurting so much.

I loved how active his family was, and how all of them immediately went to go rescue him.

Side note: the bug ship looked so cool and goofy and I loved it so much

How Jose was actually very curious about Jaime's connection to the beetle, but Victoria didn't care

The whole dream scene with Jaime and his father. I thought it perfectly mirrored their conversation from the beginning of the movie, and I thought it was incredibly moving. Not to mention I loved the detail of Jaime wearing the last outfit he saw his father in.

I loved that Jaime saved himself, but that his family greatly aided him. I thought it was a great metaphor for the fact that you can do things on your own, but having support can really make the difference

I thought it was so funny that Jaime absolutely refused to kill, and his family members did it was a smile on their face lmaoo.

I know it's cheesy, but I always love it in superhero movies when the main character finally accepts their destiny and it was a very cool moment for Jaime too. But I will say I think they did it with an interesting approach. For most superhero movies the big moment is the superhero finally deciding to go out of their way and fight the big bad, but in this movie he just finally fights what's right in front of him.

How once Jaime accepted himself as the Blue Beetle, Khaji-Da started speaking to him in spanish and adopted his ideologies, further proving their relationship is a two way street.

I loved that Khaji-Da stopped Jaime from killing Carapax, because he was justifiable angry, but he would've regretted it at some point

The low key plot twist of the locket Carapax had not being his wife and child, but being him and his mother. That was genius tbh.

I loved that Jaime had the iconic 2000s superhero half masked fight. This movie felt so 2000's but in the best way possible.

How the entire final act was circling back to the point of loving his family making him weak, but throughout everything we've seen, it's clearly the opposite.

I liked how once Jaime bonded with Khaji his mask would come on and off on command.

How Jaime started wearing his father's necklace in the ending :(

I loved the entire score so much, the synth wave vibe they decided to take was fantastic. I also love how iconic and recognizable they made blue beetle's main theme. Like the bum bum bummm that kept showing up was so good.

I really loved how they aged Jaime up to 22 as a newly college grad. I feel like superheros are always either 16 or 40 and there's never any in between, so it was nice to see.

And for my last point to a very long list: I loved that in the end Carapax helped Jaime and Jenny. Because the real villain was Victoria making them fight each other, and in my opinion that was such a powerful metaphor for latinos and any pocs

#blue beetle #blue beetle movie #jaime reyes #This movie means way too much to me #Like I have been so hyped every since I heard it was being made #Was literally there every step of the way #And im happy to say it completely surpassed my expectations #FINALLY A MEXICAN SUPERHERO #LATINO HEROS ON TOP

[genericstarkidfan]

Here a fic I typed (it’s under the cut). Im sure this is incredibly ooc

Wiggly watched as Hannah looked around wildly. Her eyes bulged with terror when she realised she was somewhere unknown.

She would be a fun toy to play with, Wiggly thought. Although not his favorite, the fact that she was Webby’s made her infinitely more fun than if she was just another citizen of Hatchetfield. It was rare he got to play with her. Usually Webby would snatch her away before he got a chance to. Even now, he wouldn’t be able to play for long because of the possibility of the black and white absorbing her.

Luckily for Wiggly, she’d been distracted with other realities, and he brought Hannah into Drowsy Town before she could call for help. Wiggly wasn’t even sure this Hannah knew where she was.

He wasn’t sure if that would make her more or less fun.

While he’d been thinking to himself, Hannah had started walking around.

“Webby?” she asked quietly, as if expecting an answer. Wiggly almost laughed to himself at her stupidity, instead bopping his head in excitement in the darkness.

He didn’t fully know Webby’s limits, but what he did know was that she wouldn’t be able to reach Hannah this far down. He doubted he would even be able to sense her presence here. She would definitely have a few guesses as to who took Hannah though. Webby would be on high alert for a long time after this and it would be unlikely that he’d see Hannah again for a long time after this.

His cheer soon turned into annoyance at the prolonged thought of Webby.

Webby was a stupid bitch, he thought, pushing down any stray feelings. She always thought the Lords in Black were too cruel to mortals and where did she end up? She used them as toys too, even if she played with them differently.

Didn’t she?

Wiggly’s tentacles squirmed at the thought, in what had to be annoyance.

That was what Hannah was to Webby after all, wasn’t it? Webby wouldn’t have talked with her if she wasn’t her toy, in Wiggly’s opinion. It wasn’t just Hannah either! She’d talked with her sister too, until Lex had grown out of it.

What made the way she played with her toys any different from the rest of the lords? At least they’d never told her about how she was playing wrong.

Wiggly was snapped out of his rumination by Hannah tripping over her own feet. He shoved away the bad thoughts and decided that now was a perfect time to make an entrance.

“Hello, Han-nah,” he said joyfully, watching her recoil in fear. He let the laughter bubbling in his chest out in a wheezy giggle. He knew that she hated that laugh in particular.

To her, he must have appeared as eyes glowing in the dark, the only light visible. Wiggly wondered if the way she pressed her eyes shut had something to do with that or if it was just because of him.

He could hear her whispering to herself, “Please help, Webby.”

He snickered again. “Your little pally-wal isn’t here. You’re being a rotten little banana,” he saw her flinch, “ignoring me in my own domain.”

To his disappointment, Hannah didn’t talk back, scooting backwards as he waited for a response. It almost reminded him of the way Webby acted whenever she got in trouble…

He ignored the thought the best he could, instead focusing on her expression of fear. It was so pitiful that it stirred up something in his chest. It made him feel good again.

Mortal faces always looked so funny when they were feeling something.

Their words were even funnier though.

“What? Don’t have anything to say to your new fwendy-wen?”

Hannah didn’t respond, instead beginning to shake. That wasn’t an unusual response for someone seeing him for the first time. Boring. He thought Webby’s toy would be more fun this time.

Maybe Wiggly should interact with her in her world again. She was way funnier that time…

“If you’re going to be boring, I might as well feed you to Nibbly. I’m sure it’d love eating Webby’s favorite.”

He wasn’t really planning on doing that. Webby was pissed last time he’d killed Hannah specifically and had interfered with both him and the other lords' plans far more after that. He didn’t need them blaming him for being unable to start an apocalypse again.

“I could eat you right now too, Han-nah. I think you’d taste like an annoying little banana.”

She still didn’t respond to him. Wiggly huffed in annoyance at her lack of reactions throughout the interaction. Hannah would be absorbed into the black and white if she stayed much longer.

“If you can’t entertain me, then you might as well just leave Drowsy Town,” he said before throwing her out of the black and white.

That version of Hannah was so annoying. Wiggly made a mental note to not take any Hannahs that were so boring again. Maybe he should go bother his siblings. He was sure any of his attempts to interfere with the world would be interrupted by Webby while she calmed down.

#team starkid #wiggog y'wrath #hannah foster #webby was mentioned #fanfic #hatchetfield #idk how to write #hope it’s good though ^^ #I’m not posting this on ao3 cause my irls know what it’s called lol

[ygreczed-3]

The Red Guard and the Snow Angel

Summer Falls desert concept art

Hank and Connor

Gavin and Nines meditating + thunder, snow, fire and wind seal

Gavin and the thunder spirit

More concept arts - traditional art & inking

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

When they go through the Summer Falls desert, Connor and Nines pass out fairly soon due to their intolerance to fire magic. They only get better at night, when the temperature drops, so they stay awake to watch out while the humans sleep. During the day Hank and Gavin have to take them on their horse/Sumo and walk beside them, even though the intense heat isn't making things easy for them either. They reach a village in an oasis where Connor and Nines get better, and when they realize there's a spring in it, they decide to go and rest a bit as the night arrives.

Nines and Gavin are gone meditating on a less crowded part of the spring.

Gavin : That's stupid… How can this make me stronger than my training ? Nines : Stop talking and focus on your breathing.  Gavin : Grmphh.. Nines : Can you feel the source of magic inside your body ? Gavin : … Yeah. Nines : You have to… establish a connection with it. Show him you don't fear it Gavin : But I fear it. Nines : The war spirit you host is an incredible source of power, and you can believe me, it is as bellicose as you are. It only needs a goal to aim for and you'll be able to channel its energy.  Gavin : … You know I'm your enemy… Why do you help me ? Nines, closed eyes : I know I can compete with you. I'm ready to be challenged. And it's funnier to fight a skilled warrior than a scared little boy. Gavin : … Fucker.

X

Connor and Hank in the hot spring

Connor : I think that's what your hug feels like. Hank : hm ? Connor : The hot water. I think it's what hugs feel like. Hank : You said my hugs... Connor : Did I ? I was just thinking… about how you hug Sumo sometimes. He loves it. Hank : Yeah, this big boy loves cuddles  I admit that. Connor : It must feel good. Hank : What… You've never been hugged before ? Connor : Golems do have… intimate behaviors, of course but it's not… I mean we're… not physically warm, so... (NB : I was thinking golems in this universe would be like vampires, not as freezing as actual snow but still colder than humans) Hank : ...Thought you didn't like heat that much. Connor : Warmth from human's touch is different from fire magic : it feels more… safe, less aggressive. I think I'd like that. Hank : … How do you know that ? Connor : I touched your back to heal it, remember ? Your warmth feels nice. Hank : Yeah okay, you touched me, but you don't know what my hugs feel like ? Maybe you'd hate that. Connor : I wish I could know.

They look at each other, but then Hank looks away and stands up.

Hank : It's late, I'm tired. I'm going back to the inn. Connor seems disappointed, but then Hank keeps going. Hank : You coming ?

When they enter the room they share all together, Nines is already in stasis and Gavin is snoring loudly.

Hank takes Connor's wrist silently, looking at him in the eyes as if tacitly asking for permission. Connor just lets himself be enveloped by wide arms, and rests his cheek on his collar bone.

Connor sighs, closing his eyes as he enjoys that nice bear hug. He feels that warm something in his chest growing in his body, invading his stomach with pleasing flutters. 

