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flamencodiva · 3 years

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Bottom of the Bottle 2 - Sneaking Back on Stage

Description: Dean was at the peak of stardom until his world came crashing down. Can he find his way back to the top?

Word Count: 5340

Warnings for entire series: Smut (oral female and male receiving, P in V, Threesomes, Fingering, Orgies) Fluff, Angst, Violence, Language, Mentions of Drug use, Drinking, Mentions of Death.

Songs in this chapter: Partial Lyrics of Brother's Osbourn Ain't My Fault and Full lyrics of Down don't Bother Me by The Derek Truck Band

Beta'd by: @wonder-cole

Aesthetic by: @firefly-graphics

Dividers by: @talesmaniac89

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

<< Chapter 1

Dean pulled the bike up on the driveway and parked her next to his father’s truck. Then, killing the engine, he hopped off with a smile. Finally, Dean found a place where he could start over, a place he could play and live again. He found a small spring in his step and ran his fingers through his short hair. He was glad it was quick. His years with Purgatory had the band growing out his hair long. He hated it, but it was for the image. At the time, he would do anything just to be able to be involved in music and if growing his hair long was the worst of it, it was worth it to him.

But the minute that he was put in jail and kicked out of the band for something he didn’t do, he was glad to be rid of it. He was happy to cut off the long hair and return to his short locks. Turning the key to unlock the door, he let himself in to find his father sitting at the dining room table, hands folded on top of it.

“You could have gone to bed, you know,” Dean muttered as he placed the helmet on the table in the foyer and shrugged off his jacket to put it on the hook, “I told you I was going to be back.”

“Where did you go?” John asked as he looked up at Dean.

“Out,” Dean huffed, “I’m not a kid anymore, dad. So I went out, the bike had a wire come loose, I was close to a place, got help, came back.”

“You can’t do that again, Dean,” John said as he got up from the table.

“Do what? Go out and have fun? Go out and try to find some friends?” Dean asked, “I’m confused as to what you want from me here. I’m already working at the garage. I’m living under your thumb. I have a damn motorcycle instead of Baby.”

“I just wanted you to think before you went out,” John said as he walked to Dean, “I know you love to sing, and you love music, but it isn’t everything.”

“It’s all I have!” Dean practically yelled. “You know you started spewing all this bullshit about how I abandoned this family and ran away and couldn’t wait to leave,” Dean ran a hand across his face. “I wanted to go out and explore and find myself. You want to know the fucked up thing?” he walked up to his father, “I came back when Sam called me about mom. Not you,” he poked at John’s chest, “Sam, he called me to tell me mom was sick. You were the coward who couldn’t even face me to tell me my mother was dying!”

“Would you have answered the phone if it was me?” John muttered. “You have to admit, the minute you signed that contract, you wanted to high tail it out of here faster than a damn wolf chasing its prey.”

Dean looked down at the floor and licked his lips, “I wanted to get away from you. Not mom, not Sam, you. Because I was so mad and disappointed that my own father didn’t want me to follow something I was good at, something that gave me life.” Dean walked over to a picture of his mother and let his fingers graze over it, “I came every chance I could. I was in that hospital by her side when you didn't know it. I always waited for you and Sam to leave because I didn’t want to fight you while she was fighting Cancer.”

Dean wiped the stray tear that was falling down his cheek and shook his head.

“But it doesn’t matter. Nothing mattered, not that money I gave for the treatments or the fact that I tried to get Mom one of the best specialists I could find.” he turned to face his dad. “Music is in me, and I can feel it. What hurt me wasn’t mom dying. It was the fact that my own father thought of me as a disappointment when I made it big.”

John let his son’s words sink in before heading to the stairs, “A lot of good that fame and fortune did. You became part of a group that, in the end, it brought you back down to zero.” John was halfway up the stairs before he stopped, “you called me a coward for not calling you, but you’re a coward for not manning up to face me at that hospital.”

John’s footsteps began to fade as he ascended the staircase and retreated to his bedroom, leaving Dean to stew in his anger. Dean let out a frustrated growl with his jaw clenched and stomped up the stairs towards his old room. Why was his dad so adamant about keeping him locked up in a cage? He was already in a cell for six months, and he hated every minute of it. Apart from the fact that he could write a few lyrics, he hated being in that damn jail. He didn’t do anything wrong, and everyone tried to fight him for being a damn rock star.

Entering his room, he could see the boxes from his old home scattered around. Some boxes labeled clothing, some marked notebooks, and a few just miscellaneous. Walking to the box labeled notebooks, Dean tore the tape out and pulled out one of his more recently used ones. His fingers grazed over the pages before he turned to his bag full of his things from jail. Reaching inside, he pulled out a small booklet he had filled with some lyrics he had.

Dean didn’t go to bed right away that night. Instead, he took that time to filter through the small notebook and transferred his lyrics to his larger notebook. The memory of Y/N on stage seemed to haunt him. She looked at peace being up on that stage, almost ethereal, an angel ready to spread her wings and fly. Putting down his pen, his eyes roamed his room before settling on the silhouette of his guitar case. Sure, Dean had plenty of guitars, but this one, this one was special, and he was surprised to see it propped up in the familiar corner of his room.

Getting up from his chair, he walked over towards it, pulled the hard case out, and placed it on his bed. Opening up the latches, he lifted the lid and smiled. There nestled nice and snug was a Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar. He loved this guitar and hadn't been able to play it for years. He felt almost sad that he had it with him but could never really pull it out to play often. It was a birthday gift for his 17th birthday from his mother. Sure, she said it was from both her and his father, but Dean had a feeling it was more his mother than his old man.

Gently pulling it out of the case, Dean sat on his bed and placed the guitar on his right thigh, the fingers on his left hand holding down a chord on the fret before he strummed it. He winced at the awful sound that came out. It needed tuning. He looked around his room using the tiny light from his desk lamp and smiled when his eyes landed on the corkboard above his headboard. There, pinned to it, was his favorite pick. It was one of the few things his father did give him that he loved, a pick that he had seen in the music store that he had to have.

Taking a deep breath, Dean began to pluck at the strings and turn on the knobs to find the right notes. There was something about the way he felt holding his guitar that sent a shiver down his spine. Dean missed this feeling, and he kicked himself for letting the image geniuses at the label dictate that he should only be the voice of the band. Focusing on his tuning, he continued to play with the knobs until he was sure the guitar had the right notes to play.

With one last strum, he hummed in satisfaction at the sweet sound. He moved his fingers along the fret, strumming at the strings when a melody came to mind. He wasn't sure of the tempo, but he knew the notes he wanted to play. Adjusting himself and the guitar, he cleared his throat and let the music flow through him.

“Blame the whiskey on the beer, blame the beer on the whiskey,” he let out and smiled, “I like the sound of that,” he chuckled before grabbing his notebook and scribbling it down.

He continued to find the melody, and he figured a slow rhythm was a good fit for the song. At least that’s what he felt.

“Blame the bar for the band, blame the band for the--” he paused as he tried to find the right word, “song? Yeah, that works,” he wrote it down and shook his head gently.

His mind began to fill with doubt as he looked down at the lyrics. Was he really going to try to get back into music? Could he really deal with being a label stooge? He wanted to make music, sure, but it needed to be his music.

“You got this, Winchester,” he calmed himself, “You’ve been playing music for a long time. This is a good song.” he licked his lips and looked down at his fingers, “you had these lyrics in your head for a while, you just gotta get them out.

He continued to strum on his guitar and progressed as much as he could. He had gotten to the first round of the bridge before yawning. But, looking over at the clock, it was well past two in the morning, and he had to try to get as much sleep as he could.

The following day, Dean woke up to his father banging on his door.

“Wake up,” John called through the door, “I’m headed to the garage. You should head out soon. Coffee is already brewed.”

Dean let out a groan and ran a hand across his face to try and wake up fully. He stretched his body before forcing himself to get up. Dean looked at the open notebook on the floor and sighed. He had to finish the lyrics and try to memorize the song by tonight if he wanted to show Benny up. He didn’t like that Benny thought he would use Y/N for his own personal gain. That wasn’t in Dean’s nature at all. Besides, if the song was a hit, he could perform the other songs he had lying around, but he had to find a way to hide it from his dad.

Walking to his window, he looked outside and sighed. The sun was just rising, and he could hear the birds chirping on the nearby tree. Opening the window, he leaned on the windowsill when something caught his peripheral vision. He turned his head slightly to see the trellis that ran up the side of the house by his window. Reaching over, he pulled on it and gave a pouted shrug.

“Still feels sturdy,” he muttered to himself before looking down and feeling his pulse race. “You can do this,” he said, looking at the height, “you did it back in high school to go sneak over to ‘easy’ Gracie's house.” he reminded himself. “That and all of Mullet’s parties to play a gig.”

With a nod, he began formulating his plan. He spared no time in grabbing his clothes and getting dressed. His notebook was tight under the crook of his arm as he made his way downstairs to grab a coffee. His father had already left, leaving him alone. With a coffee mug in his hand, he used his free hand to write out the rest of his lyrics before looking at the time and dashing towards the front door. He made sure he kept the notebook close to him as he got ready for his bike ride to the garage.

He kept to himself as he placed certain things in his locker before grabbing his coveralls and put them on over his clothes. Then, his notebook in hand, he walked over to the work orders board and picked a clipboard to work on for the day. In between changing the oil on a few cars, replacing brake pads, and rotating tires, Dean had finished writing and found himself memorizing the lyrics he wrote out.

“I got my hand’s up. I need an alibi,” Dean muttered, “find me a witness who can testify.”

The melody was slow and funeral-like, and for the most part, it worked. What mattered to him right now was memorizing the damn words so he could get them out. He was sure the melody would change later, as he kept bouncing from uptempo to slow funeral march. It was hard trying to find a good beat, but he wasn’t sure what direction he was going. Was he going to stick to the complex rock rhythm he got used to with purgatory? Or was he going to go to his country roots?

He didn’t notice his father looking at him closely, the sad look on John's face as he recognized that Dean was writing lyrics. The old man could always tell when Dean was working on a song. Dean could never sit still when he was inspired, and the fact that Dean kept tapping different rhythms during the day wasn’t helping him hide it. But John was out of ideas, and the last thing he needed was to find his son on the news where they were announcing his death. It was bad enough seeing his son being arrested on the news, but to have his death broadcasted would absolutely shatter him. John had tried so hard to shelter Dean from getting the performance bug, but it seemed like the tighter John held on, the more Dean slipped through his fingers.

The rest of the day, Dean had played with a few different melodies in his head, but nothing seemed to stick. By the time he had memorized the song, it was time to close the garage. Dean had put his coverall back in his locker and walked over to his bike.

“Dean?” John called.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, turning to face his father.

“What do you think about heading over to the diner we always used to go to for dinner?”

Dean looked at his watch and then back up to his Dad. He still had some time to head home and grab his guitar and sneak out, “yeah, sounds good. Need to have that famous burger of theirs. I missed it when I was up in KC,” Dean said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there,” John nodded his head as he let Dean go before him, “I gotta lock up, so you go ahead and see if they can get us in a booth.”

“Sure,” Dean called out before putting his helmet on and zipping up his jacket.

The ride to the dinner wasn’t too bad. It was short. To begin with and Dean made it with perfect time to grab the last available booth. Dean ordered a burger for himself along with a beer and a slice of pie for after. The waitress was about to leave when John appeared and slid in.

“I’ll have the meatloaf and a water, Jenny, thanks,” he said to the young waitress.

“You got it, John, coming right up,” she smiled at the elder Winchester before turning to Dean and winking, “I get off at 8.”

Dean offered her a smile before turning to his father, “you come here a lot then?”

“Haven’t really cooked since your mother died,” John muttered as he looked at Dean. “You did good work today,” he changed the subject, “I was thinking about showing you how to run the books and showing you all the accounts, you know, get you ready to take over.”

“Dad--” Dean sighed, “I love working at the garage, I do, but it won’t make me happy.”

“Because music makes you happy,” John scoffed, “look what music did to you!” he pointed out.

“You know as well as I do that it was the industry, not the music. Those are two different things!” Dean argued.

John shook his head before running a hand across his face, “look, you need a backup, and I need someone I can trust to take over.”

“You planning on retiring soon?” Dean let out as he leaned back in his seat.

“Maybe,” John sighed, “I can’t run the garage forever, and I don’t want to sell it.”

Dean looked at his father’s face and could see the hurt in his eyes, “you really love that garage.”

“It’s my second love to my family,” John said as he folded his hands together over the table. “Just think about it?”

“I guess I can do that,” Dean muttered as their waitress, Jenny, came by with their food.

“You know she’s single,” John commented as he grabbed his fork to dig into his meatloaf.

“I don’t need dating help,” Dean let out as he grabbed his burger in his hands, “besides, I’m not looking for attachments.”

“Sometimes they’re a good thing, though,” his father commented after swallowing his food.

Dean rolled his eyes, “after the fiasco with Lisa, no thanks.”

“You’ll find someone,” John chuckled, “I don’t think I ever met Lisa.”

“Thank your lucky stars for that,” Dean huffed. “All she cared about was the fame and notoriety. Then I caught her with some publicist screwing in my bed,” he shook his head, “then again, I was nailing two, maybe three girls at a time so… no skin off my back when I cut her loose.”

John stayed silent for a minute, digesting what his son was saying, “so you went for the sex god approach then.”

“Better than being the drug addict,” Dean shook his head and took a bite of one of his fries, “the alcohol helped to just dull the senses anyways. I was a pretty face and a voice for the band, that’s it.”

John could hear the unhappiness in his voice and see the pain radiating in his son’s eyes over not making the music he wanted. It hurt John for a bit, but it also had him thinking about how it might help keep Dean home and safe.

“The business can chew you up and spit you out pretty easily.”

Dean watched as his father continued to eat his meatloaf, letting the conversation die. Yet, he knew where it would lead if he kept the conversation going.

Finishing his meal, Dean cleaned up his face and reached for his wallet before John stopped him.

“I got this son, you go on home, or are you going back out for a ride?” John asked.

“I need to rest, so I’ll be up in my room,” Dean lied as he slid out of the booth. “So I’ll be in bed by the time you get home, maybe.”

“Okay, I’ll be up watching some tv, so I’ll try not to make too much noise,” John pulled out his wallet and a few bills to place on the table.

Dean walked out and towards his bike just as John got into his truck.

On the ride home, Dean was thinking of what his escape plan would be. He already knew he would climb down the trellis, but his guitar had to come with him. Reaching the house, both men stayed in silence as they went their separate ways. Dean closed his door and put the lock on for good measure. He felt like a teenager hiding from his parents, but he knew his father would never understand. And honestly, Dean really had no place to go, and if he had to keep his musical exploits a secret, then so be it. One could say he wanted to try to impress a particular bartender he met last night, also wondering if he would hear her sweet voice again. Grabbing his case, he looked around for something he could use to strap it to his back, finding a rope he could use on the fly.

Once he was sure that the case was secured to his back, Dean carefully climbed out of the window to sit on the windowsill. He moved as carefully as he could, making sure to avoid making too much noise with his guitar case and getting it out of the window. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he reached the trellis and slowly began to climb down.

“You got this, Dean,” he said to himself as he made sure to place his foot on the holes as he climbed down. “Just like that time you snuck out to head over to the bonfire,” he took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat, “granted you also missed a small hole and fell when you reached the last foot off the ground, but you did it.”

Finally reaching the bottom of the trellis, Dean gave a small jump and smiled in satisfaction. Heading to his bike and rolling it away from the house to not make any noise when he started the engine. Once he was a block away, at least, his night began. The ride to Rusty’s was smooth, and Dean could see it already start to fill with patrons. Parking his bike, he adjusted his guitar and made his way inside. His smile grew when he saw Y/N at the bar already taking orders.

“You know we really do have to stop meeting like this,” he called out with a smile when she turned to him.

“Does that line work? I mean, right now, it just seems like you’re trying too hard,” she let out as she walked over to him, “going to drink, perform, or both?”

“Both,” he answered, “know where I can find Jo?”

“She’s over by the stage taking names for tonight,” she pointed over to the blond who was talking to a few groups.

“Wait,” Dean squinted a bit, “That’s Jo Harvelle? I know Jo,” Dean smiled and turned to face Y/N, “Will you be performing tonight?”

“Nope,” she sighed, popping the ‘p.’ “Yesterday was a fluke. I was filling in for someone.”

“I’m going to go talk to Jo,” Dean said before leaning over and taking Y/N’s arm gently before she could leave. “Whoever told you that you weren’t amazing last night was lying to you, sweetheart.” He let her go before she could give him a counterargument and made his way to the stage with his guitar strapped to his back.

As he approached the stage, he could feel a hand pull him back, and a person walked past him.

“Hey,” he called out, “do you mind?”

“Why yez, ah do mind,” the familiar Cajun voice said, “didn’ tink youz goin’ tah show up.”

Dean gave Benny a cocky smile before huffing, “I did tell you I would see you. Let me guess you have a song to sing tonight too?”

“Betta’ than what chu have to play i’m zure,” Benny chuckled, “I didn’ tink dat dey let chu play an inztrumentz.”

“I was playing the guitar before I ever joined that group,” Dean said with a low growl, “how the hell did you recognize me anyway.”

“The long lockz don’ matta to me brotha,” Benny sighed, “but da eyez are da windows to da soul.”

“You and everyone else seem to recognize me,” Dean muttered, “well, you can go ahead and sing your song before me,” Dean offered him a sly smile, “I’m sure I can bring the house down.”

Benny let out a scoff before turning away to walk towards Jo, “good luck wit dat brotha.”

Dean watched as Benny talked to Jo, who gave him a quick nod while jotting down a note. Once she was done, the Cajun turned around and checked Dean on the shoulder.

“Good luck up, der,” he chuckled at Dean, “you lookz like you need it.”

Dean clenched his jaw as Benny walked away. The guy really didn’t like him. Dean didn’t do anything. Hell, most people’s assumptions of him now have to do with the damn drug charge. Shaking his head, he walked up to Jo and adjusted the guitar strapped to his back. As he walked up to the young blond, he couldn’t help but smile as a memory of a young girl in pigtails flashed before him.

“Never thought you’d grow out of the pigtail stage,” he said as he stood in front of her.

“Well, well, well,” she said, chuckling before pulling him into a tight hug, “never thought the infamous Dean Winchester would grace us with his presence. I thought this place would be too. country for you?”

“I want to sign up to perform,’ he let out with a deep breath.

“Fees $20 to perform,’ she sighed.

“Performance fee?” Dean scoffed, “Really, Jo? Who the hell came up with that?”

“Look,” Jo sighed, “The $20 goes for every and all performers. It’s a small fee for renting out the stage. Besides, you get more in tips if people really like you.”

Dean grumbled as he fished in his pockets for a twenty-dollar bill. He handed it to Jo and shook his head, “I’m only going to be singing the one song.”

“Okay,” Jo wrote down his name and smiled, “You can wait by the bar and order some food. I’ll have someone pull you to the back about three performers before you.” She reached over and pulled him into a hug, “Welcome home, Dean. I have a feeling this is going to be a fresh start for you. You never looked right with that band.”

Dean smiled as he hugged her back, “Thanks, Jo.”

With that, Jo pulled away to let him walk towards the bar with his guitar still on his back. Approaching the bar, Dean smiled, seeing Y/N smile as she served customers. Her laugh reached his ears, and it pulled at him. There was a sense of comfort he felt from listening to Y/N’s laugh. Her laugh was very familiar to him. Walking to the bar, he pulled up a stool and sat down to wait for his turn. He wanted to try out his new song, but he wasn’t sure about the tempo yet. He continued playing around with different beats, but all he could come up with was a depressing march, but it didn’t seem to fit the song at all. With a groan, Dean decided to get something in his stomach while he waited.

“You look like you got something bothering you, Gringo.”

Dean snapped his head up from the menu to see Y/N leaning over the bar top towards him.

“Just trying to figure out what to eat before I have to head up on stage,” He chuckled, trying to shrug off the nervous feeling he had on him. “Besides, Benny’s gonna get mad if he sees you talking to me.”

“I can handle Benny,” Y/N offered him a smile, “besides, I’m the only bartender here, so I’m doing my job.”

“What do you recommend from the kitchen?” Dean asked as he licked his lips. There was something alluring about Y/N, but at the same time, he felt as though he had known her from before their encounter in the coffee shop.

“Honestly? The ultimate bacon burger,” Y/N answered. “It’s got premium Angus beef, with nice crispy bacon, a chipotle aioli, lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles. Not to mention you can have it with steak fries or onion rings.”

“That actually sounds good. I’ll have that and a bottle of Margiekugels,” Dean closed up the menu and sighed, “So is there ever a chance I’m going to see you on stage again?”

Y/N looked over at him as she put in his order on the digital register, “I don’t know,” she sighed, “it was just a one-time thing being up there.”

“Well, if you ever want to go up there again,” Dean said before taking a sip of his beer, “I could always be your backup.”

“Look,” Y/N shook her head with a slight huff. “I know all about you. Just because you cut your hair doesn’t mean that people aren’t going to recognize those big green eyes of yours,” she gave him a soft glare. “I’m not into rock stars, so do me a favor and just find someone else to play with, okay?”

Dean let out a small huff with a smirk, “well, screw you then, sweetheart.”

He took another sip of his beer and shook his head.

“You think you know me because of what the media says about things I didn’t even do? Then fine, you know me. But in reality, you’re just a scared little bitch who wants to stay behind the bar counter.” he grabbed his guitar as he got off the stool. “You can have them send my burger to the table in the corner over there,” he pointed towards the back of the saloon and slapped some money on the counter, “keep the change.”

He stalked off with his beer and guitar, chest full of anger as he looked up to see Benny had already gone on stage and was singing a song. The people were cheering and hollering for him.

Goin' 'round in circles

Pickin' out a cue

Travelin' with no memory

Ow, in my shoe

Down don't bother me.

If the music say

You can take a picture baby

Time won't care

And you're my second nature

A-coming over me

And though I might be shakin'

Down don't bother me no more.

Down don't bother me no more

As Benny finished his song, Dean rolled his eyes as everyone in the crowd cheered and whistled. Seemed like Benny has a crew of regulars that come to see him. He took a swig of his beer, smacking his lips and smiling at the waitress who brought his burger to him. Dean could feel Y/N staring, but he didn’t care. She had made up her mind, and he was done trying to prove to people that he wasn’t an asshole.

Finishing up his burger, he watched as Benny made his way over and rolled his eyes. He should have known that the seat he picked was closest to the kitchen.

“I’ze hope chu enjoyed dat performaze brotha,” Benny chuckled, “chu look like you could yuz da luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” Dean grumbled, “I know my skills, so why don’t you go back to yours and leave me and mine alone.”

Benny lifted his hands in surrender and let out a laugh, “didn’t mean ta hit a sore spot witch you. Enjoy da burga.”

Dean shook his head as Benny walked into the kitchen. His nerves were starting to get the best of him as he could feel his hands shake. Looking at his guitar propped up in the chair, his mind began to spin with thoughts.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ his mind shouted. ‘People are going to hate this song. I don’t even have a tempo yet!’

He could feel his heart race. Nothing could get him to snap out of it. At least, not until Jo came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, making him jerk.

“Hey,” she gave him a warm smile. “You got two performers before you. You should head backstage. I’ll show you the way.”

Dean nodded numbly as he followed her, not noticing an old friend watching him as he disappeared behind a black curtain.

Chapter 3

Tags in the Reblog

#Bottom of the Bottle #Rockstar!Dean Winchester #Rockstar AU #Dean Winchester Fic #Dean Winchester Fan Fiction #Supernatural AU #Supernatural Fiction #Rockstar!Dean Winchester x Reader #Angst #Fluff #Smut #mentions of orgies #Mentions of drug abuse #Alcoholism #violence #fake dating #language

76 notes · View notes

windsource · 3 years

Note

How do you feel about the storyline between Jack and Dean? Specifically, where it left off.

ass. it was ass.

they had a perfect opportunity to bring dean’s bigger relationship arc with his father full circle. the constant forgiveness of john and the idolatry of him (like, as a god figure. chuck--you know, the final boss and big bad of the entire series-- was a mirror for john, and it was solidified as such in season 4 with cas and dean both being their father’s little “soldiers” and connecting over that...which is why cas bringing up the “daddy’s blunt instrument” line in his love confession was so huge, because it was an acknowledgement of that...but i digress) even after everything we know he did to dean and sam was wrong and unnecessary.

i just. okay. supernatural’s themes with family are central to the show, and are tackled in a lot of different ways. one of them (i’m thinking season 6, because it’s the one i most recently watched), was acknowledgement that someone might be family/a blood relative, and not be family, despite how much sam and dean might want them to be.

i’m talking about dickwad samuel campbell, here, who sided with crowley that season and was just overall not adamant about sticking on sam and dean’s side. all he wanted was to get mary back--he didn’t care about her sons because he barely knew them. so, in both directions, family wasn’t family. you can even go so far as to bring adam into this, because despite sam and dean being blood family, he chose his mom over them and wasn’t quick to trust them. also they forgot about him after a while which may just be the writers’ faults but alas.

anyways, i think what i’m trying to say here is that john was treated like family and held in so high a regard because sam and dean grew up with the importance of “family” being hammered into them (by...john himself). dean has this same glorification going on with mary, which amara tried telling him was Wrong when she brought mary back because she’s Just Some Gal. they never gave this same “wrongness” of glorification to john, and in fact brought him back and had sam and dean forgive him despite all the shitty things he put them through/did to them.

they also showed jack beginning to glorify sam and dean (and even cas, in a way) in the show by having him make decisions based on what they would think is “right” and not really by his own volition. dean should have been able to see the pattern, to see the idolatry where it began by seeing himself in jack, here. (feel the need to clarify that this is NOT dean’s fault it’s the writer’s fault for not going into it.) they even mirror dean with jack multiple times quite heavily, so this is not a crazy comparison to make.

dean has also expressed with ben that he doesn’t want to be john. before bringing john back in Lebanon, he admitted to himself and other’s that he didn’t deserve what john put him through. dean...dean would 100% try to fix his parenting methods to be Better, not only because he learned from john but because he learned from how he acted with ben. and krissy. and claire. and i could name like 10 other kids at this point but i’m not going to because you get the point.

in character dean winchester also wouldn’t have said it was okay for jack to die for them. this was influenced by chuck, surely (haha), but that they would put this in the show and then not give a real apology or redemption arc for this was...Not Good. i like to think that dean would be more understanding of jack and more forgiving, like... i LIKED that he baked jack a cake for his birthday, but i would have expected more than just that. cakes are almost...bribery? like when my parents want me to forgive them for something, they buy me something and never actually fully apologize. this felt almost to that caliber, except . DEAN WOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER.

he is good with kids. canonically. he thinks his dad was a bad parent, canonically. he wanted to fix this in himself, canonically. ergo, dean and jack’s relationship should have foiled dean’s relationship with john, but it didn’t. so, i reiterate:

ass. it was ass.

#sorry if this makes no sense i started answering this months ago #and found it in the drafts to answer now lmao #tag later #rambleoncas meta #ely answers #anonymous #from the drafts #*dean #+jack #winchesters #my post #roc original

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ayoitsnic · 3 years

Text

Platonic! Sam x Reader x Dean

Word Count: 2.5k

Trigger Warnings: None? Violence that's pretty typical for Supernatural

Summary: Sam and Dean found out they have a sister. They're very skeptical at first but upon meeting they find out that despite 2 totally different upbringings they have more in common than they expected.

*Disclaimer* I wouldn't normally describe y/n in fics but in this one I did so purposefully to show the similarities between the siblings. I've been told some people are a bit touchy on that.

Oh also this is the first fanfic I've ever written so I'd be happy with constructive criticism.

'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.'

'Shit' Y/N thought to herself as she was put through to her dad's voicemail. 'Wait....it said call his son....does that mean...? Wait do I have a brother he never told me about!?' Grabbing a pen and a pad of sticky notes she called again, this time hoping for voicemail so she could write that number down.

'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.'

She got his voicemail again, quickly scribbling down the number before hanging up and dialing it.

Sam and Dean were just finishing up a ghoul case in Indiana when Dean's phone began ringing in the glove compartment of the Impala. Reaching over from the driver's side Dean quickly found his phone, glancing at the caller ID "Unknown Number?" He questioned out loud. He assumed it was a scam caller, but answered it anyway just in case "Hello?"

"Is this Dean?" A female voice asked, sounding mostly nervous, but also just a teensy bit excited.

"Who's this?" Dean questioned skeptically, causing Sam to look over curiously from the passengers side

"I'm Y/N. I umm....this is gonna sound crazy but I'm your sister." She felt weird saying that. Until 5 minutes ago she was an only child. "I tried calling dad but it went straight to voicemail and said to call you if it was an emergency...I kind of need help.."

Shocked with the idea of possibly having a sister Dean pulled the car over to a screeching halt, putting the hazard lights on. He needed a minute to take that in. He put the phone on speaker so Sam could hear what was being said "No that's impossible. Dad already had one kid we didn't know about. No way he had a second." Dean said, obviously in denial.

"He what?" Y/N asked, a grin spreading across her face. Regardless of the circumstances that prompted this call, she was elated to find out she had more than one sibling

Realizing what he had just said, Dean shook his head "Nevermind. Where are you?" He asked as Sam began to flip through John's journal, looking for any hint that there might've been another Winchester out there. It didn't take long for him to find the missing pages not even halfway through the book. It would seem she was born long before Adam.

"I'm in the Poconos, in Pennsylvania." Y/N responded

"Okay well we're about 10 hours from there. We'll be there in the morning." Dean told her "Text me the address." The phone call ended and Y/N texted him the address. They weren't sure what the emergency was that she had to call their dad for but regardless of whether or not it was their kind of thing, Sam and Dean were definitely gonna haul ass to go meet this mystery woman.

The next day Sam and Dean found themselves in Northeast Pennsylvania before noon hit. When they finally reached their destination they realized that this woman had grown up so differently from them. She lived in one of those fancy gated communities. Well THEY considered it fancy. Y/N was used to it, but then again the bar wasn’t too high with the childhood Sam and Dean had. The houses were big, the yards green, you needed a pass from security to get in, the only thing missing were picket fences.

"Are we sure we aren't walking into a trap?" Sam asked Dean as they stood on the big white porch, ringing the doorbell. "Well if we are, we're certainly prepared." Dean had grabbed holy water and had his gun tucked into the back of his jeans. Sam, a little silver and the Demon killing knife. It wouldn't protect from /everything/ but it'd save them from most of their most common threats.

When Y/N opened the door you could definitely see the family resemblance between her and Sam. She was tall for a woman, standing around 5'10, had light brown, shoulder length hair. Her eyes though, those were a beautiful shade of green like Dean's. It was almost like looking in a mirror for the boys "Hey." She greeted, letting them in

"Which one of you did I speak to on the phone?" She questioned

"That would be me." Dean replied, raising his hand a bit "This is my brother Sam." Sam was still trying to get over the fact that it looked someone took him and hit copy/paste.

"Wow. Dad really got around didn't he?" She commented without thinking. "4 kids, good for him." Just like Adam whom Dean had very briefly mentioned the day before, John Winchester while still her father, wasn't in the picture that often. Sure he seemed like a cool guy the few times a year he would visit but they never really had a proper Father/Daughter connection. She did care about him, but at the end of the end of the day he was just a person she knew she could trust, hence she didn't think twice about making comments like that until she noticed the look on her brothers' faces when she said it. "Sorry, I want thinking when I said that." She quickly apologized, wanting to move on.

