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thatmouthymerc · 6 years

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“★ FILL IN THE QUESTIONS AS IF YOU ARE BEING INTERVIEWED FOR AN ARTICLE AND YOU WERE YOUR MUSE. TAGGED BY: @spiidermade TAGGING: @xne-eyedwilly @papatuanukuschild @osbcrned @svrged and whoever else wants a go!

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

“Good to meet you, I’m General Eat My Entire Ass!”

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?

“Wade Winston Wilson, born November 22, in Vancouver - ”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU’RE CALLED THAT?

“What, Deadpool? ’Cause it’s fucking awesome and Captain Deadpool was just - nah. And no, I’m not delving into the shitty parts of my backstory for this, you can shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?

“That depends entirely on how wasted my writer is and which weird alternate timeline I’m shitting my way through!”

5. WHAT ARE YOUR POWERS AND ABILITIES?

"I just can’t seem to fuckin’ die. Uh, I heal from everything and I’m a walking metric fuck-ton of cancer. It’s positively idyllic.”

6. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES?

"Blue, bitch, you could lose yourself in that shit.”

7. HAVE YOU EVER DYED YOUR HAIR?

"Yeah, when I was seventeen it was vomit-inducing pink. It was kind of great, actually.”

8. DO YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY MEMBERS?

"Haha, no!”

9. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?

"Does Spider-Man count? Okay, no, that was mean - oh hey, you think he’s into that? No? Wow, you look crazy uncomfortable right now. Okay, I’m gonna count Dogpool and Hydra Bob then!”

10. TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE.

"I think quesadillas are for the weak. Like, what the shit, you know? Why? Why don’t you want more between those tortillas? Meat and cheese? Just cheese? How is that worth it? No, really, I wanna know.”

11. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES OR ACTIVITIES YOU DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME?

"I like cooking when I can focus enough not to burn down everything around me. Oh, and all my crayon drawings are fridge-worthy!”

12. HAVE YOU EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE?

"Haha! Haha, what, no - yes. Yeah. Oh my god, yeah, so many people, there was this one time - ”

13. HAVE YOU EVER… KILLED ANYONE?

"Dude, Death herself has a lady-boner for me and you’re asking that? Yeah, you dingus, I was in the military, you know. I have unalived a lot of idiots.”

14. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?

”Natty-boy says I’m a Chihuahua!”

15. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS.

“Literally everything I do is probably a bad habit.”

16. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE?

"Spidey, I guess? I dunno.”

17. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL?

”Try pansexual, asshole! Hey, you ever been told you’re beautiful? Yeah? Okay, good! I’m glad! You are!”

18. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

“I’m a high school dropout. I tried the online class thing before but when I wanna learn something I just go figure it out, y’know?”

19. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS SOMEDAY?

"Uh - no? I mean, I don’t know. That’s really conditional, isn’t it? I guess that could be nice, who doesn’t have some weird picket-fence pipe dream, but I really doubt it’d happen. I can’t even put up with me, I don’t expect anyone else to.”

20. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANS?

“So Spider-Man and Cable are my biggest fans, right? Definitely. Don’t look at me like that! It’s so true! You should see all the merch they’ve got. I’m pretty sure Spidey has a bunch of shippy shit, you know - hey! Why are you shaking your head?!”

21. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF?

"I have a very specific nightmare about Liam Neeson, and getting vored by Death, and getting shat out of Cable’s asshole and being trapped with babylegs for eternity. It’s a very complex series of events.”

22. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR?

“The super gimp suit. And I guess hoodies and jeans. Whatever.”

23. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE?

"I guess.”

24. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU?

"You’re going to make us go to class? Yeet!”

25. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE?

"Me, myself, and I makes three plus indistinct change.”

26. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE?

"You better have some to give me if you’re asking that. No, seriously, I will cut you.”

27. FAVORITE DRINK?

"The blood of my enemies! Red Kool-Aid. Yeah.”

29. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE?

"My roof.”

30. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE?

”Uh, duh.”

31. WHAT’S YOUR DICK SIZE?

"Where are we? Are we in fucking America right now? Oh my god, metric - hang on, let me Google this - whatever, let’s round down a bit and say eight inches. Hang on, why are you asking me that?”

32. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN?

”Ocean is easier to drown myself in for a dirt nap.”

33. WHAT’S YOUR ‘TYPE’?

“Funny and usually also like a much better person than me on an exponential scale.”

34. ANY FETISHES?

"You got a fresh page? This is gonna take a while. No no no come on don’t skip it hey this’ll be fun - ”

35. TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?

"What the hell is this vers erasure? I switch. I lean towards top, though. Why? Why are there random sexual questions sprinkled in between the weirdest vanilla shit? Who wrote this?”