Connor : Hank… Hank : Shhh… it would be embarrassing to wake those two idiots up now.

Connor bites his lower lip as he silently reaches for Hank's hand, his skin turning white as he presses gently each of his fingers against Hank's. It's known to be a quite intimate gesture among golems, and the closest human equivalence to it would be a kiss. Connor is aware that it could even be interpreted as indecent given how close their bodies are, and that if Nines was to wake up at that moment he would probably choke on thin air. Of course Hank has no clue about that and just thinks it's funny.

Hank : What, you wanna dance ?

Connor realizes they're holding each other on the left side and touching hands on the right side, and it seems like they're going to waltz. He chuckles from the absurdity of the situation from a human's perspective. 

Connor : I wouldn't know how to. Hank : Good thing, I'm a terrible dancer. Connor : Ahah...hmm, Hank, I like it. Can we stay like this for a moment ? Hank : Sure.

X

One night in the middle of the desert, Gavin is on the watch as Hank sleeps in the tent. Connor is with him, but Nines inexplicably stays around the fire, silent. Gavin is bored out so he just starts the conversation. 

Gavin : I feel like the old man and your stupid brother are getting along. Nines : I have this feeling too. Gavin : Doesn't bother you? Nines : What can I do ? I asked Connor to be careful, but I'm not blind… He's shining with glee whenever Hank is around him. I can't… force him not to feel. Also, I think Hank isn't that bad of a person… for a human. Gavin : Still certain we're the bad guys ? Think about it : you were made to serve us.  You betrayed your creators and let us starve like dogs. Nines : Humans didn't create us. Kamski did, and if he had wanted to, he could have made unthinking, obedient golems. Maybe we were meant to break free. Gavin : Oh yeah, so why can't you even procreate ? Simple answer: you were not designed to be an individual species from the start. You were built with no other purpose in life than to help us survive.  Nines : Didn't that even occur to you that humans did bad things too ? Gavin : We're just trying to survive ! Nines : So we are. Gavin : … So what ? You're saying we're two evils ? Of course we are. But I have to protect my people, you understand that ?

Nines stays silent, exploring the surprisingly genuine glare Gavin throws at him. Of course he understands that. His own despise for humanity is only driven by his deep desire to protect Connor, Marcus, and his people. He looks back at the fire heating them, unconsciously processing how ridiculously similar they are.

And yet, something starts growing in his mind, the irritating sensation his relationship with Gavin has changed from the moment they met, and that he unexpectedly wanted to protect him as well.

Nines : Would you kill me ?

He can't even explain how this sentence even made it out of his throat. He already knows the answer. Gavin stares at him longingly, noticeably surprised by the question. He stays silent as he puts more wood in the fire.

Gavin : If I had to, I probably would. But I… hum… don't want to. Nines : … hm. Gavin : What about you ? Would you kill me ? Nines : I don't know. If lives were at stake, certainly, even if I'd find this decision… regrettable. Gavin : ... Oh wow, is that your way to tell me you like me ? Nines : … Don't set your hopes too high.

Gavin breathes in a laugh and goes back to silence, smiling smugly. 

X

They arrive in Nestlepeek and split in two teams, Hank and Connor go to the center of the town, where Connor hopes to find more precise information about Kamski and where he hides.

Gavin and Nines were supposed to go buy supplies, but as they head to the covered market, they are challenged by a man in the street to defeat his champion in a fight. As Nines realizes it's all for illegal gambling, Gavin accepts and finds himself in a cage, combating a birdman.

He thinks he's got the hang of it but as soon as the birdman starts flying Gavin can't touch him with his sword anymore and becomes vulnerable to his aerial attacks.

Nines : Gavin ! Summon the spirit ! Gavin : No way ! Nines : You'll lose if you don't ! Gavin : I know what I'm doing, alright !? Nines : You obviously don't ! Thunder magic gives you advantageous long throw attacks, you can't win against a flying foe with close combat techniques ! Gavin : I think I killed enough Golems to know how to fight flying foes ! Nines : You bastard…

Nines uses his snow magic to catch the champion in ice and immobilize him.

Owner : What the hell !!! Who did that ?! Nines : I did. I'll replace your champion, open the cage.

The owner is confused first but then he sees the opportunity and accepts. Nines enters the cage and gets ready to fight.

Gavin : … You wanna die ? Told you I could do it. Nines : We've been talking about this fight for ages. It's time to see what you're capable of.

They start fighting and they're pretty even for the first ten minutes. Their fight gathered a lot of gamblers and spectators.

When Nines starts to take advantage, Gavin's eyes suddenly turn bright yellow, and he charges at him : Nines can see the thunder magic halo surrounding him. He parries many strikes but Gavin has gained in speed and ferocity. Soon enough, Gavin throws him to one extremity of the cage, and as the crowd around them is screaming in excitement, Gavin holds up his dagger. He's trembling, electricity forming around his hand. 

Nines can make eye contact but somehow, Gavin isn't answering his glare.

Nines : Gavin- You hear me ?

Gavin doesn't say anything, and Nines is sure he's gonna die when the human warrior shoots down his dagger… only to hit one of the cage's bars just behind him. Gavin closes his eyes, and opens them, showing blue-green orbs again, and he straightens up, breathless.

The crowd boos them as Gavin takes a step back and drops the other dagger. He asks the owner to open the cage and leaves the place, Nines following him, still out of breath as well.

Nines : Gavin !

Gavin stops, letting Nines get closer, until they face each other again.

Nines : You did it. You mastered the spirit… Do you realize that ? Gavin : I could have killed you, then everyone around me. That's what the spirit wanted to do… Do you realize that ? Nines : But you didn't. With a bit more training-... Gavin : I almost killed you, Nines, for fuck's  sake ! Nines : … So what ? Thought you were ready to. Gavin : Listen, this beast wanted you dead, everyone dead so bad… How can I… How can I use this power when I know how dangerous and unstable it is? Nines : … But you stopped it, right ? You can control it. Gavin : You fucker, if it wasn't for you, I know I couldn't have stopped it. I would have killed all those strangers, I know that, and I'm not… I'm not a murderer. Nines : … What do you mean, for me ? Gavin : Drop it. I need some air, don't follow me.

X

Hank and Connor enter the library, Connor is looking for the archived events-records to see if Kamski came into this village (which is most likely given it's the first one you can find after the desert)

It appears that the local people can fly so the library is very high, and most scales don't even reach the top of the bookshelves.

Hank : How the hell can we reach the archives ? Connor : Wait a minute, I'll go there and take some volumes with me.

Connor spreads his wings, that widen to support his weight as he takes off to the highest point of the library. Hank is impressed by how graceful Connor looks in the air. When the golem comes back with a consequential pile of old, handwritten books, he's just there, mouth open in amazement.

Connor : Here we go… the last 10 years of history in this village… Ready to pull an all-nighter ?

Hank doesn't reply.

Connor : Hank ? Hank : You're beautiful.

Connor blinks once, his lips slightly parted from the surprise, his eyes conveying nothing else than confusion and yet, low-key content.

Connor: ..I'm sorry ? Hank : When you fly I mean… that's impressive… and beautiful. Connor : Huh… Thank you, I guess ? Anyway hum… let's… let's find a table… Hank : “Thank you” ? But do you even realize how beautiful you are ? Connor : I was created to meet some human ideal. Why would I be proud of something that isn't my doing ? Hank : Ah, don't be so modest.  Connor : … you know, I think I find humans more attractive than Golems. Each one of you is unique, and I love everything you call “flaws”.

Hank laughs halfheartedly at his last line.

Hank : You don't make sense, kid.

X

They read the archives until it's dark outside. Hank can't help but yawn as Connor lights the candles to keep reading.

Connor : You can go back to the inn, Gavin must be there already, and Nines can take over. Hank : Nah, I'm good. Connor : Hm… Hank : You okay ? You look… worried. Connor sighs : … What if we can't find Kamski ? What if… I was wrong, what if we had to go back to Detroit and Jericho with just nothing ? I don't want to return to a situation where I'll have to fight you… I just can't.  Hank : … Yeah, I understand that. I don't think I can remain a Red Guard after what we've been through… After I got to know you. Connor : If we were to fail… nothing will never be the same again. Without you.

Hank just looks at Connor with sharp eyes, as if he's got the urge to say something. At this point Hank knows he's falling for the Golem, but of course, he won't say anything, because he's sure it's only one sided, Connor is so young and handsome he can't possibly feel the same.

Actually the dark haired golem is totally in love with the man, but again, he thinks Hank can't reciprocate his feelings since he's probably into women (after all he used to have a wife), and definitely not into Golems anyways. It just feels so unfair to both of them to consider going back to their normal life when they just want to stay with the other so bad. They just wish they could stay together and run away in some romantic and lovesick lunacy. Again, they won't tell each other about it.

#detroit become human #dbh #The red guard and the snow angel #TRGATSA #dbh hank #dbh connor #dbh gavin #dbh nines #reed900 #hankcon #dbh hankcon #dbh reed900

[keptin-indy]

Indy plays Legends: Arceus

I haven't played Diamond/Pearl for a lot of years, but it's possibly my favorite game of the bunch. I've watched my roommate play some of the remake, and I hate the art style and also that you can't meaningfully decorate your base anymore. All this to say that I'm sure there are D/P references that I'm not going to get because it's been so long.

I have spent an ungodly amount of time playing the DLCs for Sword/Shield lately. I put more time into them than the base game itself. So I am very excited about an entire open world game.

Everything specific below the cut

It is sending me that Arceus speaks like the King James Bible

The fact that it speaks at all, like many legendaries and psychic types, once more drives home how much of a dick Calryrex in the Isle of Armor is for hijacking an entire human without their consent or knowledge just because he couldn't be arsed to do his own talking

I really hate the "modern kid wakes up in a fantasy setting" trope, but I'm interested in the wrinkle that a direct visitation from god means this kid is kind of a prophet. I did not expect to contact god via my cell phone, I must say.

