#we have a system that says: if you give one person one piece of paper you will save yourself an hour of work AND get paid a lot of money | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smidgen-of-hotboy · 18 days

Text

Our Angel of Brahma, pt. i

I rewrote the original piece that started this au. There are some new details added in and some grammar mistakes finally corrected. @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @ananxiousgenz @gwenlena @demonic-panini @the-private-eye

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING BEGINS. TIRED VOICE: Some say, that the Legend isn't true. Some say that it's a bedtime story that a mother made up to put her children to sleep so they would be less distressed in the morning when she didn't come home. At least one person believes that he built the Hanataba Clinic. We don’t know everything. But here is what we do know: SOUND: PAPER SHUFFLING ACROSS TILE FLOOR. TIRED VOICE: A young revolutionary infiltrated New Kinshasa and got to the Reactor Core of the floating city and the Guardian Angel System. He pulled the Reactor and started a ten-minute countdown destabilizing the city's gravity field. A lone constable arrived first on the scene and fought revolutionary. He was stabbed to death. The revolutionary then put the Reactor back in place, restabilizing New Kinshasa, putting the Guardian Angel System back online, and was stormed by several more Constables. He made a speech to the city and to the planet of Brahma. Promising that if he came this close to knocking the city out of the sky, then he would someday come back to finish the job. (DEEP SIGH) New Kinshasa never fell on us that day. A curfew was instilled and one by one, friends and family members were dragged out of their beds, lined up shoulder to shoulder, and killed in the dead of night. We never see them again. We don't get to bury our dead. The Guardian Angel System is meant to protect them from us. It is meant to teach us a lesson. It is meant to be the key to preventing another Galactic Civil War. There are whispers that the Solar Planets call it a war crime. There is only person who stood up and threatened to end it all. Only one person who dared defy New Kinshasa. Our Angel of Brahma. He gave us hope. And we soared with him, we rallied in the streets, we rioted for days, we starved ourselves in protest. The Dome Wardens stopped showing up to their shifts, forcing the Constables to stretch themselves so thin to monitor Brahma’s storms. People like my father were organizing how to get aid to those who would need it most in case things turned further South. We were in it for the long haul. We sat outside the shuttle station heading to New Kinshasa and body blocked the Constables from leaving. And we waited. And waited. And waited. And he never came back. Vanished, like the mother who tucked her children into bed a final time and waited outside their home to be taken away. Like the husband who pressed a bruising kiss against his spouse's mouth a final time as they were pried apart. Our Angel vanished. Twenty years have passed. No one dares to breathe the name in public or else the System will shoot you down on the spot. The historians have already started to erase our revolution. The Constables say that they caught him ages ago and locked him up somewhere off-planet where no one will ever find him. Dark Matters classified all of Brahman and New Kinshasan history before the War, and slapped the label "Class-X Radical" on everything that came after it. They all want us to forgive, and forget. But I refuse. I refuse to let go. And I refuse to believe any of that. Our Angel would not abandon us so quickly. I choose to believe that he is alive, that Peter Nureyev is alive. I choose to believe that he will come back to us and either liberate Brahma or obliterate us trying like he swore he would. I choose to believe that they never caught him, and they never will, and he will return. I choose to believe... (DEEP BREATH) I just hope that whoever this recording reaches, it isn't too late. And if he's out there... Peter Nureyev, whoever you may be, wherever you are, I believe in you. Don't give up hope in us, please. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

- Found recording of a tired middle-aged Revolutionary who hasn't given up hope yet. The abandoned storage unit the recording was found in was full of mostly junk. The unit belonged to an art collector, but why would they have owned so much junk? And where/when did they come into possession of the comms? I found the comms in a shoe box wrapped up in paper with a note, written in a language (?) or code (?) I do not recognize. Filling the empty space of the box were pamphlets again, written in some code I can’t decipher. Along with this recording (found on an old model comms) was a second recording of the same tired-voiced Revolutionary singing a song. When the comms was rewound back to the earliest recording it crashed. TO DO LIST: 1) Find someone to refurbish the comms, 2) who is the Revolutionary in the recordings?, 3) WHO IS PETER NUREYEV?

Calypso scribbles her final notes down before tossing her pen aside. She leans back in her office chair and massages her neck. After several dry months of no current events and no interesting enough historical columns picked up by any Solar Newspaper, she was running out of options.

She scrapped together whatever creds she could spare and bought an abandoned storage unit on Mars hoping that it would turn up something good enough. According to the company selling it, the original owner was an art collector who traveled the galaxy far and wide. They used the unit to store things that were important to them, and planned on selling off someday. The collector never got around to any of this though having died six months back from a sudden heart attack. Goddess rest their soul, Calypso placed a bid, and thought at the time she scored big.

Turns out, most of the paintings they were withholding were either fakes or reproductions. Many of the cardboard boxes that she was promised would be chock-full of ancient artifacts were stuffed full of ancient Earthen crystal glass swans. So many swans. So many, Calypso didn’t know what a swan was until she did, and quite frankly wished she could go back to a time BS– Before Swans.

After opening the seventh box of glass swans (who in right their mind needs that many swans?), she had concluded this “investment” to be a bust.

She still had that standing offer from Mercury Spectacular Sci-Fi Publishing. Calypso didn’t write fiction, but she did write a more thoughtful article on Mister Mercury’s mansion above Mars than the last five. Color the man easy to impress because he coaxed her to give it a shot. Contact my agent in a week with whatever you got. And she tried, she really tried this time, but the best she came up with started with It was a dark and stormy night and ended with Their deaths were estimated to have occurred around three in the morning. Mister Mercury’s publishing agency did respond back to her email, and they did start off with a compliment, but that was already more than enough to convince Calypso that she did not need to be a fiction writer. She closed the email and hasn’t opened it since. Ignorance is bliss they always say. Maybe if she groveled enough they would reconsider and give her a second shot. Maybe her writing was bad enough that they took pity on her and offered her a chance to join them and she was the idiot to not keep reading.

That’s when she opened the eighth box. A shoebox for old work boots. Inside were pamphlets written in code and a note wrapped around an old comms. Which brings everything back up to now.

New Kinshasa. Brahma. Guardian Angel System. Reactor core.

The Angel of Brahma.

“Peter Nureyev…” She grows incredibly tense waiting for something terrible to happen. Maybe the G.A.S. would strike her down just like the Revolutionary said it would. Nothing happens. And nothing will. The Solar Planets do call the G.A.S. a war crime. They do detest it and they do not condone its use. But no one’s done anything about it. No one except Peter Nureyev.

Calypso chews on her thumb while tapping a finger against her notes. 3) Who is Peter Nureyev? She knows just about as much about Brahma and New Kinshasa as the average person. Which is virtually nothing. But if this recording is real, and the Revolutionary real, and Peter Nureyev real, then she now knows a lot more than the average person.

“Fuck.” With no better story to tell, and no better history to research, Calypso leans back over her desk and jots down everything she thought she knew about Brahma.

#ask to be tagged or removed #surprisingly did not get done with this at 2am #but rather 1230am #go me.#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #private eye's keys go jingle jangle #a hotboy's writing #our angel of brahma #i let calypso say fuck bc juno cant <3 #and also bc i love making characters swear. thats the part of me i put into them <333

11 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 2 years

Note

I don't follow you but I would just like to thank you for your thorough research about this queen bullshit. I hate how people tend to have selective memory about the terrible history of certain important figures and it just boils my blood. So thank you for all your hard work. :)

You're welcome. The way I see it is like this. Vladimir Putin has not set foot in Ukraine, or fired a weapon, or personally killed any Ukrainians in the current war, but everybody (except for tankies, but they don't count) has no problem understanding that he is ultimately responsible for what is happening there. He gave the order, it is happening under his government and with his say-so, and in pursuit of policies which the entire Russian state apparatus has long supported. No, QE2 is not functionally equivalent to an autocratic dictator with essentially absolute power over the degraded political systems in his country, for any number of reasons. But she was likewise the head of state and ultimate authority of the British government and the many terrible actions it took both at home and abroad between 1952-2022 (the period of her reign). Any idea that she doesn't know or bears no responsibility for her enthusiastic, unwavering, and lifelong support of the institutions that facilitated and carried them out, often with her direct advice and counsel (see: weekly meeting with the PM, privileged access to state papers) is just... wrong.

As others and myself have pointed out, the monarch actually does have considerable power in the UK system, even without getting into the shadowy process of Queen’s Consent and backroom wrangling to get the Palace exempted from diversity laws (because what are they going to do, say no to her?) She opens Parliament, she gives the speech laying out the government's agenda (even if it is written for her), she has to give "consent" to all draft laws, and so forth. Besides, her figurative and symbolic role also confers a great deal of assumed social and cultural authority on her, which is why she was often held up as an impartial "beacon" somehow above the muck-slinging of regular party politics. To act as if the literal Queen of England, head of that entire system, when even the minority party in parliament has to style themselves "Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition" to demonstrate that they're opposing the other party, but not her personally, is totally exempt from that, is, to say the least, strange.

This is obviously, again, rooted in white supremacism, the Anglo-American cultural background, and the fact that the British (and the British Empire) are still largely portrayed as "cool," "aspirational," or "universal" (why does everyone in every period piece have modern British accents, regardless of the time or place, and why do we accept that was how the past sounded?) In other words, it's the "good" empire, rather than the "bad" empire (as the rhetoric was during the Cold War in re the USSR). This ignores the fact not just of the British monarchy itself and the actual things that QE2 did in support of that paradigm, but the fact that an empire is by its nature an inherently harmful, exploitative, and assimilationist political structure. Besides, you would think that the least she could do would be to proactively address the bad stuff of the past and try to fix it, right? Nope. All the "modernization of the monarchy" came under extreme duress and only in moments of reactive crisis, and even after all the shit that England did to Ireland over the centuries (including the height of the Troubles during QE2's reign) she could only, on one occasion, offer something that was described as "the closest thing" Ireland had ever gotten to a formal apology, without being an apology. Even the goddamn Pope has apologized for the historical injustices/sexual abuse scandals of the institutional Catholic Church. If those guys are doing better than you in the historical-atonement department, there's something REALLY wrong.

