I just want to not have to chase after the thing down the street like a bad goofy cartoon if it falls out of my ear while I'm walking. The cord keeps it attached to the phone, which can stay in my pocket.

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@theophenes
I just want to not have to chase after the thing down the street like a bad goofy cartoon if it falls out of my ear while I'm walking. The cord keeps it attached to the phone, which can stay in my pocket.
For your consideration: It's the survivor's guilt talking. He doesn't think anyone who made it out in one piece is worth it, himself included.
spin the wheel for a genre!
You are now the main character of this genre, how are you managing?
THIS IS LITERALLY MY DREAM COME TRUE AAAAAAAAAA
I was made for this role, I am the optimal main character and I am flawless
I'll try my best, make some stumbles but I'll get to a satisfying finish
I am a lucky bastard and will somehow succeed in a genre-defying way
I'm trying my hardest but what the fuck
This is not the genre for me man, I was made for greatness but what is this
I will grit my way through it, desperately trying to subvert every trope
I end up just, killing a bunch of people, I don't think I'm the mc anymore
I immediately give up and just let the dirt consume me
INSTANTLY DEAD, WHAT THE FUCK OP
My interpretation of this prompt is too complex for this small-minded poll
Results/I simply do not
Today's Adventure is that I, after an unintentional 13-hour power nap,
Got woken up at 6AM by a phone call from a friend stranded in Montana because of the heat wave and almost no cell service because of their crap provider.
OhSoThat'sHowIt'sGonnaBe.jpg
Ok.
I somehow summon a week's worth of spoons and in less than 30 minutes and 5 phone calls, get them
A hotel
An appointment with a mechanic from 2 states away
A perscription refilled from 2 states away
and A Pizza
Go me.
But then it's 8AM and there are unscheduled live humans at the door and while EVERGENCY MODE is still on, I have already blown through a ton of spoons, and also probably shouldn't meet whoever it is wearing just a pair of bootyshorts that say "CRYPTID" in Gothic Font on my ass.
So I greet them in those shorts and a T-shirt that I manage to put on both inside out and backwards
#nailedit
It is, Fortunately, not the mormons.
it is, Unfortunately, two UPS guys trying to deliver my other in-house friend's new phone except the new guy doesn't know how to operate the "sign for package" device, and the old guy that's supposed to be mentoring him is like, 92, deaf as a post, and doesn't actually know how to operate the device either.
by the way
it is already
over 100 out
it takes almost 30 minutes to sign for the phone
when i get back inside, i discover that apparently the Corgi has learned how to open his kennel from the inside because he is now out of the kennel and waiting for me to come in.
he also has cat litter all over his face because while he was waiting for me he also learned how to open the baby gate to the cat's room and help himself to a cat shit breakfast.
He'll be fine
He's a cattle dog, they're legally required to have at least 1 really disgusting snack they love.
but
more to the point
i have no idea at what point he learned to open his kennel from the inside
has he been staying there out of politeness this whole time??
And
I got other shit to do today.
namely.
I'm seeing a realator
The Devils most pathetic yet effective demons
I get a reminder text that I have an appointment with her
at least
I think that's what it is because what she sends me is: "đĄâ°12:00 â"
With the time typed in the middle like that.
She is, according to her profile, at least 80.
so I reply "đđ"
and then she sends me a string of GODDAMN POST-MODERN EMOJI HEIROGLYPHICS THAT TAKE UP MY ENTIRE SCREEN.
She's on an iPhone so half of them don't even translate across platforms
It takes me half an hour and three different software programs and goddamn wingdings to translate, but she has sent me the address and rules about masking and not wearing shoes inside.
in emoji
instead of like
literally any other format
I am
FASCINATED
and simply must meet the woman so if I don't come back to update I got stolen by the fairies but I'm taking the Corgi with me as protection so I'll see y'all later.
Update:
It's not fairies
It's Doris.
might be about to get a sewing machine and/or start an ACAB riot.
Ok, so:
I'm going to see a prospective house because due to various circumstances, I'm probably going to be moving to the other side of a major metropolitan area in the next few months, but that's not important.
I get to the house
I get a text from the realtor
The realtor is not the person who has been texting me in emoji
The person texting me in emoji is the homeowner, who the realtor says will let me in if I want, she's running late.
Sure
Why not
I put Herschel on leash and go to the front door
As much crime as he commits at home Herschel The Hanukkah Goblin has terrific public manners, and is Very Cute so I'm about 90% sure the emoji fairy is going to let me take him through the house
Door opens.
90-something blue haired old lady with a spine like a question mark and glasses that could be used as telescope lenses opens the door.
"OH [Gallus]! How lovely to see you!"
This woman clearly knows me because she remembers my anniversary was last week and that my sister is back from Australia.
Problem is
I know about 500 geriatric ladies with blue hair, scoliosis and extreme prescription glasses, because I am a member of 2 quilt guilds, the scientific illustration guild, the rocky mountain SCA and stagehand for three different theater companies, so I know everyone's grandma and fuck me if I can tell them apart.