36. CAMPING, OR INDOORS?

“The cold embrace of the void, please!”

37. ARE YOU WAITING FOR THIS INTERVIEW TO BE OVER?

"Nah, I don’t mind. Wait, it’s over?”

#headcanons.#ooc.#tagged.

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mlleedom · 4 years

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White Frights - The Villains and the Fall Guys

February 2002

I don't know what it is, but every time I see a white guy walking towards me, I tense up. My heart starts racing, and I immediately begin to look for an escape route and a means to defend myself. I kick myself for even being in this part of town after dark. Didn't I notice the suspicious gangs of white people lurking on every street corner, drinking Starbucks and wearing their gang colors of Gap turquoise or J Crew mauve? What an idiot! Now the white person is coming closer, closer - and then - whew! He walks by without harming me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

White people scare the crap out of me. This may be hard for you to understand - considering that I am white - but then again, my colour gives me a certain insight. For instance, I find myself pretty scary a lot of the time, so I know what I'm talking about. You can take my word for it: if you find yourself suddenly surrounded by white people, you better watch out. Anything can happen. As white people, we've been lulled into thinking it's safe to be around other white people. We've been taught since birth that it's the people of that other colour we need to fear. They're the ones who'll slit your throat!

Yet as I look back on my life, a strange but unmistakable pattern seems to emerge. Every person who has ever harmed me in my lifetime - the boss who fired me, the teacher who flunked me, the principal who punished me, the kid who hit me in the eye with a rock, the executive who didn't renew TV Nation, the guy who was stalking me for three years, the accountant who double-paid my taxes, the drunk who smashed into me, the burglar who stole my stereo, the contractor who overcharged me, the girlfriend who left me, the next girlfriend who left even sooner, the person in the office who stole cheques from my chequebook and wrote them out to himself for a total of $16,000 - every one of these individuals has been a white person. Coincidence? I think not.

I have never been attacked by a black person, never been evicted by a black person, never had my security deposit ripped off by a black landlord, never had a black landlord, never had a meeting at a Hollywood studio with a black executive in charge, never had a black person deny my child the college of her choice, never been puked on by a black teenager at a Mötley Crüe concert, never been pulled over by a black cop, never been sold a lemon by a black car salesman, never seen a black car salesman, never had a black person deny me a bank loan, and I've never heard a black person say, "We're going to eliminate 10,000 jobs here - have a nice day!"

I don't think that I'm the only white guy who can make these claims. Every mean word, every cruel act, every bit of pain and suffering in my life has had a Caucasian face attached to it.

So, um, why is it exactly that I should be afraid of black people?

I look around at the world I live in - and, I hate to tell tales out of school, but it's not the African-Americans who have made this planet such a pitiful, scary place. Recently, a headline on the front of the Science section of the New York Times asked Who Built The H-Bomb? The article went on to discuss a dispute between the men who claim credit for making the first bomb. Frankly, I could have cared less - because I already know the only pertinent answer: "It was a white guy!" No black guy ever built or used a bomb designed to wipe out hordes of innocent people, whether in Oklahoma City, Columbine or Hiroshima. No, friends, it's always the white guy. Let's go to the tote board:

· Who gave us the black plague? A white guy.

· Who invented PBC, PVC, PBB, and a host of chemicals that are killing us? White guys.

· Who has started every war America has been in? White men.

· Who invented the punchcard ballot? A white man.

· Whose idea was it to pollute the world with the internal combustion engine? Whitey, that's who.

· The Holocaust? That guy really gave white people a bad name.

· The genocide of Native Americans? White man.

· Slavery? Whitey!

· US companies laid off more than 700,000 people in 2001. Who ordered the lay-offs? White CEOs.

You name the problem, the disease, the human suffering, or the abject misery visited upon millions, and I'll bet you 10 bucks I can put a white face on it faster than you can name the members of 'NSync.

And yet, when I turn on the news each night, what do I see again and again? Black men alleged to be killing, raping, mugging, stabbing, gang banging, looting, rioting, selling drugs, pimping, ho-ing, having too many babies, fatherless, motherless, Godless, penniless. "The suspect is described as a black male... the suspect is described as a black male... THE SUSPECT IS DESCRIBED AS A BLACK MALE..." No matter what city I'm in, the news is always the same, the suspect always the same unidentified black male. I'm in Atlanta tonight, and I swear the police sketch of the black male suspect on TV looks just like the black male suspect I saw on the news last night in Denver and the night before in LA. In every sketch he's frowning, he's menacing - and he's wearing the same knit cap! Is it possible that it's the same black guy committing every crime in America?

