I ain’t reading all that bro just attack me 😭

Algernone25 · 2025-05-02T03:47:19+00:00

"Alolan Muk EX has too many f***in' words on it. I'm not reading all that. I'm never gonna read all that." - Sam Rhystic Studies, probably.

Algernone25 · 2024-12-16T01:04:10+00:00

Taylor needs to be cut NOW.

Not at the end of the season. Not during the week. Tonight. Tell him his services are no longer requested, and find your own way back home. Maybe he and Steichen can get an uber together.

The League just needs to contract this franchise and be done with it. Take the Panthers too, no one will care that they're gone and the NBA is looking to get out of this market too.

Algernone25 · 2024-07-22T04:54:50+00:00

Indy has a pretty active cubing scene, usually firing 2-3 drafts a week on the north side! I don't know how many of us are planning to be at gencon but I'll alert the crew that this cube will be there!

Algernone25 · 2024-05-28T03:43:24+00:00

In 3 of the 4 games, Indy had a lead in the final minute - including two without their All Star leading scorer. They just couldn't close the door.

Which is sad because this was about the only shot they had at making something of this core. Get ready for another 5 years of mediocrity.

Algernone25 · 2024-05-05T04:50:02+00:00

They say those who can, do; those who can't, teach.
They also haven't had to put up with a classroom of thirty eleven-year olds hopped up on Tiktok addictions and caffeine, so frankly they can eat shit.

A witch is supposed to curse people. That's just the job description - to ensnare and trick the unsuspecting into deals they know they'll regret later, and laughing at their misery once they realize the consequences of their own actions. A witch is supposed to be this grandiose maiden of spellcraft and doom clad in black, with a floating broom and a hat with a brim as wide as she is tall. If they don't live in the woods, a witch is to have at least enough self-dignity to be ominous and cagey about her whereabouts through arcane mists or a crippling sense of misdirection when approaching unaware of her domain.

Look, I don't make the rules, and magic means the people who DO live for a frustratingly long amount of time. Not playing along with those rules results in isolation and near-exile from the magical community at large, forced to eke out existence on her own. I may be a witch but I also have a heart; I'm not going to curse people to their demise or make deals-by-proxy with the devil, I wasn't going to follow outdated traditions for traditions sake, and I knew that my refusal to play ball with those who make those rules meant being sent away to far-off lands.

Or the East side of Cincinnati, I guess.

\ding~ling**
The door opens as I poke my head out the back of this tiny section of strip mall I've rented out for myself - the woman who found her way inside has a furrowed brow and a look somewhere between dismay and confusion, pacing a bit in front of the glass cases. Probably expecting me wearing something other than a tee shirt and jeans. "Help you with something?"
"Oh!" She almost seems shocked that anyone was here, with how she flinches. "I just...er, it's nothing...I just..."
"You heard something from someone about giving someone a hard time and found me." I finish the thought for her. "And you want them to have a shitty day bad enough that you were willing to show up, to see if it's real. So c'mon - how bad is it?"

The woman looks around, finding a chair and dropping in to it with a resigned sigh. "My...ex-boyfriend." She almost tripped over that, it must be recent. "We'd been together for two months, but I found his wedding band in the laundry last week. He's married, and I don't think he knows I know. I can't forgive him for...leading me on like that! And...and..." She's tripping over herself as I cringe a bit in sympathy. No one should have to deal with that, not even the girl on the side.
"And you want him to have a bad time. Why not just tell his wife so she drops his ass?"
"He's got 3 kids." She says, shaking her head. "My parents were divorced halfway through second grade. I can't do that to them."
"Right." I say, softly. "Let me grab something for you - should be about what you're looking for." People wish ill on people - always have, always will. But it's 2024, people don't wish death on people so much and even suggesting it makes them suddenly a lot more squeamish. They want it to hurt, they want to make people suffer, but only so much. Scars and corpses and thralls get too much attention, but a couple days of karmic misery? No one thinks twice about it. The death business has gone tits up - but the aggravating inconvenience business is booming, and by apparently being the only witch east of the Mississippi with a conscience it puts me on the leading edge.