Likewise, there is no doubt that overall, QE2 will have an absolutely glowing, lavish, and uncritical epitaph, and people who call that legacy into question will be stigmatized. Which is the last thing Britain needs right now, with a new hard-right government, a massive cost-of-living crisis (splashing out on a state funeral while people cannot both eat and heat their homes? Huh), and all the economic and social crunch that will be put on its most vulnerable citizens as a result. QE2 was sitting on massive amounts of automatically granted taxpayer money, and yet she steadfastly resisted any attempt to let the public have any notion at all of how she spent it (along with, as noted, sealing Philip's will and that of other senior royals). That alone was a massive moral failing of the country she supposedly "dedicated her life to serving," and it is neither bad nor disrespectful to point that out and seriously question all the saintly hagiography we are expected to uncritically embrace.

#ladyshandioftheendless #ask #history #british history #history of empire

295 notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 month

Note

helloo I'm back!!!!!! im so sorry I've been gone, it's ramadan right now and i can't be reading smut or anything like that, plus my exams are coming up and it's my final year in school so i can't mess this up. I've had ALOT of thoughts lately that no sane person in my circle can handle but i know you will. what do you think about a mamma mia typa situation in Greece with bucky (my feelings for him have resurfaced recently), tangerine and pietro? three very different people and one of them is the father (and one of them is gay bahahahaha). like reader meets pietro, then tangerine, then bucky (i know you'd be rooting for tangerine) then she has a kid and they all left her so she doesn't know who's the dad but then years later they all come back into her life and BAM her daughter should know and everything is all over the place. bonus points if reader sings at least 5 abba songs. obv you don't take requests and this isn't one but share your thoughts with me on this since im a bit of a scatter head and my new personality is donna sheridan so... yeah. love you and hope you're much better now 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

- 🦢

angelface!! omg hii hi!! firstly, ramadan mubarak to you, hope you’re doing good!! good luck for all your exams too, I believe in you!! be sure to take care of yourself😽

so…!! I read this as soon as I received it but couldn’t reply straight away and this has been ruminating on my mind!! IDEAS HAVE BEEN MARINATING BC I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS!!! and you calling me insane?? 😧😧 (kidding, but exactly that, same with me. no one would understand my brain rot except you guys. so we all in the same boat my pal)

I go through my bucky phases very often, and rn im in a deep one😭😭😭 usually I would go with tan no question, but now im not so sure (reckon tan would be the gay one???😭 but for the sake of this gonna say he’s not)

pietro: maybe you meet him when you’re travelling, maybe backpacking through europe with a group of strangers (guess who is in your group…😏) perhaps get close with pietro and have a summer fling. maybe exchange info towards the end of the trip, but both know it’s not going to work or go any further than a fling. might lose contact—but a message here and there

tangerine: next stop on your travels is england. not backpacking anymore, so it’s a standard holiday/ vacation (idk the logistics, so you have your stuff mailed over?? or go home for a few days and continue your travels??) but you decide to go sightseeing and find yourself in a pub. maybe it’s really busy so the table you had to yourself becomes one you share with 2 guys (can you guess who?) one of them goes off to play pool so the other gets left behind with you (can you guess who? see where this is going?) you two talk casually for a bit, you mention where you’re staying and what you’re doing in town (DO NOT DO THAT IRL !!) maybe you go back to your hotel room and he leaves early the next morning. would leave his name and his number on a piece of paper?? but you never see it bc it gets knocked off and falls under the bed and cleaned up by housekeeping the next day

bucky: would be several days after meeting tan and you’d be in the hotel lobby trying to work over some issues with card payments?? maybe there’s been an issue in their system so you’ve been hanging around the lobby/ reception a lot while they try to sort it. someone would come up beside you (have a guess who) and he’d ask you if everything was okay bc he’s seen you down here constantly for last couple days. he’d ask if there was anything he could do, then segues into asking you out tonight for dinner. he’s here for work so his schedule isn’t flexible and tonight is the only time available. you agree and would have a really lovely date, seal the deal later that night. and when you go up to his hotel room the next day, he won’t be in there. he didn’t know your room number, so he left his contact info at reception for them to give to you, but they never give it/ staff changes over so

kinda broke my heart with the tan and bucky one 😭😭😭

no idea if these make any sense. I write these as I think of the words, so essentially im just rambling in my brain and I type it out simultaneously. talking shit in other words😭 omg why does this make me want to do a 3 part series of their individual stories!!? (I know I won’t be able to do that, but man I wish I could)

love you and I am doing better now, thank you bby. sending love 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

#ask #🦢#tangerine #pietro maximoff #bucky barnes #tangerine headcanon #pietro maximoff headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon

8 notes · View notes

gatheringbones · 2 years

Text

[“The rooms where we worked were often windowless, with drab green walls and hard chairs. Along with rotating teams of one or two other board members, there would be a court reporter and institutional staff who brought boxes of files from the local facilities and sat in on the interviews. Each file would be labeled, “Commissioner 1,” “Commissioner 2,” and so on. That’s how you knew which interviews you were responsible for leading that day.

I started to call what we were doing “conveyor belt justice,” because you’d be busy preparing to lead the next interview instead of watching and listening closely to the one taking place. Then you might be writing an opinion during the next interview.

And the paperwork was a huge challenge. There was a lot of it, and since it wasn’t digitized, you’d have to wade through dozens of pieces of paper. The files included prisoners’ COMPAS risk-analysis scores and the programs they completed. Then there might be letters from victims, judges and prosecutors. If the crime involved a police officer, the police union would gather hundreds of letters, saying, “Do not release this person.” We had to physically sign each victim impact statement. More paper.

The files for the most heinous offenses — the ones where the prisoner was denied parole umpteen times — were the worst. They were hundreds of pages, so you could end up relying on a top sheet that summed up how many years the person had been in prison, what their sentence was, and what the pre-sentence investigation said at the time. The problem is that these investigations were fixed in time; they could be from 30 some-odd years ago.

The purpose of parole is not to focus on a static event; that is the purpose of sentencing. Parole should consider primarily who the person is today. But New York parole laws have a “deprecation” clause, which basically means that the seriousness of the crime justifies keeping you in prison. This gives commissioners an easy out, even when someone has been before the board three, five or seven times, or they committed the crime at 17, and they’re now 70. If you can always have the seriousness of the crime as your hook to keep people in prison, that’s what you’ll do. This is particularly true if there’s political pressure from the governor, police commissioner or a mayor. It gets pretty ugly. And commissioners are really risk-averse if they are up for reappointment. If you need the job, why would you let somebody out who’s controversial?

My colleagues also heavily considered the role of the victims in their decisions. I did not think that was particularly appropriate. Our country just needs a better system to address the harms that victims and their families face. They have no other recourse besides retribution and punishment. They are angry and want to keep people in prison, but we need a process to help them heal.

My own mother was crushed by a drunk driver when I was 5, and she was 35. He was a U.S. sailor who was drunk on July 4. She lived, but had 96 bones broken. She was in the hospital for two years. That’s what got me interested in these labels we use — “victim,” “perpetrator,” “offender” — instead of “people.” I grew up with redemption and forgiveness.

So I tried to do things differently. Some of my colleagues were very terse with the people we were interviewing. These people were already nervous. Instead of starting my interviews with, “Name?” I would say something, like, “Hi, Mr. Smith, how are you feeling today? I’d understand if you’re nervous. Maybe we should take a deep breath.” I would lead with questions about what they felt positive about. The idea was to be asset-oriented as opposed to starting with the crime they committed.

We were given templates to frame our potential decisions in ways that would stand up in court if the prisoner appealed. But I hand-wrote mine with a pen and paper and gave them to the court reporter, who would type them up and have me sign them.

I also started to write dissents when my colleagues wouldn’t let people out of prison who I believed should receive parole. This was frowned upon because they didn’t want prisoners who appealed their cases to have a board member talking on record about how they’d changed their lives and deserved to go home.

After a while, I realized that I was dissenting more than agreeing with my colleagues. It's really hard when you’re always against everybody else. Even though they may have said, “I respect your values,” there was this idea that I should try and be a team player. Often I’d go into the bathroom to cry, upset because my colleagues didn’t recognize that a person had transformed and deserved to go home. I just couldn’t make a difference in the way I thought I could. Work was an uphill battle, and I was Sisyphus. This was just not a healthy place for me to be working anymore. I had a five-year term, but only made it through two.”]

#wasteland radio

154 notes · View notes

bwobgames · 1 year

Text

Previous First

He wakes up

He doesn't know what day it is or what time it is

He wakes and has only one thought on his mind

"I'm fucking pissed"

He knows he gets cranky when he gets hungry but this is something else.

He knows how it is, he will die soon

So why shouldn't he be a little hater in the meantime

This situation just sucks. Dying from thirst is so unglamorous.

This house? Wack. The art? Wack. The architecture? Wack.

If it wasn't because he didn't know how to start a fire, he would, indeed, set this place on fire

He knows what he can do.

After doing things that he'd rather not repeat to keep his water levels vaguely estable, he stands up and walks, with purpose this time, he is looking for something

And he finds it

The femur is a human's strongest bone

"I don't know who your owner is, Mr Femur, but I'm sure this will be cathartic to both of us"

He is walking again

He finds a suitable target

"Here comes Oliver Beebo, our rising star this season. He gets ready to swing aaand..."

"He absolutely smashes it!!! It's a homerun-goal-checkmate whatever the fuck, he wins!!"

"I fucking win"

He does it again to the rest of the heads. It's exhilarating, and moves to the next room

He's walking only through adrenaline and spite

He sees another graffiti from his friend, anonymous graffiti-er.

He wonders if this is their femur. He hopes they are happy looking it be used for good.

Down with the system, you are so right graffiti person, I will make you proud

He smashes with a smile on his face

He finds a familiar room

The ceramic crime scene

Now it's gonna look like a real tragedy

He wonders if the ghosts of the house are watching him right now

He hopes they're are

He can almost hear them

Giving him encouragement, clapping for him, shouting in joy where he can't

He will join them soon, he knows this

He will make a grand entrance

"Enjoy the show, fellas. I'll be there soon for any interviews"

He already feels like one of them

He's happy

Although

Part of him hopes he's alone

He hopes that everyone else managed to leave, to pass on.