Wait
There's a quilt in thekitchen, visible front hall
I don't know faces but apparently I can recognize applique techniques at 40paces.
"...Doris? From SAQA?"
"YES! Who is this handsome little man?"
Herschel speaks enough English to know that "handsome little man" means "this person will feed me milk bones and bacon if I'm cute enough"
Immediately does a Sit Pretty and Shake.
Doris is bewitched
This is fine, but I also know I'm about to severely disappoint the realtor because there is no way in hell I'm moving into this House.
Because
The reason Doris is moving out is that her neighbor is a Cunt Magnifique and has been harassing Doris and everyone else to form an HOA and "improve the quality of our residents" because this woman has nothing better to do than be a racist-ass busy body, and recently, she's set her husband, a county sheriff on Doris, trying to bully her into signing paperwork and threatening her with legal action and writing her up for bullshit property violations
Ain't putting up with that shit
And neither is Doris, so she's selling all her shit and moving out to live with her grandchildren in Santa Monica.
But she's technologically impaired, so the only indication that there is an estate sale happening is a small paper sign in her front yard.
"Doris." I say, as Herschel makes himself comfortable on the couch for belly rubs and pieces of ham. "Did you tell SAQA or FRCC or anyone on Facebook that you're having the sale?"
"oh, I don't know how to do all that!" She sighs. "I tried to call the Denver post but they just put me on hold for ages..."
"Watch Herschel for 20 minutes and he's only allowed to have that one piece of ham."
Pics of everything
Address, time and pics to Facebook, both quilt guilds she's in, two more I have contacts for, nextdoor, and the local SCA discord for good measure.
It's 12 minutes and Herschel persuaded her to give him at least three pieces of ham.
He is petitioning for a fourth by doing a little puppy dance on the living room rug.
"OK, that's enough ham, people will be here in 10. Where is your cash box?"
Because apparently I'm running an estate sale today too.
It's fine :)
There's about 7 minutes of quiet.
Then
They DESCEND
The first on the scene is DeeDee, who doesn't believe in speed limits. She's arrived with a horse trailer. I remember that she is also moving.
"HI DORIS SWEETHEART WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL I HAD NO IDEA THIS WAS TODAY I WAS GOING TO TAKE ALL THIS TO THE GOODWILL HERE LET ME SET UP ON YOUR LAWN "
DeeDee is 73, and has a special spiritual bond with Hello Kitty. She weighs like 98lbs, dresses exclusively in neon pink sanrio clothes and the kind of eye makeup drag queens aspire to.
She also speaks non-stop at a volume normally associated with jet engines.
Half the horse trailer is already spread out on the lawn.
Doris is putting price stickers on stuff
Herschel is trying to tear open a bag of cotton batting.
This, and the arrival of approximately 56 minivans, five more trucks with horse trailers and Corgi Excitement Screaming alert Cunt Magnifique that something is happening outside.
Madame saunters off her porch up to Doris and Demands to know what's happening, you're supposed to notify the neighborhood and get a permit to-"
Doris, surrounded by her pack of silver wolves, shouts. "OH HELLO! EVERYONE, THIS IS MARCIA. I'VE TOLD YOU ALL ABOUT MARCIA." >:)c
... further details in a bit I think the Vikings are here.
~`* SOMEONE'S GETTING FIRED!!*`~
OK so.
You know those high school house parties you see in movies, where the person invites only a few friends, but those friends call their friends, and those friends call THEIR friends and soon like 500 people show up to one house and someone calls the cops and that one John Mulaney sketch with "SCATTER!" happens?
Old people will 100% do this too, except instead of a house party it's an estate sale on a wednesday afternoon and when the cop shows up there are lawyers present and he is in DEEP SHIT because his wife just spent the afternoon admitting to doing a bunch of wildly illegal shit on tape.
So when we left off, the party had really started getting underway, because Marcia the Cunt Magnifique had decided to crash the estate sale and whine about "we're supposed to coordinate garage sales as a neighborhood" and "your friends are blocking traffic on this cul-de-sac while nobody is home" weh weh-
DeeDee is about ready to throw hands but she is nowhere near the most dangerous of the Silver Silver Wolves.
That's Dr. Ruth.
Dr. Ruth turned 99 this year and went paragliding for her birthday
So you understand just how hard she goes
Dr. Ruth sort of hobbles over and point-blank asks "So I understand you've been trying to start a homeowner's association?" :3c
Marcia
Entirely misunderstanding how much danger she's in
Starts enumerating the TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS of trying to start one, because SOME PEOPLE DON'T RESPECT AUTHORITY and all the paperwork and talking to people and she even had to ask HER HUSBAND. A SHERRIF. To go around and hand people stuff to sign.
Some people, right?
Dr. Ruth nods. Some people. She agrees.
You know.
Her son is a lawyer.
Why doesn't she give him a call?
Marcia, a Moron: Oh that'd be great!
Dr. Ruth, hobbling back to Doris: "Don't worry. David will handle this."