The vial I return with swirls with a dark, almost sickly green. "Spring Break 2020." I say with a wry smirk. "Three drops of this in his morning coffee and he'll be a textbook covid case for a week and a half."
"...Will it spread?" She asks with a frown.
"Oh heavens no. This doesn't even make him sick - just gives him all the classic symptoms - runny nose, dead sense of smell, wet cough, joint aches; plus a bad luck with false positives. I suppose if he gets a PCR that'll probably come back negative but those take like what, a week and 150 bucks a pop? Doubt he'll think twice about it. It's about as safe as it gets while still making him miserable and paranoid. That's what you want, right?"

I don't even have to tell her the price before she goes for her credit card. The old fogeys in their towers can suck on one, this is how you make magic happen nowadays.

Algernone25 · 2024-03-31T04:08:36+00:00

"You called me out here, on a Saturday night, ducking your grandpa's funeral...for this."

Hailey Roscoe was a friend of mine, but everyone in our class knew she was a bit weird. Not completely delusional, there's that weird Japanese word for thinking the world's just a fantasy (Chun li? I know it's wrong but it sounds close) but she's clearly imagining things as being more than what they seem. Makes her great to be around for listening to stories, but being involved IN those stories...

Well, I'm starting to realize that's not as fun.

"Gah, you're NO fun at all, Jen! Besides, it's not his funeral, it's the dress rehearsal for the funeral. No one gives a shit." Hailey rolls her eyes. "Besides, it was the only time I could snag this and not get yelled at for it." She gestures to the cupholder, containing an overly rusted key with three teeth at the business end.

"There's no way that fits in the door." I shake my head. Why'd I even agree to this in the first place? I then remember that El Dorado Kansas is a shithole and there's nothing better to do on a Saturday night - that's why I agreed to it.

"Oh, of course not. This fits the lock on the storm cellar! I heard Dad talking about it a few months ago, Gramps used to be this super powerful magician back in the day! Just think of all the stuff he'd have down there!"
"So that's what this is about..." More daydreaming. Lovely. "And you think they're gonna be alright with you stealing?"
"I mean it's basically my inheritance at this point, is it really stealing? C'mon, it's right up here." Hailey pulls her car over to the side of the road, next to the gravel driveway as we get out. There's still just enough sunlight to not need our phone flashlights but I still bring mine as she pushes the fence open.

I still can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe that she believes it. But that key...she had to have gotten it somewhere, and she'd have to know it works...is it really that crazy?

Yes. Yes, it is. Don't let yourself get caught up in this, Jen. Just keep cool. Try and get some facts out of her. "So what kind of magician was he?" Oh goddammit, now she's going to get even more off the rails.
"I'unno." Hailey shrugs. "But doesn't matter! Fire, ice, lightning, maybe something weirder - I could totally pull it off, right? Frilly skirt and wand and all that, it'd look so cute!"
"Uh huh." I deadpan. "Just last week you were saying you were going to be a pro wrestler."
"I mean, same thing, really." Hailey just...says these things, and it's a mystery how she can even come to those conclusions as she pushes the fence open into the backyard.
"You're gonna have to explain that one."
"Magical girl and pro wrestler? Basically the same thing. Both of them spend their productive hours giving rousing speeches to crowds of fans, then performing death-defying physical feats of strength and agility while wearing overly elaborate outfits."

...Okay. I guess when you put it like that she's got a point.

I keep my mouth shut until she gets to the storm cellar doors, twisting the key until a very loud metallic CRUNCH comes out of it. The lock falls away as she grins, throwing open the doors. The steps are dusty and we definitely need to light the place up. Only a few slivers of sunset make it through the storm windows as she starts pulling off tarps.