Upon entering, the whole house smelled like Palo Santo wood. She found the scent very calming. "Anyways it's a hell of a drive from Indiana. You hungry? I made pie." She offered.

Dean's face lit up at that "What kind?" He asked with a small grin

"Blueberry. It's my mom's recipe." Y/N replied as she motioned for them to sit at the kitchen table. While she took out a knife to serve the pie, Sam had swapped out her utensils for ones they knew were silver.

"So what was so important you felt the need to call us up here?" Sam asked. Y/N could already tell she liked Sam. He gave off good vibes.

Y/N stayed silent for a moment before telling them "My cousin was found dead the other night. He had his throat ripped out. Cops say it was a Mountain Lion but it sounded like something that might interest Dad. Where is he by the way? I tried calling him a few more times and it just kept going straight to voicemail. Doesn't even ring."

Sam and Dean both looked a bit sad as they had to break the news that their father had passed away and had been dead for quite some time now. Upon hearing that, Y/N didn't really react. She wasn't sure how to. Of course she should've felt something because it was her father, but at the same time, as mentioned previously, he wasn't around a lot. He was absent for most of her life just like he was for Sam and Dean's. Sure he was there for the big stuff like birthdays, her high school graduation, or prom night where he let her drive up in the impala, but it was the small stuff she wanted him there for.

"So you know about the whole 'fighting monsters' thing then?" Dean asked as he splashed a small amount of holy water on her leg under the table. Sam kicked him under the table for even mentioning it. What was he thinking!? She didn't even notice the holy water but the question caused Y/N to look at him weird.

"What the hell are you talking about? Mom always said he was a fed." This almost forced Sam to hold in a chuckle.

Despite looks from Sam telling him it was a bad idea to tell her what they really do and that it was probably a vampire that killed her cousin, Dean told her anyway. They already made the mistake of not being totally upfront with Adam. Dean wasn’t making that mistake again "Yeah, okay." She chuckled dryly "You fight monsters. Sure you do." Like any sane person, she thought they were bullshitting. "Next you're gonna tell me you've found bigfoot out something." She said sarcastically

"Actually Bigfoot's one of the few things that isn't real." Dean told her with a smirk

"Tell ya what, you fight monsters?" She motioned towards her two brothers "Prove it. Show me these monsters. Let's go find the 'Vampire' " she said with finger quotations "that killed my cousin."

"Oh no no no." Sam finally spoke up "I was against telling you about what we do to begin with, but I'm drawing the line at having you go out on a hunt. You could really hurt. Or worse, killed."

"What is this, some bullshit male chivalry thing? Do you think women can't do the job?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"No, no that has nothing to do with it." Sam quickly back tracked "It's just that you only found out today that monsters are real, you've never hunted before, and we don't want you getting hurt."

Y/N got quiet for a moment, contemplating how she wanted to respond to that. When she finally spoke, she leaned across the kitchen table and told the boys very calmly, like eerily calmly "He was my family. I'm going and we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice." It was loud and clear, in no uncertain terms that she would do anything for her family. That included killing vampires.

The group went silent again. Sam and Dean exchanged a few glances before Dean relented "Alright fine, but you follow our lead."

"Deal." Y/N nodded

It didn't take long to locate the vamp nest. Only a day or two. In that time Sam had given Y/N a full rundown of everything she'd need to know about Vampires. How they're nocturnal but that doesn't mean they can't wake up during the day, how the whole 'stake through the heart' thing doesn't actually work and you gotta cut the heads off, and how they normally live in groups.

Thankfully it was a small nest, only about 6 or 7 of them. When the 3 of them pulled up to the old, long abandoned Birchwood Resort, Dean popped the trunk revealing their weapons cache. Y/N looked surprised to see all that stuff, peeking over Dean's shoulder to get a better look. "I've never seen so many weapons in one place. That's awesome." She grinned as Dean handed her a machete. Sam looked at Dean, thinking to himself how similar she sounded to him.

"Alright, Sam and I are gonna go in. Stay out here and if you see any of them try to run out just chop the head off." Dean told her

"You're crazy if you expect me to stay out here and miss all the action." Y/N told Dean as she leaned against the side of her dad's car. She didn't care how long the old man had been dead. To her, that would always be his car. NOT Dean's. With a sigh, she looked up to the night sky and ran her fingers through her hair "Alright fine, whatever. You're the master. I'm just the padawan." She shrugged, kind of annoyed but not in the mood to argue. Sam chuckled at the Star Wars reference.

"This place is huge though." Y/N added "It's really easy to get lost in. You might be better off with someone who grew up here and is familiar with the area. I wonder where you could find someone like that." She hinted, as her and her friends would explore this place as teenagers. "I think we'll be okay." Sam declined. They really were set on having her outside. Thinking about it, she could definitely understand the decision. They'd probably see her as a liability.

Once Sam and Dean had found the nest, the massacre began. After killing half the nest Dean found himself pinned under a vamp, his weapon thrown across the room where he could reach it. "Sammy!!!!!" He called out but Sam was busy with 2 vampires of his own.

Outside Y/N had grown bored of waiting for the boys to return. How long did it take to kill a few 'Vampires'? 'Fuck it' she thought to herself 'I'm going in.' And that's exactly what she did. Looking around the place for her brothers she ran into 1 vampire. Too Easy. She cut the head off as it made a move to go after her. Looking at the decapitated head on the ground made her nauseated but she pushed on.

Before long she heard a commotion From inside one of the private cabins. Peeking through a window she saw the bad position they were in. Scared, and sick to her stomach she ran into the cabin. Swinging the machete in her hand she killed the vampire that had Dean pinned. It was a clean cut and came centimeters from Dean's throat.

He got up, grabbing his own machete to help out Sam. After the vamps were dead Y/N averted her gaze, trying to avoid looking at more dead bodies as she caught her breath.

"I thought we told you to wait outside!" Dean told her to which she instantly responded with "And I thought Sam said you guys would be okay on your own but I just had to come and save you. You should be thanking me."

With a sigh Dean nodded "Are you okay?" He asked, just making sure. "I'm fine. I'm covered in blood and I just killed 2 Vampires, but I'm fine." Despite the nausea, she grinned. The whole hunting thing wasn't supposed to be fun, but this was the most excitement she had in a long time. "Alright, I don't know about you guys but I would kill for a shower right now. If you want after that I know a great bar off main street. I could use a stiff drink."

Sam and Dean left 2 days later, having found a case in Virginia. "We are gonna keep in touch, right?" Y/N asked as Sam and Dean put their duffel bags in the Impala

"Of course we are." Dean agreed while Sam added his contact info to her phone. She of course already had Dean's info saved. "You sure you don't wanna come with us?" He asked which caused Y/N to shake her head lightly "As much as I would love to, I have responsibilities up here. Work, family, what's left of a mortgage to pay off...Maybe one day though." She offered a soft smile.

After hugging both boys and telling Dean to drive safe, they took off for Virginia. "Dude," Sam looked over at Dean "I know we were skeptical at first but can we agree she's definitely related to us?"

Dean looked at Sam weird “I don’t see it.”

“You’re kidding right?” Sam asked “Aside from the fact that she’s like a walking replica of me, she makes really good pie; you love pie. You saw how defensive she got when I told her it’d be safer to sty at home while we took care of the vamps. It’s clear she’d do anything for her family. Sound like someone you know? and while we’re on the subject let’s talk about the fact that she’s not a terrible hunter. She’s far from a natural and a little weak stomached, but for someone who’s probably never killed a thing in their life she wasn’t bad.” Sam listed all the different ways she was just like Dean.

“What was the first thing she said when she saw the arsenal he keep in the trunk?” Sam asked his brother who responded with “I dunno. What’d she say?”

“She said ‘That’s awesome. She sounded just like you.” Sam insisted

Dean sat silent for a moment, focusing on the road ahead of them before relenting “Yeah okay when you put it like that she’s definitely related.” He agreed

#Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #sam winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #female reader

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btsqualityy · 5 years

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Wedding Series Q&A #2

Yoongi x Reader

How long have you been together?

“Uh, eight years,” Yoongi answered. “Almost nine now.”

How did the two of you meet?

“We met at a nightclub,” you chuckled.

What were your first impressions of each other when you met?

“I thought he was cute, maybe a little creepy because he was making eyes at me from across the club without approaching me,” you teased, making Yoongi roll his eyes playfully.

“I was nervous, ok?” He pouted. “My first impression of her was that she was so confident in herself, dancing around the club without a care in the world and I liked that about her.”

Did the two of you have an instant attraction to each other?

“Yeah,” you both answered at the same time.

“The sex we had that night only solidified it,” you added with a laugh.

What was our first date?

“Our first date was actually in my studio,” Yoongi grimaced. “I was getting ready for our album at the time and I had been cooped up in the studio trying to write.”

“He had been promising to take me out but I realized that he wasn’t going to leave the studio so I went to him,” you smiled.

“She brought me ramen and soju and we had a little picnic there,” Yoongi said.

Who said ‘I love you’ first?

“I did,” Yoongi revealed.

Do the two of you regret moving so fast in your relationship or getting engaged after only being together for a year?

“No, I like the way that it happened,” you nodded. “Even though it may seem “fast” by conventional standards, the way that our relationship progressed was completely natural.”

“Yeah, and why should we waste two to three years bullshitting around when we know that we want to be together?” Yoongi added with a shrug.

Yoongi, have you ever told Y/N that you told Jungkook to smear cake on her face at their wedding?

“What?” You exclaimed, looking over at him with a glare. “You told him to do that?”

“A seven year secret and here you guys’ go exposing me,” Yoongi groaned.

“Do you know what I did to him when I caught him for that?” You wondered with a scoff. “Now I feel bad.”

What song did you choose for your first dance and why?

“We chose ‘All of Me’ by John Legend,” Yoongi said. “It just described our relationship and how we grew together.”

What aspects of your life have stayed the same and what has changed since getting married?

“I think we had to learn how to be husband and wife,” you said. “When we were only dating and engaged, it wasn’t that big of a deal if we didn’t see each other for a few days or if we had an argument, we could just take our space for a while. Being married though, you can’t do that,” you shrugged. “We had to make a bigger space for each other in our lives’ and learn how to handle each other 24/7.”

What are some of your favorite things to do at home as a family?

“I honestly love taking naps with her and Kinsley,” Yoongi admitted. “It’s just something about knowing that both of my girls are with me and safe that makes me feel better.”

“This isn’t necessarily at home but mine would have to be when he has me and Kinsley come to the studio to listen to his new stuff,” you said.

What was the lowest point in your relationship?

“I don’t think we’ve ever had one specific instance of feeling low in our relationship,” you murmured.

“Yeah. Whenever we have arguments, they usually get pretty bad so that can make you feel pretty low,” Yoongi added with a shrug.

What has been the impact of Yoongi’s celebrity on your relationship? Like did Y/N hate it at first, have a hard time adjusting etc?

“It wasn’t bad at first because our relationship wasn’t common knowledge until we got engaged,” you revealed. “And when it did become public knowledge, I just ignored the fans and comments for the most part.”

“Yeah, I’ve been lucky in the fact that she handles it extremely well,” Yoongi smiled.

“Well, I have no choice,” you chuckled. “I fell in love with you for you, not for who you are in the Kpop realm.”‘

What do you argue about the most?

“How much time I spend working,”‘ he groaned.

“We fight about it because even though I know it’s his passion, Kinsley is getting older and she notices that he’s not home much these days,” you explained. “It’s getting harder to explain it to her.”

Any arguments about who's last name to take? Were either of you adamant about taking or not taking the other’s last name?

“He wasn’t adamant about it or anything but I wanted to,” you stated.

Have the two of you ever fallen out of love? How do you work on your relationship after having Kinsley?

“There are times when it can feel like we have, especially after we get into an argument,” Yoongi sighed. “But those are the times when you just need to take a step back and give yourself time to breathe and I always come back to my senses after that.”

“As for working on our relationship, we really try and make it a point to talk honestly with each other, which is ironic because that’s what leads to half of our arguments,” you laughed, making Yoongi do the same. “But we’re in love, we’re married, and we have a kid together so we feel like there shouldn’t be anything that we can’t talk to each other about.”

“It’s not always easy to do,” Yoongi interjected. “But it’s worth it in the end.”

Who needs more alone time between the two of you and what do you do in that time?

“I do,” Yoongi chuckled. “Big surprise right? But I usually like to just sleep or go to the studio or go out to eat by myself. Just things that allow me to be alone for a while and recharge.”

In what ways are you two alike? In what ways are you different?

“We both have no problems with saying what’s on our minds,” you muttered.

“For differences, she’s definitely more open to trying new things than I am,” Yoongi admitted.

Since couples become alike after some time, what habits of each other have you picked up during your relationship?

“I swear to you, I sleep in later and later in the mornings the longer that we’re together,” you laughed.

“That’s not my influence, that’s Kins tiring us out after taking care of her all day,” Yoongi pointed out, making you laugh and nod in agreement. “For me, I have this thing with lighting candles around the house now because Y/N does it all the time. I even do it when she’s not home.”

How often do the two of you have sex?

“It depends on how busy we both are, but it’s usually at least 4 times a week,” Yoongi said.

What method of contraception do the two of you use?

“I’m currently on the pill,” you answered.

What do you like the most about each other?

“I love how she takes care of me and Kinsley,” Yoongi nodded. “She always seems to somehow know exactly what we want and need.”

“I love how silently strong he is,” you replied. “I like the fact that he isn’t overbearing with how he shows his love for me but he still has his own ways of letting me know.”

What has been the most special or memorable moment in your relationship?

“For me, it’s when he proposed to me,” you grinned. “It was just so Yoongi and so us, I love how organic it was.”

“Mine would have to be Kinsley’s first birthday,” Yoongi nodded. “The look on Y/N’s face when the clock turned to 9:56am, which the time that Kinsley was born, you could tell how much she loves Kinsley and how much she cherishes her and I love that.”

How did you know that Y/N was the one? And vice versa?

“I knew that Y/N was the one when she came and had our first date with me in my studio,” Yoongi revealed, looking over at you with a little smirk on his lips. “That did it for me.”

“Really?” You asked and Yoongi nodded in response. “Well, for me, I knew the first time that he told me that he loved me. He was so nervous, I could tell, and he rambles when he’s nervous and it just made me feel so special that he bared his soul to me the way that he did. I knew then and there that he was the man that I wanted to be with,” you said, grabbing his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Lucky me,” Yoongi teased, making you giggle.

“No, I’m the lucky one Yoongs,” you assured.

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts suga #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #min yoongi #wedding series q&a #btsqualityy 5k celebration

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homespork-review · 4 years

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HOMESPORK ACT 5 ACT 1: Mobius Double Plusungood, Part 1

CHEL: Yes, Act 5 Act 1; here begin the “act acts”. Just go with it.

FAILURE ARTIST: Welcome to Act 5 a.k.a. The Act Everyone Skipped To So They Could Get To Those Grey Demons. While I was a reader before Act 5, I wasn’t a huge fan until this part. The trolls are a great species. Different enough to be fascinating, but not different enough humans can’t relate. And what exactly is in their pants? That’s for the fandom to figure out.

BRIGHT: And fandom accepted the challenge with enthusiasm.

CHEL: Also, they’re fuggin’ adorable. It took me a while to get used to nonhumans in the sprite style and I thought they were creepy-looking at first, but we also see them in the more noodly style used in the dramatic moments with the kids, like the fall of Prospit, and that helped them grow on me a lot.

FAILURE ARTIST: The Act starts off with a grey planet with a green moon and a pink moon. A prompt box like the one for the Kids’ introductions is above it. In the box are letters in a script blatantly stolen borrowed from The Elder Scrolls games and turned 180 degrees. (Later on, when Hussie made a game that people paid money for, he couldn’t exactly use a stolen font so the team made an all-new font. But the old font is probably in the print books). Anyway, in case you’re curious, the letters spell out “Turdodor Fuckball”. This is the wrong name, and the right name is…Trollplanet. Though it’s called Alternia in the flavor text below and everywhere else.

So starts the arc called Hivebent. We cut to CG in a very grey room flapping his mouth occasionally at nothing. He’s introduced much the way John was.

This young troll stands in his respiteblock. It just so happens that today, the 12th bilunar perigee of the 6th dark season's equinox, is the day of this young troll's larval awakening, also known as his wriggling day. Though it was six solar sweeps ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name! Six Alternian solar sweeps, for convenient reference, is equivalent to thirteen Earth years. Earth, also for convenient reference, is a planet that does not yet exist. What will the name of this young troll be?

However, like Dave, he attacks the prompt box. He doesn’t want to do all the little gags and patterns.

CHEL: Thank God!

FAILURE ARTIST: This Hivebent arc will go much faster than the four acts before it. No dawdling along for this species. There’s twelve characters to be introduced and characterized before this is done.

CHEL: That said, it’s still going to be much, much longer than the others.

FAILURE ARTIST: So, CG’s name is Karkat Vantas. All of the troll names have a 6-6 pattern and are usually named after astrological and mythological motifs. Karkata is the Sanskrit name for the constellation Cancer and Vantas...is a prostate cancer treatment drug. Don’t look at me, I didn’t name him.

CHEL: It’s also possibly connected to “vanitas”, relating to Karkat’s simultaneous arrogance and lack of self-worth.

FAILURE ARTIST: Today is Karkat’s wriggling day. Let’s meet the birthday boy. He loves movies, though the narrator says he has terrible taste. In his room, there’s edited posters of “50 First Dates”, “Serendipity”, and “Hitch” that makes them look like troll movies, including lots of small type for the title. Like John, he likes to program but he’s not good at it. In fact, he’s so bad his programs are basically computer viruses. He wants to join a military organization called the THRESHECUTIONERS when he grows up. His weapon of choice is the sickle, possibly as a counterpart to John’s hammer.

He chats with his friends on a new program called Trollian, which is a reference to the real-life chat program Trillian. Fans forget that Trollian was a new program, except for Nepetaquest where the plot revolves around the making of that improbable software.

CHEL: Which begs the question of how they communicated before. Most of them don’t seem to have met each other in real life yet. Obvious answer is a different chat program, but in that case, why draw attention to Trollian being new instead of just having it be how they communicated from the start? It doesn’t really add anything IMO.

FAILURE ARTIST: Anyway, talking with his friends drives him BATSHIT UP THE FUCKING BELFRY, which is a very human phrase.

The first prompt Karkat gets is to examine the slimy pod in his room. This pod is a recuperacoon and serves as a bed. Trolls need that slime to help assuage the terrible visions of blood and carnage that plague the dark subconscious of your species. Why do they have these species-wide bad dreams and how does slime help? It’s never said.

CHEL: The slime appears to be a form of drug, possibly a sedative. In Hiveswap we see it also has minor healing properties. Why trolls would have evolved to consistently suffer nightmares isn’t brought up here, but there are possible explanations later.

FAILURE ARTIST: Actually, after Act 6, recuperacoons aren’t mentioned. Also, oddly enough, the narration says sleeping is done nightly but we later learn trolls are nocturnal. The terms night and day aren’t used consistently in Hivebent.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 20

Karkat gets into the pod, but immediately regrets it. He changes his clothes (off-screen of course) into clothes that look exactly the same. This is because Trolls think fashion is stupid.

Next, he examines his movie posters. Turns out trolls have their own version of John Cusack, among other celebrities. Troll Adam Sandler is his favorite actor and one person he doesn’t want to do violence against. In his narration, he thinks Sweet Baby Jegus though Jegus isn’t actually a thing in troll culture.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 21

Karkat tries to captchalogue his sickle and we get some more sylladex hijinx! His modus becomes too heavy and literally falls through the floor. I thought picking up weapons was different from captchaloging stuff? We’re told these hijinx won’t last long and eventually Karkat trades his modus with his hacker friend. Good. For now, he just picks up the big black book on his dresser.

The big black book is about a programming language called ~ATH and for some reason is in Roman script. It’s a morbid little language and there’s a cartoon figure of the Grim Reaper and a fake (or real?) quote from Troll Will Smith. Karkat finds this language incredibly hard. There’s probably some sick programmer jokes I’m missing here.

CHEL: There’s one I’ve been informed of; ~ is called a tilde, so the name of the program is “tilde-ath”, or “till death”. I can’t say I recognise any others though.

FAILURE ARTIST: Karkat steps outside. He lives in a huge grey and red house (or hive) in a suburb as sterile as John’s. Trolls create their own homes as toddlers after beating the trials in the brooding caverns. First hint of how harsh Alternia is, yet everyone has their own housing which is sweet.

It's almost as if your people have placed great cultural importance on teaching children to become architecturally adept while very young. It has been this way since ancient times. No one seems to know why that is.

Hmmm…

Karkat almost has a poetic moment while looking out at the moons, but he rejects poetry. He also rejects mailboxes, which trolls don’t have because they have no mail.

CHEL: Do they mean no paper letters because they all have internet? I recall that they do receive packages.

FAILURE ARTIST: I think they have courier service but no dedicated government postal system.

So instead of poetry, Karkat talks about AMBITION. He wants to be something great but he doesn’t know what exactly. We’ll see where this character arc takes him.

We get a little detail about the Alternian calendar and it concludes with “You have a feeling it's going to be a long night.”

Karkat goes back inside. He checks out a Game Grub magazine with a disgusting image of a leaking grub and a DVD for his favorite television show. The show is THE THRESH PRINCE OF BEL AIR, which is a take-off on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air but is about a green threshecutioner cadet who sasses up the bluebloods in his flaysquad pretty good. The “green” and “blueblood” parts aren’t turns of phrases but literal. Given the strict hierarchy we find out trolls are under, it’s amazing there’s a series about a sassy subordinate. Maybe he’s only sassy in Karkat’s mind.

CHEL: Actually, that’s not too unbelievable.

FAILURE ARTIST: The title of the show doesn’t follow the convention of troll movie titles and that’s because 1) television is a newer medium and 2) it would ruin the joke.

Finally, Karkat gets down to business on his computer. His first friend to “troll” him has a purple Capricorn sign. Now, this friend is a character that though I’m now quite attached to, I didn’t much care about them in the beginning. I’ll try to be objective though.

terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] TC: wHaT iS uUuUuP mY iNvErTeBrOtHeR? CG: WHAT IN THE SWEET ALMIGHTY TAINTCHAFING FUCK DO YOU WANT. TC: NoT a MoThErFuCkInG tHiNg BrO. TC: oThEr ThAn I bE cHeCkIn OuT hOw My BeSt MoThErFuCkIn FrIeNd Is At Yo.

Yes, my first thought too was “that’s a really annoying typing style”. Karkat agrees and complains about TC’s typing style. TC temporarily goes all lowercase but says it feels uncomfortable. Karkat complains more about how awful TC is and wonders what he did to deserve such a terrible friend. Instead of being offended, TC says friendship is beautiful and confusingly calls it a TrOlL dIsEaSe. We’ll see some stuff that suggests trolls don’t have friendship or at least don’t consider it in high regard but mostly trolls have friends like humans do.

BRIGHT: Despite his protests, Karkat has eleven friends, in a society that is not set up to facilitate this. I’m pretty sure that when I was his age I had maybe three.

FAILURE ARTIST: TC waxes on miracles like the carbonation in a bottle of Faygo. Yeah, trolls have Faygo.

CHEL: That’s a gag, though, so no WSP point.

FAILURE ARTIST: Karkat tells him that’s just carbonation but TC rejects science as just stealing the magic from miracles.

CHEL: It comes up more clearly later, but we’ll tell you now that TC’s entire character at this point, especially that line, is basically a shoutout to the Insane Clown Posse song “Miracles”.

Watch on YouTube

FAILURE ARTIST: After some more bantering, TC gets down to business: TA is going to play a game. Karkat says he’s not interested but TC says TA is Karkat’s best friend, which is sad when you consider TC calls Karkat “best friend”.

CHEL: TA, if you don’t remember, is twinArmageddons, the computer programmer.

FAILURE ARTIST: TC gets distracted by a horn going off and even types out a surprised yell. Karkat tell TC to get rid of the horns and TC says “MaN yOu KnOw YoU wAnNa GiVe My HoRnS a GoOd SqUeEzE. :o)” which sounds really flirty. Karkat says if he meets a kid as annoying as TC, he’ll convert to TC’s religion. TC is happy about this. With that, the conversation ends.

We cut to TC and he’s a motherfucking clown, baby! But I’ve already re-capped so much and need to give someone else a turn.

CHEL: Okay, I shall step up! TC’s actual name proves to be GAMZEE MAKARA, and he’s wearing a purple Capricorn sign. The name Gamzee was picked by a forumite as a reference to another user who went by Gammy, but it may also be a reference to “Gämse”, the German name for the chamois goat. Makara is the Sanskrit name for Capricorn, and also the name for a type of creature from Hindu folklore which would include the Capricorn sea-goat. There are several other layers of possible and probably-coincidental meaning listed on the Wiki, which we’d have to bring up spoilers to discuss, so we’ll save that for later.

Beyond his name and sign, Gamzee has clown makeup, explosively curly hair, long spiral horns, and a slightly glazed expression. Nightmarish pictures of evil clowns plaster his walls, his floor is piled with bicycle horns, juggling clubs, and Faygo bottles, and an oversized unicycle is propped against the wall. When he picks up a Faygo bottle and his “husktop” computer, his MIRACLE MODUS is seen, a hideously complicated mishmash of various styles which flickers and spins obnoxiously. Even Gamzee doesn’t know how it works, he just likes to watch the colours.

FAILURE ARTIST: Gamzee belongs to a RATHER OBSCURE CULT that believes in a BAND OF ROWDY AND CAPRICIOUS MINSTRELS who are CLOWNS OF A GRIM PERSUASION WHICH MAY NOT BE IN FULL POSSESSION OF THEIR MENTAL FACULTIES. Basically, he’s a Juggalo who worships the troll equivalent of Insane Clown Posse. Though the cult is called obscure and said to be looked down upon, later it is shown to be a state-sponsored religion. I guess maybe it’s just Gamzee’s particular denomination that’s looked down upon.

CHEL: “Obscure” also means “hidden”, so the retcon could be justified in the sense of it being mysterious? Or it might be related to spoilery Hiveswap theories. We can get into those if we ever get round to Hiveswap.

Gamzee attempts to ride the unicycle, but fails - unsurprisingly, since it’s taller than he is and he attempts to ride it by standing on the saddle. He falls off into a pile of horns, and decides instead to sample the luridly green pie on the counter, which turns out to in fact be made of the same SOPOR SLIME that trolls sleep in.

You aren't supposed to eat that slime. It does funny things to a troll's head. But you were never taught that on account of a lousy upbringing. Your custodian was always out to sea.

Gamzee arms himself with a juggling club to use against the alleged hostile SEA DWELLERS and heads out to wait for his missing guardian.

FAILURE ARTIST: His hive appears to not have a front door so I don’t know what’s keeping the hostile sea dwellers out.

CHEL: Someone contacts him online and he intends to settle down with a Faygo and answer, but he doesn’t know how to retrieve things from his miracle modus. Gamzee performs a short prayer to your beloved MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS, the faces of the two members of Insane Clown Posse superimposed over the background, and throws a pinch of SPECIAL STARDUST in his face. We never find out what exactly “special stardust” is; it appears to just be glitter, but it comes up much later. His attempts fail, however, as the modus instead launches his Faygo miles out to sea.

You wonder if you can just... Just sort of reach over... And...

Apparently the sylladex modus can be physically reached, so there was no need for the endless pages of shenanigans in the first place. *quiet rage* But anyway, gallowsCalibrator is trolling him.

FAILURE ARTIST: GC asks G4MZ33Z if he’d like to play G4M3Z3Z with her. He replies "hEy YeAh ThAt SoUnDs LiKe ThE mOtHeRfUcKiN sHiT's BiTcHtItS!" She says something very tsundere in reply:

GC: 1T SUR3 1S H4RD TO 1GNOR3 TH3 W31RD TH1NGS YOU S4Y SOM3T1M3S! GC: BUT 1M GONN4 GC: TH3 ONLY R34SON 1M 4SK1NG YOU 1S B3C4US3 YOUR N4M3 1S L1K3 G4M3 GC: 4ND NO OTH3R R34SON GC: G3T 1T??? >:]

Gamzee isn’t offended she said this and GC gets annoyed he’s always rolling with the punches. She says that’s why Karkat can’t stand him. Harsh in hindsight. GC gets down to business and tells Gamzee they are going to H4V3 SOM3 MOTH3RFUCK1NG SH1TTY B1TCH3S PL4Y1NG TOG3TH3R. He asks if they could play later because he’s waiting for tHe OlD gOaT (which happens to also be a nickname for Satan).

TC: yOu KnOw HoW iT iS wItH fAmIlY. GC: NO, NOT R34LLY! GC: 4DURRRR DURR DURP TC: Oh YeAh... GC: DURRRRRRRRRRRRR GC: W4Y TO GO, HOW DO3S TH4T STUP1D BOTTL3D SYRUP OF YOURS T4ST3 W1TH YOUR HOOF SO F4R UP YOUR MOUTH??? GC: >:] TC: sOoOoOoOrY.

This is the first time we find out GC has an unusual homelife. Yet it isn’t true that she has no family.

BRIGHT: And given how rarely Gamzee’s guardian is around, it’s not like he has much of a family either. Or a standard homelife.

CHEL: That’s also an... excessive response to a slip-up, but from what we see later, that’s how almost all the trolls talk to each other all the time.

FAILURE ARTIST: It’s also problematic, because she’s doing an ableist imitation of the speech of people with mental disabilities. Though I suppose trolls aren’t meant to be PC.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 19

Gamzee suggests GC play with Karkat instead. She rejects this idea and says she used to play with him but he got too annoying. Gamzee then agrees to play and says give him a minute. She says he’ll just space out and that’s what he does. When he gets back into the conversation, he makes a second faux pas.

TC: hAvE yOu EvEr EvEn SeEn ThE oCeAn? TC: oR i MeAn SmElLeD iT... TC: SoRrY. GC: >:[

People really get on this but it’s just the regular type of mistake people make while talking to blind or sight-impaired friends and he did apologize. Other characters say worse and never apologize. Some readers who know what happens later might attribute malice but right now he’s just a guy who does a lot of troll pot and makes mistakes.

CHEL: I know when I was eleven the blind kid in my class and I had a sort of running gag of “see you later”. It also isn’t very clear whether either of them is actually hurt by anything the other is saying. They don’t seem to be.

This is also probably a time to bring up certain things about Gamzee’s cultural coding. Even though we later find out he’s one of the highest-ranking trolls, certain cues about him would make people think of a lower-class human, namely his syntax, his eating semi-inedible substances (lack of access to other food?) and his love for cheap gross soda. (I’ve drunk Faygo. It’s weird.) This could just be a troll thing not being exactly the same as human things and also down to his guardian not being there, but there’s more.

Gamzee’s word usage involves a lot of quirks which are usually associated with African American Vernacular English, e.g. addressing others as “brother” or “sister” and using “be” instead of “am” or “are” or just leaving them out completely. His hair is probably supposed to look unbrushed, but it can also be interpreted as textured. His religious behaviours get described with the word “voodoo” a lot, and while this is a bit of a stretch I personally interpreted his typing and syntax as a Southern drawl plus he lives close to water, thus cementing an association with actual Vodoun in my head even though his actual practices aren’t anything like it. While the members of Insane Clown Posse, the band which inspired a lot of Gamzee’s behaviours, are both white, rap is a strongly black-associated musical style, and Gamzee is later shown to be interested in rapping. Stereotypical juggalos are white, but culture considers them to be worthy of mockery because they’re white people behaving in ways associated with black people. Add in his absent male guardian, drug use, and acting “trashy” when he’s one of the richest trolls, and this all adds up to a very clear mental image of him as a not-very-flattering portrayal of a black person. Coding a nonhuman character strongly with a human racial group isn’t a problem in itself, but when it comes off as supposed to be funny, it’s not exactly SU Garnet levels of good representation, is it? The fact that Hussie, prior to Homestuck, was known for drawing some incredibly racist comics (also including rape, abortion, and drug jokes, so be warned) doesn’t help; we won’t add points for those because we’re judging HS on its own merits and it’s possible for people to change and regret prior prejudices, but it sheds new light on things that’ll come up.