Meanwhile
The Friends-Of-Friends and the Friends-Of-Friends-Of-Friends are arriving, lured in because they heard the words "Longarm Sewing Machine" and "Hand-made quilts"
Various factions present include but are far from limited to: -Probably Six Quilt Guilds -The Denver Art League -The Denver Leather League -The Vikings -The Klingons -The Colorado Wild Game Share -A Pack of Scientific Illustrators -A Pack of Assorted Scientists they brought with them -The Sheep Lesbians -The Horse Lesbians -Three Extremely Competent Finnish People (My Scientific Illustration Professor and her sisters) who immediately take over the estate sale and turn it into an auction to maximize profit and keep the taxes in order.
Someone brings two additional Corgi called "Cap" and "Bucky"
They are Pembroke Corgi, and weigh about 21lbs apiece
Herschel is a Cardigan Welsh Corgi and weighs 42lbs because he's hug even for a Cardigan, and is Delighted with his New Minions.
They worship him as a God and follow him around so every time he sticks his face in something two smaller corgi faces immediately follow, like some kind of adorable cerberus.
Pelts and meat shares are being traded out of the backs of trucks and vans
Someone is making bratwurst.
Intrigued by the Brouhaha, Doris' neighbors emerge.
They are also Geriatric and very nervous, because Marcia has been harassing them too.
They are telling this to the members of these factions that are also lawyers.
There are at least 5 of them so far and David isn't even here yet.
I realize my realtor isn't even here.
I decide to text her.
She is somewhere in the crowd and having a nervous breakdown because She's SO LATE!!!
Ma'am.
It's 103 out.
I was just handed a freshly grilled Brat
Some bitch is incriminating herself on the lawn.
Nothing scheduled is happening.
Come sit in the yard and watch the Corgis play on the Palyskool plastic slide set. They're disassembling it like tiny furry engineers.
Have a bratwurst.
One of the Klingons appears, having physically carried my realtor through the crowd, and gently deposits her on the lawn before handing her a Bratwurst.
Diane, the Realtor, is not much older than I am, and from the preppie swaths of society that has "Never had a dog growing up" and "Didn't Know People Could Just. Make. Blankets?" and "What is this? It's like a hot dog but spicy?"
She is having a LEARNING EXPERIENCE.
One of the Horse Lesbians comes over and compliments Diane on her Dior handbag.
Diane thanks her ans compliments the apparently expensive brand scarf she has on. Do you. Know all these people?
Horse Lesbian explains that she's part of the SCA, and what that is, and that why yes. Her girlfriend Tasha is an armorer. Yes like for knights.
More Livestock Lesbians assemble.
They are pulling off shirts to show off livestock and battle scars, and biceps.
Diane is LEARNING A LOT TODAY.
I am just getting everyone's contact info and making sure Herschel does not consume his weight in bratwurst.
BWOOP!
Uh-Oh.
Marcia's Husband is here.
I step out front.
He has used the siren to largely part the crowd and pull into his driveway but it has closed around him and there is No Escape.
He starts huffing and puffing about blocked traffic and permits and the like, but this is not his usual Can-Bully-Without-Consequences crowd.
These are Grandmas.
Veterans of the 60's protest front who never let up.
He's starting to turn bright red and looks like he's about to cry and I've got my phone out to record whatever Incident is about to occur.
-And a Mercedes pulls up.
It's David.
Dr. Ruth's son.
The Lawyer.
And I emphasize that The because David is not some mere ambulance chaser.
David is the guy that the state sends to prosecute Corporate Fraud and Organized Crime and Other State Departments.
David was part of the team that took down the CO Branch of the KKK.
David is all of 5'4", very round and a balding little man that looks like the Dictonary Definition of "Nebbish" that moves with such intense confidence and authority that he pretty much has the Pillar Men Theme Blasting behind him at all times.
So when he and three other lawyers from the state's office step out of the car
Mr. Sherrif goes from red to while like color-changing octopus and I am like 50% sure he shit himself.
Because what he and Marcia have been doing is Very, Very, Very, VERY, Fucking Illegal.
"mArCiA!" he garbles. "sHuT tHe fUcK uP!"
Marcia is standing in the middle of the cul-de-sac, having spent the last 3 hours recounting to anyone who will listen about the 'measures she's had to take' and now the 5 lawyers that were here are delightedly handing over the paperwork that she had forced on Doris and her Neighbors, and pointing at all the doorbell cameras and witnesses out to the state's top prosecutor.
Friends
I ugly laughed.
FOUR HOURS LATER: -Auction wrapped up with a solid $40K to Doris' name plus pending sales on some of her larger furniture and antiques
Plus whatever David gets in damages from the county sherrif's office.
Marcia and husband are fucking busted
Herschel spent all afternoon running around and eating snacks and is passed out on the floor
Diane is "meeting up with" one of the Horse Lesbians next week.
The sewing machine went to someone else but I did open my purse and found out Doris or someone shoved a bunch of cash in there.
I'm getting ice dream and going to bed.
I'm back.