He hopes no one else is trapped like him

He doesn't know any of this people, and he loves them

"We are brothers now"

He walks, locally grown bat by his side, when he finally sees it

His primary target

The map

Always there, a constant presence

Mocking him

His brain is not the most logical right now, but who cares? He has three femurs and a quickly approaching expiration date

He knows what he wants to do

The frame shatters into pieces

He hits it over and over again, until the frame falls

He takes the paper and rips it with his own hands

He even bites it a little

He wished he could put it on fire, but he'll settle for leaving it absolutely non recognizable

He feels full of energy, borrowed from adrenaline

He feels amazing. He feels successful. He just ...!!

Something feels

Right

He's tired, but he won't rest

He doesn't plan to stop until he's forced to rest

He is going down swinging, Goddammit!

He goes to open another door

"I'll have all the time in the world to rest when I drop de-"

He's outside

He's... He's outside?

The sun is so bright

He hears something behind him

A meow?

Looking behind him, he sees... a lot

Is the main room, the one he came in.

There's the cat, meowing, he takes it

"Poor boy, he's definitely hungry, but still looks healthier than me, hah"

Behind is... everything

All the trash, art, bones, corpses, and mysterious substances that he found in the multiple rooms

His blue jacket is there, he thought he lost it forever

He doesn't take it

Some things he hadn't even encountered are there

It's... It's a lot

He puts the femur with the pile

He quietly thanks it

In between the... everything, he sees a can of spray paint

Must be empty

He feels like he lost a friend

He says goodbye to everyone

He think he hears them say it back

He goes back to the closest city, it's early morning

He leaves the cat in a vet and himself in a hospital.

The cat was delivered to the owner the next day

For his sacrifice and high amount of trauma in the act of cat-searching, he got paid the amazing quantity of

20 dollars

He got himself the most expensive and delicious ice cream 20 dollars can buy

It was really good

And a great way to repress memories

He tells people something fell on him while he was in that house, and that's why he couldn't escape for 2 days

Sometimes he believes it too

He makes a formal and stern petition to have that house be demolished. Seeing the multiple bones inside and Oliver's story of the events, they quickly accept it.

The house is gone shortly after

He doesn't know if there were ghosts in there or not. He could have been very well just hallucinating anything due to his poor, poor mental and physical health.

He still misses them

#flashback over #it was long but it was complete #detective beebo #are ghost real in this universe? yes.#but the choices for this story deem them irrelevant #were there ghosts in that house?#whos to say #it doesnt matter in this route #but in another they will

49 notes · View notes

ironheartnuzlocke · 1 year

Text

System Reboot; Part Three

Image description below.

Page one: The first panel shows a view of the player’s room in Pokemon Scarlet and Violet, with text reading “Report: All vitals normal”, “Year: 1050 BT/????.??.??”, and “Codename: Unknown”. The second panel is a profile of a young woman with long hair looking down at a sunhat in her hands with a frown. The third panel is from the woman’s point of view, showing the hat with an unintelligible name tag. The page is entirely in shades of purple, except for the young woman’s eye, which is bright blue with a yellow ring around the pupil.

Page two: The first panel is of the young woman standing in a mirror, putting her hair into a pair of space buns. She’s wearing the uniform the player character wears and has a hairpin in her mouth. The second panel shows her walking down the stairs. The third shows her sitting outside on a planter, her feet propped up on a pot full of fruit. She is eating one of the fruit with an expression of confusion or distaste. The fourth panel shows the woman sitting in an armchair back inside the house, reading a book. The far right side of the panel is dark, with the words “Knock, knock, knock” written across it and underlined. Once again, the page is in purples, except for the woman’s eyes.

Page three: The first panel shows Director Clavell, an older man in a suit, standing in a doorway and holding a piece of paper, saying, “Miss Calamina?” The second panel shows just their hands as he gives the paper to the young woman, saying, “I do apologize for the delay. There was an issue with your paperwork, and I thought it best to deliver it in person.” The third panel is from Calamina’s point of view, mostly showing the piece of paper. It reads, “Confirmation of Enrollment. Uva Academy is honored to extend and invitation to Calamina (the last name is meaningingless squiggles) for the 20XX school year.” The words then become squiggles. Clavell is saying, “After all, we wouldn’t want to delay your time at the Academy any further.” Calamina replies, “Thank you, Director.” Finally, Clavell says, “Whenever you’re ready, please join me outside.” This final speech bubble extends across the line between panels three and four. Panel four shows the door closing. The only non-purple things in this page are Clavell’s Pokeballs, which have red lining.

Page four: The first panel shows Calamina grabbing her backpack, with text reading, “I know my mission.” The second panel shows a wall calendar on the month of June, with text reading, “I know I have 18 months to complete it.” In the third panel, Calamina stands outside with Clavell. She is thinking, “I know the Academy is the best way to gain the resources I need.” and Clavell is saying, “Right, then, dear Pokemon - come out of your Pokeballs.” The fourth panel is shows a Pokeball opening in a flash. The fifth panel shows each of the three Paldean starters. Sprigatito, a cat-like Pokemon with green highlights, is lifting a front paw. Quaxly, a duck-like Pokemon with a blue crest and feet, is brushing back its crest. Fuecoco, a crocodile-like Pokemon with a red body, is raising one arm and smiling. Calamina’s thoughts read, “I... do not know which to choose.”

#iron heart nuzlocke #pokemon violet #nuzlocke #nuzlocke comic #prologue #pokemon #pokemon art #pokemon comic #pokemon scarlet and violet

15 notes · View notes

blackjackkent · 3 months

Text

Oh snap, look who else is here hanging out at the Caress.

You've got a LOT of explaining to do, mister. >:|

"Nine Hells - you followed me all the way here? What could you possibly want with me now?"

First of all, don't flatter yourself - we happened to be here for other far more significant reasons than you. However...

"I found the explosive toy bears you 'donated' to the refugees."

Hector already didn't like this guy before he learned he was donating explosives to innocent children, so he's definitely back in intimidation mode and his voice is cold as ice. It's a weird contrast to the perky music playing in the Caress, the energized voices around them.

Arfur blanches. "What? How? Nine Hells..." He struggles to get a grip on himself, tries to smile placatingly. "Whatever you think you know, I'm sure some gold would help you to forget..."

Hector glares at him, offended that he would even suggest it. "Keep your gold," he says coolly. "I want answers."

"I'm just a simple toymaker," Arfur whimpers pleadingly. "An artisan. I don't know anything! They would have killed me if I refused to rig the toys." His eyes drop and he hunches his shoulders with a soft whine. "And they're definitely going to kill me now..."

"They?" Hector presses, unimpressed by the man's excuses. "Who's this 'they'?"

"I can't tell you!" Arfur yelps. "I-- *won't* tell you!"

Someone has clearly been at great pains to make Arfur very afraid of them. Unluckily for 'them', whoever 'they' are... Arfur is also pretty afraid of Hector at this point, and Hector is more than fed up with the people of this city willing to sacrifice innocents and brutalize those in need for their own gain.

[INTIMIDATION] "Tell me who 'they' are," Hector says, his voice dropping to a chilly growl, "or you'll be dead before they even get to you."

"All right, all right," Arfur squeaks, backing down at once. "Just don't hurt me." He begins to speak faster, nervous and twitchy. "The teddy bears were an experiment - my greatest invention. A clever little device in their chest allows them to speak. But there's more. Smokepowder, inside the device. I collect packages from Felogyr's Fireworks in the Lower City, and stuff the bears with it." He cowers under Hector's unblinking stare. "Not because I want to - because I have to! Otherwise they'll kill me!"

"You still haven't told me who 'they' are," Hector points out, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know who's in charge," Arfur stammers. "But it starts at the fireworks shop. That's where the packages come from. Go there, tell them Uncle Felogyr sent you, and they'll show you the smokepowder. Lots of it!" He swallows nervously. "There, I told you waht you wanted to know. Now will you let me go?"

He holds out a piece of paper from his pocket between trembling fingers and looks at Hector pleadingly.

Narrator: His plea comes with an offering - a pass, granting you access to the Lower City.

Hector hesitates. His instinct at first is to laugh harshly, reject the bribe, tell the man that for the crimes he has committed, he should go to jail.

Two things give him pause, though. First - this man is not the mastermind, but a terrified underling, and (to Hector's knowledge) no one has actually died to this plot; they got to it in time. He offered forgiveness to Madeline in the Shadowlands for something no better, and his personal dislike of Arfur should not be allowed to influence his judgment.

And second - sending someone to jail in the current state of the city is a more dangerous concept than it might be in easier times. The city is watched over by Gortash's steel automatons, and the Flaming Fist who all have tadpoles in their heads. Hector has no idea what the current state of the judicial system is here, but it is likely no better than the law enforcement.

He'll go deal with the masterminds in the Lower City - with this pass. And Arfur, hopefully, will have the sense not to draw his ire again.

"Get out of my sight," he mutters, taking the pass and pocketing it.

"Oh," Arfur gasps gratefully. "I will. Thank you! Thank you so much!" And he turns and barrels out of the room at top speed.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #ugh #what a mess

5 notes · View notes

bourbon-ontherocks · 1 year

Text

I keep thinking about the fact that the Morgane & Karadec theme plays over the scene where Adam kisses Roxane... At first I thought it was just because they needed a “romance” theme and chose to step on our favourite ship, but... I don’t think it’s that. I think there’s a whole reason and intention behind it.

In this essay I will --

Oh fuck that! We all know this is going to be unhinged and nonsensical so let’s dive in!!

I’m purposefully ignoring the very real possibility that they chose a romance theme for the scene, to say that if their theme plays, then it’s for a reason. Playing his theme with someone when he’s kissing someone else is very loaded, and it can only mean one thing: Adam is thinking about Morgane when he kisses Roxane. Perhaps it’s even her that he would like to kiss right now in the rain. Perhaps he was thinking about her when he almost left before the date started. Perhaps she’s all he’s been thinking about lately.

But here’s the thing. She’s buying a house with her babies daddy. Talk about a commitment huh?

Okay let’s rewind a little. End of season 1, Adam actually considers asking her out. Yes he just stood her up in the previous episode, yes, he’s spent a whole season claiming he hated her, but our boy is ready to own his mistakes and give in to this weird attraction, because hey, she might be worth it after all.

All things considered, that’s pretty huge coming from him.