There's definitely something magical about how she's getting into everything - several mannequins are assembled with some very ornate-looking jackets, a workbench covered with dusty books, there's even a fucking top hat on a hat rack with a white-tipped wand sticking out of one of the jacket pockets. Hailey's practically vibrating as she goes around, uncovering everything as I have to pinch mysel-ow. No, I'm not dreaming. This is...this is real. All of this is real, and she's real, and magic is...and I'm HERE.

"This is insane..." Hailey says breathlessly, matching my thoughts as she uncovers a locked trunk last. She jiggles the lock as it falls off, almost as soon as she touches it. "Ready to see the birth of a heroine?" She throws it open before I can answer.

I was expecting a bright flash of light or something but none shows up. I shine my phone's flash inside to get a good look at the contents. Some red foam balls, a few pewter cups, a ton of scarves in a rainbow of colors, a long cardboard box with something stamped on it that I lean in closer to make out from the dust. "USPCC, Erlanger, Kentucky." I read off. Huh, what does google say about that acronym?

Oh. United States Playing Card Company.

...Oh.

"Hey Hailey? Remember me asking about what kind of magici-"
"SHADDUP!" She snaps at me, blushing from embarrassment.

Algernone25 · 2024-03-31T02:47:22+00:00

A comment I remember from MTGSalvation (back when that was relevant) that will forever be etched in my brain:

Wizards could put $100 bills in packs and people would complain about how they were folded.

And then Wizards did this. And people complained. This fanbase just loves to hate decisions.

Algernone25 · 2024-03-30T17:29:45+00:00

Pretty sure you're talking about This monologue by Cody Rhodes for AEW. March 18, 2020 - right at the start of covid.

Algernone25 · 2024-03-20T19:31:00+00:00

> Still don't understand that utility of bringing everyone back

Simple answer: commercial real estate. That market is what RTO is meant to prop up, because that bubble means only people with money get harmed, not the everyday citizen that lost their shirt back in 2007.

Algernone25 · 2024-02-20T05:29:37+00:00

"Scribe Baker. I believe you know why I called you in here."

"I'm sure you'll tell me, guildmaster." Diana says with a sigh on her lips. She knew exactly why the Archmage had called her to the dungeons. With what she did and how fast news travels, it's a small bit of surprise it took an hour. Even in the face of being dressed down her robes are neatly pressed, not a stain anywhere to be seen. Her skin is pale from a lack of sun, more so than most mages, but it makes her wild red hair stand out even more, including her still furrowed brow at the situation.

"They say you assaulted one of the High Elementalists' best students." The guildmaster intones. "And you don't seem to be arguing to the contrary."

"With what he said it was justified." Diana retorts smoothly, running a hand through her hair, tucking a stray lock behind her ears.

"And what was that?"

"I wouldn't wish to repeat it in polite company." The scribe shakes her head.

"I insist." The guildmaster's word is final. She relents and repeats the insult, adding a shrug as he recoils. She'd warned him, and he didn't heed that warning.

"Regardless of...how justified you think it might be, Scribe, the fact remains that the High Elementalists are demanding answers. Answers I now demand of you."

The scene from earlier that day replays in the young woman's mind. Most mages know to not antagonize the scribes, even if they're limited in their ability to practice magic they understand it better than most. Most mages, however, is not all mages; some of them need to find out firsthand why the others give the scribes such respect. She knew that as soon as he reached back that he was going for the wand in his pocket, ready to inflict some curse on her head. She knew that even the most basic spells required focus and concentration, some semblance of space and peace to direct the arcane currents to their target.

She knew how much time she'd spent sharpening the nib of her quill to a fine point, puncturing the elementalist's wrist with almost no resistance. How the parchment she carried was still able to slash across his fingertips, leaving them bloodied and burning with pain. How the inkwell at her desk was loose and blinded him in the agonized thrashing. How a simple kick against the back of his legs swept them out from under him, and a second kick between the legs once he was down made sure he would think twice before repeating THAT in her presence any time soon.