The professor's hat looks so stupid. It would be fine if it didn't go all the way under his chin, but just hung open like a winter hat. Also why Laventon instead of Lavender? At least it'd be a plant, if not a tree.

I'm pretty sure that if all pokemon could shrink this would have come up A LOT before now. I can only assume that either a) this is a side game like Mystery Dungeon and therefore things work differently and are dubiously canon, or the much funnier b) the study of pokemon is new and Laventon believes all pokemon can shrink because the alternative - that one particular species of nut is just wild - is too out there for his modern science yet.

This looks to my uneducated eye like the fantasy Meiji Era and I am running around in basically my underwear by those standards. Professor, would it kill you to give me some clothes before teaching me how to imprison the wildlife?

I'm so glad the villagers are as wigged out by my clothes as they should be

I see a Galarian Weezing-shaped thing. Could it be that the British-sounding people really are Galarian rather than Galar being relatively newly connected to the rest of the world? I just want to know all about the history of this world and its regions.

Wow, I hate Beni's awful green mustache/chinstrap and grey beard combo

15! Not the tiniest of children! Hurray! Unfortunately, this qualifies me for indentured servitude. If I knew I was going to be a prophet pressed into a foreign power's service, I'd've named myself Joseph.

"Hey 15 year old, if you fuck up we are explicitly booting you out to die in the wilderness and get eaten by pokemon."

I want to eat a potato mochi. I had no idea these existed until I googled it just now, but I want them in my face.

I want to decorate my quarters but I don't think you can.

You people are sending a child out in the wilderness in basically underwear.

Putting so much emphasis on how you can and probably will die alone in the wild is hilarious for a series that is normally marketed for kids. I feel like they know the people most excited about this specific game in the series are the ones who've been hoping for open world pokemon since the late 90s/early 00s.

Laventon's camera is absurdly small for this time period expy. Cowards, not going for the huge tripod-mounted ones. It doesn't even have a big ol' flash!

Like in A Knight's Tale, the key to excelling in this story is to be too stupid to know when you're in mortal peril.

Finally someone has clothed me! And it's the person who's repeatedly said she'd leave me to die in the wilderness!

Not that I'm complaining, but why did you specially give me a hat, ma'am?

PLEASE DON'T SUPPLEX ME, SIR

The tutorial for this game lasts forever. I know there are a bunch of new things to learn, but I want to run around the wilds like a gremlin already.

WHEN YOU'RE IN YOUR HOUSE YOUR SHOES AUTOMATICALLY DISAPPEAR, THAT'S SO CUTE

I know I said I wanted to wander around outside but now I have to explore every single door in this town. And there are many.

A very serious young trainer and, unfortunately, his pokemon.

I will exclusively take pictures with the old timey lens.

IMPORTANT INFORMATION: You DO take falling damage and you CAN drown.

I have learned how to roll and now I will Link my way across this entire landscape

Oh no, inventory management

I am very bad about keeping track of which buttons do what in any video game, but I'm mad that they arbitrarily changed the controls from what they were for doing the exact same things in the Wild Areas in Sword/Shield. Now I have to retrain my muscle memory for no good reason.

I am also very bad at keeping track of whether I'm throwing a pokeball or a pokemon. And I keep pressing LR instead of ZLZR because I'm really a PC gamer and not used to two whole sets of triggers back there.

#livejournal replacement #indy plays videa gams #pokemon

[xomiri]

Another Chapter? No Way!

Chapter 3, Baby. Decided to upload the whole thing this time idk.

A/N: Heyo! I'm super sorry for how long it took for this chapter to come out. I sometimes have motivational issues when it comes to doing things, and it impacts even the things I really enjoy doing. Nonetheless, Within time, I finally finished it, and it motivated me to keep going. So don't worry! hopefully the next chapters won't be as slow as this, but if they are, please bear with me! I don't want to give you sloppy writing, so I do so when I feel my best. Love you, and thank you for reading :)

"So finally, at the end of the interview, I tell him - Guess what I tell 'em?" Nick asked, snickering throughout the explanation of his joke.

The duo made their way down the hall, Judy trying not to murder the fox in cold blood. She entertained Nick as she scrambled her book-bag for her apartment keys.

"What'd you tell 'em Nick?"

she asked, almost, no, exactly like she'd been talking to a fourth grader.

"I told the guy that he didn't have the right Koala-fications! Eh? Eh?"

"Heheh.." She let out slowly, still rummaging through her book-bag.

Nick poked at her sides.

"Ah!" she flinched, swatting away at his paws.

"Yeah, yeah, it would've been funnier had this not be the fortieth time you've told me!"

They stopped at the end of the hall. Judy still shuffled through her bag, begging and pleading that she could find her keys, so she'd no longer have to tolerate his wisecracks.

"You wouldn't know comedy if it killed you."

He leaned against the doorway, and began to pick his claws.

"If it's your kind of humor, I hope it does." Judy mumbled, letting the jingle of her apartment keys mask the jab that she threw his way.

"I heard that." Nick nudged Judy's ear with his free elbow.

The creaking of the recently departed door welcomed them into the familiar darkness. Nick took Judy's bag, and turned to pick up his own. Judy walked into her safe haven, wiping the day off of her face. She looked around, not really knowing what she'd been looking for. It'd been a long day, so there'd be no surprise if she was daydreaming.

Her apartment had its own charm, convincing you to drop a memory each time you entered and exited. Some of her fondest memories were made here, even fonder ones to come.

Lights on.

Her home oddly contradicted her personality. You could see the months slowly engraving themselves into the bleak dark walls. The lavender undertones that emanated from her body, pervaded this new, cold air, making it as pungent as it's ever been before. It was intoxicating. This, along with a noticeable clean smell in the air. The way this cutesy rabbit made her bright, pastel mark upon the bleak, light grey space around her always made Nick smile. You truly couldn't miss it. Instances of magenta's and pastel blues, light pink's, yellows. Whether it be a notebook, a pillow or a shirt, it stood out, just like Judy; A blatant, yet unexpected aberrance. It was rewarding how much he could garner from something as simple as a color in her living room.

With a groan, Judy dragged herself to her room, unbuckling her utility belt.

Nick took the entirety of the home in. Although he'd been there before, these feelings could never escape him. She closed the door and left the rest of the space to Nick. The fact that she trusted him enough to leave her whole home to him for even a couple of seconds, made him feel warm inside. Someone finally looked at him for what he actually had been, rather than the species he'd been stuck with. The light ringing in his ears took over his thoughts, recovering him from his daze. Silence without Judy was silence he couldn't stand. He walked in and dropped the bags to his right, keeping eyes on the city-scape that made itself known through the wall-wide window on the far side of the room. As he inched forward, the notch of soft carpet that collided with his toes broke his concentration once more. His eyes flickered to the carpet, and back up to the window. Bedroom door, Kitchen, then the TV.

"Can't hurt."

He snatched the remote from the wood stained coffee table that sat close to him. He switched the TV on, allowing the incessant rambling of the news anchors on screen to fill the emptiness. Placing the remote on the arm of the couch, he let his head fall back and took a deep breath.

A door opening. His ears moved with the creak.

The bunny moved from the shadows of the room, entering the living room with her eyes closed, attempting to adjust to the abundance of light.

"Oh! Uh.."

Nick raced towards the light switch. He pressed it, and watched as the green dot danced up and down, as the lights began to dim.

"Better?"

The bunny did nothing but nod.

She made her way to the couch, light bouncing off of the folds of her flowy nightgown. She plopped down and slid her upper half sideways until her head eventually came in contact with the cushions of the couch. She let out a long sigh, that would soon be abruptly cut off by the sound of her remote hitting the ground.

The gong of the plastic remote resonated within the apartment walls, accompanied by yet another groan from the fluffy, agitated mass.

"I'll get it, my damsel in distress." Nick japed, before preening the kitchen of it's snacks and drinks.

Judy and Nick had the next day off. When they'd first become partners, Judy thought their friendship could blossom more than it had, in turn making their workflow easier to deal with. They'd been friends, even before Judy asked Nick to become her partner, so evidently, Judy wanted to do "friend things." Whatever that meant. This list included all the regular "friend things" that "friends" did. Walking in the park, visiting famous city monuments, going out to get food on select days of the week, and having movie nights. However, as time went on, and work became tougher to manage, some of these time consuming, albeit fun, activities came more and more scarce. Today had been one of those days. Usually, when both of them had the day off, they'd arrange a movie night. Scary movies, Comedies, Rom-Coms, Tragedies, you name it. Nick would come over, they'd laugh and joke, watch a couple of stupid movies, and he'd leave in the morning. Nothing more, nothing less. But this time was different. For the first time in a really long time, Nick felt...awkward. He didn't know if it'd genuinely been a long time since he'd been over, or if time just passed painfully slowly when he was alone. Time flew with Judy after all, there'd never be a dull moment.

"Nick. Please. Hurry.

She groaned, the gravel in her voice becoming more prominent.

"ZNN is on, and I can't stand to listen to this moose talk any longer."

"Whoa there, hot stuff, what's wrong with the news?"

He set two cups onto the counter, and turned to look into the fridge for a smoothie. Judy always made the same kind. It lasted from the beginning from the week until the weekend, and when the time came, she'd make another. With both hands, he slid the large glass container out of the fridge and onto the table. He held the container with one hand, the glass in the other, and leaned it just enough to where the smoothie came out ever so slightly..

"There's some pretty interesting stuff sometimes."

Judy rolled onto her back and shot her arm up.

"Riiight, 'cause who doesn't love listening to news anchors rub other people's tragedies in their face? Who doesn't love having the idea that someone is in danger right now shoved into conscience? I could be out there doing whatever I can to help the people in need, but my stupid brain wants to give me problems. God, I shouldn't have told Clawhauser my head hurt. Aah, That snitch!"