BUT!!!!! But, but but... man, you’re too late. So we leave him at the end of season 1 watching her getting back with her ex. And he’s clearly still thinking about it at the beginning of season 2, even if a whole THREE MONTHS happened in between.

He lies to Roxane to protect her. He tries to ask her out for a drink, except that he chooses a teerrible moment for it. He worries and hugs her when she almost gets stabbed. Hell, he threatens to quit for her! And yes, I’m purposefully putting this one after the post-stabbing hug because I think that’s even more of a declaration of love than the latter.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s still the most aggravating nutcase he’s ever met. But he just. can’t help it.

But then she does what? She tells him she’s looking to buy a house with her ex. A fucking house!! And right in that moment, when clearly the person he’s going out of his ways to protect and care for is committing to another relationship, here comes Roxane! Awkwardly asking him out (note that he never EVER actually said yes) on a date that he tries to escape, and would not have attended if it wasn’t for her relatable (to him!) habit of showing up early.

So be it, then.

He goes through the date, perhaps finds himself some common interests with her, probably has a good time, enough to forget about Morgane for a while. But then, Roxane kisses him out of the blue, and clearly he’s not as romanced as she is, the face he pulls is OBVIOUS.

But, he thinks. But. Why the fuck not?

And THAT’S when the Morgane & Karadec theme plays. Right in that instant, when he considers kissing her back or calling it a night.

Kissing Roxane back is a desperate attempt to let go of Morgane, and that’s why we hear their theme.

That’s the meaning behind “oh et puis merde”, because, as everyone know, it’s extremely sexy to yell “oh, fuck that!” when somebody just kissed you. That’s him realizing he doesn’t stand a chance with Morgane (if ONLY he knew... brb, gotta tape the pieces of my shattered heart back together) and giving himself a chance to move on from his heartbreak.

That’s his farewell.

And for a hot minute then, he thinks he might have done it, finally. Got Morgane out of his system as things are getting further with Roxane.

On second thought though, maybe this wasn’t enough. Maybe his heart breaks a little when Morgane tells him she’s off to sign the house papers. See, I’ve always thought that his farewell was then, when he tells her “You and Ludo make a wonderful couple and if you’re happy then I’m happy” (which is about the most DEPRESSING thing you can tell to a crush who’s dating someone else).

But maybe this was only the end of it, when the beginning took place a couple days earlier. Maybe this is his final attempt at letting her go.

(which is, quite ironically, what catalyzes Morgane’s very own breakdown that ends her relationship)

And maybe this is the reason he doesn’t visit her when she spends two months mopping at Céline’s right after that.

She needs to heal.

So does he.

#hpi #tf1 hpi #julia's rambling #hpi analysis #brosse adam #morgane alvaro #adam karadec #oh no I'm getting emotional again #can you tell that at this point I've forgotten what my initial point was?#but like #I feel like s2e04 is a turning point in that it's the moment of inversion #Adam gets out of the two-months tunnel in love with Roxane and no longer fixated on Morgane (or at least less)#while Morgane falls in love with Adam #'se rater' was never more accurate #*sobbing laughter*

9 notes · View notes

karmic-vibes · 1 year

Text

Two of Us

4 - Not Arriving, On Our Way Back Home

cw: implied mentions of rape

1987

Eddie ran down the stairs, wrapping the teenager in a warm embrace. Tears were brought to everyone’s eyes, Will excluded, as they saw the man who had been dead for over a year standing before them. Dustin was sobbing into Eddie’s chest, seemingly never wanting to let him go.

“I thought you died,” Dustin cried.

“Well, I didn’t, little man.”

“How, uh… how?” Steve bumbled.

“I don’t even fully know, man.” Eddie broke away from Dustin and quickly embraced Steve.

“I can try to explain it. Well, explain what I know. So, I don’t know how he got back from wherever the hell you guys were, but I was still in California with my daughter, and I got a call saying a family member of mine in Hawkins was in the hospital as a John Doe. His face was all bloody and distorted, his body was all chewed up… the only reason they knew he was related to me was because they did some blood-typing and matched him to my blood. Thankfully, they already had me in the system from when I gave birth.”

“How did he immediately not get arrested?” Dustin asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Eddie was wanted for murder.”

“Oh, that—yeah, we didn’t use his real name.”

“What?” Steve hummed.

“Do I have to spell everything out for you guys? God. I called our uncle and told him to claim Eddie as his son, not his nephew. We told the hospital staff that his name was Joseph Munson.”

“Perks of having a generic middle name,” Eddie chuckled.

“That’s something I’ll literally never forgive pops for. Fucking ‘Claire Josephine Munson’ absolutely stupid.”

“I like it,” Robin shrugged.

“Well, you’d be the first. Our dad just needed us to have similar names because we’re twins. Mom thought it was asinine, but she agreed to giving us similar middle names—Joseph and Josephine. But, uh, yeah… when he got better, he was released into Wayne’s care, but Eddie had too much PTSD from the trailer, so now he’s here with me.”

“Well, that explains the buzzed head.”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie sighed as he rubbed his shaven head. “I keep trying to convince Claire to let me grow it out again, but-”

“I told you, for the millionth time, I’m not going to prison for harboring a wanted ‘criminal’—even if you were wrongly accused, they don’t give a shit. The fucking hair stays short.”

“They already declared me dead, so not like it matters much.”

“He’s right,” Robin said.

“What do you mean?” Claire asked.

“If he was declared dead, and there’s a death certificate, then you’re no longer a wanted criminal. All charges become null and void when the person charged dies.”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah! I’m growing my hair out again!” Eddie laughed as he stuck his tongue out at his sister.

“I literally hate you.”

“Awe, c’mon, you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” Claire said, rolling her eyes, “I’m happy for you, stupid.”

“Mommy?” the little one whispered.

“Yes, sweet pea?”

“My homework is all done. Can you please check it for me?”

“Yeah, of course. Excuse me, guys.” Claire walked off to the dining room table with her daughter, going over the grade-school work.

“So, Munson, you’re a free-man—what are you gonna do?” Steve asked.

“Get my band back together, duh.”

“Really?” Dustin raised a brow, “not graduate?”

“Actually Henderson…” Eddie ran upstairs to his room, returning shortly after with a framed piece of paper. “Turns out, dying’s got some perks.” Eddie smiled proudly as he presented his (honorary) high school diploma to everyone.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes, fucking way! What’d I tell you, huh? ’86, baby… my fucking year.”

“Proud of you, man,” Steve said.

“Thanks, big boy.”

“Why do both you and your sister call me that? I-I mean, what’s the point?”

“To see you get flustered,” Claire smirked, “oh, Eddie, Edie’s ready for her lessons.”

“That’s my cue.”

“No way you named your daughter ‘Edie’,” Steve said.

“Only after the best,” Eddie smiled proudly.

“But… why?”

“I almost sorta died during labor. Eddie gave me a pep talk and never left my side until I woke up… as a thank you, I agreed to name my kid after him.”

“And her father didn’t have an issue with that?” Steve asked.

“He, uh… he doesn’t even know she exists.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be. You of all people, don’t be.”

“Why me of all people?” Steve raised a brow and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, Claire,” Eddie started, “why him of all people?”

“Don’t you have a guitar lesson to be giving a five-year-old?”

“But-”

“Go before she gets angry. She’s fucking terrifying when she’s angry.”

“Fine,” Eddie sighed.

He walked off to the dining room to collect his niece for her daily guitar lesson. The two made their way into the basement, that Claire had professionally soundproofed, and would then be missing for the better part of an hour.

“That little thing gets angry?” Robin pointed.

“It’s far and few between, but yeah, and I swear, you see your life flash before your eyes every time it happens.”

“So, Claire,” Steve interjected, “why me of all people?”

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to hate me.”

“Sure,” Steve shrugged.

“I was already pregnant when I slept with you.”

“Okay? And that matters because?”

“I was trying to use you as a scapegoat…”

“Are you fucking serious!” he yelled, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I realized what I was doing was wrong and I stopped! I was barely fifteen and fucking terrified, can you blame me?”

“You shouldn’t have gotten knocked up, then! Or-Or at least know who the fucking dad is instead of trying to ruin someone else’s life!”

Claire stood in her home in disbelief. Her jaw hung slack as tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Her chest became heavy as the air around her suddenly became thick. She struggled to breathe. Her cheeks heated up in anger and embarrassment—it took everything in her not to scream.

“Get out of my house,” she eventually whispered.

“Claire-” Dustin started.

“All of you, out!”

“What? Can’t eat what you serve? Y-You know, I was super excited to see you, to reconnect and hopefully build something here, but now all I see is a massive bullet I dodged.”

“I know who the dad is, asshole…” Claire spat, holding back tears. “I just didn’t want it to be him… I would have taken anyone, but him… I wanted my daughter to have a father because I didn’t want her to grow up like me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of talking to him again. I didn’t want, and honestly still can’t, tell Edie who her dad is… not because I don’t know, but because I think it would physically kill me to see him again.”

“Then why did you ever date him?” Dustin asked.

“I didn’t.”

“Okay, then why sleep with him?”

Claire sniffed as she pursed her lips and quickly wiped away a tear that fell from her eyes. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach as she anxiously tapped her foot and looked to the floor.

Her voice broke, “who ever said I wanted to?”

10 notes · View notes

killian-whump · 2 years

Note

Can I ask what this is Al about? I see Colin posting about podcast and NLt or something and I’ve literally no idea what he’s on about. I don’t really listen to the podcast as it’s never anyone I’ve heard of and when it is he’s never even on it. Was this what he was upset about that week? Sorry for questions but I’ve seen a few Colin fans saying about it and I’ve no idea what it is.

Okay. So Colin started co-hosting The Sync Report. This was generally seen as an unexpected (but acceptable) adjunct to his acting career - something to keep him busy and pay his bills while he's on a hiatus (due to alleged personal reasons).

That's basically the last sane point in this whole crazy ride, lol - so I'm not at all surprised that there's fans who are just flat out confused. I'll try to explain it as simply as possible, so you can form your own opinions about what's going on.

To start, we have to talk about currency in general, which you probably already understand. It's whatever is legally considered "money" wherever it is you live - be that Dollars or Euros or Pounds or whatever. Ideologically, a piece of paper (or chunk of metal) has monetary value because the people and the government collectively give it that value. It's money because we believe it's money.