I believe we've become so used to this image of the black man as predator that we are forever ruined by this brainwashing. In my first film, Roger & Me, a white woman on social security clubs a rabbit to death so that she can sell him as "meat" instead of as a pet. I wish I had a nickel for every time in the past 10 years that someone has come up to me and told me how "horrified" they were when they saw that "poor little cute bunny" bonked on the head. The scene, they say, made them physically sick. The Motion Picture Association of America gave Roger & Me an R [18] rating in response to that rabbit killing. Teachers write to me and say they have to edit that part out of the film, if they want to show it to their students.

But less than two minutes after the bunny lady does her deed, I included footage of a scene in which police in Flint, Michigan, shot a black man who was wearing a Superman cape and holding a plastic toy gun. Not once - not ever - has anyone said to me, "I can't believe you showed a black man being shot in your movie! How horrible! How disgusting! I couldn't sleep for weeks." After all, he was just a black man, not a cute, cuddly bunny. The ratings board saw absolutely nothing wrong with that scene. Why? Because it's normal, natural. We've become so accustomed to seeing black men killed - in the movies and on the evening news - that we now accept it as standard operating procedure. No big deal! That's what blacks do - kill and die. Ho-hum. Pass the butter.

It's odd that, despite the fact that most crimes are committed by whites, black faces are usually attached to what we think of as "crime". Ask any white person who they fear might break into their home or harm them on the street and, if they're honest, they'll admit that the person they have in mind doesn't look much like them. The imaginary criminal in their heads looks like Mookie or Hakim or Kareem, not little freckle-faced Jimmy.

No matter how many times their fellow whites make it clear that the white man is the one to fear, it simply fails to register. Every time you turn on the TV to news of another school shooting, it's always a white kid who's conducting the massacre. Every time they catch a serial killer, it's a crazy white guy. Every time a terrorist blows up a federal building, or a madman gets 400 people to drink Kool-Aid, or a Beach Boys songwriter casts a spell causing half a dozen nymphets to murder "all the piggies" in the Hollywood Hills, you know it's a member of the white race up to his old tricks.

So why don't we run like hell when we see whitey coming toward us? Why don't we ever greet the Caucasian job applicant with, "Gee, uh, I'm sorry, there aren't any positions available right now"? Why aren't we worried sick about our daughters marrying white guys? And why isn't Congress trying to ban the scary and offensive lyrics of Johnny Cash ("I shot a man in Reno/just to watch him die"), the Dixie Chicks ("Earl had to die"), or Bruce Springsteen ("I killed everything in my path/I can't say that I'm sorry for the things that we done").

Why the focus on rap lyrics? Why doesn't the media print lyrics such as the following, and tell the truth? "I sold bottles of sorrow, then chose poems and novels" (Wu-Tang Clan); "People use yo' brain to gain" (Ice Cube); "A poor single mother on welfare... tell me how ya did it" (Tupac Shakur); "I'm trying to change my life, see I don't wanna die a sinner" (Master P).

African-Americans have been on the lowest rung of the economic ladder since the day they were dragged here in chains. Every other immigrant group has been able to advance from the bottom to the higher levels of our society. Even Native Americans, who are among the poorest of the poor, have fewer children living in poverty than African-Americans.

You probably thought things had got better for blacks in this country. After all, considering the advances we've made eliminating racism in our society, one would think our black citizens might have seen their standard of living rise. A survey published in the Washington Post in July 2001 showed that 40%-60% of white people thought the average black person had it as good or better than the average white person.

Think again. According to a study conducted by the economists Richard Vedder, Lowell Gallaway and David C Clingaman, the average income for a black American is 61% less per year than the average white income. That is the same percentage difference as it was in 1880. Not a damned thing has changed in more than 120 years.

Want more proof? Consider the following:

· Black heart attack patients are far less likely than whites to undergo cardiac catheterisation, regardless of the race of their doctors.

· Whites are five times more likely than blacks to receive emergency clot-busting treatment after suffering a stroke.

· Black women are four times more likely than white women to die while giving birth.

· Black levels of unemployment have been roughly twice those of whites since 1954.

So how have we white people been able to get away with this? Caucasian ingenuity! You see, we used to be real dumb. Like idiots, we wore our racism on our sleeve. We did really obvious things, like putting up signs on rest-room doors that said WHITES ONLY. We made black people sit at the back of the bus. We prevented them from attending our schools or living in our neighbourhoods. They got the crappiest jobs (those advertised for NEGROES ONLY), and we made it clear that, if you weren't white, you were going to be paid a lower wage.

Well, this overt, over-the-top segregation got us into a heap of trouble. A bunch of uppity lawyers went to court. They pointed out that the 14th Amendment doesn't allow for anyone to be treated differently because of their race. Eventually, after a long procession of court losses, demonstrations and riots, we got the message: if you're going to be a successful racist, better find a way to do it with a smile on your face.