She clasped at the air before letting her arm drop onto her chest. Her eyes fell shut, hoping the sigh that she'd let out would drown out the voices that bombarded her ears, forever. Nick noticed the genuine distress in her voice. He looked up, with a furrow in his brow.

"Carrots..."

"Nick, we're police officers. That's what we do. We save people, not watch them get worse. If I can't do something to fix it, I don't wanna know about it."

She shuffled, turning to lay back onto her side.

A cold sensation reaching his fingers.

The cup is overflowing.

He quickly pulled the container away, and set it down. After drying his hands, he sidled over to the couch, picking up the remote on the way there.

Silence filled the air. An animated moose flung his arms around, detailing all sorts of presumably important things.

Nick sat down on his knees in front of her, Wishing he'd pay more heed to the headache medicine on the coffee table. Confused on how he didn't notice it beforehand, he gave the topic little thought. He dug his elbow into the space that she left over and let his head rest in his hand, while he let his other hand rest on her forehead.

"You're gonna get another headache." He rubbed his thumb back and forth on her temple.

Her eyes tightened. Nick stared at her, brows still furrowed. It was moments like these that confused him on how much she trusted him. He wanted to do as much as he could to make sure that she was comfortable. He wanted to do as much as she can so she can live her life as content as it possible could be. Being a police officer obviously didn't make it easy, but if he could make her smile even once, it showed promise for the future. A lot of mammals like to say to take things with a grain of rice, but Nick took every mannerism to heart. He couldn't help it. He really couldn't help it.

He kissed her on the forehead.

Judy's eyes fluttered open. She stared into Nick's eyes, shaking him down for everything he knew.

"You're so selfish, y'know that?"

"Nick, I-"

"You're right. We are police officers. But… He paused.

"But it's dumb to think you can save everyone." His words took the air out of her chest. Her eyes widened and her lips parted.

Nick moved Judy's ears in front of her eyes. Her eye contact made him nervous.

The hand he once had on her forehead, gravitated towards his lap.

"If you were expected to save everyone you come across, you'd be the only one on the job... I know how hard you work, God, everyone knows how hard you work. It's almost selfish to think that there aren't other people that work as hard as you do… It's okay to not…"

He paused. Would she understand what he was saying? He didn't want to make it seem like he was belittling her or downplaying her emotions, but he didn't want her to dwell on something that she couldn't fix. It didn't make any sense. Judy's overwhelming selflessness annoyed him. He wanted her to not care about things, like he did. Otherwise she'd be aching every day of her waking life. Even though he had everything laid out for her, It'd still been hard for him to tell her these things. What if she did understand? What if she understood a little too well, and decided to change completely? He wanted to convey the right message, without trying to force an entirely different mindset onto her.

His brow furrowed.

Judy sat up, bringing Nick back to attention. She grabbed his cheeks, and kissed him on the forehead.

She pulled away, looking at him with worry.

"You're gonna get another headache." Judy mocked him.

His ears drooped, but not out of sadness.

I get what you mean, it's just a little upsetting, is all. I promise I'm not freaking out over things I don't need to be."

He smiled.

She understood exactly what he meant. Deep down, he knew that she'd understand what he was saying. He knew that she was going to take everything he wanted to say the way he wanted her to. Although he knew she understood him better than anyone else did, there'd still always be this inkling of doubt. When it came to almost everything, there was always an inkling of doubt. Sometimes he reprimanded himself for not being as open with Judy as she had been with him.

How can you call her selfish, when you're more selfish than she is?

His newfound thoughts rattled his brain, but he decided to push them away. For another time...always for another time.

Their smiles shone. Judy booped his nose, but couldn't shake the tinge of worry from her face.

Once more in this scenario. Eye to eye, nose to nose. But this time, it was more comfortable. No sand brushing against the side of their ankles, no wind attempting to drown out the sounds of their hearts. It was an ever growing and shrinking silence. A silence that spoke softly and nonchalantly. A silence that seeped from the walls and echoed throughout the rooms. A silence that made its way through all the creases and crevices of the floors.

"Thank you for your work today, Nick."

She met her forehead with his.

"You know me. Always here for ya." He spoke with a smoky tone.

Judy broke contact and pushed him, knocking him backwards.

"Aah!" He caught himself with his elbows.

"My favorite."

Judy scoffed, stepping around him and making her way to the kitchen.

Nick couldn't help but stare, the way her hips swayed ever so slightly when she walked. He could feel his heart begin to beat throughout his entire body. Her hourglass figure, made prominent by the kitchen light that bathed her. He thought of her every feature. The curves, the dips, the arches. But most evident, her eyes. He fell in love with those faux apathetic eyes. Although her half lidded eyes had usually been to mock Nick, sometimes she used them to her own volition. He couldn't stand it. Those eyes, attached to a mind that he couldn't read. Residing within a body he couldn't explore.

Nick stood and brushed himself off, attempting not to lose himself in thought. He shook his head, and made his way to the bar.

"You aren't very slick, Slick."

She began to clean the smoothie spill.

"Who's to say?"

She couldn't help but giggle at the finger guns he shot at her. She folded the towel she used over the handle of the oven, and began to rummage through her fridge, no longer letting hunger get the best of her. The squeak of the bar-stool Nick sat in, prompted her to turn back around, to which he whisked his head in a random direction, until he found a focal point. He began filing through a cookbook her mother gave her before she moved to the city. As expected, nothing but carrot recipes.

"Staring again?."

"Gasp! Me? No way! Whatever could you mean?"

He let the book cover his face, and after a a millisecond, slowly moved the book down to see if she'd still been facing him. Once his eyes met hers, he shot the book back up in front of his face.

Judy shook her head, a sly grin on her face.

"What's for dinner, Slick?" She asked, leaning onto the counter and pulling down on the book. The movement of the book moving Nick away from the nothingness he'd been staring at for the past minute.

He thought out loud.

"Well...We've been picking up lots of fast food on breaks, so how 'bout something healthy?"

"My, My! Look at you wanting to be healthy! Good for you, Nick!"

Judy gestured for a high five, but when the fox went for it, she swiped her hand away, turning to get to work on the food. A turn of a knob here, and the filling of a pot there. She'd been so tired, but within seconds, it seemed as if it all went away. Maybe the meds were finally kicking in. Nick watched her cover up her struggle with a hum, dancing atop a step stool as she set the carrots into a pot with water. She was so quick to assume responsibility when it came to just about anything. It just goes to show that she'll never really learn, even after that semi-serious conversation that they'd had a couple minutes ago.

Nick hopped off of the stool he'd been swiveling back and forth in, and made his way to the kitchen. He stood behind Judy, and lifted her to where she could place the carrots into the pot with ease.

"Oh! Thanks!"

"Nothin' to it. Just… hurry up, I ain't got all night."

"Way to ruin the moment." Judy scoffed.

"Hey, it's what I do best."

After a tedious couple minutes of swapping between holding her up and grabbing seasonings that might not have been supposed to be there, he set her down and grabbed the carrot she'd been holding, out of her hand.

"I'll take it from here. All that "headaching" you've been going through all day must have you begging for some rest, huh?"

"Oh...yeah…"

Judy hopped off of the stool, and made her way back to the couch, She sat, and began to flip through the channels, separating interest and disinterest in mere seconds. Time passed. Not too fast, but not too slow. Nick didn't want to take too much time making food. To be completely honest, he wasn't hungry, but that wasn't going to stop him from making sure she was comfortable. The tapering scrape of cooking utensils, along with the short lived syllables of different voices that shot out of the TV, made for an oddly peaceful environment as it fought the tranquil silence that previously filled the room. After what she deemed too much flipping, Judy decided to switch to a pre-recorded soap opera that she'd reminded herself to watch earlier.

"Oh boy, pawgliacci? Nick muttered.

"What? It's good!"

"That's what they all say, until you get about forty-five minutes in.."

The food, prepared, and the mammals hungry,

Nick dished out the food as quickly as he could, speaking in an obnoxious French accent.

He imitated,

"Ahh yes, cahrraht noodles weeth speecy zai peanut sauce fahr ze

beauteeful bunny!

Giggling, she took the bowl. There wasn't anything better than hearing her giggle. Hearing her laugh made his heart flutter, he wouldn't even begin to explain what her smile did to him.

He flashed her a smile, and a little giggle of his own. He turned back to the kitchen and announced as he walked.

"Eef you dahn't like eet, mahney bahck! Guarahntee!"

Through snickers and chuckles, they'd finally been together on the couch, attempting to watch the soap opera that'd been on for about twenty minutes already. It hadn't necessarily mattered, considering how they'd been chatting the whole time, paying little to no mind to the TV.

"What were you saying about the history of your farm, was it farm or family? Something like that."

"What are you even- Oh! I don't even remember, how'd you pick up on that?

"Well I was curious, so I kept it in the back of my mind. Nothing this big brain can't handle.."

He rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't nervous, but quite the opposite. He'd been way more comfortable that he was in a long time. A tick, maybe?

"Well, I appreciate it, but it'd take way too long to go into detail about."

"That's just fine, I like long stories anyway." He gazed at the invisible watch on his wrist.

"I've got just about…. All night."

He smirked before setting his bowl down on the small table to his left.

Leaning into the couch, He tucked one leg underneath him, and laid his head into his fist. He wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon.

Judy smiled, but the smile faded slowly. Not because of his smug attitude, but because of how much he cared for her and the things she cared about. She loved and hated how he'd be satisfied just being around her. Why couldn't he be a lowlife, apathetic narcissist through and through? It was only once you got to know him that you found out he was so much more than that. It was only then did you find out that he actually is more than some dumb fox. He had character…substance. He cared about things.

Although, deep down, she wanted much more than to watch this movie, she knew that that'd probably been what he was there for. Nothing more, nothing less.

She continued,

"You said you didn't have all night when we were in the kitchen. What happened now?"