This is where cryptocurrency comes in. The idea is that if enough people believe that cryptocurrency has monetary value, it has value. And a lot of people DO believe it has value. Some online stores will accept it as payment, and some small countries have even accepted it as legal tender within their borders.

But a lot of people believe it's merely a fad that will eventually die out - because without government regulation and/or backing, all it takes is for enough people to stop believing it has value... and it will, overnight, lose its value entirely. Which means all of the hundreds of thousands of millions of dollars believers have sunk into it will be... gone. People will have literally bought into nothing.

Which is why the believers in cryptocurrency are very very very avid about bringing in new believers. The more people who believe in the currency, the more value it has - and the less likely it is to crash entirely. So crypto bros (think bronies, but with virtual money instead of animated ponies) basically try to sell others on cryptocurrency 24/7 in order to protect (and grow) their investments in it.

SO! This brings us to NFTs. NFTs are intrinsically tied to cryptocurrency because you can't buy them without it. You HAVE to invest real world currency into the cryptocurrency network in order to purchase an NFT. So before you buy an NFT, you should understand WHAT cryptocurrency is, how it works - and exactly what your real world money is supporting. You're not just buying a cute little graphic or a celebrity souvenir. You're financially supporting an entire network of digital currency and transactions. You're believing in cryptocurrency and contributing to its value.

The problem is that cryptocurrency itself is bad for the environment. Because all of the transactions and the currency itself is entirely digital, everything takes place in cyberspace. Because there has to be new currency introduced into the network, and because that has to be closely and continuously regulated to keep the network balanced, and because this is all done digitally... huge banks of computers are relied on to keep all of this straight and to "mine" new currency. Those computers use metric shit-tons of energy, because they're kept running (and mining) on a global scale, 24/7/365. THAT'S where the environmental concerns come in.

And because NFTs are particularly taxing on those computer systems, they are particularly bad for the environment. You see different numbers bandied about, but the general consensus (even among those who support NFTs or are neutral) is that each NFT will use about as much energy as an average US household uses every 2-3 days. That's a lot for one little digital image.

The environmental impact is one of the main detractors from NFTs, but it's not the only one. Because digital artwork is what NFTs are usually attached to (I say attached to because generally what is being bought/sold IS the NFT itself, not the image attached to it; the image is more like a "perk" or a visible representation of the NFT you bought, sort of like a receipt), a lot of unscrupulous NFT sellers just take artwork from online, slap it on an NFT, and sell it. Art theft is rampant in NFT communities.

And art theft isn't the only unscrupulous thing about all of this. Because cryptocurrency's value is based on how many people believe in it, new believers are needed to keep the network alive and for those who have already invested in that network to make money on their investments. That is, after all, the main purpose of investing in the first place - to turn a little money into a lot of money through time, patience, skillful trading, and a little luck.

The problem is that the people who stand to make the most money are the people who joined the network in the very beginning. Back when there were very few believers, cryptocurrency could be bought for practically nothing, because it was worth practically nothing. As more people believed and bought into the network, the value increased. Now, instead of a bitcoin being worth practically nothing, a single bitcoin is worth nearly $30,000. If you bought into it when it was worth $1, you've made $29,999 on that investment.

And that sounds great, doesn't it? Sure. But that $29,999 didn't come from nowhere. It came from all the people who bought cryptocurrency after you, and had to pay ever increasing prices for it. The entire network is built on a pyramid-like structure, where the people on the very top paid very little to get in and stand to make the biggest profits, while the people at the bottom paid the most (collectively and individually) and stand to break even.

There's a name for this kind of investment model: A pyramid scheme. They're also known as multi-level marketing plans or MLM. And in almost every instance, they're a scam - and they've been luring people in for centuries, because they look like a good idea. Hey, everyone puts money in, the higher levels make a lot, lower levels make less - and the bottom level breaks even!

Except the bottom level doesn't break even when the pyramid stops growing. And it WILL stop growing, because there is a finite number of people in the world. Even the most successful pyramid scheme would eventually hit that finite number of participants and crash. And when the pyramid crashes, the bottom layer doesn't break even. They lose everything they put into the pyramid. Everything. Because there is no lower rung to recoup their investment with.

And the higher rungs of the pyramid are generally going to be filled with professional investors - people who have enough money to chance making bad investments, people who have money to spare, people who won't be devastated if they lose everything they put into it. The people at the lower rungs? They're usually poorer people, desperate people who can't afford to lose, people who will be ruined if (when) their investment doesn't pay off.

Now, the believers in cryptocurrency and NFTs will tell you that it isn't a scam, it's perfectly safe and legal, it's the future of money, etc, etc. And I readily admit that I can't state with 100% certainty that MY opinions are right and theirs are wrong - but I CAN say with 100% certainty that they have a vested interest in convincing people of their ideas - they will literally make money off of you if you believe them. Naysayers and people against these things stand to gain absolutely nothing by saying what they're saying. Consider that when you weigh the viewpoints.

And now we come to Colin and his involvement in all of this. The Sync Report initially seemed to be just a podcast. Then the NFTs started getting mentioned. And mentioned some more. Then the proposed Xataverse was revealed. Basically, the "just a podcast" side project of Colin's has turned into a vehicle to sell NFTs and build an entire digital universe based on cryptocurrency.

The Sync Report is relying on Colin's fame to legitimize their project, and looking for his fandom to invest over $400,000 into the cryptocurrency network. Or, as some would call it, hoping to reap $400,000 by scamming the shit out of Colin's fanbase.

And Colin is helping them do it. He's signed on to the project, is actively promoting it, has lent his name, likeness and voice to the NFTs, even provided audio tracks for tutorial videos to walk his fans through the confusing task of turning their real world dollars into cryptocurrency to buy his NFTs with.

If you believe in cryptocurrency, if you buy into the NFT network, you probably wouldn't see anything wrong with any of this. But the majority of people don't. Most people believe these things are at best a passing fad (like Beanie Babies or Pogs - other things that had inflated monetary value in the past but are now worth nothing) and at worst a global pyramid scheme of epic proportions, just waiting for the inevitable crash.

If you believe cryptocurrency is a fad, if you believe it's a scam... then seeing Colin do these things is downright heartbreaking. It's upsetting to see him fall for the scam in the first place - and even more heartbreaking to see him try to turn his fanbase into the next rung of the pyramid. The next rung of the pyramid isn't where you put people you value - it's where you put the schmucks who will secure YOUR investment by guaranteeing you're not on the bottom rung.

Opinions differ on whether he understood all of this before signing on. Some think he must not have. Some think he was influenced by his brother (and father) who are both active in crypto/NFTs. Whatever the case, he signed on for this project and is likely contractually tied to it. For him, this is a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. He's going to take a major hit in his reputation and fan trust by going ahead with this, but is likely to take a financial hit if he backs out. I don't envy his position one bit.

But the fact remains... He's here now. He's doing this. And by doing it, he's luring impressionable young fans into making questionable financial investments and turning off all of his older, wiser fans who see it all for what it is. It's not a good look for him, either way.

So that's everything I know on the subject. Hope it helps!

#anti nfts #tsr debacle

18 notes · View notes

rhube · 1 year

Text

Seeing a lot of very earnest debates about art lately, partly in response to AI art, partly because Chuck Tingle has been raising questions for people. It's good to see people engage with this, but the absence of philosophy in our school systems is leading to a lot of basic misunderstandings.

One thing it's really important to appreciate is that THERE ISN'T JUST ONE SINGLE KIND OF ART nor is there only one way to appreciate art.

A lot of people are trying to define art without any knowledge of the background of nuanced debate that's been going on for centuries, beyond the title of a Roland Barthes paper ('The Death of the Author') and a few questionable Tumblr posts giving ONE INTERPRETATION of that paper without mentioning that there are many others.

I'm not saying this to dump on people for not knowing things. I'm saying this because we hurt each other in our confusion and just end up talking past each other. For example, when Chuck Tingle says 'ART IS NOT STATIC' weeeellll some art is, or is intended that way, or can be enjoyed that way.

And as much as some art is communication, it doesn't have to be.

For many years, I have been of the opinion that everything is beautiful, but ugliness is subjective and societally formed. It's not a popular aesthetic position, but it's mine. An upshot of this is that I enjoy some art without trying to engage with artistic intent - especially where I do not personally like a certain genre, style, or piece of art. I enjoy contemplating the piece and finding the beauty in it anyway.

Chuck insisting that all art is communication ignores this use.

People who say AI art is neither interesting nor beautiful ignore this use too. And more common art theories like formalism and various kinds of abstract or dadaist art.

It is OK to say that you prefer art that is an act of communication, rather than contemplation. But you'll go in circles and talk past each other if you refuse to admit that other kinds of art and ways of enjoying art exist.

Art is famously difficult to define and a bunch of people are trying now without the knowledge that NOT ALL WORDS HAVE DEFINITE DESCRIPTIONS.

A definite description is a definition offered in terms of the necessary and sufficient conditions for the word applying.

But there are other ways for a word to have meaning.

When it comes to natural kinds, Saul Kripke has argued that meaning is given by rigid designation. A kind of linguistic pointing. 'I don't know what makes that thing the kind of thing it is, but whatever makes it up, I'm talking about that thing.' This allows for scientific investigation of natural kinds. It happens with things like 'water'. We didn't always know that water was H2O, but we pointed to the stuff that makes up rivers and lakes and went 'that stuff. That's water.' (There is a lot if great discourse about whether 'that stuff' could have have a different chemical make-up. The dominant opinion with regard to natural kinds is that, no. In a twin earth where the stuff in rivers and lakes had been made of XYZ and not H2O to would have been twater, not water, even if we called it 'water'.)

BUT NOT EVERYTHING IS A NATURAL KIND, EITHER.

For some words - game is the classic example - there doesn't seem to be a single definition if what the thing is, and it's not a natural kind we can investigate and get to the bottom of. What makes solitaire a game but pooping on the toilet not a game? Does solitaire not have more in common with pooping than football or The Game (we all just lost, btw, sorry, kind of hard not to when giving this example). Games resist any single definition because so many different things can be games. There are no necessary and sufficient conditions you can offer. There will always be exceptions.