Hello, I guess I'm back to doing things on here. The fact this particular bit of messy, unbalanced chaos somehow outlasted Twitter and Reddit in my head is kind of fascinating. Go freaking figure. Anyhow, I finally remember I have one of these blog thingies, so we are probably all doomed. My esteemed sympathies. Given that the nubmer of folks who probably remember me at this point is a single-digit number at best, let me update you absentmindedly, for my own amusement:
Had a raucous change of jobs once or thrice, still work around the casino industry, because there's little else in the Neon Babylon.
Got into City of Heroes, fun role-playing vehicle.
Managed to dodge all the plagues despite working in customer service, so I think the vaccines made me bullet-proof.
Played with the learning language models people keep calling AI when it's not. They are better at writing cover letters than I am, but I feel my smut and fiction are of a higher quality.
Still likely to invade Europe, may use Stellaris to design my heraldry.
You all need to watch more Shaw Brothers movies, several of the good ones are available free with ads on youtube, including Five Deadly Venoms which is so damn good.
Bought a monks robe, am currently manufacturing a "stole" from burlap and assorted punk rock patches because it's fun.
I think that's the broad notes.
Hui, if she were to pass by this particular cafe on this particular afternoon, would find a very tired looking goth messing around with a tarot deck at one of the tables outside. Unlike most goths Hui would come across meddling with tarot decks, however, Hui would notice that something is actually happening with the cards. Something subtle, but magical. What do?
The strange, sparkly, woman would stop by the cafe and grin as she grabbed n adjacent seat. âGotta be careful asking the fates for favors around here,â sheâd say with a grin. âSome of âem actually answer. And others just cause trouble.â As if to demonstrate, she extended a hand. âIâm Hui. Howâs it hanging?â
Hester glanced up, a little confused, but this woman clearly seemed to see that she was doing something with her cards, so she smiled back, and shook her hand in return, careful not to scratch her with her fake nails.
âIâll keep that in mind. Hester Blake. Havenât I seen you around the Watchtower?â
Hui just shrugged, her bracelet jangling. âProbably. But Iâm not usually that guarded, as it were. You enjoying town so far?â She seemed surprisingly cheerful, all things considered. âEither way, pleased to meet you. Always good to see some other odd folks around.â
Hester carefully returned the cards sheâd drawn back to the deck, with the sort of ease that comes from a lot of experience with them. She shuffled them, then returned them to the pouch she kept them in.
âThis town is great, so far. Just weird enough for my liking. I find the people pretty odd, too. What kind of weird are you, beyond trying to spook me about the fates?â
âThe kind youâll probably find at the Watchtower. Or wandering around the foothills if you need a consult. Iâm...mostly independent.â She wasnât gonna ditch the innuendo too much, this was still a public Cafe. âStill, itâs always good to see new people, they tend to have a lot of energy to throw at things. Especially in this town.â
Nevermore walks into the office at the appointed time, their demeanor one of mixed curiosity and mild trepidation. "Hello?" They call out. "Mister... Wachisinim?" At least they're trying.
A hand flails up from behind a couch. âHi, Iâm here, one secondâŠ.found it!â The relaxed, somewhat slouched body pops up to follow the hand, holding a fancy pen triumphantly. âIâm beginning to think my office supplies have minds of their own,â he says with a laugh. âIâm Harvey. You must be Nevermore, then?â The man extends a hand towards his appointment.
Nevy nods and steps around the couch to shake. Their outfit today is almost staid, in contrast to their usual flamboyance: a pair of black slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a black vest. The only splash of color is a rose-patterned cravat ties around their throat. âThatâs me.â
After shaking his hand, they rub their hands over their upper arms as if cold. âIâve never⊠had something like this happen before. Itâs⊠got me a little freaked.â
(edited version)
Harvey nods slightly and pockets the pen. âThatâs understandable. Nobody expects these sorts of things to happen,â he said, trying to reassure the man without casting any aspersions which would lead Nevermore on. Nevermore was just throwing a party, and all of this went down.People didnât want to be witnesses. But, here they were. âFollow me to the office. Weâll sit down and talk about it,â he said amicably. âBut, honestly, being bothered by all this is fair. Violence bothers the head,â he said with a nod as he walked towards the door, leading the poet into a well lit office with almost as many windows as walls.