Individual CP points for his language, his hair, his voodoo association, his rapping, his Disappeared Dad, his drug use, and his being coded as poor despite not being so, I think. None of these would be bad on their own or portrayed as less “look at how funny/creepy this guy is”, but...

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 26

BRIGHT: The first time I read Homestuck, I didn’t realise that Gamzee was meant to be disliked until somewhere in the middle of Act 6. I thought his situation was sad, but Gamzee himself seemed pretty nice, if dopey and not terribly motivated. I still quite like him. Did anyone else find something similar?

CHEL: Yeah, me. I thought he was pretty adorable.

FAILURE ARTIST: Gamzee suffers from abuse in the form of neglect. Though his guardian is arguably not quite responsible, it’s still abuse. As a result, Gamzee eats a dangerous substance and it’s probably why he lets people walk all over him. This is more obviously bad than Dave’s homelife. Yet it’s not ever dealt with and is even mocked. Hussie says in the annotation for this scene that there weren’t actually hostile seadwellers and Gamzee’s guardian just said that to keep Gamzee inside because he was ashamed of him. We find out later that seadwellers ARE hostile. This bit about Gamzee being gaslit is probably a joke then about how embarrassing Gamzee is. Yet isn’t it abusive to make up threats to your children to keep them isolated? Lots of fans consider Gamzee embarrassing too and so don’t see anything in this.

BRIGHT: Not to mention that it’s pretty fucked up to say Gamzee deserves abuse for being embarrassing, when that neglect and abuse is the reason he acts the way he does in the first place!

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 19 CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 30

CHEL: One CP for the “humorous” drug use and another each for the “joke” gaslighting and neglect, and another for the illogical justification. Wow, that count’s really starting to spike already! And I think now might be a good time to introduce another count…

IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 1

This will be used whenever the author is clearly showing a lack of respect to the characters or situations that he himself created, in this case by setting up an abusive situation and mocking it when we’re supposed to have sympathy for another abuse sufferer.

BRIGHT: Depressingly, it gets worse later. Significantly worse.

CHEL: Not to mention, if Gamzee’s supposed to stay inside and his guardian’s absent all the time, and trolls “don’t get mail”, how does he feed himself? Even with the sopor, where does that come from? Is it just secreted by the pod or what? Does the pod need to eat? We’re never told. In Hiveswap, the sequel game, we do see that trolls can receive packages, but I would class packages under “mail”, so saying trolls don’t have it is needlessly confusing.

We cut back to Karkat, doing some coding which I’m sure would be very amusing if I knew the first thing about coding. Apparently the biggest problem with ~ATH is the near-impossibility of terminating its infinite loops.

What many ~ATH coders do is import finite constructs and bind the loops to their lifespan. For instance the main loop here will terminate on the death of the universe, labeled U. That way you only have to wait billions of years for it to end instead of forever. You have bound a subloop to the lifespan of the code's author, which is you. Any routine at the end will execute when you die.

So apparently coding is literally magic in this ‘verse? This is backed up by a code sent by TA:

This code, when executed, immediately causes the user's computer to explode, and places a curse on the user forever, along with everyone he knows, and everyone he'll ever meet. Not surprisingly, later on you would run this code in a fit of stupidity.

FAILURE ARTIST: The Internet is magic, why not programming?

BRIGHT: I think the coding is a pretty nifty thematic fit with the whole concept of SBURB! If you’ve got a video game that can affect reality, it’s reasonable to extrapolate that coding can do something similar, even if only by piggybacking off the Game’s infrastructure. And once they get into the Medium, it makes even more sense.

CHEL: True! In the meantime, TA trolls Karkat. Karkat’s speech pattern is remarkably similar to Dave’s, except infinitesimally less wordy and much angrier.

TA: KK dont fliip your 2hiit about thii2 but iim 2ettiing you up two play a game wiith 2ome people. CG: WHY WOULD I FLIP MY SHIT ABOUT THAT. TA: becau2e you fliip your 2hiit about everythiing. CG: WELL WILL YOU LOOK AT THIS. CG: HERE IS MY SHIT, AND YET IT REMAINS UNFLIPPED.

*snerk*

CG: JUST SITTING THERE ON THE SKILLET, GETTING BURNED ON ONE SIDE. CG: IT'S A MIRACLE. TA: oh no are you iinto miiracle2 now two becau2e iif you are youre fiired preemptiively from the game. CG: FUCK NO. TA: ok niice. CG: MIRACLES ARE LIKE POOP STAINS ON GOD'S UNDERWEAR. TA: eheheh makiing fun of people2 reliigiion2 i2 the be2t thiing two do. CG: THAT'S WHY HE HIDES THEM, THEY'RE FUCKING EMBARRASSING. CG: GOD LAUNDERS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS.

Very Judeo-Christian concept of God for an alien species.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 22

FAILURE ARTIST: There’s seemingly no other troll religion but Gamzee’s cult and that has dual gods, not monotheism.

CHEL: Anyway, TA is setting up a game of SBurb, or SGRUB as the trolls call it, which he made from 2ome crazy technology AA dug out of 2ome ruiin2. Karkat hasn’t been told about this by AA, whom he deems “SO SPOOKY”, and whose full handle seen in the chat roll is apocalypseArisen - spooky indeed and thematically appropriate. Mention is made of TA’s WEIRD MUTANT BRAIN; exactly what this means isn’t described yet except that it doesn’t mean he can read Karkat’s mind. TA refuses to elaborate on what he’s discussing with AA on the grounds that it’s private, and this leads into an insult-exchanging session.

TA: nobody hate2 hiim2elf more than you iidiiot. CG: YEAH WELL I HATE YOU WAY MORE THAN I HATE MYSELF, AND THAT'S FUCKING SAYING SOMETHING. CG: IN FACT I HATE YOU MORE THAN I HATE MYSELF AND YOU HATE YOURSELF AND YOU HATE ME COMBINED.

Karkat calls a timeout long enough for TA to explain how they’re playing the game; he intends there to be two teams, Red and Blue, 2o that there2 a better chance of at lea2t one group wiinniing. Karkat agrees this sounds sensible, but flies off the handle on finding out that TA and GC are the team leaders, not him. Karkat spews insults and accusations of cheating, while TA snipes back. This is presumably the moment depicted in this page’s art, in which Karkat yells angrily and flails wildly at his keyboard.

CG: HOW DO YOU GET OUT OF YOUR COCOON IN THE MORNING KNOWING YOU'RE THE WORST THING A UNIVERSE WAS EVER RESPONSIBLE FOR? CG: ALSO IT MUST BE HARD WITH YOUR HANDS TO PERSISTENTLY BOTHERING EVERY MUTATED SET OF GENITALS PEPPERING THAT GHASTLY HUSK YOU PAWN OFF AS A BODY. CG: HAS A FEMALE EVER LOOKED AT YOU WITHOUT AT ONCE TURNING SKYWARD AND ERUPTING LIKE A VOMIT VOLCANO, ANSWER ME THAT.

As later pointed out, trolls reproduce bisexually, so why he specified females here is odd. There is a fan theory I’ve seen that TA is straight, as he’s only seen with female partners and rejects a possible male one, but Karkat demonstrates in a later conversation that he has no concept of gender preference, so if TA is, Karkat doesn’t know that. I guess he could mean that he himself has looked at TA without becoming a vomit volcano, but I doubt that was what Hussie was thinking since it isn’t clear if they’ve ever actually met face to face.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 23

Anyway, TA tells Karkat that he’s laughing at Karkat’s immaturity, and that if he really wants to be Red Team leader, he should talk to GC.

CG: I GUESS THESE CONVERSATIONS WE HAVE DO GET KIND OF EMBARRASSING IN RETROSPECT. CG: ARE WE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE BECAUSE OF STUFF I SAID. TA: eheheheh you LIITERALLY a2k me that every tiime are you jokiing. TA: ii cant even tell anymore.

Okay, that’s adorable. But anyway, after seeing their conversations, you can see what we mean when we say it’s apparently normal for trolls to say horrible things to each other, so why fans and Hussie himself single out some instances and not others is stupid.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 20

FAILURE ARTIST: It’s another example that trolls do have friendship, though possibly not the same way humans do.

Also, though he’s not doing it to her face, Karkat is insulting GC’s blindness. Which is not just problematic but also silly given that her blindness is a super-power.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 31

After a quick panel where Karkat worries about an encounter with a “CRABBY” someone downstairs, we cut to GC. She is in a very colorful room, unlike Karkat’s grey one, and surrounded by stuffed dragon toys. On her wall is graffiti of a dragon and disturbingly a noose. Photorealistic books are piled on her desk. She’s introduced and we finally get her name: TEREZI PYROPE.

Terezi is the word for “Libra” in multiple languages, but it also might be a reference to the gender-bending blind prophet Tiresias. Pyrope is a type of red garnet and she does love red a lot.

Terezi lives alone deep in the woods (which does raise the question of how she gets all her stuff in a mail-free planet). She loves dragons, including the plushie series called SCALEMATES.

CHEL: Her walls are also decorated in the scales of dragons, which actually do exist on Alternia. Libra. Scales. Geddit?

FAILURE ARTIST: She likes roleplaying and once did a more extreme type until she had an accident that’s not explained at the time. Her big interest and motivation is JUSTICE and she wants to be a LEGISLACERATOR when she grows up. She doesn’t need TROLLBRAILLE (does such a thing exist?)...

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 24

... since as we know she has special powers. Alternian law is called BRUTAL and indeed it’s so terrible I have to side-eye Terezi for loving it.

CHEL: She claims to love JUSTICE, but Alternian law has very little to do with justice of any kind, as we see when she decides to start roleplaying it with her toys.

On Alternia, there is no such thing as a defense attorney, or a defense. In a courtblock, the word defense itself is offensive.

Not to mention the judge, a chalk depiction of whom adorns her wall, is known as HIS HONORABLE TYRANNY.

Also, do thirteen-year-olds regularly roleplay with their plush toys? I guess ones who are isolated from all actual life forms they could play with instead might.

FAILURE ARTIST: Terezi’s scenario this time is the trial of SENATOR LEMONSNOUT, played by a yellow scalemate. Given that Alternia seems to be an absolute monarchy, I wonder where she gets the concept of senators.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 25

Terezi stares down the yellow plush toy before she starts slapping it. She fantasizes about the toy crying tears. The yellow plush toy’s crime is embezzlement, using a currency called imperial beetles. Whether this is a real currency or something Terezi made up we don’t know.

CHEL: As we see later, she’s using a bag of literal beetles in the game. Not sure if they are currency, if she went and caught them, or if trolls can buy them in bags.

FAILURE ARTIST: If you are reading this comic sometime post-2015, there’s two choices. One of them is [???????] Ignore that choice. It becomes relevant only much later. For now, we go to Terezi calling a witness.

Unfortunately, said-witness is a green plush who has been stabbed by a photo-realistic dagger. Apparently, defense attorneys are verboten but murdering witnesses is expected. Alternian justice, everyone.

BRIGHT: It might be moderately less batshit if we assume that Terezi’s obtained all her legal knowledge from TV, movies, and books, and this is a dramatic embellishment rather than the way Alternian trials actually function. She does live on her own in the middle of a forest, after all.

On the other hand, this planet is inhabited solely by children, the over-the-top cruelty is entirely in keeping with Alternia so far, and I don’t think we ever see any of it contradicted.

FAILURE ARTIST: Terezi finds a bag of beetles and that’s all that’s needed to sentence the “criminal”. Her method is to flip a coin called a caegar that has two-heads on it, one of them with a cut on it. The narration says this is like Two-Face from the Batman comics and the villain of the movie No Country for Old Men, though those media don’t exist in the troll universe. Still, trolls have the same trope. She flips the coin and though the result is favorable to Lemonsnout, Terezi declares she can’t see the coin because

SHE'S BLIND, REMEMBER?

She “kills” the stuffed toy by hanging it, like she’s done with many of her stuffed toys. We see now she lives in a tree house (or hive) in a blue and purple forest.

CHEL: In most media, a character being set up like this would be a villain or set up for a heel-face turn, or at least a massive source of conflict over the differing moralities of the different societies. We’ll see if anything ever comes of that.

FAILURE ARTIST: She finishes up by licking her chalk portrait of His Honorable Tyranny. Weird kid.

She gets her weapon (a photo-realistic cane as used by real-life people with vision impairment) and gets down to recruiting members for her team. Her first target is AC, short for arsenicCatnip, who appears as a speech bubble with the Leo sign in olive. The narration says Terezi likes to roleplay with AC, but only facetiously. Terezi and AC roleplay as a DRAGONYY'YYD and some type of big cat. Terezi tries to eat AC’s cub but AC bribes her with an animal called a BULL CHOL3RB34R.

CHEL: AC types with a symbol like this at the front :33 < and with a heavy spurrinkling of cat puns. From what she says about her character, the type of cat in question has two mouths, and it’s later stated that :33 is in fact supposed to be a cat face, one mouth atop the other. The evolutionary or indeed anatomical usefulness of this feature is unclear. Perhaps it’s so they can bite down on prey and vocalise to communicate at the same time? That would be more useful for a pack hunter… Anyway.

FAILURE ARTIST: That done, Terezi asks AC to play a game and has to clarify she means outside of the game they are already playing. AC is interested but she says she has to get purrmission from a certain guy. Terezi thinks it’s ridiculous AC is scared of him because she kills big animals with her bare hands and lives far away from him. AC knows it’s ridiculous but she still wants to get permission. The relationship looks bad now but we later find out it’s part of troll society and it’s odd that Terezi thinks AC is motivated by fear. Anyway, AC says she’ll ask the guy and the conversation ends on that.

CHEL: I don’t know if Hussie either had come up with the relationship system or even decided if those two were going to have a relationship at this point. If he did, he might not have meant them to be in that relationship yet at this point, they could have started it later. It’s not really clear. Not a problem, though, serial writing develops that way sometimes.

FAILURE ARTIST: Terezi trolls Gamzee but thankfully it cuts off before we have to re-read the entire conversation. Next, Terezi has to deal with Karkat. She doesn’t want to ask him to play except as a last resort.

However, Karkat trolls Terezi to tell her he’s the leader of the Red Team now. Terezi doesn’t care though since she just wants to play the game. Karkat says she’ll be second-in-command but Terezi’s sarcastic reply turns him off the idea. The two insult each other and Terezi mock-flirts with Karkat.

GC: 4NYTH1NG TO G3T YOU TO STOP B31NG SUCH 4 B4BY CG: WHAT'S A BABY. GC: OH GC: 1TS L1K3 4 MYTH1C4L L1TTL3 P1NK MONK3Y

CHEL: Once again, babies only come in Caucasian, apparently. Also, doesn't the word "baby" apply as an adjective to non-human species all the time?

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 26

FAILURE ARTIST: We find out that Terezi is not supposed to have a LUSUS and if she did, the world would come to an end. Karkat is also confused by this statement. Karkat blames the trees for her weirdness and offers to move her into one of his neighbor’s hives. One of his neighbors has been CULLED (killed) and Karkat is blase about this. Terezi turns down his offer. Karkat excuses himself to DEAL WITH THIS GRUMPY CUSTOMER.

We cut to a little later. Karkat’s hive is covered in colorful paint and in the middle of a lake of red. This is the LAND OF PULSE AND HAZE and Karkat is the KNIGHT OF BLOOD. Karkat now has the weapon HOMES SMELL YOU LATER, a sickle in 90s colors. He trolls Terezi and complains about how she wrecked his home. Another running gag: girls ruining boy’s homes. He says she messed with his LOAD GAPER. Terezi (and us) call that a toilet. Toilet is blue blooded vernacular. Later on, highbloods use the term load gaper so I guess Hussie forgot this interesting world-building. Karkat is also upset by the paint job that wasted lots of grist. Terezi calls his fighting adorable and Karkat says it’s ADORABLOODTHIRSTY. He wants to be the next one to connect to a client and she says it doesn’t work that way. It’s only at the end he brings someone in. The priority now is to save her from the meteors by getting her in the game. Karkat hadn’t heard of the meteors until now and is very alarmed. Terezi tells Karkat to talk to apocalypseArisen, twinArmageddons, AG, or CT. There’s a conspiracy going on with those four people. With that, Terezi says she’s got to go.

CHEL: Also, an important point comes up in that conversation; Terezi demands to know what colour Karkat’s blood is, and he refuses to tell her. In case you haven’t picked it up by now, troll society is in fact supposed to be stratified by the colour of their blood. Literal blue blood is towards the higher end of the rankings; Terezi’s on the greener end of blue, so securely middle class. Karkat types in and wears grey, which is not a natural troll blood colour, and the other trolls consider this weird and suspicious. Looking at the list of names on Trollian, we see they range through the rainbow, except for some reason the greens, blues, and purples are split into several layers. I was confused by this at first; I knew he needed twelve colours instead of seven, but it seemed weird that they weren’t more spread out. Then again, social stratification does get a lot stricter up at the top. I thought perhaps the reds, browns, and yellows also come in other shades but just get lumped together because they’re peasants and no one cares? It’s not discussed in canon, but someone actually does have an explanation for it; it’s what you get when the RGB and CMYK colour wheels overlap.

A little while ago, a spooky-looking young troll lady with glowing white eyes and a maroon Aries shirt sign - this being the colour of apocalypseArisen, so this is presumably her - hovers over a frog-topped temple extremely similar to the one on Jade’s island. With a wave of her hand, the frog’s head breaks off and crashes to the ground.

You're not sure why you did that, really. There'll probably turn out to be a reason. There's a reason for everything. Understanding this lets you be reckless.

Somewhere else, Gamzee’s Faygo bottle, now photorealistic, lands at the feet of a mysterious someone who is wearing striped pants and what appear to be blue and purple bowling shoes, of all things. This person complains about Rubbish from the LAND DWELLERS and picks up the bottle with a hand wearing a purple ring emblazoned with an Aquarius symbol; the name in that colour text in the chat, should the reader go back to check, is caligulasAquarium.

FAILURE ARTIST: How fucked up was troll Caligula? Maybe he just broke troll taboos.

CHEL: The implication of him having an aquarium is making me picture Troy McClure.

We go back to Karkat’s hive and rewind a little, to see him deal with the earlier-mentioned crabby customer…

And we need to provide the text from this page in its entirety so we can discuss it.

FAILURE ARTIST: If you want to know why Homestucks go so crazy over buckets, read this and weep!

You go downstairs and confront your custodian, which is another term for a frightening beast known as a LUSUS NATURAE. Your lusus has looked after you since you were very young in lieu of any biological parents, whom you have never known. No young troll ever knows his or her blood parents, nor could such lineage ever be accurately traced. Adult trolls supply their genetic material to the FILIAL PAILS carried by imperial drones and offered to the monstrous MOTHER GRUB deep underground in the brooding caverns. She then combines all the genetic material into one diabolical incestuous slurry, and lays hundreds of thousands of eggs at once. The eggs hatch into young larval trolls which wriggle about to locate a cozy stalactite from which to spin their cocoons. After they pupate, the young troll with his or her newfound limbs undergoes a series of dangerous trials. If they survive, they are chosen by a member of the diverse and terrifying subterranean monster population native to Alternia. This creature becomes the troll's lusus, and together they surface and choose a location to build a hive. The building process is facilitated by CARPENTER DROIDS left on the planet to cater to the young. But only for building. They're on their own otherwise. The vast majority of adult trolls are off-planet, serving some role in the forces of ongoing imperial conquest, besieging other star systems in the name of Alternian glory. The culture and civilization on the homeworld is maintained almost entirely by the young. Trolls sure are weird!

CHEL: “Lusus naturae”, to start with, is Latin for “freak of nature”. Probably it means something else in Alternian.

FAILURE ARTIST: The lusus system is so bizarre. How long have they been using it? When we see what could be called a Bizarro Alternia, they also have lusus, so it’s not just because adults can’t raise children.

CHEL: Naturally-evolved symbiosis and parasitism are hardly unknown among animals on Earth, though no real ones really work like this. The closest I can think of among vertebrates are cuckoos and similar birds, where the egg is laid in another species’ nest and the hatchling kills or starves out the original offspring. This isn’t what’s happening here, as the lusus doesn’t have offspring of its own and wouldn’t appear to have any particular reason to let a young troll latch onto it, not to mention young trolls presumably look nothing like the offspring of a creature like that, and lususes/lusi (I don’t think there’s an officially accepted plural? The fandom latched onto the very non-Latin but suitably alien “lusii”) come in wildly varying species, so it’s not a case of a specific two-species symbiotic bond like clownfish and anemones. However, trolls do have psychic powers, so it could always be handwaved with a form of mental link.

BRIGHT: Bizarre as it is, the lusus system is nicely alien! I think that in this case, the lack of explanation actually works in its favour -- there’s nothing to point to and say ‘but that explanation doesn’t make sense’. I do like a good explanation, but in the case of background worldbuilding I think it’s fine to chuck something in and move on.

Also, we now discover that Jade had a perfectly normal childhood by troll standards. (Er, minus the murderous neighbours.)

FAILURE ARTIST: The narration says the “vast majority” of adult trolls are off-planet. This implies some small percentage of adults are on-planet. In the spin-off series Hiveswap Friendsim, there are characters on Alternia who get into, well, adult situations. The writers on Twitter clarified that there are trolls who are over eighteen Earth years but under the age of expulsion on Alternia. In one game, there’s adults who should be off-planet but aren’t, though how many trolls risk that is unknown.

CHEL: The age of majority in numerous Earth cultures is or has been twenty or twenty-one, so that’s probably what the writers were going for. Or, of course, just trying to avoid backlash from the Tumblr anti-shipping population. There are also cases where adults really should be on-planet but don’t appear to be, but we’ll get to that in the Friendsims.

I have to say I’m rather concerned by what appears to be a serious bottleneck in the reproduction system. According to everything we see, there is only one Mother Grub for the whole planet. What happens if something happens to her? Replacements are bred in the same way as queen bees or ants, but destroying the cavern where she resides would put a major crimp in troll society for a long time even if there was a replacement around. With ants and bees, there is generally more than one hive per species.

BRIGHT: We do meet one Virgin Mother Grub later on, and she’s acting as a lusus. I always assumed that there were at least a few around, otherwise having one potential backup breeder taken out of the pool should have raised a lot more fuss than it apparently did.

Moreover, while the Brooding Caverns aren’t described in Homestuck, they are described in Friendsim, and it is literally a single giant cave with the Mother Grub in the middle, surrounded by grubs, young trolls, and lusii. In one of the game routes, the Mother Grub is in fact injured by a distressed lusus, which would be easily prevented by having her in a separate room. There are apparently no barriers to an outsider just wandering in, and given that this is Alternia, said outsider could probably do quite a lot of damage if they so chose.

CHEL: Particularly since most lusii are extremely dangerous, and there are a hell of a lot of them there. It’s also been brought up in the Tumblr parts of fandom that it would be incredibly easy to rebel against the dystopian regime by taking the Mother Grub hostage or destroying/damaging the caverns.

FAILURE ARTIST: Karkat fights his lusus like the human kids fought theirs, but without a cool animation. It’s just a gif and a link to a 38 second tune. You’ll notice in the background on the fridge there’s a crude drawing of the crabby creature: a callback to John’s drawing.

We cut to TA, the troll we saw earlier get bonked by a key. TA has his glasses off and under them are a red eye and a blue eye. He puts them on dramatically in a reference to the CSI: Miami meme everyone has forgotten. After a long Dave-like block of text describing how this dude is cool but not cool, it turns out we won’t be introduced to him.

Cut to a troll with a green Leo sign on her shirt and horns that look a lot like cat ears. She looks cute but there’s blood on her walls. The narration is unnerved by her so we go back to TA.

TA’s name is SOLLUX CAPTOR.

CHEL: The name is taken from the mythological twins of the Gemini constellation, Pollux and Castor. The combination of sol-lux could also be read to mean “sunlight”.

FAILURE ARTIST: Behind him is what looks like a computer mainframe but covered in a yellow substance. On the wall, there’s red-and-blue writing. His recuperacoon has two openings, though it’s never even brought up why.

You are apeshit bananas at computers, and you know ALL THE CODES. All of them. You are the unchallenged authority on APICULTURE NETWORKING. And though all your friends recognize your unparalleled achievements as a TOTALLY SICK HACKER, you feel like you could be better. It's one of a number of things you SORT OF BEAT YOURSELF UP ABOUT for NO VERY GOOD REASON during sporadic and debilitating BIPOLAR MOOD SWINGS. You have a penchant for BIFURCATION, in logic and in life. Your mutant mind is hounded by the psychic screams of the IMMINENTLY DECEASED. Your visions foretell of the planet's looming annihilation, and yet unlike the typical sightless prophet of doom, you are gifted with VISION TWOFOLD.

I used to think “imminently deceased” meant “recently deceased” and not “going to be deceased”. Either way, it’s really a Blessed With Suck power.

Lots has been made of Sollux’s BIPOLAR MOOD SWINGS but I don’t think Hussie was seriously thinking of bipolar depression. Still makes for good fanfiction.

CHEL: Please don't use "bipolar" to just mean moody, Hussie.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 32 You have developed a new game, adapted via CODE PARSED FROM THE RUNES AND GLYPHS IN AN ANCIENT UNDERGROUND TEMPLE. You believe this game to be THE SALVATION OF YOUR RACE, though you are not sure how yet. To ensure success, you will distribute the game to two teams of friends, a RED TEAM and a BLUE TEAM. You will lead the latter group.

One guess what this game is. We also see “friends” being used in the normal human sense.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 27

The prompter tells Sollux to equip ninja stars, but it turns out he has psionic powers that allow him to move objects with a purple aura. However, in moving the ninja stars, he messes up and slices the BEEHOUSE MAINFRAMES. Little purple bees buzz around him and send him messages in beenary code. The prompter tells Sollux to taste the honey but he refuses.

You do not under any circumstance eat the MIND HONEY. The consequences are highly unpleasant.

Remember that. The mind honey is only supposed to be a soporific for his lusus.

Sollux snaps his fingers (spelling out 2NAP in his quirk) and the bees fall asleep.

CHEL: I only just noticed the “2nap” = “to nap” pun.

BRIGHT: Also, while Sollux does have psychic powers, those powers are not related to animal control. So this is a little strange.

FAILURE ARTIST: Sollux goes to his computer while stepping over video games, which in this world are colorful grubs. He first talks with Terezi. She knows about his game to save the world and immediately picks the Red Team. He wonders how she knew there would be a red team but she says it’s easy to guess he would make a red team and a blue team. This observation annoys him and he goes on a rant.

TA: maybe iim more of an aubergiine guy plu2 whatever that putriid color is you type wiith, what ii2 that, turqoii2e?

I have a headcanon he can only see red and blue and that’s why he doesn’t know what color Terezi types in. Considering his society is based on color this would be quite a disability.

CHEL: I’ve also seen headcanons he’s colourblind and struggles to remember which colours go where on the hemospectrum, as at one point he complains about how yellow is the lowest on the totem pole apart from something he can’t remember, while talking to someone who’s lower. (It’s actually third from the bottom.)

FAILURE ARTIST: They then talk about how this game will save the world. He isn’t sure how but he says AA can back him up on this. Terezi thinks he’s right...mostly. He says before this is done he will die twice and go blind, but he figures that’s what happens to a prophet of doom. He compares this to an angel getting its wings and we find out trolls consider angels to be feathery demons. Terezi wonders if this doom-and-gloom isn’t just part of his brain problems. He is offended by this reasoning and compares it to clown pieing, which in retrospect is scarier on Alternia than on Earth. He tells her to talk to AA and Terezi says AA hasn’t been the same lately. Sollux and Terezi say they’ll take the game seriously but they also goof around about it.

We cut back to the spooky troll from before. She kicks the frog statue so hard it all breaks off.

The prompter tells Sollux to deal with apocalypseArisen, the spooky troll we just saw. AA asks Sollux if he set up the teams, but without a question mark. He says he’s working on it. He asks if she’ll be happy to get out and leave the voiice2 behind. He says it would suck to have them stay until death, a statement which will become very ironic. AA says she’s 0k with a l0t 0f things...including their failure masquerading as victory. Sollux is angry at her pessimism. He gets more angry when he finds out the game will actually wipe out their people. He says he refuses to be team leader, but she says he was never going to be that. He threatens her with psionics and says he could do things that would make [her] head 2piin liike dervii2h iin a fuckiing blender which makes me wonder how trolls have Sufism.

CHEL: How many humans know where the term comes from? I could buy it as Translation Convention regarding, say, a clown cult thing, although everything seems to imply the trolls are speaking “English”. Still, the idiom comes from human Western culture, so...

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 28

FAILURE ARTIST: She says she’s coming up, which only confuses Sollux.

He goes and tells Terezi and then Karkat that the Game has been aborted. Terezi is confused but doesn’t say much. Karkat accuses Sollux of trying to kick him out. Karkat declares the friendship cancelled, showing again trolls have friends. Karkat insults Sollux’s programming skills and threatens to run ~ATH. Sollux tells him not to be Karkat doesn’t listen.

TA: KK DO NOT RUN THAT CODE. TA: hello?????????????? carcinoGeneticist's [CG'S] computer exploded. TA: oh my god.

That is some amazing chat program.

The explosion kills Crabdad. Turns out that code causes the death of ALL of Karkat’s friend’s lusii. Each lusus gets prototyped, which seems heartwarming but turns out very bad for their session. We see Gamzee mourning his Goatdad’s death by harpooning in a moment that’s very sad, even considering how terrible a parent Goatdad is.

CHEL: And here I want to go back to Gamzee for a bit. The commentary, as we mentioned, says that Goatdad “told” him to stay indoors and was ashamed of him. However, in the actual comic, everything is set up to show the lusii as being non-sapient, i.e. not able to talk to their charges and not in possession of a concept of shame. They behave like regular animals, Sollux says his is dumb enough to walk right off the roof if not tethered, and the trolls go on repeatedly about how happy they are to have prototyped their lusii because now they can actually communicate verbally with them for the first time, as Rose did with Jaspers. This is similarly inconsistent in the later-written Pesterquest games, which we’ll get to eventually. So either Hussie forgot that lusii aren’t the same as parents…

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 29

… or he claimed they were sapient when they weren’t before, solely to use them to bash Gamzee.

IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 2

FAILURE ARTIST: Back to Sollux. He tries deleting all his computer viruses, but there’s one he can’t delete. It has a flashing billiard ball next to execute. It’s set to go off after the universe ends and even Sollux doesn’t know what it does. The narrator does know.

When executed, the subprogram will summon an indestructible demon into the recently voided universe. This monstrous being with the power to travel through time is inconvenienced very little by his arrival upon THE GREAT UNDOING. He has the entire cadaver of the expired universe to pick apart at his whim. From its birth through its swelling maturity and tapering decay. In a reality he is known to have marked for predation, he will go about assembling followers through various epochs, even going as far as personally establishing the parameters for his future summoning. Sollux couldn't know that the virus is essentially a formality. The demon is already here.