"Eh, my arms were tired. a life of hustlin' cute fuzzy-wuzzy bunnies takes a lot out of y- Ow!" Another strike, landing clean on his arm.

Judy cleared her throat.

"Well…"

She trailed off about the history of her family and the farm she grew up on. The different types of crops and botanical "this's" and "that's", her family tree, and surprisingly, the names of every single one of her siblings. All...275 of them… Big brain for a little bunny.

Judy stretched her arms, letting out the sigh she'd been holding in for who knows how long. She grabbed both bowls and made her way to the kitchen.

Nick's eyes followed her until she'd been out of his peripheral. His eyes then meandered until they came across the carrot charm she'd recently added to her phone case. He fiddled with the charm, then spoke up.

"With a nickname like Carrots, I would've expected you to eat more than two bites."

"Hey, Hey! Keep your eyes on your own food! I can eat this later, Okay? I like to savour my food. Not wolf it down like some savage beast." She mocked him.

"Woah, woah! Be careful, this savage beast is still hungry, and rabbit would be delicious right about now!"

"Then come and get it." She teased. Setting the plates down into the sink. She walked to the edge of the counter and leaned onto it with one hand, sinking into her hip. She dropped her head slightly, letting her eyes fixate on him. Letting him know that she was nothing short of serious.

Nick chuckled. She gave him permission. Nothing more, nothing less. He wasn't sure what she'd been hinting at, but he wasn't going to give up this opportunity, not just yet. He strolled over to her.

"Hehe, y'know you surprise me sometimes Carrots. I never seem to know what's going on in your head. One second you're all tired and brazen, and the next, you're…"

He swooped her up in his arms before speaking, but the bunny cut him off.

"I can be as brazen as I want."

She pulled on his collar, her breath flirting with the fur on his neck and ears.

"Scratch tired of the list, then?

He whispered in her ear.

"Hm, my arms were just tired."

"Hm.."

A contagious smile grew between the both of them. The passing of time fell short and unnoticeable. They once again slipped into the same void of space, filled with a calm, pleasing silence, neither of them daring to interrupt. Until they did.

Seemingly at the same time, their lips imitated magnets, and slowly but surely, they met.

ff account :) 

here

#zootopia #zootopia fanfiction #eeriiee #fanfiction #romance #friendship #suspense #nick wilde #judy hopps #wildehopps #znn #zootopia comics

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “Humor.”

Good morning everyone! Decided to write something nice and short today because I know a lot of you are here for that. I haven’t done it in a while, so I hope you appreciate my return :) 

Scene: Dr Krill (an alien with arguably the most experience dealing with humans) is being interviewed on-record during the intergalactic convention of psycho-bio-medical science.                                      

Q: WHat was the hardest thing for you to get used to the first time you stepped aboard a human ship?

A: To ask that question I would have to tell you about practically everything that happened to me while I was there. Living with humans is hard, and strange if you aren’t human. Everything about them is strange, and more complicated than it needs to be. For the longest time I had trouble keeping up with their communication.

Q: I was told that human communication is relatively simple.

A: Whoever told you that has never met a human, when humans speak they use oth verbal and body language to demonstrate their point, and worse than tha, they intentionally use irony, hyperbole, sarcasm and humor to communicate what they are saying.

Q: What is ... humor.

A: “\Now, as the humans would say sit back and rela because you just opened a massive can of worms.

Q What

A Exactly, human communication doesn’t make sense unless you spend time with them. You practically have to BECOME human to understand anything that’s going on. As for the case of humor, it is very complicated, and I still don’t quite understand it. I have experienced the phenomenon of humor in a way I don’t think is possible for many of my species. I’ve tried to explain it before, but it’s Ike explaining the color blue to a creature who seems primarily in infrared, they just won;t get it.

Q can you try?

A Of course I will. Humor is the appreciation of a specific situation or turn of phrase, but even that is completely inadequate to explain what humor is. It’s a….. primarily social, but not always, experience that is designed to help a group of humans empathizes, connect, or diffuse a situation. It is very important to be able to see the humor when with a group of humans because it will strengthen a social bond between you and them.

Q Can we have some examples.

A Well…. this could potentially be a long list so forgive me if I ramble on.

Humans have these things called jokes, sometimes they are stories and sometimes they are clever word play. The story joke generally begins with something that seems normal or at least plausible but the ... punch line (as the humans call it) is designed to be absurd, exaggerated or unexpected. For example you have three humans stranded on an island, one has dark hair, one has red hair, one has yellow hair. They dark hair human gets tired of this, and tries to swim back to the mainland, halfway across she drowns. Eventually the red hair human gets tired of being on the island and tries to swim as well, but she drowns halfway there. Finally the light hair human decides to try. She gets halfway to her destination, gets tired and swims back.

Q And what makes that funny. Two humans died.

A It’s funny because the last human got halfway there and swam back implying she could have made it all the way to the mainland but was too dumb to do so. Exaggerated lack of intelligence, and an absurd situation.

In the case of word play you can say something like: what do you get when you cross a centipede with a parrot. ONe of those is a creature with many legs, and the other one is a bird capable of mimicking speech. THe answer is a walk-in-talkie, a type of short-wave handheld radio.

Q I don’t get it.

A I wouldn’t expect you to. It requires a very in-depth knowledge of human history and culture. Some other things that can be considered funny to a human include.

Non-human things trying to do human things, and this includes animals exhibiting human behavior. HUmans find it very funny when less intelligent creatures exhibit human behavior. THese can include strange un-animal noises and even an animal trying to do something that normally only humans do

This rule also applies to their own offspring. A small human attempting to do something above their capabilities, like speak or, even, attempt a skill is greatly amusing to humans.

Sometimes the jokes that humans use don’t even involve irony, but are designed the annoy the person they are targeted at. In this case the targeted human might expect the answer to be clever, but instead get something that is either obvious or really stupid. In this case what is funny is not the joke itself, but the reaction to the joke. Sometimes these are called anti jokes and are specifically designed to be funny by way of not being very funny.

Q Can you demonstrate that to us?

A Yes of course.

What is big, red and bad for your teeth.

Q I don’t know, what?

A A brick

Q Well….. yes I suppose.

A You see it's funny because not only is it obvious, but it also implies that someone threw a brick at someone else’s face.

Q Humans consider other people’s pain entertaining?

A OH yes, very much. This gives rise to two types of humor. Watching others get hurt and the dark humor.

Dark human involves saying something gruesome or wildly inappropriate. I am under the impression it is a way to test how socially close a group of people is. Because if you are with an unfamiliar group of people you don’t know how they will react to a potentially offensive or dark joke, and so may not use one. If a human deployed one, they may be gaging the reaction of those around them. I would say that, on average, humans have a lot of very dark thoughts, and the knowledge that other humans also have dark thoughts brings them more socially close. IF you can make a dark joke around a human that implies than you can say other inflammatory things without getting into trouble. As I was saying humans have a lot of dark and sometimes aggressive thoughts, and the ability to vent and share them is very important for mental health, but they need to make sure they find a proper group to confide in.

An example would be: what is the difference between a truckload of bowling balls and a truck load of dead babies….. you cannot unload the bowling balls with a pitchfork

Q: That…… is…. disturbing.

A: It’s a little bit funny

On the other hand, watching other people get hurt is a complicated type of humor.

It may be funny because the other person was doing something stupid, or against the rules, and it is entertaining to see them get what was coming to them. Humans like justice.

Sometimes it is designed as a way for humans to empathize with another being. Seeing someone get hurt wincing and then laughing about it is a way of saying I feel your pain, but I’m glad it’s not me.

Of course there is the humor that involves laughing at someone you genuinely hate who got hurt. IN this case you have always desired to hit that person, but it is not socially acceptable, but watching them get hurt by something else causes a sort of….. release of tension and anger.

Sometimes humans watch just to make themselves feel better that they aren’t in that situation or their life isn’t that bad.

In large groups, this is a way for humans to practice empathy and also socially bond with those round them

Q You said earlier that it was an important tool in defusing situations…. how does that work.

A Well that its a very good question and it comes with, what I think is the most interesting aspect of human humor.

IF you’re with your friends, and one of them runs face first into a pole, you may think it is funny, but it’s only funny if the person isn’t hurt, or a couple days after the incident when the person is fine. In both cases it is a way to demonstrate relief or test to see if the other person is ok. It can even be used to let others know that you're ok.

Human history is filled with some of the greatest and most horrible tragedies imaginable, and for every one of them you will be able to find jokes. Studies have shown that the use of humor is a proper and helpful outlet to the emotions that come with tragedy. You may hear a human say that there were only two options in a situation “It was either laugh or cry.” Both include the release of emotion which can be cathartic.

Assume there is a tense meeting between group of humans Violence is about to break out, but someone makes a joke. The atmosphere is diffused and social bonding occurs allowing the humans to be less hostile towards each other, and probably get something done.

In cases of humans who have experienced past trauma, I find that the healthiest, mentally healthiest, humans have a habit of making fun of the trauma. In many cases it helps them to cope with what happened and serves as a sign to let others know that they are doing ok.

Q And there are other types of humor as well?