âAnyone would be a little shaken, still thanks for coming in. It makes things easier to sort out details before any of this gets to major legal action,â Harvey said as he pointed to seat while slowly pacing around the desk. âHave you ever had to give a legal statement before, Nevermore? Iâm guessing the answer is no, but I want to make sure Iâm not overexplaining.â
They take a seat. âI doubt changing my name counts,â they say with a weak laugh, âSo no.â
Harvey nodded. âThatâs very much a different thing. Basically, Iâm going to set up a recording device. Youâll do most of the talking. Then, Iâll transcribe it in a day or two, and then Iâll send you a copy to sign, agreeing that this is what we said,â he said, adjusting on of his gloves. âThe big thing is that since youâre the primary witness, Iâm going to keep questions short, and let you explain things in your own words.â
He scratched the back of his gloved hand, frowning a bit. âWhich brings me to one thing. Normally, I donât like to lead witnesses during initial prep, but,â he let out a slight sigh. âBefore I begin recording things, I should ask: How did you see the fight end?â
Nevermore gives Harvey an assessing look.  âI sawâŠâ The emphasis is mild but clear.  ââŠSharon go in to slap Abigail, then Abigail doing some kind of judo move to throw her across the room.â Â
Harvey nodded. âThatâs a fair answer to an unfair question,â he said with a nod. âThere may be certain other details youâre aware of, but in that regard, Iâd trust what you told me to fare better in a court,â he coughed. âSorry, Iâm not usually this much for euphemisms,â He fidgeted with the glove again.Â
âSo, stick with what was seen, and not what you mightâve otherwiseâŠnoticed,â the tan man said, trying his best to not sound ominous. âOther than that, however, Iâd like you to be clear with details in the rest of this.âÂ
Harvey pulled out a small microphone and tapped a few buttons on a laptop. âTesting, check, one two.â He hit the playback, and slightly tinnier version of his voice came out of the laptop. âTesting check, one two.â He smiled. âDo you have any other questions, before we start, Nevermore? Iâd like to try and get a full report in one recording, if thatâs okay.â
Nevy hesitates. âWhat kind of tone are we going for with this?â They say. âIâm usually fairly big on the blood and thunder and âorrible murther when Iâm telling a story - melodrama, you know? - But I want to sculpt the telling to match the intent. Not changing the factsâŠâ they interrupt themselves. ââŠJust how theyâre told.â
Harvey considered the question. âMelodrama may not be the best approach, but be honest about your emotions. If you had a reaction to a given part of the events, acknowledge it. Donât enflame, but donât repress,â he said with a reassuring nod. âItâs a bit tricky, but try less to think about intent, and more about the specifics.â Harvey sat down slowly. They were the type to consider their language heavily, and thatâd be a tough trick.
Nevy thinks for a few minutes, then nods. âOkay. Let me know when youâre ready.â
When cued, they begin. They tell the story of what happened in fairly good detail, moderately emphasizing how distressing the situation was. The wording is natural, but the enunciation is a touch more crisp than normal. Theyâre playing a role - the role of themselves.
Once theyâre finished, they look at Harv with a touch of anxiety. âGood?â
âHonest and truthful. Very good,â Harvey said with a nod. looking over the recording on the laptop and saving it. âAfter I finish transcribing, Iâll send you a copy as well, and then you can sign some paperwork, and Iâll have a letter to wave in Sharonâs face, and her lawyers, since it will likely come to that.â
Harvey smiled as he watched the poet. âI know it might seem a bit much, but trust me. These small steps allows me to work with confidence on Abigailâs behalf. And yours,â he said with a nod. âAfter all, party crashers that go to blows so quickly arenât really a great thing for you, either. A swift rebuttal can help with that. Of course, I figure a writer would catch it easy enough, just how much power a few words can hold, yeah?â
Nevy nods. âI just canât believe she did that. How does someone even think thatâs okay?â
Harvey made a noise that was a mix of âeccchâ and âuggghâ in response.
âSome folks manage to go a long time without knowing the consequences of their actions. The kind of people who behave like that, are the kind of people the law should be used to protect others from,â he said as he slowly rose from the desk. âDonât know if this will get her to consider her actions more, but maybe itâll scare her back to reasonable levels of awful,â he then snickered a little. âAnd to be honest, Iâd be lying if I said I wasnât enjoying it a bit. Itâs fun to take on someone who really has it coming.â
âvillain attempts to go back in time to kill superman as a small child, gets shot in the face by ma kent, who buries him behind the barn with the othersâ would probably have niche appeal as a comic but i donât care, i want it
The first time a man from the future showed up at Martha Kentâs house, Clark Kent was two years old.
According to his birth certificate, anyway. She just kind of accepted that the details were a little fudged. Relativity, and all.
Maybe the stranger would have succeeded in whatever it was he wanted to do, except that he really did just show up. Appeared, like a ghost made flesh, right in the backyard. Clark, thank goodness, was out in the fields with Jonathan. He couldnât bear to be alone, that boy, and they could never bear to leave him.
Which left Martha free to shoot the ghostly intruder in the face.
Martha had not always considered herself a shoot first, ask questions later sort of a person. But that was before she found a baby in a spaceship where her corn was supposed to be.
Theyâd switch off, Jonathan and her, who got Clark and who got the shotgun. Martha got the shotgun more often than not. Guns made her husband uncomfortable. She was hardly a fan, but sheâd always been a terrible pacifist. Too determined to defend herself.
The sight of all that blood and brain and bone was still nauseating. She compartmentalized, told herself it was no different from slaughtering a cow; didnât think about riot gear or tear gas or the friends sheâd lost or all the things sheâd moved away from when her heart couldnât take it any longer. This was different. This was her son.
She prodded the corpse with her foot. It remained a corpse. A real nasty looking corpse, all big and burly and holding a gun much too large. She didnât like making assumptions based on appearances, but she didnât imagine heâd been coming for anything nice. She bent down to search his pockets, found a metal wallet and flipped it open.