We even got magnanimous enough to say, "Sure, you can live here in our neighborhood; your kids can go to our kids' school. Why the hell not? We were just leaving, anyway." We smiled, gave black America a pat on the back - and then ran like the devil to the suburbs.

At work, we whites still get the plum jobs, double the pay, and a seat in the front of the bus to happiness and success. We've rigged the system from birth, guaranteeing that black people will go to the worst schools, thus preventing them from admission to the best colleges, and paving their way to a fulfilling life making our caffe lattes, servicing our BMWs, and picking up our trash. Oh, sure, a few slip by - but they pay an extra tariff for the privilege: the black doctor driving his BMW gets pulled over continually by the cops; the black Broadway actress can't get a cab after the standing ovation; the black broker is the first to be laid off because of "seniority".

We whites really deserve some kind of genius award for this. We talk the talk of inclusion, we celebrate the birthday of Dr King, we frown upon racist jokes. We never fail to drop a mention of "my friend - he's black..." We make sure we put our lone black employee up at the front reception desk so we can say, "See - we don't discriminate. We hire black people."

Yes, we are a very crafty, cagey race - and damn if we haven't got away with it!

I wonder how long we will have to live with the legacy of slavery. That's right. I brought it up. SLAVERY. You can almost hear the groans of white America whenever you bring up the fact that we still suffer from the impact of the slave system. Well, I'm sorry, but the roots of most of our social ills can be traced straight back to this sick chapter of our history. African-Americans never got a chance to have the same fair start that the rest of us got. Their families were willfully destroyed, their language and culture and religion stripped from them. Their poverty was institutionalized so that our cotton could get picked, our wars could be fought, our convenience stores could remain open all night. The America we've come to know would never have come to pass if not for the millions of slaves who built it and created its booming economy - and for the millions of their descendants who do the same dirty work for whites today.

It's not as if we're talking ancient Rome here. My grandfather was born just three years after the Civil War. That's right, my grandfather. My great-uncle was born before the Civil War. And I'm only in my 40s. Sure, people in my family seem to marry late, but the truth remains: I'm just two generations from slave times. That, my friends, is not a "long time ago". In the vast breadth of human history, it was only yesterday. Until we realize that, and accept that we do have a responsibility to correct an immoral act that still has repercussions today, we will never remove the single greatest stain on the soul of our country

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2002/mar/30/features.weekend

I read this excerpt from Moore’s book at an open mic night at a coffee shop shortly after the book release in 2002. Moore has been labeled contentious and divisive. He was at the cutting edge in helping those impacted by the water crisis in Flint, MI. I can relate to this piece as I have never been harmed by a black person and what I have seen in the media throughout my 4+ decades has been a complete disconnect.

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sweaterkittensahoy · 6 years

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DVD commentary meme! Sorority House; Chaos Demons, the passage starting at "FIGHT!" through "the incantation followed instantly". And/or Miracle in Finals Week, "Wow, that worked." through the end. (And wow was it hard to limit myself to 500-word passages. I WANT TO KNOW ALL THE THINGS! :D )

Sorority story:

“FIGHT!”

Hazel turned on her heel as the threads snapped, releasing the energy in a cloud. (When threads snap, they explode like spores from a mushroom. They get on EVERYTHING, and if you’re a Blue Stone and have breathing issues, they can get you pretty good.) There were three women in the center of the room, all of them in Alpha Chi T-shirts and white shorts (wardrobe based on a former college roommate headed out to sorority stuff; she was great). They were facing off, all of them with their hands up like they really knew how to fight. (As a scrapper with the soul of a brawler, I enjoy writing women about to fuck each other up with fists rather than hair-pulling; not that hair-pulling is a bad tactic. I just like to have them go fists first.)

"Fuck," (there’s a long-running joke that any time you swear, Auntie Tessa flinches at The House) Hazel breathed and pushed her way through the tightening crowd. She squeezed between a gaggle of screaming women cheering incoherently. One of them dumped half of cup of Sunshine (Sunshine is orange Kool-aid and any liquor that is cheap. It tastes like death, and Alpha Chis drink it like water.) down Hazel's back.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry!" The woman said, trying with the overcoordination of the drunk to wipe the drink off Hazel. (You have not experience dunbridled kindness until a drunk woman has tried to clean you up from the drink she spilled.)

"I'm fine," Hazel said. She batted as the woman kept trying to help and kept apologizing. "It's fine!" Hazel yelled (she didn’t want to, but crisis) as the volume in the room went up. The fight was starting, no doubt. She had to get to the front of crowd, get a line of sight on whoever was controlling this.

"It's such a nice shirt!" the woman wailed.