A If I were to talk about all of them, we would be here all day. I think the important takeaway from this is that humans use humor  primarily for reasons of social bonding. If a human thinks you are funny they are more likely to like you and more likely to be your friend. Even in human relationships, the funnier you are the more likely you are to find a mate, so to anyone planning to spend time with humans, I would recommend putting a great amount of focus and study into their humorous.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are insane #humans are werid #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog - 2012 annual

iirc the annual takes place between 7 and 8, or something. whatever, im gonna go for it

shifts in art style always throw me off phewwww

i cant remember what theyre doing but i find it really funny that first aid is there squaring the fuck up to punch shit

ah yes of course how could i forget the time they shrunk down to fight tiny robots in ultra magnus’s head. a comic classic 

poor magnus lmao

HBJSDKFBSHJFDHJSD HIS TERRIFYING SMILE HAUNTS MY NIGHTMARES. LOVE IT

love the continuation of magnus’s law-vision

the fact that everyone is dunking on magnus for smiling ONCE hvbhjdksbfjks

rewind and chromedome ough

i feel like cyclonus spends 90% of his early mtmte screentime staring broodingly out of windows lmao 

tg so precious

lmaooo i love the flashes of rodimus saying ‘til all are one’ All The Time

rodimus just wants to be like his dad ok

rodimus telling drift to go meditate or something vbhjfdbhdsjkf

i love rodimus calling magnus out on referring to himself in the third person lmaoooo but also I'm like Oh I See That [eyes emoji]

wish i had emojis on the computer sigh

lmao so the circle of light is a bunch of pacifists With Big Ass Swords

them betting on how long it'll take rodimus to say ‘til all are one’ vbkjsdhbfjhkhsdf

damn so ambulon rlly did switch sides late in the game 

cyclonus is here!! being an emotionally closed-off fool as usual 

nooo rodimus let tailgate speak

cant believe rodimus graffiti’d tailgate

drift, immediately: rodimus is FUCKING POSSSESSED 

ratchet: ok, no, 

godddd everything abt the galactic counsel here is so funny. ‘its big - its grey - its taxpayer funded’ hvbkjshdbfjkdf and the fact that their ship is called ‘the benign intervention’ lmaooo

also DAMN that is a BIG ASS SHIP 

‘a fleshling in a stupid hat’ i love rodimus and his irrational hatred of hats

magnus comin in CLUTCH with the dry-ass clauses shit 

rewind vhjbdskfbaksdfn ‘the sub-section 7 defense - sneaky’ ily

tailgate hvbhjadkfbjskdf its ok that you don't know what's going on

also tailgate serves a vital role in the story as the audience insert character (or w/e its called), bc he’s often confused which allows for handy exposition that we the audience also need lmao 

i find it so interesting to see how the cybertronians are viewed by the rest of the galaxy - we don't see a lot of aliens but its always fascinating when we do, because of COURSE they’re mostly gonna think of the cybertronians as destructive and war-like when that’s what they’ve been up to for 4 million years 

ooof swerve :( swerve is one of those characters who you’re like ‘haha he’s funny’ most of the time but pretty often he’ll have startling moments of like, deep pain about life or w/e, and you’re like Oh Shit and then you kinda move on, until finally the swearth arc hits and it all comes together. what I'm saying is that this is some nice building towards that 

HGDSBJFKJSJBDF THERE IT IS THERE IT ISSSSSSSSSS

THE PANEL WHERE REWIND IN ALT MODE CAN FLY FOR SOME REASONNNNNN

i fucking love that shot so much. does everyone see this. rewind is a GIANT FUCKIN FLASHDRIVE and he’s hovering ominously thru the air. like, what happened to all the biz from issue 1 or w/e where his husband was roasting him for having a non-mobile altmode? if he can fucking HOVER than Actually rewind is the fucking coolest, no contest 

or like, is the implication that they all teleported there (having switched to alt mode along the way i guess?) and rewind is just like, suspended in midair? bc that's what the speed bubble text implies, but it also totally looks like they're just travelling across the area and rewind can levitate

anyways. that panel has always cracked me up lmaoooo

rodimus calling the council ‘fascists’ hvbhduifbjsdjfajskf sir i love you 

GODDD and there's the joke payoff from a few issues ago - rewind, facing front, hearing drift transform behind him and not only being able to tell its drift without looking, but also being able to tell that drift is upset, JUST like chromedome said he could....fucking PEAK i love that type of payoff humor

ooof and more swerve introspection. i mentioned earlier but i fucking LOVE how this series showcases the extremely wide range of reactions/coping mechanisms that everyone has towards the endless war finally being over - and swerve really nails it here: confusing peace with happiness, and assuming that everything would automatically be better after the war is over, when in reality you still have to work just as hard to build shit rather than break it

also i adore the horror of a guy who is half-embedded in the wall, his face stuck in a rictus of terror & death, waxing philosophical about how peace is about the freedom of choice, and how they should all just feel lucky to have survived...oof, that's very specifically ironic coming from you, dude 

but i do love the little characterization we get here for ore, a character who is literally already dead and has so far been used as a plot device pretty exclusively, but we still get to know little things about him here, and how HE feels about the war and the current peace, etcetc. it really makes the story and characters seem believable, like every character has a story even if we don't take the time to see it 

love cyclonus posing coolly 

kinda love how clear it is that drifts whole hippy schtick is just a front to cover his anger, and a tool to make him seem like an approachable, upstanding autobot

drift dramatically monologuing while pointing his sword at the sky is extra funny with everyone else just staring at him doing this

cyclonus why are you grabbing at the edge of the hole you're falling into, you can LITERALLY FLY, 

magnus finally getting some appreciation for being The most law abiding guy like, ever 

genuinely forgot abt the whole metrotitan plot that happens here 

GOD when rodimus is like BRAIN QUEST TIME and then we smash cut to them at the brain ‘six minutes later’ vhbhkudfjbjksf i live for that shit 

also that would be even funnier animated which further proves that we need an mtmte/ll animated series, please, somebody, 

HBDSJKFSHDJF REWIND IS SO FUCKING FUNNYYYYYY you cant even tell if he GENUINELY didn't think cyclonus could talk or if hes just being a dick but either way? comedy gold 

oh i adore the flashbacks being in a different artstyle, especially one that's so retro 

i love rewind being a history geek, and cyclonus passionately explaining cybertronian creation theory

HHHH i fucking LOVE the myth/lore stuff like....a lot of franchises tend not to dwell in this type of mythology, you tend to get The True Version Of Events, but this kind of explanation rocks bc it totally sounds like the kind of religious mythology that naturally develops based on a species’ progression

and drift and ratchet’s very opposing and polarizing views certainty do make for interesting perspectives, tho i feel like the story sometimes leans too much towards ratchet being ‘more correct’ bc, logic! or something idk i feel like i used to have a couple mild opinions on this but i don't remember

and its funny bc i am, irl, an atheistic medical professional who believes in science above all else - essentially just like ratchet. but i feel like the narrative portrayal skews a little more in his favor than i’d like, despite that 

skids just out here being a bummer, completely unprompted. cant even blame you tho dude 

hhhhhh chromedome talking abt rewind ;_; 

and when he says ‘maybe there’s someone out there who can save your life, too’ and cyclonus is there....hhhh

god i fucking LOVE drift and rodimus’s entire relationship. the layers...the LAYERS!!!

OH HEY ITS THOSE ROBOTS SKIDS FOUGHT 

ah, inconvenient laser time!

ok i fuckgin love how cybertronian’s brains look just like the planet cybertron. that's so fucking great 

of COURSE brainstorm brought his shrink ray 

truly i love the convo between ore and swerve, especially overlaid onto everyone fighting 

oof, the themes and plot threads of this annual are all so nicely tied up (which is something i love abt mtmte, especially early on when the story is smaller), with swerve now choosing to disobey an order from rodimus

oh yeah, the circle of light! that's who you've been looking for this whole time basically! 

and then the ending, hearing that magnus smiled (willingly!) :) i love it

rodimus’s profile says ‘finds it difficult to sit still’ bc rodimus is an adhd icon

lmao i feel like over half of my sentences in this recap - and in most of my recaps - contain ‘i love it’ or ‘i love how-’ or some variation upon that theme. I'm predictable 

anyways - the annual! i love this issue. its really long which is cool and i feel like it does a lot to flesh out the setting and lore, and even the characters as well. also, as i said above, it does an excellent job telling an exciting and well-contained story, with solid story beats throughout and plot threads that emerge and get resolved all within this issue, even while leaving plenty of stuff up for future resolution. that's the Early MTMTE Special, and i adore it. tho i will say I'm glad we’ll be getting back to the regularly scheduled art style, bc this one didn't really do it for me 

#lj rereads mtmte #lmao this is looong

[blk-chauvinist]

Why Women Aren’t Funny

BY CHRISTOPHER HITCHENS

JANUARY 1, 2007

Be your gender what it may, you will certainly have heard the following from a female friend who is enumerating the charms of a new (male) squeeze: “He’s really quite cute, and he’s kind to my friends, and he knows all kinds of stuff, and he’s so funny . . . “ (If you yourself are a guy, and you know the man in question, you will often have said to yourself, “Funny? He wouldn’t know a joke if it came served on a bed of lettuce with sauce béarnaise.”) However, there is something that you absolutely never hear from a male friend who is hymning his latest (female) love interest: “She’s a real honey, has a life of her own . . . [interlude for attributes that are none of your business] . . . and, man, does she ever make ‘em laugh.”

Now, why is this? Why is it the case?, I mean. Why are women, who have the whole male world at their mercy, not funny? Please do not pretend not to know what I am talking about.

All right—try it the other way (as the bishop said to the barmaid). Why are men, taken on average and as a whole, funnier than women? Well, for one thing, they had damn well better be. The chief task in life that a man has to perform is that of impressing the opposite sex, and Mother Nature (as we laughingly call her) is not so kind to men. In fact, she equips many fellows with very little armament for the struggle. An average man has just one, outside chance: he had better be able to make the lady laugh. Making them laugh has been one of the crucial preoccupations of my life. If you can stimulate her to laughter—I am talking about that real, out-loud, head-back, mouth-open-to-expose-the-full-horseshoe-of-lovely-teeth, involuntary, full, and deep-throated mirth; the kind that is accompanied by a shocked surprise and a slight (no, make that a loud) peal of delight—well, then, you have at least caused her to loosen up and to change her expression. I shall not elaborate further.