Born 2018.
Well, hell. Wasnât that just a kick in the pants?
Probably she ought to have been a bit more unsettled than she was. But sheâd been waiting two years for someone to show up on her doorstep, men in black or UFOs or something. Hell, sheâd half expected her sweet little boy to hatch into something worse.
Just because she brought home space babies didnât mean she was a damn fool.
Jonathan had rejoined her in long strides, was holding Clark in such a way that he couldnât see the corpse on the ground. âWell, shit,â he said.
âEyup,â Martha agreed.
âDonât look government.â
âNope.â
âWe burying him?â
âIâll bury him,â Martha said, standing up. âYou get Clark inside and read him a book or something. I donât want him seeing any of this, getting him messed up in the head.â
âYou sure? Looks heavy.â
âThatâs why we have a wheelbarrow. Iâll stick him out behind the barn, might as well keep all our secrets in one place.â
Martha had a long time to think as she dug a time travelerâs grave. There were a lot of reasons someone might travel back in time trying to kill her kid. The first was her instinct as a mother, which was: he was a fucking asshole. Who killed a kid? Fucking assholes, that was who.
Now, it was also possible that her sweet little boy grew up to be some kind of space Hitler. She didnât think sheâd raise that kind of a kid, but she didnât suppose there was any parent who set out to raise a Hitler.
Still didnât sit right with her. She didnât much like the idea of killing baby Hitler, either.
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Nevermore walks into the office at the appointed time, their demeanor one of mixed curiosity and mild trepidation. "Hello?" They call out. "Mister... Wachisinim?" At least they're trying.
A hand flails up from behind a couch. âHi, Iâm here, one secondâŠ.found it!â The relaxed, somewhat slouched body pops up to follow the hand, holding a fancy pen triumphantly. âIâm beginning to think my office supplies have minds of their own,â he says with a laugh. âIâm Harvey. You must be Nevermore, then?â The man extends a hand towards his appointment.
Nevy nods and steps around the couch to shake. Their outfit today is almost staid, in contrast to their usual flamboyance: a pair of black slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a black vest. The only splash of color is a rose-patterned cravat ties around their throat. âThatâs me.â
After shaking his hand, they rub their hands over their upper arms as if cold. âIâve never⊠had something like this happen before. Itâs⊠got me a little freaked.â
(edited version)
Harvey nods slightly and pockets the pen. âThatâs understandable. Nobody expects these sorts of things to happen,â he said, trying to reassure the man without casting any aspersions which would lead Nevermore on. Nevermore was just throwing a party, and all of this went down.People didnât want to be witnesses. But, here they were. âFollow me to the office. Weâll sit down and talk about it,â he said amicably. âBut, honestly, being bothered by all this is fair. Violence bothers the head,â he said with a nod as he walked towards the door, leading the poet into a well lit office with almost as many windows as walls.
âAnyone would be a little shaken, still thanks for coming in. It makes things easier to sort out details before any of this gets to major legal action,â Harvey said as he pointed to seat while slowly pacing around the desk. âHave you ever had to give a legal statement before, Nevermore? Iâm guessing the answer is no, but I want to make sure Iâm not overexplaining.â
The workshop is small and cluttered, and it's a marvel all on its own that the massive bulk of the man can breathe at all in the mess. He's broad of shoulders and even broader of gut, with hands like over stiffed sausages and thick lips constantly either whistling or smiling as he bustles about. Khar, a small, dry faced girl with a closely buzzed head watches him from her seat on the boot of dented car shell. Instead of cargo pants and suspenders like the big one, she wears yoga pants.
A small, almost frail-looking old man ambles in through the front door. Youâd say he looks almost impious, with a beard thatâs more smoke than hair. He smiles, looking about the place cheerfully. He looks like heâs easily sixty or more, and his outfit is a rather neatly embroidered blue shirt and some faded jeans. He seems to stroke the whisps of his beard for a moment and nods. âAh, hello.I hope Iâm not intruding?â his accent seems out of town, but itâs hard to place.
If he noticed her at all, he probably realized that the snake skinned girl was aware of him seemingly from the moment he entered the over heated shop. The big man though, only looks up from his puttering when he hears the new entrant. Through the mask, fae eyes can see the glossy scales, algae green mixing with mud brown in tell tale anaconda patterns. He wipes greasy hands on the front of an old work tee amd strides forward gleefully. â hello hello hello! Welcome to the junk yard! â her greets with enthusiasm. At least the hovel is aptly named.