"It's so cute!" One of her friends added, clearly oblivious to why the conversation was even happening. (Drunk ladies will always tell you you are fabulous. Always.)

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry Hazel thought as she touched them both on the wrists and froze them in place for two seconds so she could get away. (This spell is not to be used lightly as it violates a person’s right to free movement. Three-way punch outs are an acceptable reason to put it into play.) She hated doing that to people. It left them disoriented and sometimes made them sick, (in this case, the ladies attributed the reaction to too much Sunshine) but the cheers were getting louder, and the energy in the room was building outward. Too much pressure, and something was going to come tumbling down. (You get enough power in a place that’s not used to it, you can collapse a house. Chaos demons aren’t usually that destructive, but this is a special case.)

The three women were on each other hard when Hazel broke to the front. They were punching and kicking, hair-pulling only as a way to control each other's movements. (like I said, I am not against hair-pulling.) There was already blood on the floor. Blood and energy were a bad mix. (Is this the moment I realized the end game of the chaos demon fuckery and realized I needed to write a novella? MAYBE.)

Hazel tracked the room. Screaming drunk. Screaming drunk. Laughing drunk. Filming drunk. Two guys backwards snap backs (ugh, I typoed. Should have been Two guys in...), pastel shorts, and open (should have been a comma at open) white button downs simply watching and grinning. (I would like to thank Ngozi of Check, Please for reminding me dudebros love pastels.)

"Goddamn chaos demons," Hazel hissed and cut across the room. One of them saw her coming, saw the stone around her neck, and yelped. The other followed his gaze and paled. (Chaos demons are a super standard issue for Blue Stones. Think of them as those people who will talk during a movie. Usually low-level annoying but fucking everywhere.)

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The first one screamed. No one noticed.

"Um. Shit. Uh." The second one stammered, then he looked at the center of the room, and his pupils turned to slits. "Hey, ladies! This woman just grabbed my ass!" (Chaos demons are total dicks.)

Hazel was tackled before she could even turn fully around. She felt a punch to her kidneys, shook off someone trying to twist back her arm, and was grateful she'd kept her hair up in its lazy bun as one of them went to grab her hair. She managed to curl herself into a defensive ball and clasp her hands together. Before she could get out the incantation, someone kicked her in the back ribs. "Shit!" She screamed, and the incantation followed instantly. (Blue Stones get extensive self defense training, which is how Hazel manages to escape the worst of it before rolling into a ball. And, yeah, that asshole broke her rib. And as someone who has broken a rib, lemme tell you, it fucking hurts.)

Finals Week:

"Wow, that worked." (Hazel honestly wasn’t sure it would. She was guessing based on the idea of how Gretel can fade out in a mist, which means each particle of Gretel would carry a bit of magic, right? Right.)

Gretel smiled. "Excellent! Do you think it'll work for the other sections?" (Gretel LOVES helping with stuff like this. Being a ghost, she can’t learn full magic like the Blue Stones, but she wishes she could.)

"I can't imagine why not." Hazel lifted her wand to drop the hiding spell, paused, and sighed hugely. "Shit. I'm going to have to write that down for the Aunties. They never taught us you as a magical conduit, or ghosts at all." (There’s more than one ghost who works with the Blue Stones. You just haven’t seen them yet because storytelling is weird.)

"I'll tell them," Gretel replied. "I'll be going back tonight anyway. If they have any questions after I report, they can call you." (Gretel doesn’t always go back to The House after she’s done something. She is not required to check in. She also routinely reports on behalf of the Blue Stones she works with so they don’t have to write shit down. She has an excellent memory.)

"Oh, that would be awesome. I've still got to finish cramming for my Algebra final." (Hazel is lying about needing to cram. She’s a solid student who remembers things well. She’s using “cramming” in the “stressed about finals week” sense.)

"And cleaning out the other pests."

"That, too."

Even with Gretel as a sort of magic bomb, it took another two hours to clear the rest of the anxiety beetles. By the time they finished, Hazel felt like she had bricks in her shoes, and Gretel was starting to fade in and out. (This moment was supposed to give you an idea that working a lot of magic at once can drain you. I think it read that way.)

"Please note to the Aunties that no single Blue Stone or ghost should clear a whole space that size again," Hazel said as they stopped by the fountain, and she yawned hugely.

"I will," Gretel said. She was giving Hazel the same sweet smile from earlier. (I can’t even tell you how much they kill me. They’re so fucking cute.) "You're worn out. No more studying tonight, okay? Get some sleep."

"I don't think I have a choice," Hazel said. She scrubbed her hands over her eyes and blinked a few times. "Thanks for the help."