Women have no corresponding need to appeal to men in this way. They already appeal to men, if you catch my drift. Indeed, we now have all the joy of a scientific study, which illuminates the difference. At the Stanford University School of Medicine (a place, as it happens, where I once underwent an absolutely hilarious procedure with a sigmoidoscope), the grim-faced researchers showed 10 men and 10 women a sample of 70 black-and-white cartoons and got them to rate the gags on a “funniness scale.” To annex for a moment the fall-about language of the report as it was summarized in Biotech Week:

The researchers found that men and women share much of the same humor-response system; both use to a similar degree the part of the brain responsible for semantic knowledge and juxtaposition and the part involved in language processing. But they also found that some brain regions were activated more in women. These included the left prefrontal cortex, suggesting a greater emphasis on language and executive processing in women, and the nucleus accumbens . . . which is part of the mesolimbic reward center.

This has all the charm and address of the learned Professor Scully’s attempt to define a smile, as cited by Richard Usborne in his treatise on P. G. Wodehouse: “the drawing back and slight lifting of the corners of the mouth, which partially uncover the teeth; the curving of the naso-labial furrows . . . “ But have no fear—it gets worse:

“Women appeared to have less expectation of a reward, which in this case was the punch line of the cartoon,” said the report’s author, Dr. Allan Reiss. “So when they got to the joke’s punch line, they were more pleased about it.” The report also found that “women were quicker at identifying material they considered unfunny.”

Slower to get it, more pleased when they do, and swift to locate the unfunny—for this we need the Stanford University School of Medicine? And remember, this is women when confronted with humor. Is it any wonder that they are backward in generating it?

This is not to say that women are humorless, or cannot make great wits and comedians. And if they did not operate on the humor wavelength, there would be scant point in half killing oneself in the attempt to make them writhe and scream (uproariously). Wit, after all, is the unfailing symptom of intelligence. Men will laugh at almost anything, often precisely because it is—or they are—extremely stupid. Women aren’t like that. And the wits and comics among them are formidable beyond compare: Dorothy Parker, Nora Ephron, Fran Lebowitz, Ellen DeGeneres. (Though ask yourself, was Dorothy Parker ever really funny?) Greatly daring—or so I thought—I resolved to call up Ms. Lebowitz and Ms. Ephron to try out my theories. Fran responded: “The cultural values are male; for a woman to say a man is funny is the equivalent of a man saying that a woman is pretty. Also, humor is largely aggressive and pre-emptive, and what’s more male than that?” Ms. Ephron did not disagree. She did, however, in what I thought was a slightly feline way, accuse me of plagiarizing a rant by Jerry Lewis that said much the same thing. (I have only once seen Lewis in action, in The King of Comedy, where it was really Sandra Bernhard who was funny.)

In any case, my argument doesn’t say that there are no decent women comedians. There are more terrible female comedians than there are terrible male comedians, but there are some impressive ladies out there. Most of them, though, when you come to review the situation, are hefty or dykey or Jewish, or some combo of the three. When Roseanne stands up and tells biker jokes and invites people who don’t dig her shtick to suck her dick—know what I am saying? And the Sapphic faction may have its own reasons for wanting what I want—the sweet surrender of female laughter. While Jewish humor, boiling as it is with angst and self-deprecation, is almost masculine by definition.

Substitute the term “self-defecation” (which I actually heard being used inadvertently once) and almost all men will laugh right away, if only to pass the time. Probe a little deeper, though, and you will see what Nietzsche meant when he described a witticism as an epitaph on the death of a feeling. Male humor prefers the laugh to be at someone’s expense, and understands that life is quite possibly a joke to begin with—and often a joke in extremely poor taste. Humor is part of the armor-plate with which to resist what is already farcical enough. (Perhaps not by coincidence, battered as they are by motherfucking nature, men tend to refer to life itself as a bitch.) Whereas women, bless their tender hearts, would prefer that life be fair, and even sweet, rather than the sordid mess it actually is. Jokes about calamitous visits to the doctor or the shrink or the bathroom, or the venting of sexual frustration on furry domestic animals, are a male province. It must have been a man who originated the phrase “funny like a heart attack.” In all the millions of cartoons that feature a patient listening glum-faced to a physician (“There’s no cure. There isn’t even a race for a cure”), do you remember even one where the patient is a woman? I thought as much.

Precisely because humor is a sign of intelligence (and many women believe, or were taught by their mothers, that they become threatening to men if they appear too bright), it could be that in some way men do not want women to be funny. They want them as an audience, not as rivals. And there is a huge, brimming reservoir of male unease, which it would be too easy for women to exploit. (Men can tell jokes about what happened to John Wayne Bobbitt, but they don’t want women doing so.) Men have prostate glands, hysterically enough, and these have a tendency to give out, along with their hearts and, it has to be said, their dicks. This is funny only in male company. For some reason, women do not find their own physical decay and absurdity to be so riotously amusing, which is why we admire Lucille Ball and Helen Fielding, who do see the funny side of it. But this is so rare as to be like Dr. Johnson’s comparison of a woman preaching to a dog walking on its hind legs: the surprise is that it is done at all.

The plain fact is that the physical structure of the human being is a joke in itself: a flat, crude, unanswerable disproof of any nonsense about “intelligent design.” The reproductive and eliminating functions (the closeness of which is the origin of all obscenity) were obviously wired together in hell by some subcommittee that was giggling cruelly as it went about its work. (“Think they’d wear this? Well, they’re gonna have to.”) The resulting confusion is the source of perhaps 50 percent of all humor. Filth. That’s what the customers want, as we occasional stand-up performers all know. Filth, and plenty of it. Filth in lavish, heaping quantities. And there’s another principle that helps exclude the fair sex. “Men obviously like gross stuff,” says Fran Lebowitz. “Why? Because it’s childish.” Keep your eye on that last word. Women’s appetite for talk about that fine product known as Depend is limited. So is their relish for gags about premature ejaculation. (“Premature for whom?” as a friend of mine indignantly demands to know.) But “child” is the key word. For women, reproduction is, if not the only thing, certainly the main thing. Apart from giving them a very different attitude to filth and embarrassment, it also imbues them with the kind of seriousness and solemnity at which men can only goggle. This womanly seriousness was well caught by Rudyard Kipling in his poem “The Female of the Species.” After cleverly noticing that with the male “mirth obscene diverts his anger”—which is true of most work on that great masculine equivalent to childbirth, which is warfare—Kipling insists:

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same, And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail, The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

The word “issue” there, which we so pathetically misuse, is restored to its proper meaning of childbirth. As Kipling continues:

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.

Men are overawed, not to say terrified, by the ability of women to produce babies. (Asked by a lady intellectual to summarize the differences between the sexes, another bishop responded, “Madam, I cannot conceive.”) It gives women an unchallengeable authority. And one of the earliest origins of humor that we know about is its role in the mockery of authority. Irony itself has been called “the glory of slaves.” So you could argue that when men get together to be funny and do not expect women to be there, or in on the joke, they are really playing truant and implicitly conceding who is really the boss.

The ancient annual festivities of Saturnalia, where the slaves would play master, were a temporary release from bossdom. A whole tranche of subversive male humor likewise depends on the notion that women are not really the boss, but are mere objects and victims. Kipling saw through this:

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her.

In other words, for women the question of funniness is essentially a secondary one. They are innately aware of a higher calling that is no laughing matter. Whereas with a man you may freely say of him that he is lousy in the sack, or a bad driver, or an inefficient worker, and still wound him less deeply than you would if you accused him of being deficient in the humor department.

If I am correct about this, which I am, then the explanation for the superior funniness of men is much the same as for the inferior funniness of women. Men have to pretend, to themselves as well as to women, that they are not the servants and supplicants. Women, cunning minxes that they are, have to affect not to be the potentates. This is the unspoken compromise. H. L. Mencken described as “the greatest single discovery ever made by man” the realization “that babies have human fathers, and are not put into their mother’s bodies by the gods.” You may well wonder what people were thinking before that realization hit, but we do know of a society in Melanesia where the connection was not made until quite recently. I suppose that the reasoning went: everybody does that thing the entire time, there being little else to do, but not every woman becomes pregnant. Anyway, after a certain stage women came to the conclusion that men were actually necessary, and the old form of matriarchy came to a close. (Mencken speculates that this is why the first kings ascended the throne clutching their batons or scepters as if holding on for grim death.) People in this precarious position do not enjoy being laughed at, and it would not have taken women long to work out that female humor would be the most upsetting of all.

Childbearing and rearing are the double root of all this, as Kipling guessed. As every father knows, the placenta is made up of brain cells, which migrate southward during pregnancy and take the sense of humor along with them. And when the bundle is finally delivered, the funny side is not always immediately back in view. Is there anything so utterly lacking in humor as a mother discussing her new child? She is unboreable on the subject. Even the mothers of other fledglings have to drive their fingernails into their palms and wiggle their toes, just to prevent themselves from fainting dead away at the sheer tedium of it. And as the little ones burgeon and thrive, do you find that their mothers enjoy jests at their expense? I thought not.

Humor, if we are to be serious about it, arises from the ineluctable fact that we are all born into a losing struggle. Those who risk agony and death to bring children into this fiasco simply can’t afford to be too frivolous. (And there just aren’t that many episiotomy jokes, even in the male repertoire.) I am certain that this is also partly why, in all cultures, it is females who are the rank-and-file mainstay of religion, which in turn is the official enemy of all humor. One tiny snuffle that turns into a wheeze, one little cut that goes septic, one pathetically small coffin, and the woman’s universe is left in ashes and ruin. Try being funny about that, if you like. Oscar Wilde was the only person ever to make a decent joke about the death of an infant, and that infant was fictional, and Wilde was (although twice a father) a queer. And because fear is the mother of superstition, and because they are partly ruled in any case by the moon and the tides, women also fall more heavily for dreams, for supposedly significant dates like birthdays and anniversaries, for romantic love, crystals and stones, lockets and relics, and other things that men know are fit mainly for mockery and limericks. Good grief! Is there anything less funny than hearing a woman relate a dream she’s just had? (“And then Quentin was there somehow. And so were you, in a strange sort of way. And it was all so peaceful.” Peaceful?)