For this reason, Wittgenstein proposed the idea of 'family resemblance concepts'. These are concepts where the things they apply to don't come from a single definite description, or a rigid designation that has a single answer. Instead, meaning is extended where sufficient RESEMBLANCE to other members of the group applies. Solitaire doesn't really resemble physical team sports very much, but it resembles rummy and poker, which have multiple players, and Bridge, which has teams. And like members of a family, two very distant members may have nothing in common at all, but they are linked by resemblance to other family members so you can see that they are part of the same group.

This still doesn't explain why solitaire is generally regarded as a game and pooping isn't. To get that, we add the idea of PARADIGMATIC EXAMPLES. To be the referent of a family resemblance concept, an example must be sufficiently similar to a paradigmatic example. Something everyone agrees is a game. Football might be one, snakes and ladders another, poker another.

Pooping has some similarity to solitaire - both are performed by one person alone and there are some success and failure conditions. But most of the time we don't consider pooping a game because there the resemblance ends. It's not usually a good way to occupy one's time (people often take distractions with them to the toilet), it happens regularly whether you want it to or not, it's messy and although some may find it fun that's not a common thing to say of it. Interestingly, you can say of almost anything 'let's make a game of it', by which we take an activity that's not normally a game and make it MORE LIKE something that definitely is a game. You might do this with potty training for a child who's afraid of the toilet. This could involve making it more fun, celebrating a good poop, singing a song before you sit down etc. But this just clarifies that without these additions it's not normally simular enough to a paradigmatic example to be called a game.

Art is like games this way. It's a family resemblance concept whose application clusters around certain paradigms: the Mona Lisa, Hamlet, the Iliad, Citizen Kane.

Art develops as artists push boundaries and create new categories as pieces like Duchamp's urinal, Tracey Emin's unmade bed, and Jackson Pollock's drip paintings. These are tested for relevant similarity, and if accepted become new paradigms.

I'm in bed so I'm not looking up all the references, but there are artists who work with poop. One artist who produced a number of cans that supposedly have poop in them (none have been opened); another who created a machine for making poop.

These are connected to other sculptures by things like intent and communicating a message that separate them from pooping in general. But there are works of art, like dadaist pieces and word salad that are not meant to have any meaning or intent. They challenge us to confront the absence of meaning in the world and divorce ourself from any knowledge of the artist.

There's also found art, where what's valuable in the piece is not meant to come from the artist at all, but from the piece's natural beauty.

None of this means that you can't get something else from the piece than what the artist intended, either. Maybe the piece was meant to be divorced from meaning, but you find it meaningful anyway. Maybe it was intended as a dialog, but you use it for private meditation on its abstract form.

It's art because it sufficiently resembles certain paradigmatic examples of art, but what you do with the art is up to you.

This is a fairly mainstream view that seems to account well for all the facts, but it's by no means the only one out there.

If you're interested in this stuff, I really would encourage reading up. The debates are fascinating and worth knowing about.

We have giants, why not stand on the shoulders instead of yelling at one another trying to start again from scratch.

This is the primer I started with. It's out of print, but Neill and Ridley have edited other, similar collections.

Or look up some of the papers - many are available online.

I'm not saying you should be expected to know all this to enter into the debate. But it is frustrating to see people getting rude with each other about questions for which there are answers that satisfy both camps.

And if you care about art and artists in the age of AI art, it really does help to be informed about the existing debates. And I would BEG people who are getting angry about this stuff to reflect on the fact that their theory if art is not necessarily the only right one just because it's meaningful TO THEM.

OK. I'm going to get up and have a cup of tea.

#art #artists #aesthetics #ai art

3 notes · View notes

vagueandominousvibes · 1 year

Note

omg for that ask meme... okay i find your attention to clothing design super super fascinating, and it makes me wonder if you have a theater background? especially like period pieces, with costumes that evoke certain eras? i like how warm and cozy your art always looks and the fact that it's inked by hand. that shit is SO HARD, are you kidding me? no undo button! i look at the expressions you draw and can just TELL that you likely make them with your own face when you're trying to figure them out on paper. they always look so natural, and it's honestly amazing how well you distinguish the different four swords guys given the fact that they are visually very similar in the manga. you give them personality just through the subtext of their appearances in a really neat and endearing way.

your writing gives me similar vibes where it's like, either you've immersed yourself in certain historical genres and aesthetics for practical reasons, like being in theater or studying them in school, or it's purely through the power of hyperfixation that you're able to channel them seamlessly into your work. either way, i admire it so much. i love how you created an entire world and magic system and tense political environment for the fsaa one-shot, despite it being. a one-shot, as far i know? it adds so much richness and depth to the character beats, and could totally work as original fiction. i still want to hang out in that tavern you described it would probably have bitchin fresh bread

okay i'm stopping now i just love getting an excuse to praise people's art in very specific ways !!

Oh wow, thank you so very much, Sam!! I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting this much in response to the ask meme, but I'm absolutely delighted by it <3

To make it easier for myself, I'll break it down and answer point by point:

Do I have a theatre background? Well, not really. Not unless you count script writing, 4 years worth of D&D, a 3-day improv course I did once, and some basic stuff we did in school one winter. I think I would've loved to be more involved in theatre — either as a writer or as an actress — but at the moment I'm not. That said, script writing and acting have relatively little to do with costumes and designs. When I design clothing for characters, I have two rules in my head: it should tell the viewer something about the character; and it should be practical. That last bit is particularly important. One of the main reasons I started the LiWiAU was because I was annoyed by how impractical some of the LU Links' designs were, and I guess that's carried over into the FS designs (especially the Knights Lodge AU). That's not to say my designs are perfectly practical or deeply researched, but it does mean that I try to make the outfits as plausible and useful as possible. In terms of armour, I frequently default to my partner's superior knowledge and research actual medieval armour, but when it comes to things like winter clothing I have a lot of first-hand experience with it from Scandinavia.

Yup, inking is a one-way street! I also don't have backup sketches or copies, so if I make a mistake, I have to find ways of covering it up or distracting from it!

True! If I'm struggling with an expression, I do try to replicate it on myself to figure out how it works. This actually goes for anything, from expressions to full-body-poses, and it's not unusual that I pause in the middle of a drawing session to figure out what I'm doing.

Thank you so much! I really enjoy making the FS boys look similar but distinctly individual, and I'm so glad that comes across.

So when it comes to writing certain time periods, I'd say that's 50/50 hyperfixation and studies. The particular one-shot you're referring to is partly Dickensian, partly Austen-esque, and I did study both Dickens and Austen, as well as their respective context, in uni, which has given me some insight into the general culture at the time. (I also studied a number of other texts in that approximate time period, which has given me more to work with.)

I still don't know where the world for that one-shot came from, but I think I'm as deeply fascinated by it as you are. I'd love to explore it further one day, either as a fanfic or as original fiction.

#kalh answers #this was so much fun to answer and talk through!!#thank you so much for this <3

3 notes · View notes

abbatoirablaze · 2 years

Text

Down The Rabbit Hole, Chapter 6

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: none really

Good morning Greendale community college," Dean Pelton's voice rang out across the PA system. I stood in the office with Duncan as he checked his mailbox, "This is your dean reminding you that among your school's prestigious alumni is Luis Guzman. Celebrated actor, model, and Puerto rican American. This Friday we will be dedicating a statue of Guzman and unveiling our brand new school song. So boy, I don't know about you but this sure feels like a real college to me."

"Alright Tawney, I need you to get right on that," Duncan said quickly, “Got it?”

I broke from my thoughts, "What?"

"I'm just joking," he laughed, "I wasn't really saying anything."

I faked a laugh as we started into the hall, but ran into none other than Jeff, "Ah, Jeff. Jeff. Good morning. How is student life, my dry witted friend?"

"Probably the same as teacher life, but less tragic because I get to leave."

Duncan faked a laugh, "Very dry. Very witty. Not a great friend. Listen. I wanted to ask you about that young lady in your Spanish class. You know the blonde with the pouty face, strident Kate Blanchett sexuality, and the ridiculous name. Tawney won't give anything up on her."

"You mean Britta?"

I practically death glared at Jeff. He chuckled.

"Britta," he smiled, "yes. Yes. Tawney why won't you tell me more about that girl. Jeff, imagine living with that. Can you imagine? Unbelievable. Anyways. Are you two an item? And if so would that item be impervious to sabotage?"

"You know, you have the savoir-faire of a hyena," Jeff said in a sarcastic tone. I couldn't help but laugh. Jeff smirked at me, and sent me a wink, "how is it that you and James Bond came from the same island? "

"Message received," Duncan said swiftly, "I'll just wait for you to finish striking out first.”

"Cheers."

"MASH!" Abed said, walking past. I smiled with him, and we linked up arms. He turned me around and we started heading down the hall.

"FAWLTY TOWERS," he yelled out, "Game over. Have a nice day. I'll see you tomorrow, Tawney."

"Bye Professor Duncan."

We walked arm and arm to Spanish, and I sat next to Troy. He high fived me, "what's up my sister."

"Wait?" Abed said, "you two are related?"

"Oh yeah," Troy laughed, "and I'm also Obama's nephew. Tawney tell him."

"You're related to Obama too?"

I looked between Troy and Abed. This was the first time Troy had really included me, and I didn't want to let him down. I turned to Troy, "do we trust him?"

Abed's eyes went wide, "No way!" "Silencio," Chang said, entering the room, "Por favor. Star burns that means you."

"My name is Alex," he groaned, “Alex!”

"Well maybe," Chang replied, "you should spend five hours sculpting that in your face. Alright. Well last night I ended up grading your test for this lesson. I bet you all want to know how you did, right?"

The class began to chatter in agreeance.

"Well I'm not gonna tell you until I find out who did THIS!"

He ripped out a tiny piece of paper, and just about everyone seemed confused.

"It's a tiny piece of paper. Look it's a tiny piece of paper. That's all it is," Chang mocked, "Containing all the information covered on the test. Otherwise known as a crib sheet. WHO DID IT? Mary Ann? Grandpa? Jackee? Kumar?"

He looked around the room, trying to find the person who left it, "There is one Asian stereotype that does apply to me. Whoever did this has insulted my honor. And they've got 24 hours to come forward, or Mr. Miyagi here will wax off everyone's score and the whole class gets a zero....except you Toby."

Everyone groaned, and tried to look around, seeing if they could find a guilty face. When no one spoke up, Chang stopped paying attention to Toby, and turned towards the board, taping the tiny crib sheet to it.