Sollux hears grumbling noises coming from the ceiling. His lusus, a BICYCLOPS, is kept chained to the roof of his COMMUNAL HIVE STEM and regularly fed and fought.

CHEL: A bicyclops, later also referred to as a biclops, is a roughly humanoid being with two heads, each with one big eyeball. A hivestem is basically a block of flats, made out of a giant hexagonal tube-like structure with small grey hive-homes built into the sides. I can’t tell if it’s supposed to be the literal stem of some kind of gigantic plant or not. Pretty cool if it is.

FAILURE ARTIST: In the night sky, there’s a few meteors. Turns out AA is floating outside.

We cut to GA wielding a chainsaw while riding a moth-like lusus against a colorful background. She lives in the middle of the desert in a home like Jade’s. However, we aren’t introduced to her.

BRIGHT: There are giant colourful sails attached to the towers. I’m not sure how practical that is, but it has definite flair.

FAILURE ARTIST: Instead, we are introduced to AT. His name is TAVROS NITRAM. He turns out to be a wheelchair user. I think this was ascended fanon based on his love of flying. How well Homestuck treats this disabled character we’ll see. His lusus is a little bull with wings. He’s surrounded by playing cards, stuffed animals, and posters of fairies. A lance is leaned against his wall.

CHEL: “Tavros” obviously derives from Taurus, and might also be from Davros, a wheelchair-using Doctor Who villain. Nitram is “Martin” backwards, which according to the wiki might be connected to Mary Martin, an actress who played Peter Pan, or Martin McGuinness, an Irish politician whose planned prosecution was codenamed Operation Taurus. It might also derive from nitrate, which causes “brown blood disease” in fish.

You are known to be heavily arrested by FAIRY TALES AND FANTASY STORIES. You have an acute ability to COMMUNE WITH THE MANY CREATURES OF ALTERNIA, a skill you have utilized to CAPTURE AND TRAIN a great many. They are all your friends, as well as your warriors, which you pit in battle through a variety of related CARD AND ROLE PLAYING GAMES. You used to engage in various forms of MORE EXTREME ROLEPLAYING with some of your other friends before you had an accident. You like to engage in the noble practice of ALTERNIAN SLAM POETRY, possibly the oldest, most revered, and certainly freshest artform in your planet's rich history. You have a profound fascination with the concept of FLIGHT, and all lore surrounding the topic. You believe in FAIRIES, even though they AREN'T REAL.

The name of his lusus may be ascended fanon too, if I’m remembering correctly. Its name, mentioned later, is Tinkerbull, and it’s the cutest thing ever I want a million of them.

Tavros is prompted to Cut to the chase and play card games immediately, and picks a Pokemon ripoff called FIDUSPAWN. He deals himself a favourable hand and lobs an OOGONIBOMB, a jelly-looking blob, at the HOST PLUSH. The Oogonibomb hatches into a terrifying face-hugger-like monster, which latches onto the plush, then scuttles out of the way in time for a larger monster to explode out of said plush.

BRIGHT: Alternian card games sure are something!

HORSARONI, I CHOOSE YOU!!!!!!

CHEL: Horsaroni devours the fidusucker face-hugger in preparation for battle, and Tavros uses his awesome bestial communion abilities [to] bend the ferocious stallion to [his] whim while Tinkerbull looks on nervously. Tavros succeeds in getting the beast under control, and… gets it and Tinkerbull to take a nap together. Everybody wins.

FAILURE ARTIST: He plans on making Horsaroni have sex in the future. Whoa boy.

CHEL: The prompt tells Tavros to roll up the ramp which leads to the top of his rather high recuperacoon, and to hop in, which he does, followed by much reasonable complaining about how it’ll take an hour for him to change his clothes, plus the four-wheel device rolls back down the ramp without him. Also, it’s noted that his horns make it impossible to get fully inside the cocoon, which makes it hard to get any solid shuteye. So, wait, trolls can breathe while fully submerged in the slime? There’s no elaboration as of yet, but it’s possible Hiveswap will discuss that.

FAILURE ARTIST: This slapstick with a disabled character is unfortunate. Terezi never had to deal with this bullshit.

CHEL: Not to this extent, anyway.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 33

After much cleanup which we thankfully don’t have to read through, he gets back in his chair and picks up his JOUSTING LANCE.

FAILURE ARTIST: We get a look outside of Tavros’ hive as he thinks about his future plans. He lives in a windmill by a cliff and in his yard he has a practice dummy with...is that a pail???

CHEL: Considering trolls’ opinions of pails, I hope it’s a trashcan, but the bucket thing might be a retcon for the sake of humour.

FAILURE ARTIST: Anyway, he hopes to be a CAVALREAPER when he grows up, if he isn’t culled (aka murdered) for his disability. Rather optimistic of him to think there’s a chance he won’t be culled. I think this is when we first find out about Alternian eugenics. Odd that it didn’t come up when we were introduced to Terezi.

BRIGHT: Terezi’s disability doesn’t really impact her ability to function, though. Her smellovision is accurate enough to let her read and she doesn’t have any trouble moving around. Tavros’s disability is clearly an actual disability that hinders him in a lot of ways. Given Alternian society as we’ve seen it so far, Terezi might be fine. Tavros would need assistive measures and that makes him a write-off.

There’s also the matter of personality. Terezi tends to be confident; Tavros generally isn’t. Add in Terezi’s midblood status to Tavros’s lowblood position, and it makes sense for it to come up now.

FAILURE ARTIST: Tavros admires his fairy posters, including one saying “ Pupa Pan” with a silhouette of a winged troll. This is the troll version of Peter Pan and their one also includes “indians”, just they are “weird aliens”.

CHEL: Can’t say I’m too pleased about that, personally.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 33

FAILURE ARTIST: I don’t know if Andrew Hussie read Peter Pan but when I read it it felt very Hussie. Anyway, Tavros keeps his bedroom window open for Pupa Pan and splashes SPECIAL STARDUST on his face. The same substance Gamzee uses? Hmmm.

Andrew Hussie takes a jab at the fanon he decided to ascend:

You have had this interest [in flying] far prior to your accident. Being paralyzed isn't what made you want to be able to fly. That would be dumb and would make no sense. Being paralyzed does sort of make you want to be able to walk, though.

CHEL: Uh… haha? Are we supposed to laugh here, or feel bad, or what?

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?:21

FAILURE ARTIST: We find out in Friendsim that terrestrial flight is verboten, though Hussie probably didn’t think of that until much later.

We cut to the future briefly to see Tavros has robot legs. Because it would be terrible to have a disabled character just remain disabled! /s

CHEL: To be fair, they’re in a world which has the technology to make near-perfect robotic limbs and he wants to be able to walk again. One could argue that having that technology is problematic in terms of it being an easy handwave, but since they have intergalactic spaceships it might seem somewhat weird if they didn’t have robot parts. The existence of prosthetics in a society which kills its disabled as standard is a bit odd, but not impossible if they have whole robots. Though it begs the question where he got the wheelchair.

BRIGHT: Well, it could be that prosthetics aren’t standard, this is just a special situation. He doesn’t get them until after he’s entered the Game, after all.

CHEL: Disturbingly, and perhaps more fittingly for troll society, the legs were fitted after his real ones were removed via chainsaw, apparently sans anaesthetic.

GORE GALORE: 11

BRIGHT: It kind of looks like he got chainsawed through the waist. If that is the case, then a lot of important organs would have been mangled and would need replacing — at least if he was human. We don’t know anything about how troll guts are laid out, but there’s no reason to believe they’re radically different to the human setup.

CHEL: None of the troll gang appear to be medics, either. How is he not dead?

FAILURE ARTIST: The legs were built by an unnamed male character who likes to break as well as make robots.

Occasionally though, he will allow philanthropy to override misanthrobopy.

Misanthrobopy. I didn’t notice that until now.

GA was the one to chainsaw Tavros, with the male character watching in the shadows. That character has the Sagittarius sign and a broken horn. We learn his name later but never how he broke that horn.

BRIGHT: Which is also a point in favour of getting prosthetic limbs being somewhat unusual — Tavros only gets his because an acquaintance with specialised knowledge takes an interest.

FAILURE ARTIST: So, back to the present...of the past. Tavros is being trolled by both Gamzee and someone known as AG. He deals with AG first. With this, we get our first dialogue from Homestuck’s most Homestuck character. AG, or arachnidsGrip, brags about being on the Blue Team and mocks Tavros for being on the team full of 8lind girls and lame 8oys and cranky iiiiiiiim8eciles. Tavros says they’re probably right, but then says he promised someone not to talk to them. This person turns out to be Tavros’ imaginary friend Rufio, the personification of his self-esteem. GA was the one who gave him the advice. While that’s not a bad coping mechanism, he really shouldn’t be telling AG about it. AG complains about GA’s meddling and says GA was just making fun of Tavros with that advice. AG complains about how long it’s taking for the Blue Team to get going. In the end, AG says it will be like old tiiiiiiiimes and gives a winking emoticon.

After that conversation with a frienemy, Tavros raps with his friend-friend Gamzee. Gamzee apologizes for zoning out, but unlike everyone else who talks to him Tavros isn’t angry. Awww…

Tavros shares the good news that they are both on the Red Team, though Tavros says it came from someone he doesn’t want to talk about. Gamzee had already heard and he’s very excited. Tavros does an }:o) emoticon and Gamzee is tickled pink that Tavros “stole his nose”. That might be flirting among trolls. They make plans to “slam” but first Gamzee explains the Game plan. Terezi has connected to Karkat and now Gamzee has to connect to Terezi. However, she’s off in the woods doing something. For now, Gamzee has to get Tavros connected to him. He says something that I’ve seen people point to as a sign he’s bad to the bone.

TC: sO jUsT dOwNlOaD tHiS mOtHeRfUcKeR i'M sEnDiNg YoU sO wE cAn KiCk ThIs BiTcH dOwN tHe StAiRs.

This is probably a callback to Dave getting kicked down the stairs and not a conscious callback on Gamzee’s part. Really, usually when Gamzee says “bitch” it’s just another way of saying “thing”. He’s not kicking anyone down the stairs. Not yet.

Then again, he later says:

TC: JuSt LeT mE sNeAk Up On ThIs BoTtLe Of FaYgO aNd SnAp ItS nEcK lIkE iM a FuCkIn LaUgHsSaSsIn.

So he is a little sinister.

CHEL: Hardly any more so than Terezi the hanging fetishist, though!

BRIGHT: Or the guy who codes viruses that blow up his friends’ computers.

FAILURE ARTIST: After all the foreplay for their rap session, the dialogue ends with:

You both then proceed to have one of the worst rap-offs in the history of paradox space.

Only much later do we see this rap-off. We also find out Gamzee’s feelings towards Tavros. Yet this conversation alone was enough to sail that ship.

We cut to Terezi in a burning woods. This is where we find out what the deal with Terezi’s “family” is. Her lusus is a giant teal egg on an even larger DOOMSDAY SCALE. Inside the egg is a blind dragon. The dragon can communicate telepathically via dreams. It was how Terezi learned to “see” after the accident. This answers some questions while leaving so many unanswered. Like why does Terezi sleep in her street clothes?

CHEL: Balanced on the other side of the scale is a gargantuan skull with troll-like horns and a sort of goat-y shape. We’ll see the kind of creature it comes from later.

FAILURE ARTIST: Terezi dreams of Prospit, and we see it as she “sees” it: gauzy and throbbing.

Her lusus hatches from the heat, but is immediately killed by a meteor. A sympathetic ally puts it in the kernelsprite and that sympathetic ally is clown boy. So put that on his scorecard.

With the egg hatched, the doomsday device displays 6:12. The arc number for this arc.

CHEL: Karkat’s “wriggling day” is 6/12, which actually makes him a Gemini rather than a Cancer. Guess it’s different for trolls.

FAILURE ARTIST: Finally, we are introduced properly to AA. The one with the inconsistent horns.

Your name is ARADIA MEGIDO.

CHEL: “Aradia” is the name of a “messiah” of witchcraft in Charles Godfrey Leland’s “Aradia, or the Gospel of the Witches”, effectively a piece of paganism fanon. “Megido” is derived from Mount Meggido, the place from which the word Armageddon is derived and where the final battle of said event will supposedly occur, and a powerful spell in the video game Shin Megami Tensei. It might also be related to “Meido”, 冥途めいど, the Japanese equivalent of Purgatory, and “meido”, メイド, meaning maidservant, relevant to her low blood status and later her game class.

You once had a number of INTERESTS, which in time you have LOST INTEREST IN. You seem to recollect once having a fondness for ARCHEOLOGY, though now have trouble recalling this passion. It nonetheless has led you to find your PRESENT CALLING, which came through the discovery of these MYSTIC RUINS on which you presently stand, and which you recently DESECRATED OUT OF BOREDOM. Guiding you to this calling were the VOICES OF THE DEAD, which you have been able to hear since you were young. The voices have become louder as THE GREAT UNDOING approaches. This trend in escalation began after an ACCIDENT involving a CERTAIN KIND OF ROLE PLAYING, which might have been another of your interests once upon a time. It doesn't matter much anymore. The accident resulted in the DEATH OF YOUR LUSUS, which prompted you to leave your home and take up these ruins as residence. On the instruction of your ANCESTORS, you have recovered MYSTERIOUS TECHNOLOGY from the ruins, and convinced a friend to adapt it into a GAME THAT WILL BRING ABOUT THE DESTRUCTION OF YOUR CIVILIZATION. And by convinced, you suppose you mean tricked.

CHEL: She chooses to try to take something from her sylladex, but it works on the OUIJA modus, which means she can only take what the spirits allow her to take.

BRIGHT: This has to be the weirdest, most senseless modus yet.

CHEL: They produce a card with the Crosbytop, which she found on a dig a while ago. GA’s trying to contact her.

She's always bugging you. Bugging and fussing and meddling. What's her deal! You guess it's flattering that she wants to talk to you so much though. You're ok with it. You're ok with a lot of things.

She answers, with an “0h n0000000” on seeing GA, who asks if this is “The Night You Blow Everything Up”.

GA: Is There Nothing I Can Do To Change Your Mind AA: n0 AA: 0r yes AA: yes theres n0thing AA: and n0 y0u cant AA: but y0u sh0uldnt pretend as if y0u believe this has anything t0 d0 with the state 0f my mind AA: 0r the decisi0ns it will make 0r has already made GA: Yeah I Guess Not GA: I Thought Id Be Friendly Though GA: And Remind You That You Do In Fact Have A Hand In All The Terrible Things That Are About To Happen GA: Because Thats What Friends Are For GA: And The Fact That What Ensues Will Be Terrible GA: Is An Immutable Fact I Am Stating For The Record GA: And The Fact That We Will Not Be On The Same Team Is Similarly Immutable GA: It Does Not Mean That Teamwork Is What Isnt Taking Place Here AA: s0rry i didnt f0ll0w that GA: Ill Be Here To Help GA: If You Need Me AA: 0k AA: thanks

Honestly, this is giving me shipping ideas which will only make sense once more about trolls has been explained. Pin in that.

BRIGHT: How does GA know it will be terrible?

CHEL: Stay tuned. We’ll find out.

Aradia checks on Sollux and has the conversation we already have seen, which is linked back to instead of copied, thank goodness. Huss seems to have mastered that part of the timeline. Aradia arrives at his hivestem and levitates the Bicyclops, while meteors begin to fall, and AG trolls her. AG is revealed to be female and seen in silhouette; she has a blue Scorpio symbol, one pointed horn, one forked one, and long hair. Remember this character for later.

AG: Do you have Mr. Two Eyes all 8efuddled and flustered in your we8 of lies? AG: Or Mr. Four Eyes? AG: Hmmmmmmmmm. AG: I don't know. Which nickname do you think would 8e suita8ly derogatory in this case Aradia? AA: h0w ab0ut AA: eight eyes AA: minus seven AG: ::::P

FAILURE ARTIST: God, I love Aradia. Though I guess if you’re reading this for the first time you won’t get her jab here until later.

CHEL: Aradia protests that she didn’t trick him. AG says it doesn’t matter, and declares that once the game starts she and Aradia will be the Blue Team co-leaders, only asking afterwards if this is okay with Aradia, who doesn’t care. She tells Aradia she has a present for her, “Just from me. From me alone and no8ody else”, and wants a special team name for just the two of them, which Aradia doesn’t want to bother with.

AG: I just thought it would 8e really fitting. AG: Kind of like a fresh start, you know? AG: I don't know, what are our shared interests? I guess I never really thought a8out this! I guess I'm used to thinking of you as the enemy. There must 8e some overlap in profiles. AG: Come oooooooon, let's 8rainstorm! AA: 0_0 AG: Man, it'll 8e great. We'll 8e unstoppa8le. Surely you must admit it will 8e nice to re8ound from the Team Charge de8acle! AA: i never think ab0ut that anym0re AG: Oh maaaaaaaan, I'm so dum8! Here I am running my mouth and opening up old wounds, while at the very same time trying to make amends! What an idiot.

I hope AG’s fans are not stupid enough to assume she was sincere on that last line, but it wouldn’t surprise me.

FAILURE ARTIST: I think that AG thinks she’s being sincere.

CHEL: She asks if Aradia’s “loser” male friend will be on the Blue Team, which Aradia says he isn’t, calls him dead weight (messing up her own quirk in the process, which would usually be “dead w8”), ignores Aradia’s declaration that she didn’t exclude him, and heads off to “give him a hard time” despite Aradia’s protest. From this we can presume said friend is Tavros.

We see AG’s face in the next page; she has blue makeup, one blackened lens in her spectacles, a cyborg arm, and a nasty grin.

FAILURE ARTIST: It kills me that we can’t just say who she is now. I’m sure she’s broken through cultural osmosis. However, instead of an introduction, we go to Sollux and Aradia.

Sollux apologizes for flying off the handle. He says even though he quit as leader, he’ll still play and do his best. In his self-degradation, he says something very odd.

TA: liike 2ome low cla22 guy wiith... whatever color blood ii2 lower on the hiierarchy than miine. TA: what2 wor2e than yellow? TA: fuck thii2 confu2iing ca2te 2y2tem.

You’d think he’d know by now, especially given how important the hierarchy is supposed to be.

CHEL: Especially since the person he’s talking to is not only lower on the hierarchy than him, but also one of his closest friends and (minor spoiler) possibly his love interest. This is where the “colourblind” theory for him comes from.

FAILURE ARTIST: Aradia tells Sollux to come to the window because she’s outside. He complains that he can’t see her and she tells him to look closer. He does so while grumbling about psychics. Aradia snaps her fingers and he falls asleep...in the dangerous mind honey.

CHEL: How does she do that? I don’t think she has mind control abilities, does she? All I remember is her throwing boulders around… did she Force-choke him into unconsciousness?

BRIGHT: Maybe she did it the same way Sollux knocked his bees out.

FAILURE ARTIST: Cut to much later. Meteors are falling furiously and all the teammates except Sollux are in the Medium. Sollux wakes up but with mind honey in his mouth. We find out what mind honey does to trolls like Sollux: it causes him to do an OPTIC BLAST , destroying the roof of his apartment and killing yet another lusus. Which just raises the question of why he let the mind honey flow on his floor.

Now, we are introduced to my Zodiac troll.

Your name is NEPETA LEIJON.

CHEL: Nepeta is the Latin genus name for catnip, and Leijon is the archaic spelling of “lejon”, the Swedish word for lion. It should be pronounced “lay-on”, but Hussie said “pronounce everything in the least affected manner possible, from an American perspective”, so I’ve always mentally heard it as “lee-jon” or possibly “lay-shawn”.

You live in a CAVE that is also a HIVE, but still mostly just a CAVE. You like to engage in FRIENDLY ROLE PLAYING, but not the DANGEROUS KIND. Never the DANGEROUS KIND. It's TOO DANGEROUS! Too many of your good friends have gotten hurt that way. Your daily routine is dangerous enough as it is. You prowl the wilderness for GREAT BEASTS, and stalk them and take them down with nothing but your SHARP CLAWS AND TEETH! You take them back to your cave and EAT THEM, and from time to time, WEAR THEIR PELTS FOR FUN. You like to paint WALL COMICS using blood and soot and ash, depicting EXCITING TALES FROM THE HUNT! And other goofy stories about you and your numerous pals. Your best pal of all is A LITTLE BOSSY, and people wonder why you even bother with him. But someone has to keep him pacified. If not you, then who? Everyone has an important job to do.

So the dangerous kind of roleplaying is more dangerous than taking down wild beasts.

CHEL: Which is already pretty damn dangerous!

You never know when you might encounter some unsuspecting prey. Or when some prey might encounter an unsuspecting you! On Alternia, everything is considered unsuspecting prey by everything else.

FAILURE ARTIST: Also just noticed her “hive” has windows even though it’s a cave and the windows don’t actually seem to open to anything? We never get to see any of her cave outside of this so who knows how it works.

CHEL: Maybe she painted them on?

Her lusus is a big cat, with the double mouths already mentioned in her roleplaying. I still don’t know what evolutionary purpose this serves. However, her trolltag is arsenicCatnip, and the double mouths are depicted as two threes; arsenic’s atomic number is 33. It’s little references and in-jokes like this that keep me loving HS despite its worst parts. I can’t get enough of these things.

Said cat is named POUNCE DE LEON, a reference to the explorer Juan Ponce de Leon, seeker of the Fountain of Youth.

You and she go on adventures together in search of the FOUNTAIN OF CUTE. You ride your sure-pawed mount into the rugged frontier. And sometimes she rides you when she gets tired, which is frequently. It sure will be sad when she dies. But who knows when or how that will happen. We might not even really have the time to find out! Later there was a cave-in.

Note the cave paintings on her walls, which are in red, black, and pale grey, and large black animal corpses in the foreground. It’s not clear if the animals themselves are black or they’re just in silhouette, but they contrast with the lusii, which are all white. These beasts also bleed mammalian red, which Nepeta uses for paint, while the lusii bleed the same colour as their respective troll charges. What precisely the lusii are and how they’re different from a regular animal is never really made clear. They could be separate species, or they could be regular animals psychically or biologically bonded to a troll and metamorphosing because of that. Or Hussie might not have thought it out that far.

Karkat’s trolling Nepeta on her DRAWING TABLET COMPUTER. She wishes she could adapt it to a fetch modus because her own one is frustrating, and answers him. She has to handwrite what she says on Trollian, and surrounds it with doodles of cats.

AC: :33 < *ac perks up curiously* AC: :33 < *she wiggles her rear end a bit and then chases something she s33s bounce into one of karkats shoes* CG: KARKAT CAN'T BELIEVE HE HAS TO SINK THIS LOW. CG: KARKAT CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S ASKING AN AUTISTIC GIRL IN A CAVE TO JOIN HIS TEAM. CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 34

Thanks, asshole. I’ve seen fans assume this means Nepeta is literally autistic, and she could be, but either way Karkat is clearly using it as an insult here, not a literal description.

Anyway, Karkat explains to Nepeta what’s going on. He, Terezi, Gamzee, and Tavros are already playing; Tavros needs a server player. GA is lined up for the Red Team, but doesn’t want to connect yet for mysterious reasons, so Nepeta’s the best candidate. Nepeta agrees, but wants to talk to someone else first.

CG: HOW CAN YOU BE BEST FRIENDS WITH THE ONLY GUY ON THE PLANET WHO'S A BIGGER ASSHOLE THAN ME. AC: :33 < hes not so bad! CG: HE'S SCUM. CG: BUT DO WHATEVER YOU'VE GOT TO DO I GUESS. CG: TAVROS IS WAITING.

This seems quite a distance from Nepeta declaring that the guy she needs to talk to “scares her” earlier on. May be a retcon.

Said friend proves to be the blue Sagittarius boy, still in shadow. I think here it’s time to add on a point we brought up but did not count when observing the Pesterchum Trollslum: his handle is centaursTesticle. I remind everyone the trolls are supposed to be thirteen. What a charming child. I guess maybe it’s excusable because he’s not a mammal himself, but still.

CALL CPA PLEASE: 9

He says hi, but becomes frustrated when Nepeta roleplays at him. He types in dark b100, is e%cessively formal, and precedes each line with a D→ emoticon, the significance of which will be explained in a moment.

CT: D --> This is f001ishness upon one hundred thousand prior, equally unsolicited f001ishnesses

FAILURE ARTIST: It’s weird that his first word is “hi”, considering how formal he usually is.

CHEL: Could be because he knows Nepeta well? A concession to her mannerisms?

He expects Nepeta to follow his orders; she stops roleplaying, but complains about him being “so lame!” and never roleplaying with her, even though he will go out of his way to find words with “x” or “loo” in them so he can use his quirk. He tells her off for using foul language at things as mild as “what the hell?” and she apologises.

CT: D --> Your fraternization with the base classes have 100sened your morals, can't you see this AC: :33 < no! i dont care, they are fun AC: :33 < and i dont know anything about classes or bases or blood color, it doesn't matter! AC: :33 < what does gr33n blood even mean! it doesnt mean anything to me and it shouldnt mean anything to anyone else! CT: D --> Well, green b100d is ok, but it's not great CT: D --> But that's why you're lucky to have me to 100k out for you CT: D --> Because you don't know better, and you can't fight the role the mother had in store for you

This relationship looks rather worrying from a human perspective, I must say. Still, Nepeta seems to be holding her own in the argument, and he’s not physically present so there’s little he can do to actually harm her if things go south.

FAILURE ARTIST: Yeah, early on this relationship looks bad, but this relationship is one of the more popular ones in Homestuck.

CHEL: Did he plan their relationship, or ascend the fanon? Do we know?

FAILURE ARTIST: I would say there wasn’t enough time for Equius/Nepeta to be fanon, giving the quick update rate for this arc, but fandom does work fast.

Nepeta doesn’t seem to be just against the hemospectrum but rather ignorant of it, which is odd considering how important it’s supposed to be. Then again, she does live in a cave.

BRIGHT: Considering how important the hemospectrum is supposed to be, a surprising number of characters don��t understand it or care about it. That’s two out of nine so far. And while the hemospectrum does add a layer of complication, it’s not that complicated. There are only (spoiler) eleven colours in official use, and most readers pick them up pretty quickly. Characters living in a society which violently enforces it should have a working grasp of it, even if they think it’s stupid as all get-out.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 26

CHEL: Nepeta points out he always puts his bow and arrow symbol at the start of lines, which she considers a sign of playfulness and he considers “highly dignified symbols”. Nepeta asks if he’s ever successfully fired a bow, and he refuses to talk about it.

CT: D --> The topic is making me CT: D --> Sweat

He does this a lot. Here it seems to be a sign of feeling awkward and embarrassed, but later on it will be the source of CALL CPA PLEASE points.

They argue; Nepeta calls him a “weirdo and a cr33p!” and says it’s good she’s there to watch out for him in turn because no one else likes him, and he tells her off for eating animals. So trolls aren’t fully carnivorous? Their teeth suggest they should at least lean more strongly that way than humans do, but I guess eating vegetation wouldn’t be impossible for them.

CT: D --> You're wrong about me, Nepeta CT: D --> I do like to play games CT: D --> But they must be e%tremely important games with very high stakes CT: D --> Not the kind played by trans100cent green wigglers who let 100se an e%cremental surge hard in their wiggler-bottom diaperstubs

Nice callback, though I’m kind of surprised he said “bottom” since he draws the line at “hell”. Also, why the hell would trolls have diapers? They’re raised by literal animals, most of which don’t have hands to change them with!

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 27

FAILURE ARTIST: What we see later of troll infants, they don’t have bottoms to diaper.

CHEL: Equius informs Nepeta he’s leading the Blue Team; she’s already on the Red Team, but he forbids her to join it and says she must join him.

AC: :33 < *ac rolls her eyes almost as hard as she is rolling around in this really interesting smell* CT: D --> The thought of you fraternizing with and abetting those stink-b100ded h001igans strikes me as scandal beyond measure CT: D --> I'm afraid you're too delicate to withstand that sort of corruption

Didn’t he also forbid her from associating with the people on the Blue Team on the grounds of them being too dangerous to hang out with? There’s no pleasing this guy.

Nepeta tells Tavros she can’t join him. She’s angry at her friend, though she’s still obeying him, but Tavros thinks it’s for the best.

AC: :33 < *ac curls up in tavroses lap* AT: oKAY, *i, AT: fOR THE TIME BEING, aND, AT: fOR THE SAKE OF THIS FANTASY SCENARIO, i PRETEND, AT: tHAT MY CAT ALLERGIES AREN'T THAT BAD,* [...] AT: wELL, AT: iF YOU DIDN'T LISTEN TO HIM BEFORE, AT: yOU MIGHT HAVE PLAYED GAMES WITH US BEFORE, AT: aND SOMETHING BAD MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU,

All very well, but notice what’s wrong with this picture?

I am… not particularly happy about more wheelchair slapstick going as far as to cause what I guess could be called either pet death or parent death. Most people in wheelchairs are able to not do that. Wouldn’t he at least notice it going over the bump? The “lol the weak wimpy kid has allergies” thing isn’t marvellous either; Tavros’ supposed wimpiness isn’t a huge deal yet, but it will be.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 35

BRIGHT: Uh...okay, wow. I somehow didn’t notice Tinkerbull dying like that the first time I read this, and WTF, Hussie?

Tavros reminisces about his role-playing days. We get a flashback to him standing in his room pre-paralysis, dressed in a green Peter Pan outfit and wielding a very short lance he calls a ‘daggerlance’. He is preparing to play FLARP, an EXTREME ROLE PLAYING game which can have serious real-world consequences if played without caution. Tavros is part of Team Charge, and they will be playing against Team Scourge.

The other member of Team Charge is Aradia. Tavros starts a chat with her, and Aradia sounds a lot more animated in this one. She actually seems pretty cheerful and enthusiastic! They talk a bit about Tavros’s choice of class, the Boy-Skylark; apparently it’s not very strong early on, but picks up some powerful abilities once you reach a high level. Put a pin in that, it’s not directly relevant but it does echo some Class traits later on.

Tavros’s FLARP grub lays some eggs ...

CHEL: Troll technology is disgusting.

BRIGHT: … which hatch into neon pixellated bats called GAMING FLAPSTRACTIONS. These contain the data used to provide the roleplaying scenario, and will also follow live instructions provided by the ‘clouder’. One member of Team Scourge will act as Tavros’s clouder, creating a challenging scenario for him to adventure through. Aradia will be the clouder for Terezi, the other member of Team Scourge. The flapstractions are tied to the player’s vital attributes, which is what makes this sort of role playing so dangerous. It’s interesting that apart from SGRUB, trolls have video games which physically affect the real world, or at least some of the players.

CHEL: Which brings up a comment we made on an earlier Act; does everyone in John’s version of Earth have sylladexes, and do all their videogames affect reality? We never see.

BRIGHT: A little way into the game, and Tavros has been backed up to the edge of a cliff by a couple of FLARP monsters. His clouder contacts him to ask why he’s not moving; turns out it’s AG. Tavros tells her that the monsters are too strong for the level he’s at. AG responds by mocking him, calling him weak, and urging him to either advance or abscond. Tavros asks her to hold on, and tries to contact Aradia for help, then Terezi.

We get another glimpse of AG! She has a blue sign, has one hooked horn and one with a crescent tip, messy hair, and here is wearing an eyepatch with seven red dots over one eye. She appears to be standing in the field with Tavros, which clearly isn’t possible.

CHEL: Holograms, presumably.