His voice is deep, rumbling and low like the movements of the continental shelves themselves, but full of merriment and good humor
Lo returns the grin, all smiles as he looks at the large reptilian fellow. Eyebrow and bear like smoke, but otherwise, a fairly subtle mien seems to follow him. He nods slightly to the quiet woman as well. âItâs a nice shop. Always good to find something new,â he said, bowing slightly, his voice sounding slightly ragged, yet still full of vigor. âIâm Lo. Pleased to meet you both,â he said with a nod.Â
Lo eyed over the rather wide selection of assorted things, most of which might as well have been written in latin. A lot of parts from things he recognized, and significantly more from things he didnât. Still, it was quite a collection. It beat quite a few of the chop shops back home, for certain.Â
Anton returns the slight bow, though itâs as unpolished add ti be expected from a fat American. âWell met, Lo! Iâm Anton,â he touches his full chest, voice full of pleasure, and gestures to the silent, stone faced girl on the car shell. , â and that ray of sunshine is my sister, Kharissa.â
Thereâs s pause, but the girl makes no acknowledgement, no smile or wave. Barely even blinks. â⊠she makes me look positively boring, I know. Itâs a wonder we can stand each other.â He turns his focus back to Lo and claps thick hands together. âWhat can I do for you this fine day?â
Lo resisted a snicker. âAh, but that is how it is with siblings,â he said with a nod. âMy sister and Iâwell, we do have our ways of doing things,â he said with a shrug. âOh, but here I am rambling. Iâve been told you do a bit of work in sculpture? Iâm thinking of adding a conversation piece or two for my parlor,â he said with a nod. âThe place needs some more decor.â
âI do!â Anton answers merrily, patting his hands happily on his rotund gut. âAre you interested in something made or something you see already?â Though looking around, most of the clutter here takes a much closer inspection to realize that the stacks and piles of junk arent just stacks and piles, but many of them are actually bolted or welded together in organized disarray. Though as Lo looks around himself, the car back end has been vacated and the sender, silent boa is nowhere to be seen.
Lo observed thoughtfully. âNot certain yet. Thatâs the thing about art, at least when youâre doing large decor. You donât always know what youâve found until youâve tripped over it,â he said, making a hand gesture to nothing in particular.Â
His eyes came across aâŠwell, hmm. That wasâŠhe raised an eyebrow. âHuh. That is an an interesting way to use boat aluminum. Didnât even know we had proper water scrap out here,â he said as he blinked. âYou ever take to trawling, Anton? I had a friend back home, had a knack for diving,â he said with a smirk. âNot much of a dice player, though,â he shook his head and shrugged.Â
âI love being on the water..â anton answers woth a warm breath of fond memory. âWith or without a boat. Thereâs something calming about laying in all that silt. Cool and thick. .â It figures only a snake could be at his most poetic when talking about river sludge.
Anton glances at something past Loâs shoulder and remembers himself. âDice, you say?â
Lo nodded. âYes, Iâm more accustomed to oceans than deltas, but itâs nice to enjoy a cool breeze off the river now and again. And a good bit of fish doesnât hurt, either,â he said with a nod.Â
âYes, I used to be a bit of a gambler to make a living back home. Still am,I suppose. Hence the parlor,â he said with a wide gesture before he hit something with the back of his hand. His eyebrows wrangled like clouds made of caterpillars fro a moment as he put two and two together. âEither I bumped into a scaled suitcase, or someone is very talented,â he said with a nervous smile.
The workshop is small and cluttered, and it's a marvel all on its own that the massive bulk of the man can breathe at all in the mess. He's broad of shoulders and even broader of gut, with hands like over stiffed sausages and thick lips constantly either whistling or smiling as he bustles about. Khar, a small, dry faced girl with a closely buzzed head watches him from her seat on the boot of dented car shell. Instead of cargo pants and suspenders like the big one, she wears yoga pants.
A small, almost frail-looking old man ambles in through the front door. Youâd say he looks almost impious, with a beard thatâs more smoke than hair. He smiles, looking about the place cheerfully. He looks like heâs easily sixty or more, and his outfit is a rather neatly embroidered blue shirt and some faded jeans. He seems to stroke the whisps of his beard for a moment and nods. âAh, hello.I hope Iâm not intruding?â his accent seems out of town, but itâs hard to place.
For those of you who are leaving Tumblr to do other things, feel free to PM me if you want my twitter, I suppose.
I know thereâs a lot of tension after Tumblrâs new policy annouced for December 17th, but reblog this if you arenât leaving Tumblr so that other blogs can know they arenât going to be completely alone!
I totally love the whole ruin-in-opulence look that pirate king type characters have going in media these days â all tattered silks and tarnished silver thrown together with no concept of style, a once-handsome face ravaged by excess and the elements, and every last inch caked with grime â but it kind of bugs me that, in general, only dudes get to rock that aesthetic. Some day I want to see an extravagant pirate queen whoâs just absolutely filthy.
Like, you want romance? Hereâs a romantic prompt for you: she invites you to her cabin, where a luxurious banquet of exotic viands from a thousand lands has been laid out â but all of it is stale and half-spoiled. Sheâs so accustomed to the maggoty rations and slimy water of shipboard life that she canât even taste the rot, and she doesnât have to worry about parasites because the ones sheâs already got have grown entrenched and territorial, but for you itâs quite another story; to refuse her hospitality would be a deadly insult, so youâre just sitting there like âokay, what here can I eat without dying?â.