"Of course." Gretel reached out, as she always did, her hand brushing through--

Hazel stared down at their hands. Their hands that were touching. (I literally did not know this was happening until I wrote it. I screamed.) Her hand, which Gretel was holding. She looked up and found Gretel was staring in shock as well. "How…"

"I don't know," Gretel said. She turned Hazel's hand over with her own. She met Hazel's gaze and reached out her other hand. Her fingers stroked Hazel's cheek.

"Gretel," Hazel got out. "What the fuck."

"I have no idea. I've never--there's never--" (This is not because Hazel is The Special One (tm). This is because of something I will discuss in a different story.) Gretel shook her head, then dropped her hand from Hazel's face. She tightened her grip on Hazel's hand. "I'll...I'll tell the Aunties. They'll want to know this, too. I don't think any of the ghosts have ever made contact."

"Yeah," Hazel replied, her brain clicking back on at the mention of reporting...this. "Okay. Um. Tell them I'll be free by Thursday afternoon. (The Aunties are very big on education. They try not to get in the way if they can help it. Blue Stones choosing to pay attention to their surroundings is totally cool but not required.) I'm going to Grandma's (this should be Gran. It took me a bit to decide on the proper name for her.) for the break, but I won't leave until Friday morning."

"Okay," Gretel agreed. She squeezed Hazel's hand once more, then slowly let go. "Get some sleep," she said.

"Yeah," Hazel agreed, though she felt like maybe she would never sleep again. "I'll see you soon." (She conked the fuck out ten minutes later. Unbridled glee and confusion is no match for magic fatigue.)

Gretel smiled one last time and faded into the mist around the fountain.

(Wanna remind everyone I have a ko-fi for Blue Stones, and I am always up to answer questions.)

#blue stones #the blue stones #dvd commentary #story commentary #original writing #hazel harrington #gretel #who still needs a last name #goddamnit #uberniftacular

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sorayahigashikata · 5 years

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Chapter 88: "'Murica!"

#Paula reads SBR #Chapter 88 #POLITICIANS. LIE.#Valentine has proven himself scum and should not be trusted #Steel Ball Run spoilers #Part 7 spoilers

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throwingideasatthewall · 3 years

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Clone Wars Massacre

Oh, wow is that what we’re really going with,

Don’t get me wrong the tone has been better but are you sure you want to take on something like a massacre? (Sla-very- Kinda-

Aight,

Start,

(Also yeah whatever did happen to Ventress because she screwed up in attempt at Dooku’s life*, backing down, and I thought she had just cool-ed from the whole revenge thing- - *Not killing him voluntarily when she had the chance, - No

Lightsisters?

Did I- hear that right?

Yeah,

It honestly sounds like they’re saying “Lightsisters,” Instead of night sisters as previous,

Also yeah going back to the people that encouraged your toxic behavior and are toxic enabling generational breakers

Also, they don’t recognize her?

I do have to admit I never got the idea of plasma arrows,

Or possibly coming to hold someone accountable,

That expression really doesn’t speak of flee

Ing

Also I’ve vented my emotions and I’m going to go kick the unaccountables to the curb

(With maybe one more ro -ast before I do so-)

Point being, she seems a lot more stable (And center -ed)

Uhm

What,

Ok there was a small modicum of change in the emotions,

Hid-ing

Hey, that’s good

Much

Hey there’s some accountability there,

Has forsaken

Okay never mind it’s spiraling downward -s

N-othing

Sisters

Kinda the weakest relation of all

but this is actually pretty on top

Just replace sister with a “friend,” or “generation,” and you’ve got a good idea

At least it wasn’t “me”,

Yeah,

Sith

Okay, that’s some good advice,

Us That’s a bit of thought assuming,

Ordered about

Ah, lady that includes you you know,

Sisters

Ok you know I’m all about loyalty to generation and humanity, But this is feeling kind of supremacist right now,

Maybe a bit jumpy,

Okay this is a relatively validating talk

Never mind it just got tox and over involved,

Gosh darn it

The Bean wanted some actual non- over- involvement affection/in valid ation- And you turned it tox, Oof,

Ships

There are lots of ships, by the way

Yeah, is this back to hunting down savage line or did I just- Oh, Well this is an odd conversation

Grievous just bounding up

Not actu ally the relaxed or cordial meeting

You’d expect from two people of evil,

Two that know the location of each other’s lair,

...summon

Pretty much out of nowhere because Dooku usually uses the hologram, so far as we’ve seen, And there hasn’t been any real big set up to any sort of major event That would require the amassing of the droid army, Or an in person audience,

Seriously, you called him here for that?