For men, it is a tragedy that the two things they prize the most—women and humor—should be so antithetical. But without tragedy there could be no comedy. My beloved said to me, when I told her I was going to have to address this melancholy topic, that I should cheer up because “women get funnier as they get older.” Observation suggests to me that this might indeed be true, but, excuse me, isn’t that rather a long time to have to wait?

From Vanity Fair 

#Men Are The Prize #Anti-Feminism #Humor

[anthonybialy]

Always Never, Maybe

Believing in concepts may astound those who let a guy decide what they think.  I suppose that's a principle in its way.  Yet some stubborn folks don't even let a mouthy dreamboat lead dance steps.

We've had every chance to genuflect before a real man like real men.  The faded Never Trump notion nonetheless outlasted a fad and even that one election because concepts persevere regardless of popularity.

Adherence may seem tough when popularity is itself presented as an idea, but that just means more people who self-identify as worth avoiding.  Contemplating what it means to not support his candidacy deep into his second year may be for dorks.  It's conservatives' fault for sticking to thinking.

There are always different kinds of never.  Be sure to differentiate between the faction that knows which federal programs it loathes and the one out to prove they don't obey one guy by disobeying everything he says.  Liberty fans don't wish to associated with Washington Post clowns copying and pasting the Democratic Party platform into blog posts.  If your beliefs overlap with a typical Vox underling, you're looking for a different club.

Get Trump to read an Obama speech just for the fascinating study of how much cadence matters.  The incumbent might enjoy it just to see how his minions will agree with literally anything he says.  I'd finally be entertained during this era of fealty to quasi-kings.  Principles stay the same regardless of associated names.  I hate the same stupid attempts to run our lives no matter who spews them.

You have to endorse either cancer or AIDS.  Some purported sophisticates claim there many choices that are not in fact binary.  But it's little fun having to see multiple characteristics in single individuals.  How could one person be two things?  Your eggheaded sorcery treats humans as complex, and the White House tries to dissuade exterior egos.

Fight until the death of integrity.  The Fox News take on the world certainly seems to spread tremendous happiness, which we'll enjoy once we stop throwing steak knives at each other.  You may notice there's there's one side presently being left out, which doesn't seem fair.  But who wants to hear why something's constitutional when there's owning going on?  Liberals condemning tariffs because of who pimps them would be funnier if purported conservatives didn't take the other side.

There is ample joy in acting as if we've been assigned teams, at least according to those who enjoy being directed.  Capriciousness makes each day exciting.  We've been blessed with a president who frequently detours from scripts, although he presumably stuck to his lines in Home Alone 2.  It almost seems as if there's more to beliefs than checking which party tattoo you have.

I would never suggest that another faith's central figure is capable of error.  It's true whether it applies to Buddha, Joseph Smith, or whichever president has ascended into the Oval Office chair.  But our insolent boldness is designed to make him even more awesome.  A careful constitutional perusal indicates it's legal to criticize any branch and may in fact add a bit of balance that coincides with the document's spirit.  Separating church and state is a challenge when voting for someone who seems so messianic.

Even the biggest political religious kooks should want to hold their guy accountable, especially when the faith in question took 20 trillion dollars of involuntary contributions and turned it into kindling. It's insubordinate of me to suggest the guy who thought the USFL could take on the NFL is capable of being incorrect.  

I still call for the revolutionary notion of praising Trump depending on the issue.  If he's having a rare bout with clarity, I cheer as much as I'm willing for a politician.  When he reverts to the default mode of oafish creeping authority, I'll comfortably boo.  Wasn't the whole point that he's not an ideologue?  In that case, his fans should be happy to judge him from moment to moment.  He does the same depending on whoever praised him last.

There are outlets for those kneeling before Trump and those flipping him off if you worried the spectrum wasn't spanned.  Astute political observers note everyone gets their say but government foes.  You may know them as conservatives.  It's easy to forget a species that's on the verge of extinction, although some of us are cute enough to star in manipulative commercials. We're supposed to criticize him precisely because he's a trainee. Trump's omniscient except for everything he doesn't know.

[call-me-merlyn]

Current thoughts

You know what is so completely and utterly fucked?? That I spent my whole life believing sex was wrong.  I set these standards for myself- some put there by my parents, but mostly put there by myself in order to be the “best daughter possible.”  I had such high fucking hopes for sex.  I thought it was going to be this amazing experience that was loving and pleasurable and intimate and… sexy.  Something to share between you and your partner.  I didn’t expect it to be perfect in any sense my first time.  It wasn’t.  But I did think that perhaps it would be infused with love at least.  He didn’t care enough for that to happen.  He ruined sex for me, honestly.  He would try to have sex with me when I was crying, broken, mad, happy, sad.  He had the audacity to tell me the exact way I should shave my body- with dimensions and illustrations included.  Sex didn’t matter to him.  Not even when I was laying there as lifeless as the crumpled sheets around us.  Not even when I stared at the ceiling, face expressionless- save the tears streaming from my sclera; staining my cheeks.  It was in that moment that he broke me.  The moment in which all my fears and my mother’s premonitions had come true.  The moment in which I felt I would never trust again.  I have never sobbed harder in my life.  My belly swollen from the emotionless penetration I had consented to.  Because that’s all it was.  All it would ever be.  And yet, I had told him I loved him still.  I was there for his pleasure; nothing more.  As I always had been.  I starved and made myself throw up for a week after.  And he still had the audacity to try and fuck me when I broke up with him- pulling my pants down as I sat on his lap crying and begging him to hold me.  He knew the breakup was coming, so he came prepared.  Drunk off his ass (driving his car drunk might I add), telling me I was stupid for crying over him being drunk and that everything was my fault and I should just tell my parents “fuck you.”  Stumbling around with eyes half closed.  Hands groping my breasts as I begged him to look at me- to be present.  (This behaviour also has made me wary of when my partner drinks because I am usually the sober one.  At least with him I was.  He was never my favorite person when he drank.  And I fear what may happen if I am not vigilant).  And that’s it.  That is the last memory I have of him.  The fall from grace.  He walked away with my virginity and a little my dignity.  But I walked away with my heart, albeit broken, I pried it from his crushing hands.  

But then Atlas came along.  And I trusted him.  I fucking trusted him with everything.  And he deserved it.  My trust.  And we slept together.  And it was beautiful and emotional and sexy and loving and good and trusting.  He tattooed my skin with stings of perfect kisses; my body absorbing his scent, his touch; my eyes reaching the depths of his soul as he stared into them.  He let me in.  Told me everything he was feeling.  He held me and kissed me and laughed with me.  He touched me gently and not-so-gently, and made every hair on my body stand on end.  He responding to every whisper and moan, every tear and laugh, every push and pull.  And he told me he loved me every step of the way.  And I believed him, because I always do.  Because he proves it to me every day.  It’s the little things.  It is the way he brushes my hair out of my face and tucks it ever-so-gently behind my ear.  Everything I have begged for in a partner is his nature.  And these things aren’t “pretty eyes and dark hair.”  They are “someone who challenges me and is willing to love me,” “someone whom loving is a privilege and not a chore,” “someone whose kiss I can still feel for hours after we kiss.”  Atlas is everything I have ever wanted.  Literally.  Completely.  Every kiss with him is better than the last.  Every touch lasts for eons it seems.  Permanently etched into my skin.  Last night he told me that he loves to capture perfect moments, to write about them- at least everything he can possibly remember.  But with me, he said, with me every moment is perfect. He doesn’t understand how this could be.  How I can make him happy like this.  He hasn’t ever been happy like this. 

He has loved before.  Just like me- strongly, passionately, through good and bad.  But it doesn’t affect me.  I don’t feel jealous for his past loves like I used to feel with my past partner.  We talk about them, Atlas and me, and I find myself enjoying his stories- the happy and sad ones.  He knows how to love my properly and fully because he has healed from this.  Just like I have.  My wounds will never cease to exist, but they will heal.  They have healed.  I don’t feel the need to compete with his exes.  I don’t care if she was smarter, funnier, prettier, sexier, thinner, fatter, weaker, or stronger.  I am different.  Like Atlas, I am something else entirely.  She was a different species.  We cannot and should not be compared in my mind. He loved her.  And in a sense, I guess I do too in some twisted way.  Whatever has made him the way he is now is every bit worth loving for me.  His past, present, and future are so worth loving.  Every facet, every corner, no matter what I may find.  He trusts me with it all, and I feel honored.  I sincerely hope she made him happy.  To think there was ever a time when he wasn’t hurts me.  I hope she made him laugh till his sides split; held him as he cried; stoked his hair and hit that little spot on the back of his neck that makes him shudder.  I hope that she stopped mid-sentence to drink in how ethereally beautiful he is.  I hope that she cried with him; felt stunned by him; felt breathless at the weight of his words.  I hope she traced her fingertips along every bit of his skin because touching him is love unparalleled.  I hope she looked at him the way I do- with eyes so full of love his breath gets caught in his throat.  I hope that she had been there for him when he needed her most.  It would be a shame if she hadn’t.  I am sure she still loves him.  I know how easy it is to love him.  It is as easy as breathing in the California sunshine that kisses my skin.  I am sure that she probably hates me.  But I don’t hate her.  She is a part of him and I love his every part.  Especially his eyes and his mind.  Perhaps those were her favorite, too.  

I don’t feel broken anymore.  I don’t.  I don’t want to hurt myself- mentally or otherwise anymore.  I know what I deserve.  I know my meaning in this life.  I know my future is so blindingly bright.  And I want to spend it with him.  I want a future with Atlas.  I want to wake up every day to those sea-glass eyes for as long as I possibly can.  No matter what, it will all have been worth it.  And I have never really felt that I could say that truthfully before.  I love him with every fiber of my being, and what an incredible adventure that is.  

- Merlyn

#love #long reads #currentthoughts