BRIGHT: Tavros can’t get through to either Aradia or Terezi. AG starts messaging him again, telling him to roll the dice. Tavros, entirely sensibly, declines to do so, as he’s run the numbers and the monsters are too strong to beat no matter how well he rolls. AG says that if he won’t move, she’ll make him move.

AT: i THOUGHT, AT: yOU COULDN'T USE POWERS, AT: i MEAN, rEAL LIFE POWERS, nOT GAME ONES, AT: iT'S AGAINST THE RULES, AG: 8ut if you are going to 8reak the rules and refuse to roll, what choice do I have!

Using her psychic powers, she then takes control of his body.

And walks him off the cliff.

AG: Fly, Pupa!!!!!!!! AG: Flyyyyyyyy!

CHEL: This is our introduction to the most controversial character in the whole fandom, and quite possibly one of the most controversial in any fandom. So much as mentioning this girl can start huge flamewars, and there was an entire section of the official Homestuck forum set off for talking about her so it didn’t taint the experience on the other boards. We’ll see more of this behaviour from her later, and discuss the fandom’s opinion of it as we go.

AG types out a long string of mocking laughter, with eight exclamation marks. I believe five is the point Pratchett deemed to be a sign of insanity, what does eight signify? Anyway, Tavros takes out his phone and texts the first person he thinks of; Karkat.

adiosToreador [AT] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] AT: aG JUST JUMPED ME OFF A CLIFF, AT: wITH MY BRAIN, AT: aND, uHH AT: mY LEGS, aLSO, AT: aND NOW, tHEY FEEL, AT: iNVISIBLE, AT: wOW, i'M SURE THERE WAS A BETTER WAY TO SAY THAT, AT: aNYWAY, AT: tHAT'S REALLY ALL THERE IS, AT: tO REPORT ON THE SUBJECT, AT: oF ME GETTING HURT, CG: HEY ASSHOLE, STOP PLAYING GAMES FOR GIRLS. carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT]

It’s times like these I wonder if we should have stolen the RP1 spork’s “Why Are We Meant To Like You, Again?” count. Let’s tally up the ones we have…

First off, Karkat, you’re a sexist dick and a bully, and the narrative never calls you out on it, nor do the other characters.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 36

Second, two SLAMMER points, one for the sexism, and one for hanging up on a clearly injured person, when Karkat is supposed to be portrayed as “prickly but caring”, which is not consistent with this even if he doesn’t much like Tavros or know him well at this point.

SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 3

And third, what the hell is the point of the “GAMES FOR GIRLS” comment? Karkat’s phrasing implies that this is a contemptible, weak thing to do. Considering the incredibly dangerous nature of the game, that makes no sense at all. Fandom likes to charitably interpret it as meaning that female trolls are expected to be more violent than the male ones and Karkat’s telling Tavros not to get himself hurt, but that doesn’t work either because in every other situation Tavros is socially punished for not being violent, forthright, and traditionally masculine, and as I said, Karkat’s phrasing and immediate hanging-up on Tavros implies contempt, not concern. If it was meant the way a human boy would put it, what the hell are games for troll boys like?!

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 28

One way I’ve played it in fanfic is that female trolls are expected to be the strategisers, while male ones just barge on through, but that’s just my personal idea, not canon.

BRIGHT: Really the only way this could be read as not completely awful is if Karkat thought Tavros was role-playing the injury. But there’s no reason for him to think that; Karkat’s made his lack of interest in it abundantly clear, and we never see Tavros initiate a role-playing chatlog with anyone, even one of the other FLARPers. In fact, all the FLARPers seem to confine their role-playing to the game itself; the only person who role-plays in chatlogs is Nepeta. (And after this, it’s easy to see why CT didn’t want her FLARPing.) So Karkat’s being a real dick here.

FAILURE ARTIST: There’s not really any charitable explanation for this. The fandom is just content to prove Karkat wasn’t sexist on human terms.

BRIGHT: Also, this is an impressively coherent summary of events from Tavros. If I’d just walked off a cliff and broken my back, I’m not sure I’d be up to texting anybody, let alone explaining things that clearly. Tavros gets short shrift for being weak, but he’s really pretty tough.

We jump back to Karkat in the Medium, having just finished the conversation with Terezi we saw earlier. AG starts messaging him, and Karkat is really not impressed.

AG: Hey 8rave leader. CG: OH MY GOD, WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME. AG: Can I join your team? CG: YES I'M GLAD YOU ASKED, BECAUSE THERE IS A WIDE OPEN SLOT FOR THE MOST VILE BACKSTABBING SOCIOPATH WHO EVER LIVED. CG: YOU REALLY HELPED ME OUT OF A JAM BY STEPPING FORWARD. AG: Vile 8acksta88ing sociopath? Karkat, did you copy and p8ste that phrase directly from your personal ad descri8ing what you are looking for in a lady? CG: HA HA HA! CG: MORE CAGEY CUTESY BULLSHIT. CG: LIKE I'M NOT UP TO MY LOBE STEM WITH THAT ALREADY HAVING TO DEAL WITH TEREZI. CG: YOU BOTH MUST HAVE BEEN INSUFFERABLE WHEN YOU WERE A TEAM. CG: YOUR OPPONENTS PROBABLY ALL JUST TRIED TO COMMIT SUICIDE AFTER A FEW MINUTES OF PUTTING UP WITH YOUR FANGY GRINNED DRIVEL. CG: THAT'S PROBABLY HOW IT ALL WENT DOWN WHEN THE SHIT HIT THE THRESHER.

AG continues to mess around and Karkat continues to be adamant about not wanting to be friends with her. He warns her not to use her mind control abilities on his teammates, and finishes up with something that actually seems to hit home.

CG: I'VE GOT THE BETTER SCOURGE SISTER ON MY TEAM AND IF YOU BREAK YOUR TRUCE YOU'LL HAVE TO ANSWER TO HER. CG: THE FUNNY THING IS SHE WAS ALWAYS WAY BETTER THAN YOU EVEN WITHOUT ANY POWERS. CG: YEAH THAT'S RIGHT, I KNOW YOUR WHOLE STORY. CG: YOU WERE ALWAYS JEALOUS SHE COULD MANIPULATE PEOPLE SO WELL WITHOUT RESORTING TO CHEAP MIND TRICKS. CG: HAHA, I CAN TELL THIS BURNS YOU AND I CAN'T EVEN PAW THROUGH YOUR DUMPSTER! CG: CHALK IT UP AS ANOTHER INFURIATING VICTORY FOR GUTTER BLOOD OVER ARISTOCRACY.

It’s interesting that although Karkat is extremely cagey about his blood colour, he identifies himself here as a lowblood. Granted, that’s the most logical conclusion to make -- a highblood would have no reason to conceal their blood caste -- but blood colour wasn’t even being discussed until he brought it up.

Karkat ends the chatlog, and then immediately starts messaging AG again.

AG: Oh, 8ack so soon! Did your thum8 slip on the 8utton???????? AG: I guess you can't get enough of me. AG: ::::) CG: YOU MADE ME DO THAT. CG: AND YOU KNOW IT. AG: You 8n't got nothing on me and you can't prove shit!!!!!!!! AG: Anyway, Karkat, I just wanted to say. AG: <3

...okay, I assume she’s using that in a mocking way, because we never get any other indication that she’s romantically interested in Karkat, but man, that threw me for a moment.

FAILURE ARTIST: AG says she can read Karkat’s mind and it’s implied she made Karkat slip up, but you’d think even with Karkat’s mind being a dumpster she’d still find it impossible to resist finding out his blood color.

CHEL: Impossible to not find it, in fact! It must be pretty prominent in his thoughts if it’s important enough to hide.

BRIGHT: The narration then hops to the blue Sagittarius boy, and...uh.

Wow, those sure are a lot of weirdly sexual posters and dismantled robots.

Let’s not beat about the bush here: Teens are (generally) interested in sex and very good at getting hold of depictions of it. On the other hand...thirteen is kind of on the young end for that. Also, most people don’t display their pornography proudly on their walls, although as I type this I remember that cheesecake pin-ups used to be a thing. Heck, maybe they still are. Either way, this is kind of disturbing.

CALL CPA PLEASE: 10

CHEL: Then again, I was never very close to any teenage boys when I was that age; for all I know, maybe they would stick their porn on their walls if they didn’t have parents to stop them.

I’d like to point out the unfortunate implications in having the narrator sound as disturbed as they do in conjunction with all his posters being of male characters. There are plenty of other reasons to be disturbed, plus his interactions with girls are even more disturbing, but as we proceed we’ll see hints that that possibly was meant to be part of the disturbance. Hussie has a real discomfort with m/m attraction, and it shows more than he meant it to.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 37

Since the trolls aren’t mammals and their anatomy isn’t necessarily anything a mammal would recognise, fandom’s occasionally had some fun with interpreting this as him not realising the posters are so explicit and just having them because he thinks they look cool, but that’s obviously not the intended meaning.

BRIGHT: I think the reader is also meant to be bothered by the posters being furry art. Honestly that part doesn’t bother me, but furries were the butt of a lot of jokes back in 2009 -- and possibly still are, although I haven’t seen any for years.

FAILURE ARTIST: Personally, when I saw this panel, I was peeved that he wasn’t introduced yet. I liked the cut of his jib for displaying such “art”. Of course, there’s also the shiner his lusus sports which may play a part in the narrator’s discomfort.

BRIGHT: The narration is as disturbed as I am, although possibly for different reasons, and promptly switches to a brief glimpse of the last troll we have to meet, who has dark pink goggles, a Pisces sign, and is prodding a cuttlefish with a trident. Before we can learn anything more about her, off we go again!

This time we return to Aradia, who is flying across the countryside atop the severed head of the frog statue. Her hive, when she reaches it, is in ruins and overgrown by vegetation.

You haven't been here since the night of the accident. On that night you found your CALLING. The voices of the dead grew louder, urging you to return to the ruins you discovered not long before. You left so abruptly, you didn't even have time to bury your lusus. But that's fine, because trolls don't typically bury their dead. Leaving bodies to be consumed by wild animals is more customary.

We’ve already seen that role-playing accidents on Alternia can be pretty damn extreme, and given that Aradia has telekinesis it’s not a stretch that property damage could get involved, but this is still very effective build-up to the reveal of What’s Up With Aradia. On my first read-through I was really curious about what had happened, and I still think it holds up well.

Aradia starts up the game and allows her co-leader to enter first, since she always intended to enter second. She then has Nepeta connect to her as her server player, and starts setting up the equipment. Since she doesn’t have a dead lusus to prototype the kernelsprite with, she uses the head of the frog statue instead. The dead have assured her that this is critical for later success.

Compelling your nonplussed server player to perform this task might have proven difficult. Luckily your telekinesis, an ability greatly magnified through your CALLING, would be sufficient to move the massive object, whereas the game cursor likely would not. Your server player simply watched in mystification.

Sprite sorted out, Aradia enters the Medium. Her classpect is MAID OF TIME, and her planet is the LAND OF QUARTZ AND MELODY, which is very pretty. It was important for her to enter second because her client player, presumably AG, has a present for her which can’t be replicated with grist, so they’re going to have to travel through the Gate above their house to get it to her.

Nepeta, meanwhile, is watching in befuddlement, because she can’t see Aradia on the screen...up until Aradia merges with the Frogsprite.

She couldn't see you up until the moment after the sprite's second prototyping. Because you were dead all along.

HOLY SHIT.

The first time I read Homestuck, this reveal blew me away. (Granted, I was a bit confused by all the hopping around between characters and time points. It makes much more sense on the second read.) It probably wasn’t intended as much of a surprise, given the next page…

We are all completely blown away by this stunning revelation.

Fair enough.

#Homespork #homestuck #homestuck meta #review #reread #sporking

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alexthepartyman · 4 years

Text

Fine Line

Chapter 4: Take me back to the light.

“Easy there, tough guy, have some coffee with your sugar,” Derek teases, grabbing a mug.

“I need something to wake me up.”

“Same. I feel like I’ve slept for five years,” I joke.

“You had brain surgery a couple of weeks ago, it is normal to be tired.” I sigh, rolling my eyes as my phone vibrates against my ass.

“Back pocket,” I groan as Derek pulls my phone out of my pocket. “It’s probably more get well soon wishes.”

“Oooh, you had a late night?” Derek asks, handing me my phone before going back to make coffee.

“Very.”

“My man.” Oooh, it was probably with Grant, too. Oooh. I slowly type, trying to remember how to spell certain words.

“Not that kind of late night.”

“Really? I was rooting for you,” I groan as Derek chuckles.

“Okay, so tell me, what does keep young Dr Reid awake at night? Wait, let me guess. Memorising some obscure textbook. No, no, no, no,” Derek teases. “Working on cold fusion. No, I got it. I got it. I got it. Watching Ster Trek...and laughing at the physics mistakes.”

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek, especially considering how long ago it was made.”

“Did his face just fall?” I ask with a big smile on my face.

“There are certain improbabilities, but not that many outright errors.”

“Right.” I laugh lightly as Derek walks away awkwardly, holding my head in my hand.

“Hey, Morgan?” Spencer asks, following him. I grip my crutches and turn myself, slowly following along. “Uh, do you ever have dreams?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I guess nightmares would be a more accurate description.”

“Is that what’s keeping you up?”

“I used to get them occasionally, but lately it’s like I have them every night.”

“What are they about?”

“This. What we do. Do you have nightmares?”

“When don’t I?” I remark.

“Reid, I’m not sure I’m the right person for you tot alk to about this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just, uh...did you ask Gideon about it?”

“No.”

“You should. Both of you.”

“Hey, Hotch wants everyone in the round table room.”

“Derek, carry me. I’m not getting anywhere with these things,” I retort as Elle walks away from us.

“Nuh-uh, little buddy. You gotta do it yourself. I ain’t gonna be around to carry you everywhere.”

“Fuck...I take forever!” I groan, stumbling towards the staircase.

“Something up with you three?” Elle asks.

“No.”

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

“McAllister,” JJ says as we head in. “Western slope of Massanutten Mountain in Virginia. Two bodies discovered in the woods, both with apparent bult trauma to the head.”

“Skeletons?”

“Skellingtons?” I ask, approaching the table and looking at the picture in Spencer’s hand.

“One of them. The second victim was just killed this morning.”

“How do we know there’s a connection?” Elle asks.

“Found about seventy-five feet apart with nearly identical head wounds.”

“Where’s the rest of the case file?”

“There isn’t one. The sheriffs are on the scene waiting for us.”

“Their location is only half an hour away by plane.”

“What’s the rush?”

“Well, there was evidence on the scene that could cause a bit of public uproar.”

“Satanic cult.”

“But...killer satanic cults...those don’t exist…”

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

“JJ, we obviously need to keep this out of the press for as long as possible.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Why is that so important?”

“There was a nationwide scare in the 1980s involving Satanic ritual killings and abuse. The Satanic panic, it was called. It began after the publication of a book about repressed memories being recovered through hypnotherapy. Memories of growing up with devil worshippers who use children in their rituals and ceremonies.”

“Most of the claims were later found to be false or just impossible.”

“Still, numerous therapists accepted the assertions as true and began searching for similar signs in their own patients. After one year, thousands of people reported the exact same repressed memories.”

“But the bureau conducted an investigation and concluded that most of the ritual killings or abuse were more urban legend than anything else.”

“You’re saying that there’s no such thing as Devil worshipping?”

“Not at all. But most of the Satanism we’ve seen is juveniles damaging property, descerating churches, cemeteries. To my knowledge, there’s never been a proven case of a satanic ritual killing in the United States,” Uncle Jason says.

“Well, maybe there is now.”

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

“Morning. John Bridges,” the sheriff greets us.

“Yeah, we spoke on the phone,” JJ shakes his hand. “I’m Agent Jareau, this is Agent Gideon, Dr Reid, and our intern James Rossi with the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit,” JJ introduces us.

“What’s with your intern?”

“Concussion. Can’t walk on my own yet. Hi.”

“Thanks for coming out so fast, all of you.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“There was an in-service in Charlottesville last year, said if we ran into any unusual homicides, we were supposed to call you folks soonertather then later.”

“They were right.”

“So is this unusual enough?”

“It’s certainly interesting. Is that blood or red paint?” I ask, nodding my head towards the carving in the tree.

“You guys must get a lot of this, huh? Satanic stuff?”

“Not really,” Uncle Jason answers. “Who found the body?”

“Hikers found the first one at the trail, my deputies located this one while searching for evidence. Don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman.”

“It’s a man. The male pelvis is more narrow, and the opening at the bottom is heart-shaped, as opposed to oval,” Spencer rambles. “Melted wax?”

“Candle wax?” JJ asks.

“Candles are used in rituals.”

“Also used on birthday cakes,” Uncle Jason says, watching my feet carefully.

“Actually, they were orginially used to protect the birthday celebrant from demons for the coming year. As a matter of fact, down to the fourth century, Christianity rejected the birthday celebration as a pagan ritual.”

‘What kind of doctor are you?”

“One that knows everything,” I quietly comment.

“Does LOD mean anything to you?”

“I don’t know of any significance in Satanism, either.”

“Well, I’d have Garcia research this LOD thing, if I could get a call out.”

“Not much of a chance of that out here.”

“Are there any cults in the area that you know about? Secret groups? People you see you don’t know much about? People who stay to themselves mostly?”

“This is a very religious area. Church on Sundays, fellowship on Wednesday, bible classes. If there was a secret group, I’d probably know about it.”

“That’s an inherent contradiction,” Spencer chuckles.

“Excuse me?”

“Spencer,” I hiss, picking up the tip of my crutch and stomping his foot with it.

“Ow…”

“He means if there was a group being secretive, you probably wouldn’t know.”

“Look, people out here just want a quiet place to raise their kids. What I know is that none of them are capable of doing this.”

“Rethink that statement,” I comment.

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

“Here you go,” Jason says, setting me back down on the ground after carrying me back up the road.

“Thanks, Uncle Jason.”

“It’s no problem, Jamie.”

“Find anything interesting down there?” Aaron asks.

“Yeah, it does look like some kind of ritual site,” Uncle Jason answers.

“Have any of you ever heard of LOD or the acronym L-O-D?” Spencer asks as Elle helps Spencer up onto the road.

“Not me.”

“Cherish? Cherish? Sheriff Bridges!” A woman yells, being blocked off by an officer behind the yellow tape.

“It’s okay, Harris. Let her in.”

“Was Adam Lloyd killed out here?” She asks, marching up towards us.

“Who told you that?”

“Was he? My daughter was with him. They were out running together this morning. Oh my god, and I can’t find her. Cherish is missing. Cherish is missing! Help me, please.” She starts to cry.

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

“Take her home.”

“I will.”

“Who are we looking for?” I ask as we head back to the team.

“Someone who can overpower our victim, abduct a girl from a traveled path without being seen.”

“A local would know their way around here,” I add.

“It certainly fits with the cult theory. More than one unsub to control multiple victims.”

“But if the attack were ferocious enough...a single unsub could do it too. Kill Adam and grab the girl while she’s still in shock.”

“This is some rough country. I don’t think Jamie could do it right now,” Elle comments, walking back to us with Derek. “We only went a quarter of a mile, and we almost got lost.”

“Jamie was right. The unsub is a local. You don’t just stumble onto a place like this.”

“JJ, where’d the sheriff go?”

“He’s setting up a search party.”

“Tell him I want him to use volunteers from the area.”

“Do you want him to know why?”

“No, not yet.”

“Is it wise to alienate him?”

“Well, he thinks we’re looking for a monster. If we tell him we’re looking for volunteers so we can profile who shows up, he might call the whole thing off.”

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

“State won’t be here for over an hour. We’re not gonna wait. I want you to gather everyone up, and I’m going to assign grid locations.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have a moment, sheriff?” JJ asks.

“I’ve got a missing girl, a hundred square miles of woods, not enough men, and in a couple of hours, it’s gonna be dark.”

“Have you considered using the people that live in the area?”

“I’m not gonna have civilians messing up the crime scene.”

“We can instruct them not to touch anything until a member of Law Enforcement arrives.”

“What if they get lost, too?”

“We can have them sign into a volunteer sheet and keep track of what grid square they’re in. Look...I grew up in a small town. You have the state police coming in?”

“Yeah.”

“Your locals can do a better job of finding this girl than any statie. Especially in these woods,” I cut in. “You know that.”

“You’ll keep track of them?”

“She’s coordinated searches across the country.” The sheriff nods, and we head towards the vehicles.

“Let’s go. Harris, I’m going downtown. Don’t do anything until I get back.”

“Hey! Can I come with you guys?” Spencer calls out, catching up to us and nearly knocking me over.

“Spencer, I will hit you again,” I threaten.

“Sorry. I need to call Quantico and have them research that whole LOD thing,” he says, stumbling after us.

“Yeah, sure. Hop in.” JJ helps me carefully climb into the back of the truck, and Spencer hops in after me, holding my crutches.

“No bickering, you two,” JJ scolds us both from the shotgun seat. “Sorry, they get along like cats and dogs sometimes.”

“I wanna be the dog,” I whine. “Spencer can be the cat.”

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

JJ helps lift me out of the truck, and I grab my crutches from Spencer.

“What’s happened, John?” A man asks, stopping them and giving me a moment to catch up to them.

“Reverend Paul Burke, this is...I’m sorry, I forgot your names.”

“I’m Agent Jareau, this is Dr Reid and our intern James.”

“They’re with the FBI.”

“FBI? It’s true, then? Adam’s dead?”

“Cherish Hanson’s missing, too.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Actually, yes,” the sheriff answers. “We’re putting together a search party. Could you call the congregation?”

“Of course. I’ll go make some calls.”

“Thanks, Reverend. This way.” We follow sheriff Bridges into the station. “You can use any phone you want, Dr Reid, just dial 9 to get an outside line. I’ve got an emergency phone list back here in my office.” I see Spencer wander off to the corkboard, and so I redirect myself to follow.

“Why is there a football?” I ask.

“Did you play ball?” A boy asks, coming up to us, donning a letterman jacket.

“No,” Spencer scoffs.

“You hold that thing right, or I swear to God-” I reach for the football.

“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have either, if not for my father. I’m Cory.”

“Spencer Reid. This is Jamie, he played.”

“You’re talking about me like I’m dead. I would play, if it wasn’t for these crutches and my three month ban from sports. Who’s that, Nietzsche?” I ask.

“Thus Spake Zarathustra is rather antagonistic of the Judeo-Christian world view for this town, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think too many people here would’ve bothered to read it. If they had, they wouldn’t understand it. Might as well be a Hawking essay on quark theory.”

“People don’t typically read Nietzsche.” I look to Spencer, who laughs to himself.

“Hey, nobody ever got that reference before. Is my father around? The sheriff?”

“He’s in his office with another agent.”

Agent? Hey, uh, Jamie. Why don’t you sit down? You should give that leg a rest,” Cory says, pulling out the closest chair.

“Leg? Am I…” I look down at my legs. “I’m limping again, aren’t I?”

“I didn’t notice. We’re with the FBI, the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“Profilers?” We both nod. “This is mad cool. I got, like a hundred questions I go...wait. Why would FBI profilers be here in McAllister?”

“There was a murder outside of town on the mountain,” Spencer explains.

“A murder?”

“And a girl’s missing.”

“It’s Cherish, son.”

“Cherish Hanson?”

“We’re putting together a search party. I need you to get the rest of the team together and meet us out at the trail about half a mile south of the point.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Spencer, can you get me my drink out of my bag, please? Thank you.” Spencer hands me a bottle of Mountain Dew, and I screw open the bottle and gulp it down.

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

“Man, this is one Peyton place of a town.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Most everyone lives well above the median income of the country. You have doctors, lawyers...one guy owns a bunch of shoe stores up and down the Eastern seaboard.”

“Is he married?”

“Yep. Story of my life, sunshine. Reverend Paul Burke, looks like he became born again in prison.”

“Love that. What was he in for?” I ask.

“Yeah. Two years as a guest of the state of Ohio for embezzlement.”

“JJ, what’s embezzlement?” I ask.

“It’s when people steal money from their jobs.”

“I’m seeing a lot of tax sheltering and various hanky-panky here, but I’m not sure what would suggest potential Satanic cult members. Hold on.”

“You got something?”

“Yeah. I got a guy with a ton of debts, spotty work history, his house is in foreclosure. He’s got a record, too. Assault with a deadly weapon three years ago.”

“Wait, does it say what the weapon was?” JJ asks.

“Baseball bat.”

“Our unsub used a blunt object.”

“Bats are blunt, aren’t they?” I ask.

“What’s this guy’s name?”

“Dent. Henry Dent.”

“Apt name.”

“Jamie, where is he on the list?”

I look over the list of names, quickly finding it. “Grid B-5. That puts him with...Elle. JJ? Should we let her know?”

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

Spencer yawns. “Tired?” Aaron asks.

“I’m fine.”

“We all get them sometimes.”

“Get what?”

“Nightmares.”

Spencer looks straight at me. “I didn’t say anything,” I recount.

“It’s not that bad.”

“If you want to talk about it, you know where I am.” We watch Aaron walk away from us.

“Uh, they’re ready,” JJ says.

“Okay.” I look to the crowd gathering near one end of the station. Wait, when did they start showing up? What?

“When did they show up?”

“Why don’t you catch another nap, we have to deliver the profile.”

“Hell no, I’m not napping right now.”

“Contrary to popular belief,” Aaron begins, “there has never been a proven case of Satanic ritual killing. Never a verified human sacrifice. Having said that, there have been isolated cases of animal sacrifice…and many, many cases of vandalism in the name of Satan.”

“Now, that doesn’t mean that ritual satanism is impossible,” Derek adds. “More importantly, for our purposes, there have been cults that killed, just not in ritual fashion.”

“The Reverend Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple...his followers killed a US congressman and three people before committing mass suicide, leaving over nine hundred people dead.”

“This also happened with the Order of the Solar Temple and Heaven’s Gate, and perhaps the most notorious of the killer cults, the Manson family, they, uh, killed nine people in a four day period in an attempt to initiate a race war,” I cut in, getting up from my chair and onto my crutches.

“Killer cults do exist, and they all have one thing in common. Invariably, they’re headed by charismatic megalomaniacs.”

“You’re looking for that leader. He’s who will stand out. He’ll be memorable to somebody, people who aren’t in his group will see him as strange, weird, scary.”

“Since we’re dealing with professed Satanists, which is often practiced by younger males, we may be looking for teenagers. Heavy metal music is often associated with satanism, and these kids and their leader may reflect that in their look.”

“Most likely, there’ll be sex, drugs, and alcohol. Now, the leader, he’ll be older. It’s part of his charm.”

“And he is from this area. He’s definitely local. These woods are too thick and confusing for a visitor to get around in.”

“You think one of our own people is doing this?” An officer asks.

“I believe that anything is possible,” I simply answer.

“I would know if someone was capable of doing -”

“Dad. I know somebody like that,” Cory says.

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

“His name’s Mike Zizzo. He graduated about five years ago. He’s in his twenties, but he still hangs out with high school kids. He’s got a group of them. They follow him everywhere. They all get high and listen to heavy metal. He calls them the Lords of Destruction.”

“LOD,” Spencer and I say in unison before staring at each other.

“How do you know this, Cory?” Silence. “It’s alright, son.”

“I’ve been there, where they hang out drinking beers. He talks about Satan all the time. Says he’s the one true God.”

“Where is this place?” Uncle Jason asks.

“On the other side of the mountain. The old Jenson house.”

“It’s out of my jurisdiction.”

“Not ours. We’re federal.” I look up to see Spencer, Jason, and Aaron get ready to leave.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“It’s okay to let loose once in a while, Cory,” I say.

“It’s alright, son,” the reverend says, and I walk myself out of the office and station, seeing the team load up into the SUVs. Uncle Jason stands outside of one, and I head over as fast as I can.

“What’s going on?” I ask, turning to where Uncle Jason is looking, a girl stands on the other side of the road, staring at us. She watches the SUVs drive off, lights blaring, and I turn my attention back to find Uncle Jason crossing the road to get to her. God, what is with you people? Move slower, all of you! Fucking assholes.

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

I look around and inwardly groan at the fact that I had followed Jason into a church. Of all the fucking places? A church? He unwraps his scarf from around his neck and sits in the front pew, next to a silent girl. Ignore the pain, ignore the pain.

“Do you believe in God?” She asks, I stop next to the pew behind them, gulping and ignoring the sharp pains in my chest.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you believe in God?” She asks again.

“Yes.”

“How about the Devil?” I look away, taking in how red the interior of the church is. Why is it so red in here? “You’re one of the FBI agents, aren’t you?”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Do you think God is vengeful?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t think he punishes us?” Well, I have a lot of reasons to be punished, if that was the case.

“After Hurricane Katrina, I read some essays by religious scholars. One writer said God was punishing America for its immorality. New Orleans was a wicked city, like Sodom and Gomorrah. Another one, a priest from New Orleans, he thought the hurricane was proof of God’s love.” Sure, show them you love them by killing them. Nothing like sending a fucking hurricane to prove your undying love. “Those levees didn’t break until after the storm was over. If they’d broken sooner, thousands would’ve died. So...I guess the answer to your question depends on whether or not you think you have something to be punished for.” Uncle Jason looks past her and right at me. I hate you so much.

“My friend Cherish...she’s missing. And it’s my fault. The skeleton under the tree, he died a year ago. He fell off the trail, cracked his head open. He was just some tourist or something.”

“How do you know that?”

“We went to see the body all the time. We watched it decompose.”

“Who did?”

“We did. Everybody, the whole group. At first, we were just curious, you know? We’d go, a couple of us at a time, show each other. None of us had ever seen a dead body before. And then it kind of became our thing.” Uncle Jason nods along. “Something we had that our parents didn’t know about. It was ours.”

“This was a human being.”

“I told you that we’re being punished.”

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

“I’ve been with Brandi Dreifort. Do you know her?”

“Yeah. She’s a friend of my son’s.”

“She’s a friend of Cherish’s, too.”

“And?”

“They all knew about that skeleton,” I cut in.

“Who did?” Sheriff Bridges asks.

“The kids. Football team, cheerleaders, everyone. They all watched him decompose...like a game…”

“What?” Elle aks.

“Far as I can tell, the only kids in the area who didn’t know were Mike Zizzo and the LOD.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Sounds impossible, it’s unbelievable, but she told Jason all about it. Guy was a...a hiker. He’s probably listed, missing person somewhere…”

“How do you know the LOD wasn’t involved?”

“She said the pentagram and the candles, they weren’t there a few months ago.”

“Which means?”

“Someone’s framing the LOD. Somebody wanted us to believe there were Satanists here.” I answer.

“Jamie, you should sit down. You’ve been up a while-”

“No, no, no, I got more. Unsubs like to...insert themselves into investigations. Who gave us the LOD? Who gave us Zizzo?”

“You’re talking about Cory?”

“Con...con...convin...convien…”

“It was convienent, wasn’t it? Lucky we had a kid right in the room who could tell us where the LOD was. A group of fringe kids nobody in the town would like.”

“But-”

“You called us here to advise you. My advice would be to get in front of this before yourson hurts himself or anybody else. You know where he is, Sheriff?”

“He went up to the Jenson house to see if your guys found anything on Cherish.”

“Morgan and Reid are out there right now.”

“Hey, Sheriff. DId you open the gun locker?” An officer asks.

“No.”

“Someone did. There’s a revolver missing.”

“Cory,” I solemnly answer.

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

I stare at Spencer, who just zones off at the wall behind me. “Stop staring at me, Spencer,” I whine. “I can’t exactly go anywhere without the damn crutches.”