"We're just gonna sit here in silence until class is over!"

The class groaned again and he held up a hand, "Did I say you guys could groan? NO! I said silence."

He picked up a piece of chalk and began to draw on the board. When he spelled out the world silencio he threw the chalk on the ground. Annie jumped. I looked at Jeff and he shook his head.

Any time someone would try to pull out a book or anything, Chang would walk up to their desk and rip it out of their hands. He even threw Buddy's cell phone across the room. By the time class ended, everyone was thankful to get out of there.

"Hey are you going to be in study group later?"

I nodded. Jeff smiled, "alright. Great. We need to talk about what just happened in Spanish class. We seriously need to get to the bottom of it. I cannot afford an F."

"Trust me," I groaned, "me either. I'm seriously mad Chang is threatening us all with a zero..."

He nodded and made his way past me. Britta joined up with me in the hall, "hey, so how about that thing with Chang. Insane right?"

"Yeah," I agreed, "I just hope whoever did it comes forward. I really can't afford an F on this test. It'll bring my whole grade down."

"Yeah," she repeated. She started kicking at the ground once we reached the quad. She wasn't her normal talkative self, "so the weather's pretty great, right?"

"Britta?" I asked, stopping her, "do you know who cheated on the test?"

"What?" she asked, a voice that didn't sound entirely her own, "I don't know who cheated. How would I know who did it? I didn't do that. You know what, we should be focusing on Chang. What kind of a sick dictator would give everyone a zero."

"Britta,"I gasped, not entirely believing my own logic. She had guilt written across her face, "It was you."

She grabbed my hand and ran us behind the closest tree, "I didn't use it though. I just dropped it on the floor. You can't tell anyone. You have to promise me."

"The only difference between Senor Chang and Stalin is that I know who Senor Chang is," Troy said, as I walked into the study room and took my seat, “that’s messed up!”

"Did you hear him calling me Jackee like I'm some black female caricature?" Shirley asked, "If the good lord hadn't been watching, I'd slap him upside the head."

"Who do you guys think cheated?" Pierce asked.

Just about everyone looked at Jeff. What they didn't know was that Jeff had texted me at 11 the night before the text, super worried he was going to fail. We ended up pulling an all nighter and studied until 4 AM.

"Oh thanks guys," Jeff said sarcastically, "That's flattering. But if I'm gonna cheat, I'm not gonna write information from a book onto a piece of paper. That's practically learning for god's sake. Whoever made the crib sheet isn't a real cheater. They're just insecure and naïve."

Jeff looked at Annie, and just about everyone's eyes followed her. My own went to Britta. Earlier that day she'd confided in me that the crib sheet was hers.

"I may be naïve," Annie said in defense, "but I'm not stupid."

Her accusatory glance reached to Troy. He gave a huff in outrage, "I may be stupid, but I'm not trying to look like I'm not."

He threw his glance so quickly at Pierce, I thought he might get whiplash.

"Well, I may be a genius but I'm not a lesbian."

Britta scoffed as Pierce pointed at her, "who cares who made the crib sheet. The only real cheater is the guy who's threatening everyone with a zero."

"You're right and it's so unfair," Annie agreed, "I can't handle this kind of stress right now. I'm already overwhelmed by my duties on the school song committee."

"Are you a musician?"

For some reason Pierce looked hopeful. Annie shook her head in disgust, "no. I've hired a local musician, but he's quite a handful."

"Well, I guess that's your fault, isn't it."

"It is?"

"You've got an accomplished pianist and songwriter sitting 3 feet away from you," Pierce said angrily, "I wrote the jingle for Hawthorne wipes moist towelettes. I would have done your song for free. Smooth move, Metamucil."

"Ohh, Troy could do the school song," Abed said, jumping into the conversation, "Troy invented rap music, and he's related to Tawney, Danny Glover, and President Obama."

"Abed," Shirley gasped, "have you been racist this whole time while I'm telling everybody at church what a sweet little caramel angel you are?"

"Hey man," Troy said, leaning towards him, "what Tawney and I said this morning wasn't true. I was just messing with you."

"You were lying?" he asked. He looked at me, "you were lying to me?"

"Yeah," Troy said, "it was a joke. You never had someone mess with you before?"

"Yes!" Abed replied, very matter of fact, "Just kidding. No. like that?"

"Oh god, you broke him," Jeff muttered, “this is how it starts.”

Abed started laughing, "this isn't a table. Haha. That's funny."

"I remember when we used to study Spanish," Jeff sighed. Brita shrugged. She looked at me then towards the rest of the group. After everything was all said and done, I started walking back to my dorm. Tonight was the one night I actually didn't have anything going on, and Abed was hanging out with Troy.

When I got back, I changed out of my school clothes, and into some pjs, then I fell onto my bed. Tonight, was going to be a relaxing night...but I just need to close my eyes for a few seconds.

I don't remember falling asleep, but my phone began buzzing against my face.

"Hello?" I muttered, picking it up.

I started rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes, adjusting to the darkness of my dorm.

"Hey, are you at your dorm?"

"Jeff?"

"Yeah," he replied. Then I heard a knocking sound on my door, "Open up. It's weird that I'm standing out here at 2 AM. "

"It's 2 AM?"

I pulled my phone away from my face and looked at the clock. 2:24 AM.

"Open up," a voice said from the other side of the door. He knocked a few more times. I hung up my cell phone and tossed it on my bed. Reaching for my bedside light I flicked the switch. It lit up the room pretty well.

I opened the door, and yawned, Jeff was in a pair of jeans and a sweater, "Jeff, what are you doing here at this hour?"

"I needed to thank you," he said, pushing past me and into the room, "I wanted to say thanks for not telling anyone that you've been helping me out on the side, you know outside of the group."

"And you had to tell me at 2, almost 3 AM?"

"I don't know," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned around and took a step back. His hand fell from his neck, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't even be here. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Are you okay Jeff?"

He nodded and sat down on my bed.

Suddenly I felt self conscious. He was seeing me in nothing but a cami and some short shorts. I grabbed my robe off the back of my computer chair and threw it on. I looked up and caught the faintest blush on his cheeks.

"I should go," he coughed. He got up in a hurried manner, and started making his way to the door, "Thanks uh. Thanks again, Tawney."

"Hey," Jeff said awkwardly as he sat down in Spanish class, “how’s it going?”

I nodded at him but didn't say anything. Last night had been awkward at best. Jeff rushed out for no reason, after showing up at an odd hour for even less of a reason to thank me for helping him . It all seemed weird. Too weird.

And now his demeanor in class. I could tell that the was trying to put on the cool guy act, but I could see right through it.

"So this is the last chance for the cheater to be an adult," Chang said, breaking the silence of what our class was, "And face, la musica. Or everyone fails."

"No."

I sighed, shaking my head at poor, innocent Annie. She looked like a nervous wreck. So did Jeff. Chang began the countdown, and with every passing second the tension rose. I felt a knot in my stomach as he neared ten. My silent counting along got interrupted by Annie, "NOOOOO. I've never got a zero before."

"I did it," Britta said, standing up, “I made the crib sheet.”

"Wow," Chang laughed, "You really took your sweet time on that one baby."

"But how dare you terrorize a class," Britta growled, "by threatening their whole grade? It's not easy to get human beings to turn on one another."

"TURN ON HER!"

The rest of the class obeyed his order, and even Troy started ripping up pages out of his notebook and throwing them at her. The class began booing her. I felt a small wave of pity in my stomach as they booed her out of the class.

"That's right," she yelled, grabbing her stuff, "Real mature."

"That's right," Chang said, copying her, "We are mature. Too mature to sit in a class with a cheating, lying poop face."

When he was sure she was gone he held his hand up and the class stopped, "alright, now who's ready to learn some formal greetings."

Annie raised her hand and tried to act excited but Chang waved her off, "I don't care. Class dismissed. I'll see you guys in two days."

We all started gathering our stuff, and Abed turned to me after Troy left, "I need your help."

"Oh no," I muttered, "what did you do now."

He smiled. I gathered up my books and started out of the classroom with him, "I am pranking Troy."

"Abed what did you do?"

"Well, nothing yet," he said with a grin. He cocked his head to the side as I continued to stare at him, "okay. So, I may have started convincing him that I'm an alien sent to earth to observe him and other human relationships on the planet. "

My mouth dropped, "Abed."

"And I might have secretly hinted that I'm dating you to gain perspective on romantic relationships" he said slowly. I stared at him for a second longer, waiting for the punch line, "And that you are also an alien."

"Abed I'm not playing along with that."

"Come on, Tawney," He pleaded, "you played along with Troy when he was pranking me. Is this because you're half black and half latina so you have half a special bond with Troy? I know that statistically speaking, Arabic people and African American and latin cultures have-"

"Oh my god," I gasped, my jaw dropping even more as I cut him off, "I can't believe you Abed. That’s not why I helped Troy. I did it because I wanted to feel included for once. All of you have some great relationship with each other, and I’m always rushing around campus for Professor Duncan and Slater…I just wanted to be included for once."

I started walking away from him, not bothering to give in to his pleads for me to turn around. I ended up blowing him off until he gave up, then headed towards the quad where I saw Vaughn and some of the guys.

"Hey Tawney," Vaughn said, letting his friends take over, "what's up? How's it going?"

"I'm good," I lied, "how are you?"

"Aww come on wildflower," he said, coming up with a weird nickname, "you've got some worries in the world. What is it?"

"Just my friends."

"They are really toxic," he sighed, "especially Britta."

"I'm sorry Vaughn."

"It's okay," he said with a shrug, "you're not like them, Tawney. You're free as a bird. Always helping people and chirping and stuff."

"Thanks Vaughn."

He put his arms around me in a simple hug, "You are a good soul, Tawney Michaels."

"So are you Vaughn," I said, hugging him back. He began to hum 'Getting Rid Of Britta,' and I couldn't help but laugh a little bit as that was the melody he chose, "I still can't believe you wrote that song. You realize they are still my friends, right?"

"One day you'll grow out of them," he said wisely, as he pulled away, "we all grow up one day, and soon you'll find your own family of friends."

"What, you mean like Kevin, and Chad, and Kiko?"

He shook his head, "I've only been hanging out with Sammy lately. The drummer from my band. He's like the only one that gets me anymore. Everyone else...they're like children. Always talking about things and places."