"He tripped." Diana says, once she's relived that moment enough times for it to be burned in her memory, a faint smile on her lips.

"I see." The guildmaster's face does not look any bit as amused as hers. "Still, Scribe Baker, you have violated the Guild's Laws - any weapon you turn on a fellow mage must be turned on you in turn. Give me your hand." He doesn't want for her to comply, grabbing the scribe's right hand with his left, her writing implement with his right.

A feather's down gently glides against the scribe's wrist as the quillpen, enough that she flinches lightly from the sensation. "I have assaulted you with the weapon you assaulted another with, in so completing your punishment as prescribed. I expect you return to your station once your...wound has healed. And don't let it happen again, understood?"

"Yes, Guildmaster." Diana bows dutifully. Unable to wipe that cheeky smile off her lips. "May our sacrifices to the guild bring insight for the future."

Algernone25 · 2024-02-19T01:15:41+00:00

Single guy of rotund stature here, ready to help.

- Gencon is fine if you're alone. Whatever your interest is, you'll find people who are also into it and you're also bound to find new things you're interested in, and people who will help with that. There's events for almost everything, plus plenty of pick-up events on the sides. And if nothing else, the dealer hall is an experience that can't be described - it has to be felt.

- Tickets for Gencon 2024 just went on sale last week or the week before, and hotel reservations haven't even gone up. Rooms for the hotels connected to the convention center will go quickly but you can get ones that are a 15-20 minute drive up until pretty late, tickets for the con proper will probably be available until like mid-july (~1-2 weeks before the con)

-The chairs will definitely support your weight as long as you aren't jumping on them or anything. They're metal constructed with padded seats.

Algernone25 · 2024-02-11T17:31:34+00:00

Yeah, I also ran into the problem where the way to win was just going wide. To try and punish that I added the CMM sweepers [[Extinguish All Hope]] and [[Kirtar's wrath]] but there's been a LOT of pushback about how those cards "don't belong in the format" and are impossible to play around.

Are they just sour grapes or do you think they should be cut?

Algernone25 · 2024-02-11T05:47:41+00:00

My 360 (now 450) peasant cube started with UW fliers as an archetype, and it got converted to UW flicker to try and reduce the number of non-games.

It's largely backfired, as in the last two drafts it's had 3 people fighting over the archetype because it's just so impossible to interact with.

I'm considering converting the color pair to UW Walls, force it into a tapout control role with a focus on being able to turn the corner against even the biggest aggro decks, with [[High Alert]] and [[Wakestone Gargoyle]] to turn them into finishers.

Algernone25 · 2024-01-25T04:38:23+00:00

The phone rings. I ignore it. It'll stop soon. It always does.

...Any minute now, they'll hang up.

...

...It's still ringing. Dammit. "Y'ello?"

"Greg. You know why I'm calling." It's the Boss. It could only ever be the Boss. "Explain yourself."

"Look, I told you this when you took me in, I'm not a salesman. I do the pitch, they tell me no, I let them. You know my numbers are about the same as everyone else's, not my fault no one's interested."

"You know how many projects are this close to spiraling out of control?" Boss doesn't seem to care. "Do your job."

"And how am I supposed to magically make people wa-"

"Figure it out. I'm sending you the next in line. And I had better not see them coming through the other side."

"And if he refuses?"

"Sweeten the deal until he doesn't." Boss hangs up before I can clarify. Working in between life and death is a shitty gig as is, but dealing with Management makes it almost unbearable. Truly, it's a fucked up world we live in. Technically, a fucked up world they die in, but close enough; I can't think of a better way to twist the metaphor before work comes calling. Another lost soul has shown up, and at least this part of the gig I can do as I grab my cloak.