“Reid,” Uncle Jason says, bringing the beanpole’s attention back to reality. “Deborah Louise Addison. Her husband Tim. The kids are Amber and Kieth. Eight and six. In 1985, Deborah Louise was walking home from school. She was abducted. She was thirteen. We profiled the unsub, and we were able to locate her before he harmed her. She writes a letter to the BAU every year. She updates us on her life.”

“It’s nice, but -”

“We all have bad dreams. Everyone on the plane. Even Jamie. Jamie, do you remember that one recurring dream where Hotch’s neighbour killed you and your dog?”

“No?”

“Who wouldn’t have nightmares? We hunt the worst of humanity, we see the depths of depravity, we dream of monsters…”

“Inmy dream, there’s a baby in the middle fo a circle and there’s someone on the other side. And I can’t get to her before…”

“Every night I look at Deborah, helps me go to sleep thinking of the victims we’ve saved. We don’t always beat the monsters to the babies, but we do enough to make the job worth it, keep the nightmares bearable. Jamie, you should catch some sleep before we land. I’ll take you straight home to your dad.” I nod and lay my head down in his lap, staring at blurry pictures of my friends from the last play we were in.

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“Your show sounds lovely. I’m sure if you tell Jordan how much you want to be in the show, then he’ll find a way for you to be in it,” Jason advises as he pulls into my dad’s mansion driveway, driving me up to the front door.

“Jason? What if nothing ever goes back to the way it was?” I ask. “What if I’m stuck on these stupid crutches forever? I’d have to rethink everything-”

“We’ll take it a day at a time, remember?” He cuts me off immediately. “I’ve known you all your life. You have tendencies to over worry about things. It’s going to work out okay.”

“Will it? I can’t go back into school until next semester, I lost my hair again, I lost all of my activities. I can’t even watch music videos without getting a massive headache. All I want to do is everything I’m not allowed to do! It’s so fuck-”

“Don’t. Your fracture is still healing.”

“I can’t even get my anger out, cause I’m not allowed to box or wrestle! Fuck this!”

“Jamie, Jamie. I need you to look at me right now.” Jason rotates my head towards him. “You’re allowed to be mad about this. You are a fighter. You overcame a cancer scare, numerous spinal injuries and concussions. Your conditions don’t hold you back. Just because you’re going through a set back doesn’t mean it’s time to give up. Come on, I’ll walk you in and put you to bed if you want.” Jason climbs out of the drivers’ seat and rounds the front to help me onto my feet and position my crutches so I can use them. “I think you worked yourself too hard, and you should rest some more.” I groan in pain, wincing at the throbbing in my head.

“Headache?” I nod weakly.

“Here, I can carry you in,” Uncle Jason offers, swinging an arm under my knees and sweeping me into his arms with a groan. “You’re getting too big for me to carry you.”

“Mio bel ragazzo,” I hear Dad exclaim from up ahead.

“Dad,” I quietly answer back with a smile.

“He tired himself out. Headache right now, Spencer almost tripped him a few times.” I hear Dad groan as a door closes, and dogs start barking. “Oscar, Mudgie, down,” Dad commands. “Go put him in bed, I’ll get his medication ready.” I nuzzle my head into Jason’s warm chest and whine, scrunching my face as the throbbing gets worse.

“I know, I know. You’ll be in bed soon.” It feels like a lifetime before I feel my mattress dipping under me, my soft covers enveloping me. “There. Your dad’s gonna be up soon.” I hear a dog whine as I bury my head into the bed. “Here you go, Oscar. Cuddle up nice and tight, will you? Here’s your blankie and your turtle.” I make my grabbie hands as the items are handed to me, Jason wraps me in my favourite bright green blanket and puts my turtle into my arms. I nestle my head into the crook of the turtle’s neck, squeezing it tightly against my chest. Rough fingers run gently through my hair as I feel a small dog walking up and starting to lick my neck.

“Oscar…” I whine. Jason chuckles as my pup moves to lay on my stomach.

“Goodnight, Jamie. Your dad’s here now.”

“Daddy…” I mumble, pouting my chapped lip.

“Here, it’s time for your meds,” Dad whispers, gently helping make sure I don’t choke on pills or water. “There you go. That’s my boy.” I smile, breathing deeply and gently opening my eyes as Dad plays with my hair. “You must have tired yourself out, huh?”

“Daddy...stay…” I reach out, grabbing his rough yet gentle hand.

“Of course. Anything for you, ragazzo.” My other hand rests on Oscar’s soft curly hair, my thumb gently cascading the soft, gentle skin. “Sssh, it’s okay. You can sleep now. I won’t go.”

“Hol...hol...hol me…” I murmur.

“You want me in bed with you?”

I gently nod.

“Okay. I’ll be right back, I just have to get ready for bed. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Ti amo.”

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⁂ Echo [o3/o3] (Daniel Bryan)

◂Previous

Author’s Note: So, when I was looking up information for the ending of this part, I realized that the day I originally posted it was his birthday which seems hella whack and coincidental, but I certainly didn’t plan it that way.

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“I’m fly like I’m killing the scene like, I’m a villain with wings. I’ll sleep when I’m 6 feet deep. Right now I’m living a dream, Though we may be reckless.”

When Kyle finally got over his shock, he removed himself from the top of the pile, allowing you to move, as well. You then helped Jericho to his feet.

“Sorry about that,” Kyle apologized, bowing lightly.

“It’s fine.” he responded, looking down at you both – he stood just a foot taller. “I saw you both in the ring.”

You glanced at each other, wondering what he had planned. If he decided to turn you in, you could easily take him down but the time it would take to do so would give the perfect opportunity for someone else to come along and subdue you. And if he tries it, you were fully prepared to take off. He may be strong, but there’s no way he could catch you if you took off running.

“Relax. I’m not turning you in.” he smirked, folding his arms over his bare chest, “You both did a pretty good job on kicking the Nexus’ ass.” he paused, “If you’re looking for the exit, it’s that way.” he turned to the side, pointing down the hallway from which he had just come, “Go straight down, you’ll pass about three other hallways. The fourth one is the one you go down.”

You looked at each other again.

Kyle leaned closer to you, holding his hand in front of his mouth. “Could be a trap… what do you wanna do, Y/N?”

You shrugged, “Since he gave me a soda earlier, I’m willin’ to trust ’em.”

Jericho raised an eyebrow and Kyle clarified, “Y/N is addicted to soda. Anyone who gets them a soda is basically good in their book. Anyway, thanks for the help!”

Chris’s laughter could be heard as you followed his directions down the hall, walking at a leisurely pace. After all, why not enjoy the peace while you had it? Soon enough, you’d be running again. Now’s the time to save energy.

“I wonder if this is a dream.” Kyle mused.

“The hell are you on about now?”

“Well, this has to be a dream, right? I mean, this kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life! If it wasn’t a dream, we would have been caught the minute we entered the ring. We wouldn’t have met Sheamus or Jericho, or argued with Barrett. You never would have gotten a soda from Jericho and we would have been caught by now! It has to be a dream.”

“There’s an easy way to tell if it is or not.”

“Really? How?” he questioned, looking over at you curiously.

“In dreams, you can’t feel pain.”

“So?”

You waited until he had walked a little ahead of you before bringing your foot up and kicking him hard in the back of the head like a soccer player does when hitting a soccer ball. Kyle yelped loudly, the sound echoing through the empty corridor.

“Ouch! What the hell was that for?!”

“It hurt, right?” you asked simply, beginning to walk again.

He blinked, following after you slowly. “Ohh! I get it! The fact that it hurt means that I’m… I’m not… dreaming…” he paused, stopping in the middle of the floor. You stopped as well, turning around to look at him. His eyes widened, “Holy shit! I’M NOT DREAMING!”

“You’re going to get us caught if you keep yelling like that. Idiot.”

“Ohpe!” he clamped both of his hands over his mouth and laughed sheepishly.

“Let’s just get out of here,” you muttered. As cool as it was meeting with the wrestler’s of Raw, there was one that you wouldn’t too thrilled to run into. You weren’t sure if he was actually there tonight or not, but you didn’t want to find out. And if he saw the match like the others did, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll be looking for you. It’s been a long time since you saw him last and you’d like to keep it that way.

“Aren’t you even the least bit excited?” Kyle prodded, poking your arm. “I mean, this is a once in a lifetime chance. We should enjoy it!”

“Maybe,”

“What are you hiding?” he pouted, poking you harder. “You’re hiding something!”

“I am not,”

“Are so!”

“Not,”

“Are so!”

“Real mature, guys.”

“Who the hell asked… you…” you trailed off when you realized who was now standing in front of you.

Adam Copeland, better known as the Rated R Superstar Edge, was standing there, a smile on his face. He was dressed in normal clothes, consisting of a pair of jeans and a black form-fitting t-shirt. You had met Adam a couple years ago but you weren’t so sure you could be considered friends. It was more of an acquaintance/partner type thing since you had banded together to beat the shit out of a few gangsters on the street. You were surprised he still remembered you.

“Edge!” Kyle grinned, “Been a while, huh?”

“Yeah,” he glanced at what Kyle was wearing and couldn’t help but grin. “A fan, huh?”

“Teehee,” Kyle rubbed the back of his head, smiling sheepishly, “Yeah.”

“Weren’t you traded to Smackdown ’cause you pissed the GM off?” you questioned, cocking your head to the side.

Edge chuckled, moving closer. “All this time and that’s the first thing you say to me? Cold.” he paused, “Yes, I was traded to Smackdown but that doesn’t mean I can’t come and enjoy the show. And tonight… well, it was interesting. You guys are still kicking ass as hard as before.”

“Of course!” Kyle grinned proudly, sticking out his chest, “‘Cept we kick it even harder now! We could so own you, Edge!”

“Oh, is that right?” Edge smirked, “I’ll have to keep that one in mind.” he paused, “Figures you haven’t been caught yet but, for the record, the security guards aren’t the only ones lookin’ for ya.”

“Who else?” Kyle asked cautiously, glancing at you as he did so.

“Nexus, for one. You really pissed them off. Plus Cena, Orton, Miz, and his sidekick.”

“I told you this was a bad idea!” Kyle whined, hitting your arm and jutting out his bottom lip.

You glared at him, pushing him away. “It was your idea! If it wasn’t for you, I never would have been here, to begin with! Besides, what happened to ‘enjoy it while it lasts’ and ‘it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity’?”

“That’s taken out of context!”

“My ass it is!”

Edge’s laughter broke up the argument and you turned to glare at him.

“You brats haven’t changed a bit!” he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you both into him. “I’m getting flashbacks of the last time we met. Good times.”

“We did have pretty good teamwork.” you mused, looking off to the side, hand on your chin.

“That’s because you’re so much alike!” Kyle commented as if he had all the knowledge in the world.

“And how’s that?” Edge was curious.

Kyle pulled away, moving to stand in front of the two of you with his index finger in the air, “It’s simple. Y/N,” his finger moved to point at you, “is a bitch. Edge,” it moved to the Rated R Superstar, “is an asshole. See? It’s fitting.”

Edge glanced at you, “Now I remember. You were the annoying one that I wanted to smash into a brick wall.”

“See? See?! That’s the Rated R-Asshole coming through!”

“Can I hit him?”

“By all means, please do.”

“Nooooo! I’m too young to die!” Kyle cried, dodging Edge’s hands and running down the hall. You and Edge took pursuit, running after him. It didn’t take long for Kyle to be stopped, but it wasn’t by your hand. No, it was by a six-foot, one inch tall bright orange wall, causing him to hit the floor. “Uh-oh…”

“We’re screwed,” you muttered, looking first at John Cena, who towered over Kyle’s sitting form, arms crossed over his chest and face blank. To his right was Randy Orton, still in his wrestling gear.

“I’m not a part of this,” Edge commented, holding his hands up in surrender before glancing at you.

“Gee thanks!” Kyle stuck his tongue out at him.

“Nice to know we can count on ya, Adam.” you rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to hit him.

He grinned, “I know, right?”

“You traitor!” Kyle whined, slowly getting to his feet.

“I’m not involved in this,” he responded, shrugging and looking away.

“W-What…” Kyle cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile, “What are you going to do to us, Mr. Cena… sir?”

“You’re coming with us,” he answered simply, grabbing Kyle’s arm, dragging him away.

The Viper lifted to fingers and motioned for you to follow.

With a sigh, you waved at Adam before following the apex predator. When you passed him, he grabbed your shoulder to make sure you didn’t run. You glanced at his six-foot, four-inch frame and scowled. Of all the enemies to make, it just had to be the viper.

“Hey, Kyle?” you called, despite the warning look for the wrestler at your side.

“Yeah?” he glanced over his shoulder, a questioning look on his face.

“We have a really bad taste in enemies. We always get the most troublesome ones.”

“There you go, stealing from Shikamaru again!”

“Oh for the love of… will you come off that, already?”

“Not until you admit that you stole it!”

“I borrowed it, dipshit. There’s a difference.”

“Same difference.”

“You act as if I’ve said it’s my own.”

“You never said it wasn’t. That’s the problem!”

“Be quiet,” Randy growled, his eyes narrowed at you.

“He’s biting you first,” Kyle muttered under his breath.

“He’s not Hibari Kyoya.” you scoffed, folding your arms and looking away.

After a few more twists and turns, you arrived at Cena’s dressing room. Once inside, the Viper locked the door and the two turned to face you.

“Y/N!” Kyle whispered harshly, grabbing ahold of your arm, “They’re going to kill us and hide our bodies in here! They’ll probably sell our body parts on the black market!”

You pulled away from him, staring at him blankly. “The fuck have you been watching, man?”

“CSI, Law and Order, Bones, NCIS.” As he mentioned each name, he counted them on his fingers.

You shook your head, slapping your forehead and muttering an idiot under your breath.

“We’re not gonna hurt you,” John spoke up, sending a strange look to Kyle, who was still naming off crime shows he’s watched.

“Eh?” he froze, “Then why’d you bring us here?”

“We wanted to thank you, actually.”

“Thank us?”

“There’s not many people out there willing to stand up to Nexus. But now you’ve made them your enemy.”

“They were our enemies the day they started attacking our boys,” you growled, glaring at the wall.

Kyle nodded in agreement, “That’s right! We may like a few of the Nexus members… for weird reasons,” he glanced at you, “But when it comes down to it, we have to pick our boys over them!”

“And your boys would be…?” John raised an eyebrow, glancing at the merch that you both wore.

“You and Randy Orton, of course!” Kyle grinned since he was wearing the most Cena gear.

“The Miz and his leach,”

“Chris Jericho,”

“King Sheamus,”

“You don’t have to say king every time, idiot.” you rolled your eyes. “John Morrison.”

“And the Big Show! And yes, I do! It’s out of respect, which you know nothing about!”

“We did count Edge, too, but not anymore,” you smirked, glancing at Kyle.

He nodded in agreement, “Traitor~!”

John grinned, “Alright then. What’re your names?”

“Kyle!” he grinned, holding his hand out. When John accepted, he began to shake it wildly, “Big fan, man!”

“I can tell,” he chuckled.

“And this bitchy little thing here is – ”

Before he could finish his sentence, you kicked him in the back of the head, sending him to the floor. With your foot still on his head, you grinned. “The what now? I couldn’t quite catch that.” Kyle hit the floor, no doubt calling out a various string of cuss words that couldn’t be understood thanks to said floor. “Name’s Y/N,”

“Not the friendly one, huh?”

“Meh,” you shrugged, looking off to the side. Kyle smacked the floor with his hand and you looked down at him, a fake surprised look on your face. “Oh! I forgot you were there. My bad.”

“Yeah right! You’re such a bitch!” he whined, rubbing his face and pouting.

You shrugged, “So’s life. Not like complainin’ is gonna do anything.”

“I like both of you.” Cena caught your attention with the smug look on his face, “What do you say to joining me in the fight against Nexus?”

You didn’t even have to glance at each other. Kyle was already running forward, standing just inches away from Cena with sparkles in his eyes, “Can we?! Can we, really?!”

“Hold it,” you grabbed the back of his hoodie, forcing him back roughly. “What does this entail, exactly? Would we be apart of the WWE?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t arrange that, but you can still work on the sidelines for me.”

“Good. Becoming part of the WWE wasn’t really in my plans for today. Then again, neither was coming here, to begin with…” you trailed off.

“Oh, will you let it go?” Kyle whined, sticking his tongue out.

“No. I will never let it go because I will never get my six hours of sleep back!”

“Do you two always go at it like this?”

“Sometimes.” “Always.”

You glared at each other.

“You’ll be traveling with us,” Randy spoke for the first time, though he still looked angry. Then again, he always looked angry.

“I’ll arrange your hotel stay and everything else.” John added, “By the way, I don’t know why, but the Miz is looking for you. The Nexus is, to, so be careful.”

“I’ll inform the security guards of the situation.” Randy turned around and left the room.

“With that said, do what you want. Just stay out of trouble, avoid the Nexus, and don’t damage anything.” John nodded to you before taking his own leave.

“Waaahhhh, this is so COOL!” Kyle cried, falling onto the couch, “Can this get any better?!”

“Wanna go see the Miz?”

“It just got better!”

“That’s a yes, then?” you walked out the door, Kyle hot on your heels. Of course, you had no clue where to find him but walking around aimlessly usually works, so why not?

“Maybe we can ask someone this time…? I mean, John and Randy are working everything out, so we can ask now, right?”

You shrugged, “Ask someone and find out.”

“Alright!”

Before you could stop him, Kyle approached two men on the other side of the room. This man was wearing light blue jeans, a long-sleeved dark gray vest hiding the long-sleeved sky blue flannel shirt, but it poked out at the cuffs and collar. He wore casual black and white sneakers on his feet. The man he was speaking to stood a foot taller, wearing a loose sleeveless shirt and blue jeans.

By the time you realized who this man was, it was already too late. You tried to reach out and grab Kyle, but he was already at the man’s side, tapping his shoulder. He glanced at him before saying something to the taller of the two, who then walked away. Turning around, he looked down at Kyle, standing at five feet, ten inches; the facial hair only confirmed it.

You backed away slowly, hoping to remain unnoticed. Hopefully, Kyle will ask him what he wanted to know, said man would give directions, and you’d walk away without him noticing.

Kyle spoke to him and the man nodded every few minutes to show he was listening. You strained to hear what they were saying, hoping that Kyle didn’t mention you, but you were too far away to hear anything. You were in a large area, connected to three or four different hallways, which gave you enough space to stay away from the man. You looked off to the side, finally taking your eyes off of him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Kyle motion with his arm towards you, turning the man’s attention your way. With the small hope that he would not recognize you, your eyes stayed on anything and everything but him.

His eyes widened in recognition and you fought the oh so strong urge to facepalm; leave it to Kyle to ruin your plans.

“And this is my bitchy best friend, Y/ – ”

You held your fist up, eyes closed to control your annoyance. You hit him hard in the back of the head, sending him to his knees with a whine.

“And you wonder why I have so much brain damage!”

“If you didn’t say stupid shit, you wouldn’t get hit.” you paused, “And, actually, no. I’ve never wondered that.”

“Wow, really?”

“I just figured you were dropped multiple times as a child.”

“Hey!… that’s true, but still… hey!”

You shrugged, looking away from him. Maybe if you pretended like you didn’t recognize the male, he’d let it go. “Did you find out where Miz is?”

“Oh, right!” Kyle sprung up, a grin on his face. He formed a V with his index and middle finger, “Sure did!”

“Great. Let’s go then.”

Before you could take a full step, the man reached out and grabbed ahold of your arm, readjusting his WWE United States championship belt on his shoulder. “After all this time, you don’t have a thing to say to me?”

Kyle blinked, looking between you both with a questioning look, “You two know each other?”

“We do,” his grip tightened.

“Y/N… how do you know Daniel Bryan?”

You glanced at him and shrugged, trying to pull your arm free of his grasp. You scowled at his hand when his grip tightened. “He’s my brother.”

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rckfllrs-blog · 5 years

Photo

☁ * ⋆ : aw, look at this photo! it’s ORION ROCKEFELLER with their family! they’re an ARCHITECT, right? this photo must have been before HIS SON WAS BORN, but after HE RENOVATED ROCKEFELLER MANOR. i heard that when they were younger, they used to DRAW/PAINT – i can’t imagine them doing that now! man… i wonder if their family knows they ARE SUFFERING FROM UNDIAGNOSED PTSD. ( c, 18, pst. )

hellllooo everybody! i’m c ( the shawn mendes mascot on the main ) and this is my dorito of a muse, orion rockefeller. i’ve been working him up in my mind ever since we started working on goldstone and i am so freakin’ hyped to be able to finally write him with u all <3 so pls, keep reading for some info about him! ( and buckle up, bc it’s kind of a wild ride! )

tw: death, mentions of ptsd.

orion was born on february 14th, 1979 which makes him an aquarius, and also a valentine’s day baby

he's a GIANT goofball. ever since college, he's always been sort of a social butterfly and a people pleaser

genuinely one of the most caring people on the planet??? as a kid he'd get into fights with bullies who were picking on the smaller kids

has the DEEPEST divide between his private and public life. even his own son is mostly unaware of his childhood/background

he's an architect, and designs buildings/infrastructures for communities and stuff like that. he's won tons of awards for his work and travels a lot for conferences and things like that

his mother passed away during childbirth, so he never got to meet her, but her name was emily rockefeller ( originally adams ) and from what his father told him about her, she was a lovely, kind, but passionate woman and she would’ve loved him fiercely. ( his father also often told orion when he was being particularly stubborn that orion reminded him of emily, and that he has her eyes. )

his father was james “jimmy” rockefeller, a decorated US airforce pilot. he was also a descendant of the rockefeller family ( if you’re not from america/not too versed in american history, the rockefellers are considered the richest family in american history — john d. rockefeller was a stupid wealthy man! )

growing up without a mother was difficult, but he and his father were extremely close, and james made sure that he was close with his mother’s family, especially her sister and her parents. as for his paternal family, he didn’t know much about them growing up, besides the fact that he’s distantly related to america’s first millionaire. he was also pretty close with a lot of his father’s friends from the military and their children as well.

orion had a relatively normal childhood, save for the slight melancholy around mother’s day every year. his father did his best to deter him from any sort of toxic masculinity, and made sure he was getting the best education possible. when his father was away on assignment, he was usually in the care of his mother’s sister. he rarely got into trouble at school except for the occasional fight when he’d stick up for the smaller kids who were getting picked on.

his father was rarely away on assignment, maybe only once or twice, and when he was he usually returned within a few months. in the summer of 1990, he was deployed to iraq to serve in the gulf war, and he promised orion it would be his last deployment.

in february 1991, when orion was about to turn twelve, his aunt picked him up early from school one day, and said they were going to see one of his father’s military friends. orion thought it was odd, but he wasn’t going to complain — what kid doesn’t want to leave school early? when he got there, the home was full of people he didn’t recognize, all with solemn looks on their faces. his aunt had to turn away as they bore the news.

that afternoon, one week before he turned twelve, orion learned that his father had passed away. he was spared the details, but learned later in life that the plane he’d been piloting had been shot down in a freak ambush.

orion doesn’t remember much of the next few years of his life. they were a blur of a young boy learning how to mourn all over again, and trying to grow up at the same time. at first, he was placed with his mother’s sister, but as a traveling artist, she was deemed unfit to care for him. he was then sent to a distant uncle on his father’s side somewhere in rural Iowa who treated him like he wasn’t even there. orion attempted to run away twice, and succeeded on his third try when he made it all the way to chicago. he survived there, somehow, for a few weeks before he was found by a few federal agents — lo and behold, his uncle ( who probably wasn’t even his uncle, but orion doesn’t remember ) refused to take him back. so, orion, at the age of fourteen, was put in the foster care system.

on paper, nobody would’ve wanted him. riddled with the deaths of his parents and a habit of running away, coupled with the fact that he missed the “desirable adoption age” by about thirteen and a half years, most people didn’t even want to try. the ones that did, decided he would be too difficult to handle after they met him and saw the cold isolation in his eyes, and the stubborn set to his jaw.

he was moved from foster family to foster family over the next four years, all over california, and had been re-placed five times by his eighteenth birthday. but all the while, he managed to get through school and save as much money as he could, selling five-minute portraits in downtown LA and getting small gig jobs here and there. by the time he turned eighteen, he was determined to have enough to go to college — or at least move out on his own and finally do something on his own volition for once.

little did he know, someone would come knocking on his foster home’s door asking for him a few days after he turned eighteen. they represented the rockefeller estate, and they wanted to have a chat with him about his father.

james had left him his entire estate. all of it. every penny, everything he’d ever owned, all of his mother’s belongings — and on top of it all, the massive manor passed down through the rockefeller family located just at the edge of goldstone, california. his hometown.

he used some ( a relatively small portion ) of the money to accept his offer at university of california, san diego as an architecture major, and was at the top of his class there all the way up until he graduated as part of the class of 2001.

in his junior year of college, like any other guy, he slept around a bit, and thought nothing of it — up until a girl he’d slept with months ago approached him in the middle of his senior year and told him she was pregnant. she didn’t want to keep it, but it was also too late to terminate the pregnancy, so she was thinking of putting the baby up for adoption. immediately, memories of his entire adolescence flooded back to him, and he begged her not to — instantly, he offered to take full custody of the child, and she could visit whenever she wanted, if she wanted to at all. she agreed, and lo and behold, branwen rockefeller was born. ( he named him branwen after somebody his father had told him about when he was a kid — he doesn’t remember the story, or if he was related to him, but he remembered the name. )

he then went on to pursue a masters in architecture, and his main project was actually renovating the rockefeller manor — obviously, after 22 years of being owned by a bank, and many years before that of no upkeep, it needed some renovation. orion spent his entire MA studies renovating it and actually presented the whole process to receive his masters degree, which he did.

he spent the next few years traveling — with branwen by his side, they’d stay in goldstone for most of the school year, but every chance they’d get to take a vacation, orion would take them somewhere he’d always wanted to go as a kid.

finally, in 2014, when branwen was starting high school, orion figured it would be a good time to completely settle down in goldstone, stop travelling so much and pour his attention into the one thing he’d left unfinished — the manor. it wasn’t unfinished from a construction perspective — it was stunning actually, fully furnished with a gym, a home theater, countless bedrooms, and fully ready to be lived in — but for orion, there was one thing he’d always wanted to do when the timing was right: give kids who felt lost a place to call home. give kids who were like him, back in the day, a place to call home.

so that’s what he did. he spent months gathering the proper licensing and credentials to finally open rockefeller manor to the public. he’s a licensed social worker now, and rockefeller manor offers a place to stay to anybody between the ages of fourteen and twenty one, so long as they display a significant need for help. ( orion often ends up taking the “tougher cases” — the ones with nowhere else to go. and sometimes, kids just show up on their own, nobody to represent them — and who is he to turn them down? )

now, he divides his time between architectural projects for work ( he’s designed countless buildings all over southern california, and is incredibly busy designing new projects all the time ) and taking care of the manor, whether that be the kids that live in it or the building itself.