Look my apprentice tried to very weakly kill me Pretty much up and gave up near the end,

But I’m still sore,

So I’m sending you

Grievous; (internally) I am a general how would I be any help in tracking down one person, with my pro- fess ion in Military, A category so broad and general (Area of effect) that I would be near to absolutely useless in this quest, Which boils down to very specific pettry

Again how is Grievous going to be at all helpful in this? - Like that’s a small ragtag team of rebels,

That is way below his area of affect,

He’s more likely to bungle it up on the basic concept of it’s really outside his thing,

Also yeah let’s send the one lone person to a place most known for its gaslighting,

I know grievous is robot but he clearly has emotions like a human (Or any sentient) Requiring/desiring stimuli and companion -ship,

(As seen previously)

Really this quest is really outside his mode of operation,

Like he’s used to strictly logical widespread warfare, against multiple moving shapes (large vessels)

And you’re sending him in to close range restrained targets using emotional manipulation, at high sp- eeds- - (Similar to guerrilla warfare)

You’re setting this dude up for failure

Yeah he might succeed by numbers alone

But you’re going to lose a lot just based on wastefulness and just that not being his mode of operation (Noting particularly the expedition where he crash landed on a planet and barely made out with his skin)

-abandoning hundreds of troops - (I’ve already talked enough about how this just doesn’t work and how this should be seen as a stupid move)

And should be seen as more of an insult.

Bent Back

Blue Robe- - To Battle . . . Against a small group of rebels

(Like seriously,)

Buddy, you can stop with the epic music I know that’s a lot of ships but there is nothing epic about this,

Any way..

Okay, never mind this got really tox,

I do

Loyalty is always been a weird concept to me because yeah it always changes because there’s so much to see and do

The only loyalty should be to the concept of account-ability

(And not being a dick ,)

Ven -tress joins a death cult

[Seriously blood oaths and life oaths �� are cre ep-

People and things changed and no amount of oaths or false promises are going to fix that,

It’s just something you have to except or manage, correctly

You can’t control other people.

Whelp she drank the whole thing of Kool-Aid,

(Also didn’t they just go over the con- - sequences of messing with the stuff,”

Also guess he’s going to need a new name because Ven-tress given to her by her abuser (Or was so implied,” )

Also I’m supposed to view this as advanced gaslighting right

What hap-pened?

Her eyes?

Night

“M -other,” Yep she’s drinking that Kool-Aid

F-east

Oh it was going to be used to introduce us to anyone else because we know literally no one and everyone else seems to be just extras,

Bo-nding is nice,

Will ing ly, - W-h - This is going on-

Thank you p-erson I barely know - Also Dooku coming into ruin good times - Buzz kill - Droid . . . You know if it’s been time building up their bond,

This might’ve been more impactful-

[ It still works but the weird creepy in humane behavior before hand doesn’t really help,”

]

Any way,

W-ar

So much for your plan

[oh so yeah attacking random [Neutral] planet just because you have a hate bo -ner

? -?

You know this would be better if it had occur- red like right -after,

Like, Dooku, was like; Okay, well that plan went horribly, So now I know that Ven- tress and all of Dathomir hates me,

Let me send someone stealthy to do the job

You’re telling me Dooku doesn’t have anyone Besides like the main three four- Bad guys? - Like this is chain of command where are the gimmick minions?

[Besides evil, vengeance And t -ech,” ]

? Oy why do you have the Clankers and the tanks marching next to each other?

Like what do you want the heavy artillery in the back,

Yeah I get this gives them better range but wouldn’t you want some pro-tection - ?

Also yeah what happened to all the males?

Like I know Ven- tress beat a couple of them up,

But,

? - No, they’re here because Dooku is an ass who doesn’t understand strat-egic planning,

And also he sent Grievous,

Like you’re the (Ex) concept of vengeance

- The confidence alone - you should kick his ass

Also, sense it?

There was only four guys to your entire operation, like 1/4 Chance..

W-h

That suck -ed

Also good job not dodg- ing,

Seriously that was pure rock that she could see coming,

Okay, there’s no way -she’s dead,

Okay?

Also where are the lines because you really didn’t have her plan for this shit,

[Also this would be a really great moment right now Ventress to go to Bez-er-ker mode and get some revenge on her ab- us -er - I know this whole things theme is “letting go of the past,” Which you do, after you get the past somewhere where it can’t constantly hurt you,

And pose a threat (Or stress, )

Point being emotions have a reason as well as (a time and a Place) And while venting is fine murder is not, Don’t conflict the two . . . [Also they’re just clustered together,”

also how is your gaslighting magic going to work against robots?

[also is Ven-tress going to die because her arc is pretty much over and the only way I can see this ending is via redemption equals death

(Seeing as she’s around Obi-Wan’s age (or at least an adult around Sky -walker’s) so her window of absolute redemption and accou- ntability is pretty much over..

Also, Ok, I guess it’s against droid it’s not too much out of her range,

(Though if it’s actual people she would probably be dead,)

Or daca?