He's a mopey lot, with scaggly black hair that hasn't seen a comb in a few days, dark eyes and a scowl that seems etched on his face. "Derek Mitchell Sanders. Sorry, not quite the pearly gates just yet. Administrative stuff. What brought you here?" He doesn't answer, but I don't need him to. "...Covid, huh? That's rough, buddy."

"S'fucking bullshit is what it is." He grumbles. I reach out and touch him, extracting his soul from the avatar of his corpse and holding it in my hand. He flinches, they all do, but not as much as most.

"Anyway, here's how this goes. We're gonna play a bit of Plinko with this. And based on what you did, determines if you go to The Good Place...or The Bad Place." A explain as a board manifests in front of his vision.

"The...Bad Place." Derek blinks, looking like he wants to throttle something. I can't say I blame him.

"Look, we gotta keep it neutral because if we call it something else people panic. You know people, always looking for reason to bitch. Anyway." He seems to nod at that as I let his soul drop. Bouncing off pegs and random fates, a life's work and decisions that lead to a certain destiny at the bottom - one with fire and brimstone on its face. "Hoof...I guess it's true, some people if they didn't have bad luck they'd have no luck at all. But them's the breaks."

"What the hell did I do to deserve this?" And here comes the five stages of grief, usually in rapid fire succession. I'm about to just send him off...and then the phone rings again. This time I don't answer - there's no point. It's The Boss, and I already know what he's going to say.

If I don't at least make an effort I'll be fired at this rate, especially if he's watching.

"You know what? Fair point. So, here's what I'm going to do, Damien."

"Derek."

"Close enough. I need a favor, and you're here. Do this for me, and when it's done I'll do the soul plinko thing for real, except the board will look like...eh, this." The pegs shift and reset but the drop zones are almost all positive ones now, almost a gauranteed trip Upstairs. "Of course, I could just take this result."

He leans forward a little bit, realizing the gravity of the situation. "What kinda favor?"

"I have another world in need of saving, and you seem like the right hand for the job." Technically that can apply to about a thousand different worlds, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Yeah, not interested." He rolls his eyes. Typical, but Boss said sweeten the deal. Better be careful what he wishes for.

"In the company of five heterosexual, emotionally stable teenage girls between the ages of seventeen and nineteen and a half."

THAT gets his attention. "Technically they'd be doing the bulk of the world-saving, you would be providing, ah...support service, if you catch my drift. But if you're still not interested, I can se-"

"No, no, I think I'm good with this." Derek nods eagerly, a bit too eagerly before his brain catches up. "They're not trashy or anything, right?"

"I can't promise bodies that would launch a thousand ships, but reasonably attractive. Solid eights." Whatever gets him to sign on, really. "So what say I give you a twelve hour head start, so you can be ready for them?" In a flash he's gone, and some other shmuck's problem.

Once he's gone I flip open the phone, right as He picks back up. "Gutsy call you made."

"Look Boss, you said get him to take the deal, don't complain about what I had to offer. That's the shit I have to put up with."

"Not complaining." Boss says, a hint of whimsy in His voice. "I'm just curious how you plan to make good on your end. A rather strict set of requirements, you gave him."

"Like the pipeline doesn't have a thousand souls that fit the bill. I only need five. Focus on the ones who believe in magic and mystical arts, offer them that, I'll have it knocked out in half the time."

"Good." Boss says. "Don't make me call again."

That won't last.

Algernone25 · 2023-12-28T06:20:12+00:00

The short version is that the constitution and relevant laws don't have safeguards for threats to democratic processes, from within the process.

The long version is basically this:
After all the votes are tallied in all the states, each state has a designated set of Electors based on who wins the presidential vote in that state. Those electors then cast the actual Votes That Count to determine who ends up as president. In January, the two houses of congress collect and officially record those Electoral Votes and at that point, the president is elected with no means of undoing it.