( as for his secret, he’s experienced symptoms of ptsd ever since his dad passed, but never really knew what it was. it worsened when he began moving around, unable to ever really call one place home, and now that he’s completely boxed away the memories of his adolescence, he’s completely compartmentalized it and honestly made it worse whenever he does get around to thinking about what he’s been through. he’s also never told anybody about his background -- the furthest he’ll go is that his father was an air force pilot, and he grew up in goldstone. he’s always just tried to push through it and ignore it, but when he’s under significant stress or there’s a lot on his plate, he’ll tend to shut down or even spiral into a panic attack. he keeps himself so busy because he can’t be by himself for too long, as his past has drilled into him an innate fear of being alone. during these episodes, he’ll often shut himself in his office with the door locked until it passes, terrified that one of the kids will see him like this — too stubborn to let any of them, especially the ones who look up to him, see him as weak. )

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

obvs, the kids from the rockefeller manor !! he's definitely a parental/paternal figure to them and runs a pretty tight ship to keep everybody in line, but he also knows when it's time to just let them be.

childhood friends?? he lived in goldstone until he was twelve and then disappeared after his father passed until he was in his thirties, essentially. so it would be interesting if there was somebody who knew him as a kid and can see the huge difference in him now (he used to be really irreverent and rambunctious and is now a Certified Gentleman)

his personal assistant !! this one is on the wc page on the main, but he has an assistant that helps him organize his work as an architect. they're probably the closest person to him other than his own son, so maybe they've caught glimpses of his ptsd episodes??

friends!!! he def has a lot of friends around town, he's a pretty familiar face throughout goldstone

perhaps??? a past love interest??? he swore himself off from dating after he had branwen, at least for a while, bc he wanted to focus on being a dad and taking care of the manor, but uh .... love doesn't work like that buddy pal ! hehe

literally anything else i am a heaux for plots

#goldstoneintro #this got ... agregiously long !#i apologize #it's also very sad #am sorry

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isobel-thorm · 5 years

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So @zacklover24 requested John/Nic/Sharky smut. Took me a week but here it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Just Found Heaven

Sharky Boshaw wasn’t exactly sure how he had ended up literally in bed with the his best friend and her former-herald beau, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

A few months ago it had been Nic’s thirty first birthday, there had been booze and a Weird Conversation about her and John’s sexual experiences in college and Sharky’s own experiences from that age range, and they had gone down a path about sharing partners and the next thing he had known his best friend was sandwiched between him and her boyfriend/husband/whatever,- they were ‘loosely common law married’ now, whatever the fuck that meant, married was married- there was a hand down his pants and teeth on his neck, and a few minutes later he had one of the best fucking orgasms of his fucking life. The second time he had fallen into bed with them, he had walked in on them fucking. Nic was wound up and feeling adventurous enough to have him stay and then join in. He got to prove that he wasn’t lying about his skills about going down on a woman, and she got to prove that his comparison between womens’ downstairs post-birth and quicksand wasn’t true across the board. The third time, he had been feeling especially down and lonely because bunker life was getting to him, and John and Nic had found him in that state, done that couple-y silent communication bullshit they were so fucking good at, and then pounced. Nic had been very adamant that they were always there for him after the fact. John was more a silent observer, but he had given Sharky’s arm a surprisingly gentle squeeze when he was stroking Nic’s back, and he had also voiced the assurance that “you know full well that you wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like or trust you with my wife, and besides, what the lady wants, she gets.” Sharky couldn’t really argue there. So that night, when Nic showed up in their dorm and gave Sharky That look, he was pretty relieved Grandpa Earl had come to intercept baby Cal an hour before. There were only so many more times he could dangle his car keys in front of the kiddo before the kid got bored. He had opened his mouth to make a joke about that to her, but she was on him a second later, a little more rough than usual, shoving him against the wall and tangling her fingers in his hoodie that she had started to insist was theirs a little while ago. She kissed him soundly, and Sharky happily returned it. There was a creak and a click behind them and Sharky looked up to see John just inside the entryway, locking the door behind him. “Shit, y’all are serious today.” “Not serious, just want you all to ourselves.” Sharky went to say something again when Nic pulled up on his hoodie to make a point that he fully understood. “Yeah, shuttling up now.” She laughed at that then gave him a reassuring kiss before she pulled her shirt over her head, and whatever Sharky was going to say was drown out by his brain only supplying “boobs” as a thought process for a few seconds. And then she had gotten to undoing his belt and sunk down for a second- holy shit- and then John just standing there watching but eyeing them like a good meal was enough to derail that particular thought process. “Hey man, you okay over there? ‘Cause I feel like-“ he let out a startled little keen when Nic took all of him in her mouth in one go; “hooo, okay, point made again. Jesus.” John approached them slowly with an extremely calculated walk, and Sharky found that far hotter than he probably should have. Sure, the guy had a rockin’ bod and face and everything, but Sharky had never been into how people walked. Stupid fuckin’ Seeds and their fuckin’ mind game powers. Even if John wasn’t exactly a Seed anymore and he was on their side but he still had those powers in him and - Nic did something absolutely amazing with her tongue and his thoughts got derailed again and he tried hard not to buck into her mouth too much. “Distracted, Charlemagne?” John practically purred directly into his ear- when the fuck had he made it across the room? Stupid brain distracting him. And then Nic another thing with her tongue that had his brain spinning. “Nope, no problem, not here, no, just-“ Nic sucked and he straight up whined- “bed, holy shit, bed,” he insisted. John did that little predatory smile of his that was probably terrifying in any other circumstance but unfairly sexy at the same time. When they locked eyes Sharky finally got why Nic had gone on for minutes describing what was undoubtedly that same look he had given her during her failed Confession years ago when they were enemies. He could definitely understand why she couldn’t look away. He was going have to apologize to her for judging her on that one, because holy shit, he was just as fucking hypnotized. Christ, has known for years that John was the glaring exception when it came to him not being that into dudes, but he would do anything for John if he gave them that look. How had Nic not just immediately agreed to anything the man said when she was strapped to that chair back then- no, not the time, Boshaw. John’s mouth on his neck was enough to deter his thoughts again again. Yeah, he definitely understood how John was a master manipulator. “Bed,” he forced out again. Nic pulled off of him, and he groaned at that loss until Nic and John had started to yank the rest of his clothes off and he scrambled to do the same to them. He wasn’t sure how the Hell they made it across the room and to the beds, but the second the backs of his knees hit the edge of one and he fell back, he caught himself and found that one or both of them had already pushed their and his beds together. Oh, they planned this one. That was new. Nic bent to kiss him and straddled his hips, and John nudged one of Sharky’s legs over so he could get settled behind them. They weren’t wasting time, either. She ground down against him, and he was torn between watching her work and putting his head back and enjoying. He went with the latter for a while until he felt her rise off his lap and he lifted his head to investigate and found her and John kissing, her back pressed firmly to his chest and head craned to accommodate him as he reached around to her front. John’s hand was working below Sharky’s eyeline but between the muscles in his arm flexing the right way and the noises coming out of Nic’s mouth, what he was doing to her was redundant. Again, hottest thing ever. How the Hell did he get so lucky to have such infuriatingly gorgeous friends who insisted on letting him be part of this with them? He was perfectly content watching them for a while until Nic arched away from John and looked back at him, and good God, it was a miracle he didn’t come just from seeing that look. She had learned from John, apparently. Fuck. And then Nic had sunk down on him, wet and hot and perfect, and all thoughts had stopped for a while. She rode him, only stopping to exchange kisses with him or John along the way. Before long Sharky had noticed John just watching for a while, just keeping her upright on him, and reached over to wrap his hand around the other man’s dick and started to work it up and down on him. Having little experience with men, especially compared to John always had him paranoid about his skill in that department, but John never complained. This time was no different. John had merely groaned and let his forehead drop to Nic’s shoulder, thrusting into Sharky’s hand when the other man managed to find a mutual rhythm between Nic’s movements and his own. It was Nic’s turn to whine at that particular sight. She kissed both of them again and thrust down at a particularly unfair angle that had Sharky arching up to meet her with a particularly resolute “fuck.” He was dimly aware that Nic had stopped, kissed John and murmured something to him, and he had responded and then disappeared for a few seconds. Of course, the fact that she had started to ride him faster was a decent distraction. And then there were a couple of sounds he didn’t recognize and Nic gasped and arched into him again and the pause was enough to have Sharky’s brain come back to him enough to realize that John was inside her too and she was taking them from both ends and that was another thing that was sexy as all Hell. And there was the fact that John was on at damned ‘all holes’ list of Addie’s and here Nic was, living that dream of hers. He would’ve laughed if he had the brain power. Addie was gonna be so damn jealous of Nic if he was ever stupid enough to let it slip that this happened. But no, he didn’t want to risk any of this by blowing this particular secret. “Hey, Boshaw, you still with us?” Nic asked and circled her hips to try to bring him back to the moment for good measure. “Yeah, yeah, still here,” he replied. It took him a second to realize they were probably still worried about him feeling like an intruder, and that did things to his heart and dick. He had definitely lucked out with them. He forced the thought from his head to try and avoid looking too lost, then gripped her hips when she found a decent enough rhythm again. “God damn.” He leaned back after a while, content to watch the other two go at it when John finally, finally seemed to get a little tired of being the least involved party and gave a particularly sharp thrust that had Nic gasping again and leaning back to meet him. Sharky didn’t know watching had such an effect on him, but it did, and between Nic fucking him within an inch of his life and watching them do the same to each other, he was close. “Shit, gonna come.” “So come,” was her simple response. Sharky nearly choked on his tongue, still not used to that outlook, even after they all had a ‘damn the risks, the outcome might be needed anyway’ conversation with them the first time it had come up as an option. Still, he wasn’t going to deny her when she was giving him that look, paired with John pointing out, “my wife asked something of you, Charlemagne. Don’t disappoint her.” Again, that had no right sounding that hot. And people still thought he had his hooks in Nic and their relationship like it was all part of some long con on his part- they should’ve heard John say that, with him all ready to make sure Nic got all she wanted. It was only a couple of more minutes before he tipped over the edge and spilled inside her, and she rode out the wave with him, her own moans getting higher and higher pitched, signaling she was getting closer. It was then that John had helped her dismount Sharky, and slid inside her. And then she had grabbed Sharky’s hand for the buildup until she came with John following seconds after. They all exchanged lazy, sated kisses for a few seconds before John helped Nic to lay down. and then sidled up to her back and Sharky turned to face her, resting her hand on her thigh once John had gotten settled with an arm looped around her waist. “Happy Birthday, Shark,” Nic murmured after a little bit. Now that had gotten him to wake up a little bit. He looked at the makeshift calendar that one of the survivors had made for each dorm. October 2nd. He had barely ever paid attention to it, considering he had adopted Hurk Jr’s new policy that “time was a construct, who needs watches or calendars in the apocalypse, we just feel older now” policy. Well, if following the calendar for birthdates and such ended with stuff like this, fuck that noise. He was going to get a calendar the second he had the energy to move again “So that’s what this was about.” “Hey, there’s not always a reason,” Nic objected. Sharky grinned. “I know. Just playing. Forgot that dates are a thing, ya know? Who needs them down here?” “... You are the strangest person I know, Charlemagne,” was John’s response. “Fair. Also, best birthday gift ever. Who’s next so we can do this again?” “Me,” John replied. “December 19th.” Sharky looked wistfully at the calendar, ready to circle that date five times once they stopped cuddling. Of course, he was in absolutely no rush to leave. “I love you guys, so much.” “We love you, too,” Nic replied, and John hummed in agreement. “Awesome...” Sharky nodded. “... Ten minute break and then round two?” “Deal.”

#zacklover24 #John Seed #Sharky Boshaw #Deputy Nic

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lizziethereader · 5 years

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11 questions tag (x3 - so 33 questions tag, I guess?)

I’ve been super busy but I still appreciate having been tagged by @bibliophilecats, @books-are-portals, and @thelivebookproject, thank you!

I’ll answer all your questions in one post because I doubt I’d be able to come up with new questions for all three of the tags, haha But since this will be super long, you’ll find it under the cut!

First up, @bibliophilecats‘ questions:

1. What is your favourite movie and/or TV show based on a book? I’m not sure I have one, there’s nothing that immediately comes to mind at least. So I’ll just tell you about the first one I ever saw (when I was a kiddo still): Emil und die Dedektive! (based on the novel by Erich Kästner) 2. When you just can’t get into a book, do you quit or do you finish every book you start, no matter what? As embarrassing as it is to admit, I’m part of the latter category. 3. Which is your favourite bookstore? I absolutely love Daunt books in London because not only is it pretty, it also offers a very wide selection of books. 4. Do you keep all the books you read? Do you keep none? I keep all of them. One day I want to have one of those homes that are just full of books and plants! 4. What is the rarest color on your bookshelf? Difficult to say, but maybe gray? 5. Is there a book that permanently changed you (opinions, style, fandom) when you read it? Lots of nonfiction does that! One example is Caitlin Doughty’s Smoke gets in your eyes but also psychology-related books like Kahneman’s Thinking, Fast and Slow. 6. How do you unwind after a stressful day at work/school? Step one is my commute home, during which I read. And then it’s usually tumblr and youtube (or catching up with series). 7. Which fictional friendship/relationship is your goal? I haven’t figured that out yet but anything that’s supportive is always lovely to see. 8. What is the one skill you wish you could master? Better social skills, for sure! 9. You’re famous somehow and a University awards you one of those giveaway PhDs as a publicity stunt. What would you be a Doctor of? no idea, but I’d love the chance to get an actual PhD in linguistics or philosophy! 10. If nobody else is around and it’s cranked up loud, which song will you always dance to? Ooooh, there’s many! Tonight, Tonight by Hot Chelle Rae for example

Okay, now @books-are-portals‘ questions:

What book would you have liked better had you read it when you were younger? A wrinkle in time, probably.

Do you listen to podcasts? Any recs? I rarely find the time but when I do I love the Green brothers’ Dear Hank and John and, what is almost a classic of podcasts, Welcome to Night Vale

Favourite edition of your favourite book? ‘favourite’ is a big word and I don’t think I can answer to that but I do love my signed special edition of The Name of the Wind that has a goat scribble in it

Favourite book (fiction or non-fiction) you had to read during your studies (uni or otherwise)? That’s so difficult to choose! Let me give you a top 3: Hamlet, Code Name Verity and Tess of the D’Urbervilles (oh but I do have so many more favorites! what a tough question!)

What movie would make a great book? cool question! Frankly, I’d probably read most of the Marvel movies as books. The comic world is too intimidating for me but if the movies were books I think I’d really enjoy all the banter and stuff...

Tea or coffee? Coffee - I like the idea of tea but I can’t get into it.

A random fact you’re proud to know? I’m hardly ever proud of anything so that’s a tough question.... I can’t really think of anything, so I’ll pass

Favourite tree? Weeping willows!

Dream house/flat? I’d love to actually own a small house. Ideally with lots of light, plants, and bookshelves. + a garden!

Least favourite comic (series)? Why? I’m not invested enough to have one.

You have an unlimited budget to buy one (1) book. What book would you buy? I’d probably have something bound gorgeously just for me - maybe a collection of my favorite books or fanfics or something. There’d be gorgeous lettering, a leather cover and lots of lovely hand-crafted details.

And last but not least, @thelivebookproject‘s questions!

How many books have you read this year so far? currently reading my 50th!

Do you have a Goodreads account? (Mine is this) yes, over here!

How many languages do you speak? Well, I speak English and German. I learned a bit of French in school but I can’t really speak it. I’ve been learning Norwegian on Duolingo for more than two years now but I've never actually had a conversation in Norwegian, so...

How do you choose your books? I just read whatever looks interesting at the time.

Have you ever travelled abroad? Yeah, too many times to count (because I’m too lazy to count now). But with the exception of one trip to the states it’s always been within Europe.

Tell me something about yourself. I have a tough time deciding who I am.

Recommend a book? This is going to hurt by Adam Kay.

What are you currently reading? I’m currently reading Dear Evan Hansen because I love the musical!

Why did you create your blog? Just to see and share book stuff, really.

What do you like most about bookblr? That (despite people saying otherwise) it’s always there and from my personal experience seems so much more positive than other communities.

Blank gap -tell me anything you want: books you love, how do you feel about my blog, anything at all! So this is gonna be a question for the audience (I need advice). I have this book stamp (”from the library of....”) that I stamp all my books with after I read them and before I put them on their new spot on my shelves. Now I’ve just finished reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame and it’s an old book that I got secondhand (it even has an inscription!). I feel sort of strange about stamping it, I’m not sure if I should do it (Almost all of my other books are new books so I had no trouble stamping them). Thoughts?

Right, you didn’t think we’d get there, but we did! It’s time for my questions! Not all of them are bookish because it’s really tough coming up with new stuff after thinking of weekly bookish questions for years [also I might self-plagiarize and use some of those as wbqs in the future]....

I’m tagging @nevertobecaught, @maddie-mux, @lettersfromthelighthouse, and @trinareadsbooks to answer these questions:

1. What’s the best combination, a book + ..... (can be food, a drink, a place, a feeling, etc.) 2. What’s your stance on classics? 3. If you could add one feature to tumblr or booklr specifically, what would it be? 4. What was the loveliest reading experience you had lately? 5. Do you enjoy musicals? If so, what are some of your favorites? 6. When it comes to vacations, do you prefer city trips or lots of beach time? (or neither/something else?) 7. Are you a candle person? 8. What’s something you admire other people for? 9. Have you discovered any new songs you love lately? 10. If you’re currently reading something, which page are you on? And are you enjoying it so far? 11. Which birthday gift would absolutely delight you?

#11 questions tag #tag thingy #a long one I'm sorry #but it's easier to pack them all into one post :D

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voyeur-in-the-mirror · 5 years

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Birthday Softness

Ship(s): Lawrence x Adam Character(s): Lawrence ; Adam Words: 2101 Warning(s): Cursing ; A/N: Adam doesn’t have a canon birthday so I gave one to him [Oct. 23 B)] so yeah enjoy this bitter-sweet fluff!!

HE KNEW IT COULDN’T GET ANY WORSE.

He spent all day and night in a shit-covered and blood-stained bathroom all on his own. Meaning his thoughts were the only other occupant besides him the ever-so-slowly rotting corpse before him. He was fortunate enough to have the body moved across the room by his knight in not-so-shiny armor, but sometimes the stench was so over-bearing he’d puke what was in his stomach.

That was another thing. His hero would bring him food every night (or rather, almost every night) along with water just to make sure he was still alive. Not to endure anymore torture, but because, for some reason, he cared. He also just wanted to make sure he kept his promise that yes, he would be okay, and that he would come back.

He came back as often as he could and when did, Adam would feel a euphoric sense of relief because he knew that at least for that moment, he wasn’t alone.

It made him fall in love with him.

“Lawrence, thank god!” Adam sighed, his anxieties being lifted as the bathroom door opened and shed in some light before it was shut and darkness filled the room again. He heard Lawrence chuckle as he neared and he felt his heart flutter at the sound and sight of it. Due to being in the darkness for so long, his eyes had to adjust, and being able to see that soft, blond hair and steely blue eyes brought a bit of life to the younger. “I was starting to get bored.”

“You were just starting to get bored?” Lawrence remarked, cocking a brow. Adam shrugged and watched as the doctor set down his jacket on the tile for him to sit down on. He almost scoffed, but it was understandable. He actually had the luxury not to sit on that floor, and if he had it then he’d take it, too.

“Bring me anything?” Adam asked, licking his dry lips. Lawrence nodded and slid to him a glass of water and a sandwich in a plastic sack.

“Peanut butter, just how you like it.”

Adam simply nodded as he drank half of his glass. After consuming that, he hadn’t realized how much he was hungry until then, and just how much his blood sugar had gone down. Being a doctor, Lawrence was aware of this and would often bring something sugary for him. Adam was more than thankful, but of course he hadn’t expressed this.

“How many days has it been since you’ve been back? You know, since I don’t have a calendar.”

“Are you implying that I bring you one?” Lawrence asked, almost laughing at the idea. Adam shrugged once more and bit into his sandwich.

“If that’s what you want to do, no one can stop you, man.”

Lawrence grinned and rolled his eyes, allowing himself to lean back against the outer wall of the bathtub. “A few. John’s been having me help him with a special case.”

“So now you’re a murder, too?” Adam questioned, frowning.

“I’m not a murder,” Lawrence said, his voice slightly unnerving, “and neither is he. He helps. And besides, I’m only helping him so I can help you, you know this.”

“Whatever,” Adam sighed, this time with a heaviness. He decided to change the topic. “What’s today’s date?”

“October the twentieth, why?”

Adam, upon hearing this, could only smile bitterly. He rubbed his eyes and exhaled slowly, feeling his heart sink a bit. “It’s my birthday in a few days. Man, what a good way to spend it,” he said sarcastically, dropping what was left of his sandwich onto the plastic it came from. He would have dropped it onto the floor absentmindedly, but he reminded himself quickly that he would have regretted not finishing it.

A sense of sadness came to Lawrence hearing this. Adam had been stuck in his prison for just a little over two months and though he wasn’t aware of when his birthday (or any other event) would be, he had planned to get him out sooner than he hoped. At least, sooner than now.

“It’s fine,” Adam continued, pulling Lawrence out of his thoughts, “I’d always spend it alone, anyways, and at least the bad part is over… Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lawrence responded quickly, feeling his heart stop at the question, “John nor Amanda will be bothering with you anymore. They don’t even think you’re still alive.”

He could easily sense the slight anxiousness in Adam’s question and felt better when he could put that at ease. After gaining more than a sense of trust from Adam, he’d been told that he frequently got nightmares about what had happened to the both of them. More often than not, Adam would be lying down with his head in Lawrence’s lap so the doctor could comfort him. It was actually very therapeutic for the both of them. A few times, Lawrence had even removed hsi prosthetic to let Adam see that he was just fine without his severed foot, which put Adam at great ease.

“How long are you staying this time?” Adam pondered aloud, resisting the urge to lean his head on Lawrence's shoulder. He really, honestly, wanted him to stay. To not leave him alone for hours or days on end. He couldn’t tell if it was because he actually longed for company or because he longed for Lawrence. Either way, he was sick of being alone for once.

“I told Alison I would be home for dinner, so not very long I’m afraid,” Lawrence said regrettably, coughing a little. He, truthfully, didn’t want to leave. Of course he would love to see his daughter, but the worry and pity he felt for Adam had a strong hold on him. Still, being a father came first, at least for that night.

“Sure, tell the little rugrat I said hi,” Adam mumbled sarcastically, though he knew Lawrence wouldn’t do that. Diana had no idea who he was and Alison only had a vague idea. The two never spoke about what happened.

“Will you be alright here?” Lawrence asked, his voice a bit soft and sad. Adam through his hands up and shrugged, coarse feelings of jealousy and hurt in him.

“Aren’t I always?”

It had been a few days since he had seen Lawrence, and he regretted their last conversation.

Once Lawrence had left the bathroom and he was alone again, his mind played back every single word they both said and guilt rested and built on the pit of his stomach every time he heard the sarcasm in his own voice. He knew he had no right to be that way towards the one person that actually cared about his existence and well-being, but he was Adam and he couldn’t help the sewage that came from his mouth.

He really had no idea how long it had been since he had seen the doctor due to his loss of a sense of time, but he only figured it had been a few days. At least, it’s been a while.

When the bathroom door opened again and he said his long-awaited silhouette, his heart skipped a beat so hard it hurt. That reminded him of the point Lawrence made of being ‘vitamin D deficient’, but he didn’t care, at least not then.

He was suddenly struck as odd, though, to see Lawrence lighting something with a lighter. Once the bathroom door was shut, he could still see his face come nearer and nearer until he was sitting down closer than usual. The light had moved to the floor, and Adam realized that the fire was on a candle.

And the candle was a small cupcake.

His heart melted and emotion struck him, causing a lump in his throat.

“Lawrence-” he choked out, forcing himself to turn away and cough before he could continue, “what the fuck is this?”

“It’s your birthday,” Lawrence responded, his face vaguely illuminated to show a gentle smile, “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you, I needed to help-”

He was cut off by Adam, suddenly, jumping at him and hugging him tightly. He paused, his mouth slightly agape from not expecting such a reaction, but he hugged him back, happiness filling his heart.

“I don’t give a shit,” Adam mumbled, burying his face in Lawrence’s shoulder. That was mostly to hide the fact that his vision was being blurred by tears. After another few seconds, he was releasing Lawrence from his vice-like grip and taking a deep breath. “Fuck,” he groaned, a bit of a blush spreading on his cheeks, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright,” Lawrence assured, ignoring the fact that he had turned a bit rosy as well, “it’s a natural reaction.”

“Don’t get all therapist on me,” Adam chuckled, trying not to grin as big as he wanted too. Lawrence shook his head and looked down and away, trying to rub the heat from his face.

“Blow out your candle and eat, you’re were shaking so hard I think you might pass out.”

“I’m way ahead of you on that one,” Adam snickered, putting out the light and licking the icing off of the top. He had been doing that since he was a kid; the icing was his favorite part. “You know,” he started, “when I was a kid, my mom would get me cupcakes every year. They’ve always been my favorite.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lawrence hummed, leaning back against the tub like he usually did. It felt good to him to hear Adam eating something, and even better to know that he had made him happier than he had ever seen him. He was sure he could be happier if the setting was different, but still, his heart melted at the sight of his smile.

Once finishing the small treat (which was gone faster than he would have liked), Adam sighed with content and lied down, resting his head on Lawrence’s lap like he tended to do now and then. As he did, Lawrence gently rested his hand in his hair and twisted his fingers around the brunette locks.

“How long do you got, doc?” He questioned, holding his breath for the answer. Lawrence smiled a bit wider as he did.

“A few hours,” he responded happily, “Alison took Diana to see her grandparents- I said I had to work late. I couldn’t get you an actual gift, but-”

“No,” Adam cut him off, feeling his heart jump again, “this… this is the perfect gift.”

Hearing this did something to Lawrence’s cold, doctor heart as well. He supposed he loved Alison as well, but what he felt for Adam in that moment was different; fresh, child-like, and a bit passionate. Screw John, Screw Amanda, and Screw the bathroom- this moment was perfect.

"How old are you turning today?"

"Twenty-six," Adam admitted, sighing and shutting his eyes lightly, "but hey, I guess it's not so bad. I mean, I'd rather be literally anywhere fuckin' else but..." he trailed off a moment, not sure if he wanted to finish his statement, but he continued anyways, "hey, you're here and you’ll be here a while, so it's not that bad."

Lawrence thought about this and agreed. For a second, he imagined them both in his home, just the two of them, sitting on the couch with Adam against his side and his arm around him. But he knew, though, that they were both content with where they were at that moment.

"You know, I'm over a decade older than you are, and you deserve better than this. You know I'm trying."

"That's all I could ask for, Lawrence," Adam responded, opening his eyes again and still seeing pitch-black nothingness. With the fire from the candle out, his eyes still needed to adjust back to the darkness they were used too. So, instead of waiting, he picked up his hand and rested it on Lawrence’s face, just wanted to feel him, really, for the first time. The warmth of the elder’s face felt good against his freezing hand, and his heart stopped when, suddenly, he felt Lawrence’s warm hand against his own face.

“I’ll get you out of here,” Lawrence promised like he had done so many times before. Adam nodded, a sign that he believed him, and slowly he brought his hand back down to put on top of Lawrence’s, just to hold it closer to his own face.

“When you do,” Adam said quietly and softly, shutting his eyes again, “just don’t leave me.”

#Adam Stanheight #Lawrence Gordon #Saw I

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caisjunlis · 6 years

Text

Flashback and Windowsills~ A Jayvie Drabble

It was a cold, winter night in Auradon. Sitting on a windowsill of the boys’ dorm room and wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, the daughter of the Evil Queen was gazing at the falling snow, lost in thought. Mal and Carlos were fast asleep on the couch. Jay had decided to take an impromptu shower about half an hour ago and when he joined her, his hair was dripping wet and he had nothing to cover his bare chest. “Looks like quite a spectacle you’re staring at Princess” She barely glanced up at him and picked up one of his T-shirts, laying on the floor before tossing it at him. “Put it on, before you get sick Jay” she said, reporting her attention on the snowy night. He scoffed and sat across from her, but he did put the shirt on, nonetheless. “I never get sick, E.” She was the one to scoff this time. “Yeah sure Jay, whatever you say.” He knew why she was in a relatively bad mood, it was Dizzy’s birthday and Evie could not even say it to the little girl. The bluenette’s heart still ached to be away from the people she cherished the most besides her friends. She was not ready to talk yet, Jay was not going to force into sharing her thoughts if she wasn’t willing to. So he sat there, with her, watching the falling snow. For a little bit before the silence was broken again.

“Maybe we should get some sleep. Just like them” He said, glancing at the two figures sleeping on the couch, of course he knew she would turn the offer down. She didn’t respond right away and he was getting seriously nervous, not knowing what to do. “I’m way too worried to sleep.” He had barely heard what she said so he cupped her chin gently, and the princess turned her head around to look at the thief. Eyes shining with tears, she gave him a faint smile. “She is alright Blueberry, Silver is there with her and so is Gil, I don’t really like the guy but I doubt he’ll let anyone hurt Dizzy. He likes her a lot too you know. She has that effect on people. Damn! I bet that even Uma likes getting those braids done at the salon.” And that was the line that won her over and made her chuckle; Uma could not stand Dizzy’s joyful babbling and was doing everything she could to avoid going to “Curl Up & Dye” In fact, Uma hated anything, or anyone that had even the slightest connection with Mal. Except Silver, for some reason, perhaps because the cyborg himself, was not fond of the purple haired teenager either. She reached for Jay’s hand and squeezed it tight, probably too tight but it’s not like she could physically hurt him, he was way too strong for that.

“I knew neither of you would actually sleep. I’m sure she knows you thought about her today, E.” Carlos’ muffled voice startled them both. Evie looked up to the boy, who was standing up, rubbing his eyes over his hand and making his way towards his two friends. “I’m sorry we woke you up Carlos” He smiled and sat on the floor, taking Evie’s second hand. “You know I can never sleep soundly anyway, especially when I know you’re sad.” She clutched onto Carlos’ hand tighter. Who could blame him? Cruella De Vil was born with the perfect name. Crazy, cruel, when furious, she could make your entire existence a living nightmare and this was a hell that was no stranger to Carlos. At some point, all their lives had been so miserable; they created a hideout, a place in which they could stay when things were getting too tough to handle. They all had their own beds, their own closets, obviously full of Evie’s creations.

It was John Silver, the cyborg pirate, who had the idea, he knew that the kids could not always stay at his house; it was big enough for him and maybe three kids. But he could not welcome 8 kids all at the same time, so he brought the idea up and found a rather old and empty apartment, right where the “Flying Rocks” sign was placed. He had bought most of the furniture, Gil had even helped build some of it, Jay definitely stole some stuff, Mal took care of the interior decoration and Evie kept designing and making new clothes. Carlos installed the electrical equipment with some help from Silver and in a matter of weeks; the Core Four had the perfect hideout. Evie had secretly made an outfit for Gil, as he did some major work with the beds and wardrobes. It was not much of course, but the gesture made the boy very happy nonetheless. He knew the Core Four weren’t fond of him, as he was close to both Uma and Harry Hook, but Evie and Carlos were always acting rather friendly towards him. Well, as friendly as you can be when your leaders hate each other.

“I miss the hideout, it was always warmer than the Castle” Evie stated, breaking the silence once again and wrapped the blanket even tighter around her body, letting go of the boys’ hands. “You’re always freezing, Blueberry.” Jay said, with a smile. Mocking a scandalized expression; she hit his arm lightly. “That’s not true!” Jay’s grin grew even wider. “Oh you want to bet on that? I seem to recall that the last time we had a movie night, you kept stealing blankets, just because you were cold.” She chuckled slightly. “Alright, I was indeed freezing that night.” She admitted it or at least a part of it, yes she was cold that night, but she kept burying herself under the blankets because she knew that Jay would eventually wrap his arms around her. He did, and pressed a kiss on the crown of her head. Like always it was either the crown, or the forehead. She remembered the first time he did that.

They were at John Silver’s house, before the hideout was built. They were spending time with the lonely cyborg, Carlos, Gil and Dizzy, simply playing some board game. Evie, Jay and Dizzy had won and Jay in his well known competitive nature, started showing off and eventually pressed a kiss on the girls’ foreheads. It was a sweet gesture,and Evie smiled at that memory.

“Feeling a little better Blueberry?” the former thief asked, seeing her smile a little. Evie nodded, and Jay took her hand one more time, Carlos looked at his friends, confused, was there something going on that he and Mal didn’t know about ? As far as he could remember, Jay and Evie had been rather close from the beginning, teasing and flirting with each other, but were they- No; The Evil Queen was a cruel woman, all their parents were, but while both Jafar and Maleficent were more prone to use physical pain, the Evil Queen and Cruella relied on other ways to punish their children, and manipulation was and had always been their favorite way of getting whatever they wanted from Evie and Carlos. The Evil Queen kept belittling her own daughter because she was way more beautiful than her and she surveyed Evie like she was some sort of prize that no one could afford to have. And while it was obvious Evie was suffering, she kept a proud face and stood strong, but for some reason, she always shared a lot more with Jay than with Mal and him. Not that it bothered Carlos, there were things that were better kept private and he didn’t need to know every single feeling Evie had. Could it be that they had a fling on the Isle that no one noticed? Besides Dizzy and Silver, these two could read minds, Carlos was absolutely certain of that. Dizzy, Silver and Gil… He wasn’t really fond of Uma and Harry but he really bonded with the poor Gil when they were listening to Silver’s endless stories. He did miss the Isle in a way. If only he could see them again…

“Carlos? Are you okay?” Evie had left her spot and kneeled right before his eyes. “Evie, I’m not having a panic attack, I’m fine.” Carlos spoke softly, almost sheepishly. Evie sighed, visibly relieved and hugged him. Carlos was no stranger to anxiety, nightmares from his life on the Isle, it got better, but they still happened quite regularly. “We should sleep, before we wake Miss Purple over here” Jay said, gesturing at Mal, peacefully asleep on the couch. “Or so they think” Mal knew she should have gotten up and comforted her friends but, what could she say? She didn’t know them like they did. If they wanted to talk about it, they would, and she would listen and even share some very poor, pre-made advice she had seen in the magazines Evie had lying around the dorm room.

But she couldn’t, it was their time to be alone just the three of them together, and that was something she wanted to respect. Yes, she was totally eavesdropping this conversation but she couldn’t sleep either, she had a plan. A plan that would take time, but Mal was adamant on making this work. And it would work. She was certain of that.

Carlos had gone back to bed, Dude curled up to his side and the boy’s slight snoring could be heard in the silence of the dorm room and Mal was mumbling random, inaudible words in her sleep. Evie and Jay had returned to the windowsill, but this time, the bluenette was settled against his chest, her fingers playing with a small, dainty, golden bracelet.

"I remember the day I offered you that thing" he gently took the piece of jewelry from her hands to examine it. She had taken care of it so well, it looked exactly the same as before. She slightly chuckled and snatched it away from the long-haired teenager. "I remember too, it was the worst birthday party in the history of the Isle Of The Lost !"

Jay clipped the bracelet back on her wrist. "It actually was perfectly fine until Maleficent showed up in all her rage and wrath, screaming at your mom for not inviting her." They both laughed quietly, Maleficent was quite a drama Queen, maybe even more than the Evil Queen herself. "You kept walking past the castle after that day, every day for 10 years. Why ?" Jay’s heart skipped a beat. He knew she would ask him this question one day, but he didn’t know what to answer. How do you tell a girl like Evie that your feelings for her are so strong they scare you ? The weight on his chest disappeared, she was sitting up, staring straight into his dark eyes, blue curls shining in the moonlight. Jay held her stare, and could feel his heart beating even faster than before. "I was just wondering when Blueberry would come out to play Save the Princess with me" he had tried to laugh it off, like he always does when he is embarrassed.