At- tack-

Also I guess she’s lead- er now, (Also that line was a little emotionaless)

Trees

Makes sense for the ar- -chers -use the surroundings, ?

Did she just fall off a tree, , Good for Them,

A-ight-

[so yeah sending the robots to deal with these sentient person

least to say it’s no surprise that ended up terribly,

Witches

Again sending the tech guy was pretty much guaran- teeing failure,

As in any older Gen -younger Gen fight-

Metall

Cave?

Holo-

? ?

[again I’m putting that down to gaslighting magic,]

Why the look back?

Or is that just showing us the magic cave

(for future reference) - ?

And apparently the attack just stopped

(or maybe it’s on a different front)

Point being those guys want needed and Mother needed two people to get the thing,

What ?

Ser-iously there’s just someone be-hind there?

What’s the point of the metal?

Not, even the same species

(I think)

Also, resurrect-?

Look lady I don’t know what you know about resurrection but it doesn’t work like that,

Definitely not something a boomer can perform,

Also, Ah, movie you might not want to do that considering bringing people back from the dead tends to break any kind of tension, or suspension,

And she was presumably an adult,

So yeah that shouldn’t be possible,

Okay, you do not really want to go there,

Ok yeah I’m going to have the bitch... out about now

(I don’t there’s anything particularly tox or that I should know any of that info- rmation,

This is generally supposed to be some divine zombie bullshit,

Which, Is just a nope for me personally,

[Honestly this episode is completely fine, clearly meant to be some kind of Grievous vs Ventress thing, and so long as the bring things back to the dead pothole gets closed up by the end of it ,I’m not too mad

(Otherwise the galaxy is pretty damn screw. -ed [Quick. Reverb] Scan

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doctortreklock · 7 years

Text

This is it. The big one. The one we’ve all been waiting for... Spn season finale!

Alright. Going into this, I have a finite list of characters that must survive to the end or I’m not watching again next season. Sam, Dean, Cas, Jody, etc.

I love it when they jury-rig stuff together. More authentic that way, I think.

I love these boys and their wavering optimism.

Dean and the grenade launcher. :-D

Cheeseburger eating American lunatics. Just the way we love ‘em.

Jodi’s such a mum.

“We haven’t seen you since...” “Since you killed us. No hard feelings.”

In season 2, Sam turned down being the leader of an army. In season 12, he calls upon the infantrymen to join him in battle.

Splitting the Winchesters up, for better or worse.

Lovin’ Ketch’s suit there.

On the one hand, Mary’s being a good mum who only wants the best for her sons. On the other hand, Mary really hasn’t drunk the Winchester kool-aid or read the manual because being a Winchester means being there even when it’s hard. It means working through the tough stuff and drinking yourself into despair and demon deals and reunion hugs.

Wow, Dean’s been keeping that deep. Canonizing everything everyone ever postulated about the young Winchesters and John’s A+ parenting.

“I hate you. And I love you.”

The Winchester way is cleaning up the messes you made to save your family.

I’m very glad they’re actually addressing all of the deep-seated issues between Dean and Mary.

Thanks for the infodump, lady. You can shoot her now, Sam.

And thus ends the saga of the British Men of Letters.

FAMILY HUG!

KANSAS IS PLAYING MY JAM

The last episode ended so nicely, this one’s going to end on a cliffhanger, I just know it.

I now need a fic where all the angels are just really dedicated IKEA workers.

He quite liked that vessel, too.

Okay. So there’s another female character down. Rowena’s death at least made sense.

So now Cas is lost in...stormy Purgatory?

And Crowley joins the ranks of all office lackeys the world over.

“You big, beautiful, lumbering piles of flannel.”

Cas is being so Cas right now.

We’ll fix everything later, we always do. Let’s deal with Lucifer now.

“The child seems to be puncturing the fabric of our reality.” “Awesome.” “And what’s on the other side?” “You don’t want to know.” “But we probably should.”

So...Bobby’s gonna quick jump through the portal with them, right? So we can have a whole family again?

So stormy Purgatory is the Winchester version of It’s a Wonderful Life? I like it.

Bobby: angel-killing bullets Dean: Neat! Cas: *gives his boyfriend a look*

Dean’s circle of friends: you, me, Mom, Cas...Crowley, sometimes

Team Free Will vs Lucifer - season 5 flashback!

CROWLEY!

CASTIEL!!

CAS!!!

There are wings in the sand.

Supernatural, you have three minutes to fix this or I’m never watching this again, I swear to Chuck.

#supernatural #12.22 #12.23 #i'm not watching this show #i can't #not anymore #what in chuck's thrice-cursed name did they do that for?#cas is dead #i can't even #amanda watches tv #sorrow and sadness

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