(I love how people are responding to this with âdid you meanâŠ?â, and then they post a picture of a pirate lady who, well, sheâs got tousled hair and she looks kind of sweaty, I guess? Like, thatâs definitely gesturing in the right direction, but âever-so-slightly grodier than popular media customarily permits female characters to beâ is not what weâre shooting for here. Basically, unless you feel like you need a tetanus shot just from looking at her, thatâs not filthy enough!)
Weirdly enough, Vraska of the golgari kinda is the neat opposite of this. When she was doing her pirate thing, everything was neat and orderly. Now that sheâs back to queen of the sewers, sheâs wearing pseudo-victorian dresses made of fungi.
Ravnica: A touristâs guide
Well, since weâre going back to Ravnica for Magic, I guess we should talk about it. In general, the city is run by ten guilds. Here, I will summarize with extreme bias, in alphabetical order:
Azorious Senate: Imagine if cops were obsessed with paperwork and had force-fields. These people are the law, the central bureaucracy, and their main job is stopping things form happening and writing really long treatises to explain why they should. They tend to be safe to be around, but they are the ultimate buzzkills. They are mostly led by Sphinxes and lawyers, the two most pedantic entities in the universe.
Boros Legion: If Azorious is the boring mall cop, Boros is the loose cannon on the edge played by Bruce Willis, except heâs got a halo and a flamethrower and his partner is a minotaur. And the car chase is more of a giant griffin ride.
House Dimir: You arenât cleared for that information, friend. Best hope it stays that way.
Golgari Swarm: Imagine if most of the food kitchens in your neighborhood were run by goths who were also cultivating ingredients by growing gardens in bodies they stole from the local cemetery. Also, a lot of them are gorgons with neat dresses now.
Gruul Clans: When all you have is a hammer, stuff looks like a nail. Give a hammer teeth, and you have the Gruul. They are either here to eat, break things, or party. If you are super lucky, itâs not the third option, which is basically combining the other two and not leaving until someone kicks their ass. They always respect a challenge, but they donât believe in bystanders.
Izzet League: If you game Adam Savage from Mythbusters a fursona, it wouldnât look exactly like Niv-mizzet, but the other members of the league would still help him build a multi-temporal lightning-powered toaster that works better as a jetpack somehow. Weirdly enough, the toast is still pretty good when it lands in this plane of reality.
Orzhov Syndicate: Remember when the Catholic church was selling indulgences to promise you a better position in the afterlife? Imagine a cathedral full people who can actually prove that, run by a council of well to do ghosts who are also loan sharks and mobsters. They are staffed by nihilistic angels, vampire priests, grumpy old ghosts, and a weird lady who dresses like sheâs trying to be in a Nier game. And they love GOOOOOOOOOOLD! They also recycle the bodies of some people into thrulls, because thereâs more than one way to collect on a debt.
Rakdos Cult: Okay, so, hear me out on this. âCenobite Mardi Gras Blood Orgyâ If that made you curious, then theyâd like to party with you. If your urge is to run screaming, good job, youâre sane. Listen to that voice.
Selesnyan conclave: Imagine a group of druids who meet up in Central Park to hand out fliers, plant trees, and establish a hive mind of singing wooden hippies. now imagine they have a military of like-minded plants, knightly elephants, and big frigginâ critters.
Simic Combine: Radioactive ooze symbiote bonds with local mad scientist, what happens next will shock you! Not clickbait, dudeâs frigging bioelectric now. Best to start running, guys.
Yall really donât even wanna watch the video, do you? That one line is misleading, but the rest is good. Her bill is about taking money away from shareholders and helping workers. Itâs about saving the people who are trapped by capitalism, not the people who are controlling it.
https://nowthisnews.com/videos/politics/senator-elizabeth-warren-introduces-accountable-capitalism-act?jwsource=cl
Itâs not misleading. She seeks to save capitalism from its ultimate collapse and abolition by offering meager concessions to the working class, in the same way that the new deal did. Thing is, capitalism is fundamentally exploitative and unjust, and it must be abolished in the higher interests of all humanity. People like Warren are enemies of that cause.
Far as I can tell, shesâ trying to create palatable solutions, while yâall are pontificating. You gotta better plan, then frigginâ execute.I prefer to not let an imaginary perfect be enemy to the good.
leaked set photo from the last jedi
THANK YOU FOR DOING THE LORDâS WORK AND LEAKING THIS TO US.Â
day 1348 the birds still think I am one of them
#no you donât understand#i went to skellig island years and years ago#long before it was ever in these movies#and the second i saw the island in the force awakens#i thought âwhat did they do to the puffins?â#because friends let me tell you#when i visited this island way back when#the entire fucking thing was covered tip to toe in puffins#nests of puffins in the rocks#puffins shitting from the sky#puffins swimming in the sea#it was a true island of the birds and not a damn person could hope to get a panorama without approximately 10000+ birds photobombing#how did disney edit out all the puffins#who was the puffin intern#important questions that need answersÂ
Iâm stealing @humming-fly âs tags because Iâm not original
The âporgsâ were the solution, basically. Digitize the puffins into some merchandizable fuzzballs.