She raised an eyebrow, she wasn’t convinced. At all. "I know what you’re doing, but I won’t push you, J. You have the right to keep it to yourself, but I still hope I’ll get an explanation one day." His gaze had shifted towards the window. He looked like a sheepish little boy. She shook her head, smiling and settled back into his arms and intertwined her fingers with his.

"You’re my Blueberry, E."

"I know. And you’re my thief, J."

#Descendants #fanfic #Jay x Evie #Evie x Jay #Jayvie

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davidmann95 · 6 years

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I feel like public opinions on Superman is higher than its been for a while, thoughts?

I’m afraid I very thoroughly disagree. In fact, thinking about DC’s handling of Superman recently - a common topic of late-night brooding sessions - it really occurred to me what an absolutely hellish decade the dude’s had.

2008: Kurt Busiek leaves Superman, James Robinson takes over (according to some in the place of Mark Waid), the book immediately goes to shit. New Krypton later begins, the entire Superman line collectively understood among fandom as going to shit along with it.

2009: As a consequence of the aforementioned New Krypton situation, Superman is in neither Superman nor Action Comics for the majority of the year, both being taken over by - generously - C-listers.

2010: Superman: Earth One, I would sincerely argue the worst Superman comic of all time and one that even at the time drew snickering comparisons to Twilight, is DC’s major outreach towards the bookstore market. Young Justice begins to considerable approval, portraying him as essentially a deadbeat dad who refuses to acknowledge Superboy as family, or even acknowledge him period to the extent that can be helped until the season finale. New Krypton fades into Grounded, among the most widely reviled Superman stories ever.

2011: Smallville, the last ongoing TV series to star Clark Kent, ends; many (even if I’m not among them myself) are understandably enraged that Tom Welling never actually appears as Superman aside from a split-second shirt rip, seeing it as a betrayal of the premise of the series and ten years of buildup. Meanwhile, the comics reboot him with a Jim Lee design that, at arguable best, works in few hands but his own (or more honestly is flat-out bad). Grant Morrison’s seemingly sure-thing relaunch of Action Comics, while greatly enjoyed by some such as myself, rapidly faces negative comparisons to his All-Star Superman work, which paired with dismal showings for the character in Justice League and Superman proper, along with publisher statements attempting to reinforce him as a brooding, violent, lonely avenger, result in a substantial and enduring fan backlash.

2012: The reboot separation from Lois Lane and tone-deaf efforts towards making Superman cooler culminate in a painfully stiff new relationship with Wonder Woman, to even further fan backlash. Noted sexual harasser Eddie Berganza, already internally acknowledged by DC as such, is demoted and handed custody of the Superman books in what was apparently considered an appropriate punishment. Scott Lobdell, already under fire for his treatment of Starfire at the beginning of the New 52 and facing a generally tepid creative response to his DC work, including Superboy, is given Superman proper.

2013: Man of Steel debuts to…let’s say divisive results. Injustice becomes his most prominent video game incarnation since Superman 64 by default. Grant Morrison’s Action Comics concludes, with incoming Andy Diggle leaving the book before his first issue is even released, and ending up under Scott Lobdell for a bit before finally finding its way to Greg Pak.

2014: At the tail end of a mercifully pretty dang good year, with even the customary bloated crossover Doomed ending up better than most (in spite of a shoehorned in pair of instances of Superman being forced to kill to match the movies), Superman Unchained concludes after months of devastating delays, signalling the beginning of the end of the creative triumvirate of Scott Snyder/Jim Lee, Geoff Johns/John Romita Jr., and Greg Pak/Aaron Kuder/Jae Lee attempting to rehabilitate his comics image. Before long, Johns leaves his book to Gene Yang’s hands in what ended up an unpredictably disastrous tenure, while Pak and company are buried under crossovers.

2015: Truth begins to - aside from a headline-grabbing early segment by Pak and Kuder with Superman standing with protesters against police - near-universal hatred by the fanbase, seeing it as DC’s latest cringingly tone-deaf and desperate effort at making Superman conventionally cool, while severely undermining Lois Lane’ character in the process.

2016: Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice is released, almost immediately becoming the most ubiquitous cultural shorthand for ‘bad movie’ since Transformers. Tyler Hoechlin debuts as Superman on Supergirl to the most mainstream praise the character has received in literal decades, with the CW and WB responding by publicly stating that they have no intention of developing a series for him. Superman dies in the comics after a short and ignominious crossover, replaced - to be fair, to no small degree of fan acclaim, even if I didn’t share in the love - by his own past-continuity self, a state of late-90s X-Men-esque continuity bugfuckery lasting about a year. Superman: American Alien, the most generally well-received Superman story for years in either direction, concludes; its author would flee from public life the following year after being repeatedly accused of sexual assault.

2017: Justice League’s attempt at reorienting Superman towards a more classic take, while winning some praise, is generally useless in the face of critical antipathy towards the film and crushing financial failure relative to expectations, with the bulk of Superman-related discussion spinning out of it focusing on his unfortunate CGI mouth. Injustice 2 is released, with no ‘good’ universe Superman this time to contrast the games’ take on him as a tyrannical mass-murderer.

2018: Action Comics #1000 dropped to broadly positive results…with the exception of the story by the actual incoming writer of the line, which while I enjoyed it, was hated by a significant number of readers as far as I can tell. Additionally, if the new rumors are true, the team behind All-Star Superman had a story prepared for it that was spiked to avoid somehow clashing with Doomsday Clock - a company-steering comic advertised as being largely about him that has yet to feature him in any meaningful capacity one third of the way through aside from him cameoing having a nightmare - and if that’s true, whether as a matter of unfortunate logistics or ego, if there’s a metaphor for everything wrong with modern DC comics more potent than Superman being so profoundly screwed over for his 1000th issue on his 80th birthday for the sake of not maybe spiritually contradicting them doing more Watchmen knock-off comics, I can’t think of it. As of this writing, Superman is one of the two Justice Leaguers not officially known to have a movie in active development; by next year there will be TV shows starring Supergirl with Jimmy Olsen, Lois Lane with Lex Luthor, and Jor-El’s father with Adam Strange, but no indications have emerged that Tyler Hoechlin might reemerge in any capacity, nevermind get his own series; aside from the Bendis run, the only major Superman comics project on the horizon is his one book for the Black Label (where Batman and Wonder Woman get two projects apiece, largely by fan-favorite creators), Superman: Year One by Frank Miller and Romita Jr., the former being the writer of the infamously racist Holy Terror.

So no. Superman is not doing good. Not on any front. There has been good stuff to be sure, but on the macro scale? Superman hasn’t been doing good in a very, very long time.

#Superman #Opinion

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chrisabraham · 3 years

Text

Transcript of Guy Kawasaki’s Remarkable People podcast with the podfather, Adam Curry:

Guy Kawasaki:

I’m Guy Kawasaki, and this is Remarkable People. This episode’s remarkable guest is Adam Curry. Adam was one of the VJ’s, video jockeys of MTV, back in the 1980s. In this position, he interviewed some of the most popular musicians of the time. This includes Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney.

Adam is an early adopter and pioneer. He embraced the web and podcasting long before other people. In fact, he helped make podcasting a thing by collaborating with Dave Winer on podcasting technology. He also created one of the very first podcast, The Daily Source Code. In 2005, Steve Jobs previewed Apple’s podcasting efforts by playing The Daily Source Code on stage at D, the most exclusive tech conference. It was a huge deal when Steve used a product like this.

Adam also started companies along the way that offered services such as web designing, video sharing, incubating, and podcasting. He currently co-hosts the No Agenda Podcast with John Dvorak.

I’m Guy Kawasaki, this is Remarkable People, and now, here’s the remarkable Adam Curry: podcaster, VJ, and pioneer.

Adam Curry:

August 1st, 1981 is when MTV kicked off. I didn’t come in until ’87, as they’d gone through the first wave and they were doing an expansion, and that expansion meant that they were going on primetime cable, basic cable, which was forty channels, and that meant that that would be available everywhere.

And back in the day, only people who are old enough to remember this, but cable was a joke. It was, “Yeah, that’s not real TV, no one’s going to advertise on it, no one cares about it.” They had the ACE Awards, and then they laid out the CableACE Awards, and each of these cable systems was just like their own little fiefdom that the owner would be a typical guy with a Cadillac with horns on the front, like, “Yeah, it’s my wife. Hello, MTV man.”

So we’d also have to tour the affiliates to make sure that they kept us on their stations, on their cable networks. So it was real Mickey Mouse. And I was living in the Netherlands, and they recruited me from there. I was doing television over there. And I came from a state broadcaster and we had fourteen cameras, five makeup rooms. It was all gunmetal gray. None of it was spiffy or anything, but we had a proper camera operator and a cable puller, all the stuff you’d want, and MTV was basically a studio. We shared the studio at the time with, I think the Sally Jessy Raphael show, this was on the Unitel Video on 57th Street in Manhattan.

And there was a couple lights. The lighting director would come in once a week and he’d say, “Okay, stand in your spot,” and he tapped the light, “Okay, this is good. I’ll see you in a week or two.” We had no makeup, no wardrobe, we did all that ourselves. It was really, really guerrilla television, very low rent, and it was kind of being run by radio people like a radio station at the time.

So I fit right in, I felt great, although I never really connected well with the management. I think they thought I had too many aspirations. I had all kinds of things written in my contract they didn’t like, like I could do radio, and they just thought that was ridiculous. “Are you going to be a VJ or a DJ? What do you want to be?” I said, “Why can’t it be so both?”

There were other things, like I was in the music meeting as the only on-air talent where they decided what they would accept to play on the channel, and some producer things I’d negotiate because they came to me so that gave me an upper hand. But it was not the drug-fueled bosom babes rolling around the studio-type vibe that you might think it was, it was quite sedentary, quite tedious. In fact, we’d record, not in real-time, but just the segments. So we never actually saw the videos while we were taping it.

Guy Kawasaki:

What?

Adam Curry:

We’d seen them before. Yeah. Go on YouTube, you see me, I’d be like I’m looking off camera, I’m literally looking at like a floor manager or a production assistant like, “All right, that’s great to see Bon Jovi up there.” And they talk about the next video and then here comes, I look off to the side, I’m just looking into darkness, and then they would literally… This is so pre-internet.

They would take these big tapes, these pneumatic tapes, which is like a big Betamax kind of would look like, and they put them in a car service, drive it to Long Island to the network operation center, where we had guys all day long who would insert like Adam Curry, 12:00 PM segment A, and he’d play it and then he’d click the other machine and play the video, and then he’d fast forward, queue up the next segment, Adam Curry, 12:00 PM segment B, and he’d play that. So it was kind of a playout system like a radio station with cart machines. And it was really, really, really low rent.

And I was on the Internet at the time and they had a Wang computer. I’m like, “Whoa, these guys are ancient.” It was crazy. They were doing the Word processing on the Wang and sending it down from the studio. Whoa, it was great.

Guy Kawasaki:

You’re bursting my bubble here, Adam. So you’re telling me that you didn’t just watch the video and then react to it?

Adam Curry:

It’s all acting, Guy.

Guy Kawasaki:

All that was fake?

Adam Curry:

All of it was fake, man, all of it, every single bit of it. Yeah. And this is why I rarely do mainstream things anymore. I know how it works. I’m always disappointed.

I remember when Michael Jackson died and I got all these calls like CBS Evening News, “I want to talk to you.” I’m like, “Okay, that’s fine.” I was doing other stuff at the time, I wasn’t on MTV anymore. And I spent three hours interview, some walking shots, and then you watch at night, it’s literally fifteen seconds of me going like, “He’ll be missed.” All the other stuff I said was… I’m like, “I’m not going to do that anymore.”

I’m so spoiled by podcasting and the freedom that we have. There’s a lot of disillusionment there, but man, does it work. Does the mainstream trickery just work beautifully. Everything is a great product that I see, it really is. It’s not truthful but it’s a great product.

Guy Kawasaki:

Back then, did the experts scoff at the idea that there would be only music videos? Did they say, “American public doesn’t want this, they want movies, they want Disney specials, just to have two minute videos over and over again is not going to cut it”?

Adam Curry:

Interesting. Again, it was really radio people who drove this, and they said, “Oh, we can run this like a radio station, add VJ’s, and they’ll do shifts.” And basically, as a VJ, you’re one step lower on the rung from curable lepers, incurable lepers, then down there is VJ.

So they really want just interchangeable talent that you can just pull in and rotate out and have them look pretty and do their thing, don’t bump into the furniture, and we’ll play the songs. But something else happened, and the revolution really came from creatives.

So the first thing was these videos. Directors were making videos and they were doing them on really small budgets, and this became an industry. And so the first thing that had to happen was, we had to legitimize what was going on.

So every MTV Video, you would see the director, and the director would get a credit at the beginning and the end of the video. And that was not only an interesting negotiation that we went through with certain guilds, but it also really gave legitimacy to the product. And then you got celebrity kind of directors who would jump into the game, and there was people directing for each other. So that really became quite a thing. Then with John Landis and the Thriller video, all of these things really built up into this is an actual product that stands by itself, which ultimately also became MTV’s demise as we know it, when music videos were so commoditized that they found themselves competing with other networks for premieres.

So the next Michael Jackson video was going to BET. And so Viacom, MTV Networks, they said, “What? Let’s just buy BET, because we can’t have these guys cutting into our business here.” So they did that.

And then the commoditization just continued, particularly as online started coming to play, and they saw that they could get a 0.3 rating for music videos, maybe a 1.0 in primetime with some special programming like Dial MTV, or what later became TRL Live. But you did a long form programming like MTV Beach House, or MTV Real World, or Sporting Fool, or Remote Control, the game show, now you’re talking a three rating. And that was it. That was the smartest decision they could have made.

Sad for what it was, but the music video was no longer a viable business, and so they just went straight into, “We’re targeting this audience and we’re going to go after them 100 percent,” which a lot of it is low hanging fruit, teen moms. It’s crazy, it’s a lot of reality shows.

So the joke, the meme that goes around at the fortieth anniversary is, “Happy birthday, MTV, forty years and fourteen years of music,” all the rest was different kinds of programming. But it’s nice because it’s something that our generation, and that really is older millennials, I would say, up until… or maybe it’s just the older millennials and some boomers in there as well, that was something we shared.

It’s like the rotary phones on the wall. You can show it to people, they’ll be like, “That was like our thing. You stand here waiting for it, and you grab the cord and go around the door into the basement, really?”

So it’s that, that it’s hard to understand, but I’m so happy that I was a part of it, and I was there for seven and a half years. And to this day, I’ll be in just the most odd circumstances, maybe a CEO and then they figure it out like, “Wait a minute, aren’t you the guy from…?” And then the shirt opens up, Metallica T-shirt’s on underneath it. So it’s kind of a cultish thing at this point, but I’m very, very happy that I was a part of it.

Guy Kawasaki:

Wow. And tell me, how did MTV go from this scrappy startup held together by duct tape, into really defining the culture?

Adam Curry:

First, I will say Tom Freston was really important in that. I feel that he led MTV in his own Tom Freston way. He was a very, very interesting guy, very, very rock and roll, but complete suit, you wouldn’t know it. But you look into his background, he was into import export with Afghanistan. It’s like, “Okay. I know enough about Tom. This guy, he’s rock and roll.” And he had a good connection with the music industry. He understood what they wanted, because MTV is just a part of the system, and it became that very, very quickly, with all the negotiations and what goes on, “And who do we put in on special rotation to hook up someone else?” All the favors are all there.

And it was top forty radio sliding towards hip hop, the artists, and the video artists who put it all together, they made the words come alive. The videos, at a certain point was just the budgets were crazy, and record companies would still put them up and put up those kinds of budgets, and that started to change over time. So more creativity came in, the technology changed.

Final Cut Pro, that was instrumental for MTV Music videos in the latter part of I’d say the ’90s. It was like, “What? Nonlinear video editing and I can do this at home?” I remember going to CBS Sony records in 2005 or something, I was going to see I… ’04 maybe… see if I could do anything with the music business with podcasting. And I’m in the lobby there, and in Manhattan there’s a second floor lobby, and that’s where everyone waits until you’re called up to God to go meet with whoever you’re going to meet with. And I couldn’t believe what I saw.

It was just like 100 hip hop groups, and they’re all filming stuff, and they got soundtracks running, so I guess they’re doing a part of the videos that they’re going to get their record contract, and Simon Le Bon from Duran Duran is sitting there waiting next to me, and we’re looking at all this, and all of a sudden the lady comes on the speaker, “Mr. Simon Le Bon, Mr. Simon Le Bon, you can go up now, Mr. Simon Le Bon.” This is Simon Le Bon, we know who he is, and the whole thing was just mayhem, Guy.

I was like, “I don’t recognize this industry. I don’t know who’s making the money where it’s going.” And of course, the music business in general has really been stripped to its bare bones with Spotify and streaming and all the types of deals that were done to keep the broadcasters rich and musicians starving. The same story as always.

Guy Kawasaki:

Nothing’s changed.

Adam Curry:

No, not really, not really.

Guy Kawasaki:

And were you part of the, “I want my MTV promotion group”?

Adam Curry:

No, no.

Guy Kawasaki:

No? Not at all?

Adam Curry:

That was before me. That was the very first, when they just started off and they needed to get cable stations to carry the signal, that was the thing. Just like radio, you had to clear the stations and you had to talk to all these guys. I should know who came up with this. But the “I want my MTV” was an easy one.

You got all, especially the British guys to say, Bowie, The Stones, you got Madonna, you got Billy Idol, it was all the icons of the moment, and they loved it too. They were part of it. It was very, very community type thing, and it was heartfelt, even though there was money behind it and the intent was to create a four billion dollar brand, which it is, or at least annual revenues. So it behooved everybody. It was fun to watch. But the early days, no that was not me. I was not a part of that.

I was a part of Spring Break. This is a good one. So Spring Break became famous, MTV Spring Break coverage, but MTV didn’t want to just go to Florida and watch kids belly flop. That was never the idea. The idea was, “How do we get Budweiser to advertise on the channel?” And I was a part of this pitch. So we went to Budweiser, Anheuser-Busch, and we said, “Look, your beer is down there in Florida and all these other places for spring break. We’ll do wall to wall coverage like big inflatable bottles of Bud everywhere,” and they went for it. Then of course, it wound up with me on the Bud Light boat with Spuds MacKenzie. Okay. But we did whatever we had to do, and that was purely to get them on the station, and it turned into kind of an unforgettable programming that they repeated over and over again.

Guy Kawasaki:

Man, you’re bursting so many of my bubbles, Adam.

Adam Curry:

No, but this is good. It was really fun to do. It was real. The realest thing I think was the Video Music Award. Those were live, they went out live, the early ones.

Later on, it became a little too contrived. And it was so good in fact that the VJ’s were not actually invited. If it was in Los Angeles, you had to fly yourself out, you had to buy your own ticket. They were horrible to us. It was like, “No, no, no, this is special programming. This is not for you.”

But like the people watch this all day long. So you get to do one little segment or something like outside. I’m standing outside here, all the stars are inside, I’m the schmuck VJ on the outside.

Guy Kawasaki:

So as a VJ, you basically watch these videos and then you had to just make it up on the fly? You weren’t meeting with them, you weren’t interviewing? How did this work?

Adam Curry:

Oh, no, no, no. There was plenty of interviews and stuff that would then get chopped up. I had several shows throughout the years that would include, would basically be six segments in an hour, of which three could be two minutes and just typical, it was like typical television because you got to sell more Skittles.

So we do that, and those things were great, and I loved doing that, many, many interviews, but it was never really like a live show, except for a Mardi Gras was live, we would cut live to Mardi Gras, which was really fun, back before you got killed in the streets. Spring Break was live, and the afternoons were live for a while with the Dial MTV where people would call in and request their favorite video.

So no, it was actually a lot of fun, and they were, in general, highly scripted. So every VJ was highly scripted, there was a teleprompter. And I just said, “Just leave it empty because I’ll just make it up. I know what’s going on.” Because I was researching. I had found the internet in ’87, ’88, and I was on Gopher. I was poking around, I was looking at news groups.

Guy Kawasaki:

You were on Gopher?

Adam Curry:

Yeah, I’m on. I got a SLIP account through Panix in New York City, and I figured out how to set up that SLIP connection, and you got your PPP stack and all that stuff, and then you fire up the terminal. “Oh, okay, there it is.” And then you log into the Gopher server and check around. But I really had more fun with the newsgroups and email.

Email was phenomenal because my audience was college students who, A, didn’t count in the ratings at all, so they didn’t even know how many were watching. They were watching but they had very different ideas about what videos they liked. So I’d get feedback from them and that’s how I ultimately set up my own Gopher server and registered mtv.com to run it, and I would pitch that on the air from time to time, so people had put little stories up.

And so I typically had new stories a day before MTV News itself because I was getting it from the people out there in the country who were emailing me these stories. And then it was I think around ’90, and I got an email from a guy in University in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, and he says, “Yeah, Adam, I’ve got this thing, and I wanted to try it out.”

Guy Kawasaki:

Let me guess. A?

Adam Curry:

Yeah. Marc Andreessen. He says, “Adam, check this HTTPD server out?” I think it had like 1.4 or something. And I set it up and like…browse. I’m like, “Oh, wait a minute.” And that blew my mind. And I wound up leaving MTV maybe a year later to start my own company because I was like, “This is it. This is the real future, what’s going on here. I’m just mucking around on this cable news business or cable business.” And so yeah, that’s really how I got sucked in very, very deep, and I saw that I could be much faster, much nimbler, do more fun stuff, less restrictions online. And it was truly the Wild West.

AOL wouldn’t let you on the internet, if you recall, and people were like, “Come on, man, give us a browser, give us a browser.” And like, “Okay.” And you got that browser, and had to just click all those warnings like it’s dangerous out here, anything could happen, which is exactly what you wanted. And after that, AOL became a dial up company. Everything got sucked into the internet. It was beautiful. It was really an exciting time.

Guy Kawasaki:

Okay. Only one more question back in MTV days because we got to make the transition to the web here. Were you there when Michael Jackson required that everybody call him the King of Pop?

Adam Curry:

Yes. This is one of my favorite stories. So there were many deals that were made, and they typically revolved around the Video Music Awards. So if you wanted to have an artist of stature appear, then you maybe would have to play some other video by the same label, or some other favors were made, deals we’re done. And Michael Jackson, he was going to perform, and we had a whole Michael Jackson weekend planned around the premiere of his latest video, I don’t remember what that was, and of course teasing that he would be on the Video Music Awards.

And the way it worked on MTV is you tape on Thursday; you tape for Friday and Saturday… Wait. On Thursday, you tape for Friday, Friday, you tape Saturday, Sunday, something like that. Somehow we threw in a Monday somewhere. But we wouldn’t work on the weekend, but it was the weekend.

So we all did our bits, forty-eight hours’ worth of programming. And then I got a call Friday night like, “Y’all got to come in tomorrow because someone messed up.” The deal was every single time you say Michael Jackson, it had to go Michael Jackson, the King of Pop. I don’t even know if Michael Jackson cared, but we reshot the whole weekend just to make sure we didn’t screw anything up with that deal. That’s how political it was when it came to the deals. But it was all for the good. We wanted Michael Jackson to be on the show, I guess, but there was some grumbling.

Guy Kawasaki:

I can just imagine. Let’s get out of MTV days. We already touched on this a little bit, but tell us about this getting on the web. What a concept, right? How did that happen? How are you this early adopter, this pioneer of the web?

Adam Curry:

Well, I’ve always been a tinkerer. So my love of radio started when I was thirteen. I got a… and I still have it… Radio Shack 101 projects, and it’s a breadboard and it has components; you connect them with different length wires and stuff. And so that’s how I built my first transmitter, my FM transmitter, and that’s how I kind of fell into radio because I needed something to play on my transmitter, and before I knew it, I was building a mixer and understanding how to mix in a microphone, etc.

So my dad actually, we were living in Europe, and he was into all kinds of PR stuff, but it was online, and the first thing he brought home was a Minitel terminal from France. And France was very, very sophisticated early on. Every household had this little terminal and it was meant for hotel reservations or restaurant reservations and some news, etc. Turns out it was being used by sex workers a lot, so they had to scuttle the project at some point because there was a message board thing.

So my dad had all these weird computers and the one that I really grabbed hold of was the Sinclair ZX80, which was basically this plastic keyboard with a module on the back, which was the RF modulator that hooked into the TV and you could write and load programs through a cassette. But I worked part time at a computer store on weekends, and a buddy of mine who I think he might have had the Commodore VIC-20 at that point, but we built our own modems, our own acoustic modems.

So we ripped apart old phones and we put them in little boxes, so you could put the phone cradle right on top, and it worked, I want to say like three baud a minute or a second, whatever, but it worked. And so that was kind of my introduction, then bulletin boards and that kind of thing that followed. And then I put everything aside as my radio and television career started when I was nineteen in the Netherlands. And then when I got to the States in ’87, the first thing I did is I went to 47th Street Photo…

Guy Kawasaki:

Oh, my God.

Adam Curry:

…and I bought a Mac Plus with a scuzzy external hard drive, twenty megabytes, with that big scuzzy cable, remember to terminate. You could plug an RV into that thing. It was so much power. And the 1,200 baud modem, and I was using it for CompuServe, because I discovered CompuServe by then, I thought that was phenomenal. Prodigy was coming around, around that time, I think, that was a Sears deal. But all of this stuff was nothing because I kept hearing people say, “The internet, man, the internet. It’s impossible to get on but all the cool kids are there.”

And so I just fooled around night after night until I finally got a dial up account with Panix New York, figured out how to get the TCP/IP stack running, and I was off to the races. And from there, as I said, it just progressed into the web.

A guy from Sun Microsystems, Karl Jacob, who later… I think he’s still an advisor… He might have been on the Facebook board at some point. But he was at Sun and he said, “Check this out, Adam.” And at this time, I had a 56K frame relay in my house, “Look out, I’m cooking with gas now.” And so he streams a sound file from San Francisco to my computer in New Jersey. I’m like, “That’s it, man. Why am I mucking around on this cable business? This is where I got to be.”

And so literally, I finished the number one video on the Top Twenty Countdown, and I said, “That’s it. I’m leaving MTV. I’m going to start my own company. I’m going to do something on the internet. I don’t know what it is, but that’s where the future is, and I’m done and I’m out.” And I left and I never looked back.

Went right to my radio syndicators and started a company called OnRamp, and the first thing we did was this Fifty-sixth Annual Grammy Awards, we did what we call the cyber cast, with two sponsors, VISA and Casio. Casio was sponsoring because they’d just come out with digital cameras that you could connect via a serial cable to your computer so you could then upload the photos. And we were using CU-SeeMe video, hello, one frame a second, and it was a tremendous success.

Guy Kawasaki:

Oh my God.

Adam Curry:

And we even brought a T1 line into the Shrine Auditorium, and it was cowboy stuff. It was really crazy. But it was all East Coast, right? It wasn’t until I met the West Coast guys that I really understood how nuts the world was. And that’s where I met such luminaries as Marc Canter, and Dave Winer, and John C. Dvorak, John Perry Barlow, and I really didn’t know that much about the culture of Silicon Valley and computers other than the thing I held in my hands. So these are like profits, man. I was like, “Wow, there’s a whole another thing going on out here.”

In fact, I was still at MTV I think, and Halsey Minor gets in touch with me, he said, “We’ve got this thing which is a pilot called CNET. Come on out.” I’m like, “Okay.” So I go, and they had an idea, they brought in Kevin Wendell, a top… He helped build the Fox Network, not Fox News, but the Fox television station network, and they were going to do like a cable channel or something called CNET, and they had a whole bunch of people in just shooting all weekend long.

I said, “This should be an internet thing, really.” He says, “Oh, yeah, good idea. What should we do?” I said, “Well, do you have cnet.com?” “No.” “All right. Hold on a second.” I register cnet.com. I ran their email for at least a year, IMAP or POP3 email boxes for them. They never had an idea that it was going to be seen at the computer network the way it turned out to be.

So there were all these things I was just coming across, but that really enamored me with… If you sit down with Marc Canter and he’s smoking some weed, man, you can listen to that guy for hours like, “Wow, these guys are nuts.” And so that’s how I kind of started to learn about, again, the tinkering side, RSS. This is what I learned from Dave Winer. He was building microblogging, really, he was building RSS and the aggregator, and Marc had his multimedia stuff, and all of these different things happening.

Meanwhile, I moved to Amsterdam at the end of ’99, to go back. I had a Dutch wife and she wanted to be near her parents, and they had cable modems. Now, this was cool because cable modems was not fast or anything, but it was always on. You didn’t have to dial up, you didn’t have to tie up a phone line. Napster was just happening, so people were like, “Holy crap. I’m sharing all this stuff and I’m literally poking inside someone’s hard drive and pulling mp3 files out, and it’s all kind of working, but it was also slow.”

And that’s when I came up… I wrote a blog post called The Last Yard, and I had this idea that since the computer was always on, why couldn’t we just have the video file that you absolutely want to see instead of the experience of the day, which was click, wait, wait, download, click open up with another program, the real player starts to jerk open, all this stuff that was a crap. I said, “Well, wouldn’t it be great if there’s some program that would run in the background, something I wanted to see was ready, would download it, but then would tell me later,” because once it’s downloaded, then it’s just one click, it plays. So what I don’t know won’t hurt me. That was my whole concept.

And somehow, when Dave… and I was very involved, because I loved his product, Radio UserLand, I said, “Well, this is a two-way system. You create an RSS feed on the blog, and I aggregate it, and I can read it on my end. Why don’t we do like a file attachment?” But it wasn’t that simple. I had to go fly to New York and I had to explain to him what I was talking about, and I think he probably thought I was a schmuck.

Like, “What’s this Hollywood guy doing here telling me what to do?” But he saw it, he saw the light. And I think by the time I was back in Europe, he had kind of coded it in. And for two years we were testing this functionality, just going back and forth and like, “Oh, cool. There’s another 100 megabyte file that Dave uploaded last night in San Francisco, and I don’t have to download it. I click, it plays right away.” It was all kind of fun, for me at least.

Dave was working with Chris Lydon. I know that they had done some stuff for his radio program, but when I saw the iPod, yeah, that’s when it all came together. I’m like, “Ah.” Because I looked at the iPod, and that was not a digital Walkman or whatever people were saying, I looked at it and I said, “That is almost exactly like the Sony transistor radio my grandmother gave me when I was seven years old that I have under the pillow, it was the same size.” I said, “This is a radio, it’s a radio receiver.” And now we can have the radio shows… subscribe was the word of the time… you subscribe, and then this little program is going to look for the new episodes or whatever. We were calling it episodes, I think. And it’ll download it and put it on your iPod and Bob’s your uncle. And that’s where we started. Literally, that’s where we started.

And I’d started doing The Daily Source Code, which was a daily podcast. We didn’t even know what it was called at the time, and the whole point of The Daily Source Code was, I was talking about what the developers were building because they were building more radios. Ii was like, “Oh, the iPod Rex, and iPod Lemon and all these.” We didn’t have apps, we didn’t have phones or anything. My God, the tools we have now is so unbelievable compared to then. So yeah, and so that just took off real fast. I mean, people grabbed hold. I say that to Tony Kahn from WGBH, he was quite instrumental, unsung hero because he really pulled NPR into the game early, early on, and he was pushing them very hard. And that really gave it legitimacy, and yeah, it grew so fast. It was only a number of years.

Guy Kawasaki: I've

So people have applied the moniker “podfather” to you. Is that accurate? Are you the father of podcasting? Well, then what’s Dave Winer? Is he the mother?

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