"Things, and places?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head, "I stopped paying attention to them."

"You are an interesting guy, Vaughn."

He smiled and pulled away, "you will find your way, wildflower."

I laughed, shaking my head at him. He smiled at me, and we walked to Borchert Hall where I told Britta I'd be waiting for her. When we got there, he parted ways but not without kissing me on the cheek.

I felt my face heating up.

It may be that he was only doing that because he was friends with me, but I felt myself swooning at the idea of someone like Vaughn being interested in me. Lately it felt like he was the only one that cared. Abed was so caught up in Troy that he never really noticed me anymore than a few moments.

"A black hole," Troy answered as we came into the study room, “That’s it!”

"Troy you could be an astronomer," Annie giggled from the smaller desk, “you’re so smart.”

"As far as I'm concerned there is only one black hole worth studying," Pierce said. All of us looked at him as if he were going to say something gross, "It's called Sagitarius A, and it's located in the center of our galaxy. It has the density of 40 suns."

All of us let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Just like my wiener," he giggled, “Got ya guys!”

Troy giggled along with him and Jeff looked at Pierce as if to say 'pervy much'.

"You said wiener," Troy added in, "that's funny."

"Pierce and Troy didn't get along at first, but now they're bonding through mutual adolescence," Abed said in a matter of fact tone. He looked at me, but I wouldn't look him in the eye. Not since the other day when he made the off color remark about me and Troy getting along.

"Shut up poo poo head."

"Yeah," Troy replied, "shut up fart head."

I felt bad that Troy and Pierce were getting along like they were. Troy ended up finding me later that night, and well I told him what Abed said. Troy said 'not cool' and that he was 'gonna ignore him for a second.' But I didn't think he actually would.

Dean Pelton came in, all smiles, "well look at this group having some kind of meeting. Being so diverse. There is just...boy, there is one of every kind of you isn't there?"

"Well we are missing a pip-squeak but we don't want one so beat it," Pierce growled out, “Scram!”

My eyes got wide. So did Brittas, "Pierce, that's the dean."

"You kidding?" He asked. We shook our heads, and he made a face, "sorry. That's just my luck."

"That's alright," Dean Pelton said. He let it slide right off him, like water off a duck's back, "Don't let me interrupt. Sometimes I just roll around campus like a little football. Here I am, in a random conversation about football, and I'm talking to Troy Barnes. Star quarterback from Riverside High. Troy did you know Greendale has a football team?"

"Did you know they had a football?"

"Ha ha," Dean said in a mocking tone towards Jeff, "Very funny. Troy I was so sorry to hear about your injury. But now you have recovered, we would love for you to play for the Human Beings."

"The team is named the human beings?"

Dean Pelton nodded at Shirley and raised his hand, "yeah. It was my idea. It was the Greendale Grizzlies...but I thought, you know that uhm, a lot of these students have been called animals for their whole lives. Unfortunately, I don't know what to do about the mascot!"

It seemed like Pierce suddenly came alive, "Oh I could help you with that."

He handed the dean a business card, and the dean smiled, taking it, "ohh this is very nice."

"I have a wealth of experience in image management, icon development, and y2k preparedness."

"Well aren't you well developed money?" he asked. He turned to Troy, "Troy all of your friends are lining up to turn Greendale around. How about you?"

"Troy isn't interested in football anymore," Annie said, taking the focus from Troy, "getting injured in that keg stand was the best thing that ever happened to him."

"Wow," Dean said, making crazy eyes to the rest of the group, "Yoko Ohno much. Bro's before ho's...right Troy?"

"Listen man," Troy said, not quite sure on how to navigate the unsteady water he was on, "no offense, but I was the best and I finished on top. I wouldn't play for this school with a 10 foot pole."

"Dean I'm sure that Troy will sign up for football," Jeff said, trying to get him to leave, "If and when some of the accident damages parts of his brain that feels pride...until then, would you excuse us?"

He got a look of discontent on his face, and turned towards Troy once more, "If you change your mind, the field is always open. Well, figuratively speaking. Wednesdays and Sundays it's used as parking overflow for the megachurch. Okay?"

"Now lets meet the minimum requirements for a language credit," Jeff said as soon as Dean Pelton left, "shall we?"

"Yes," Shirley replied, "but first I need to go to the bathroom. Britta?"

"Uh no," she said, shaking her head, "I don't have to go."

Annie looked at me and we both said the same thing, "I'll go with you."

Shirley smiled and we started off towards the bathroom. The trip to was silent, until we got in, "ohh, can you girls believe Britta?"

"I know, right?" Annie asked, "I guarantee she just stayed so she could spend more time with Jeff. Get a room already, right?"

"They are really close."

"Really close?" Shirley laughed, walking into a stall, "If they were any closer they'd be in their own separate room. You know, she told me she was having dreams about him again."

"Really?" Annie asked.

"Dreams?"

Annie wiggled her eyes about me, "you know, sex dreams...about Jeff, Shirley?"

"Ohh yeah," she giggled, coming out, "She tries to play It off like she doesn't like him, but I bet she wishes he'd come knocking on her door in the late hours of the night."

My mind froze, and I gulped hard, thinking of how Jeff visited me at 2 AM not too long ago.

"Tawney, are you okay?"

I nodded, trying to recover quickly, "I bet he's the guy that just shows up unannounced, like some random weirdo."

Annie looked at me for a second. It felt like she was trying to read me.

"I mean Britta seemed to be over the moon when she kissed him that one time so he wouldn't fail Whitman's class," I said, trying to recover, "and he seemed really happy when Vaughn dumped her."

"Ohh their has got to be something going on there," Shirley said quickly. She washed her hands and checked her lipstick. She was like a dog with a bone, "Ohh, I bet they've slept together too...that little harlot."

My eyes went wide at what Shirley was saying. Such strong opinions. She'd always seemed to have everything locked up tight and to be very Christian, but this was a whole different side of her. She walked out of the bathroom quickly and Annie pulled me along, "come on. We don't need her talking about us next."

"Hey, Tawney," Jeff said, stopping me from leaving, "Can you hang back a minute?"

I nodded, and gathered my stuff slowly. Everyone else started leaving the room, "are you okay?"

He nodded, "yeah. I just. I know you are friends with Annie and Troy and I just-heyyyy buddy."

"Hey," Troy smiled. He tapped the strap of his backpack and looked over to Annie, "we still good to hang out?"

"Hang out?"

"Yeah," Jeff smiled, putting an arm around me, "The readiest to hang out."

I stood up, not entirely sure what was going on. I looked to Annie who was shrugging, "do you know what's going on?"

I shook my head. Jeff moved from me and put an arm around Troy, "I was thinking we'd walk around campus. Take a tour. Have you ever really toured the campus?"

"No," Troy said, shaking his head. Jeff smiled and led him down the stairs. Soon we were in front of a trophy case. It was devoid of trophies. All except one, from the trophy store for being a valued customer.

"Just think of it, Troy," Jeff said, spreading his arms out, pointing to the trophy case, "you, Troy Barnes, could fill that trophy case. You could create a new, better legacy for Greendale."

Jeff let go of Troy and pulled me in front of them. I leaned in to him, "you really need to relax about Troy being on the football team. He seems really happy studying with Annie and taking school seriously."

He shrugged, We kept walking, and it took me a second to realize that he'd put an arm around my waist, and we were gliding down the halls. All of a sudden, he stopped, and the grip on my waist tightened. I looked at him and he realized he was holding me. He let go, and put all of his focus onto a poster, "I'm Jeff and I'm a student at Greendale? Well that's not good."

"What?"

He pointed at the poster. I turned and gave it my attention. I caught myself gasping, as Jeff's face was plastered on a Greendale poster.

He pulled it down and practically ran to the deans office. His secretary said that he was behind his closed door. He ripped it open, "sorry to disturb you guys....who are looking at a naked drawing of Pierce doing jumping jacks? Dean, a quick download?"

"Uh, absolutely," I heard his disjointed voice state. He came through the door looking like he was about to win a victory, "Jeff Winger, what a pleasant surprise. Tawney Michaels.”

"First of all I'm flattered."

Dean Pelton smiled at the obvious lie Jeff was baiting him with. He pointed at the poster, "you are a very photogenic man. Is it real bed head or do you put something in there? Can I?"

Before Jeff could reject the idea he was grabbing at Jeff's hair. It lightly 'crunched' when touched, but stayed in place.

"I was thinking," Jeff said, trying to sound thoughtful, "The four disembodied heads. And I thought, where's the heart? Where's the soul? Where's the different poster design?"

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I did think it was less than personable. Which is why I went with full bodies in these mailers we have going out."

He reached behind him to show a confused looking Jeff standing on the quad, "TA DA!"

"Mailers?" he all but squeaked out, "I didn't give permission for this."

"Ohh Jeffrey, did you not read the release agreement on the back of your registration forms? I'm starting to see why someone used to be a lawyer," he said with a zinger. He held a hand up for a high five, "up top!"

"If someone from the outside were to find," he began, but cut himself off, when Dean Pelton looked at him for the high five. He didn't lower his hand until Jeff agreed to it. He smiled in victory, "Listen, if someone were to find out from the outside that I'm a student at a community college, that could have a negative impact on my future career."

"Ohh goodness," he said, feigning concern, "look what we've stumbled onto. An opportunity where we could help each other out. You know, I suppose I wouldn't need this promotional campaign if I could announce to the press that Troy is playing football here."

"He's been pretty clear about declining that offer."

"I think if you said jump he'd say how high," the dean said in a villainous tone, "If you said stop, he'd say hammer time. You starting to get what I mean?"

"I don't know I think I need another example."

"Jeff!"

Dean looked at me, "you know Jeffrey, I didn't realize it before, but we should send these out to local businesses. Law firms. Legal companies. Legal gatherings."

Jeff looked at the dean, realizing the severity of where he stood. The dean was trying to blackmail him into getting what he wanted. Troy to play for the Greendale Human Beings.

Chapter 7

#troy community #abed community #community show #community #troy barnes #troy and abed #abed nadir #abed #shirley bennett #annie edison #pierce hawthorne #britta perry #jeff winger #down the rabbit hole #ben chang #chang #dean pelton #craig pelton

6 notes · View notes