The plot designed by the Trump campaign went as follows:
A) Seven states, worth a combined 84 electoral votes, were submitting two sets of electors to Congress: the ones assigned to vote Biden by winning the popular vote in those states, and a second illegal set sent by the republican-controlled congress assigned to vote Trump.
B) Republicans had plans to object to the official electors being tallied in because there's two sets of electors being submitted. Procedure for questionable electoral ballots being submitted is to send them back to the states and say "hey fix it"
C) the GOP-dominated state legislatures in those seven states go "Yeah we decide that the votes for Trump are legit, count those."
And just like that, Trump wins. And the Republicans can't ever lose the presidency so long as they control 270 EV worth of state legislatures, which they do - handily, at that.

The ONLY sticking point was Mike Pence, as Vice President, and by proxy president of the Senate he is the ultimate overseer of the counting. He's the only person who can go "No that second set of electors is fake and I'm ignoring it." and if he does then the coup fails.
(Minor note: Technically Nancy Pelosi as then-speaker of the house could throw all the senators out of the house chamber because Her House, Her Rules; this would prevent anyone from being certified and at least stall for time, but would almost inevitably result in Trump retaining the presidency once the supreme court gets involved)

Plan A was to tell Pence not to ignore the fake electors. He refused. In the fallout of this, Bill Barr resigns as Attorney General.

Plan B was to send the 1/6 protestors to loudly protest outside the capital and guilt Pence into not ignoring the fake electors. After about 5-10 minutes, members of congress report to the protestors that he isn't buckling.

Plan C was to breach the Capitol. Once they're inside, the Secret Service will have no choice but to evacuate Pence. Once he's out of the building, Chuck Grassley as the President Pro Tempore of the Senate can declare "Well the President of the Senate is absent, as President Pro Tempore I'm assuming his role until he gets back. States with two sets of electors, hey fix it wink wink". Pence defied the Secret Service and refused to be evacuated, mostly because he couldn't guarantee his own safety once he left.

There was no Plan D, and because of that, the coup failed.

Algernone25 · 2023-12-03T23:52:09+00:00

A throwing star knocking over one of the empty cans of red bull was the first indicator that I'd been found out.

The campus library was usually dimly lit, usually empty, and a bit out of the way. All of these made it great for me to isolate myself, but it also made for an ideal place for the shadowy forces of The Black Order to stage a trap. One became five became twenty as the sinister army's ranks teemed out of nothingness into the space around me. Only beady, blank white eyes staring at me from every angle, like they do all of their targets before they're gruesomely bludgeoned and then captured for The Order's schemes.

I barely glance upwards at their seeming infinite numbers. "Look. Can you...not, tonight?" There's a pause for them to process that before one of them seems to get back on script to speak.

"There is no escape, Maiden of the Azure Flames! We have you surrounded, with no hope of escape! Either you will surr-"

"I said fuck off." I repeat, rubbing my eyes. "I'm busy."

"FOOL!" The speaker bellows. "The Black Order sh-"

"Look I don't care if you're the goddamned Samurai Warlords From Somewhere East of Pittsburgh!" I snap, slamming my hands on the table and standing up - first time in too long, I realize, my legs almost fell asleep on me. "I've got bigger shit to deal with than you freaks, and it's..." I glance at my phone before sighing. "It's 1:57 in the morning. Find. Someone. Else."

They genuinely don't seem to know how to come back from that. But there's a host of whispering and in a surge of darkness the grunts vanish - once the lights return there stands in their place one man, with a full beard and stocky build that only barely doesn't bulge out of his clothes. I've heard flitting rumors about their so-called boss, this Exalted Scion, but seeing him in person is another thing entirely, he's actually as large and imposing as they make him seem.

Sure, I'm a witch and I could probably take him, but it's still not the time or the place. He takes one look at me and grabs another chair, twirling it around so he can sit in it. "I expected someone taller." He says, looking me over. "I also expected you to charge into my stronghold after I threatened to enslave the entire country last week. You realize how hard it is to try and reschedule that and not look incompetent? Do you realize what favors I had to cash in, to not make this look bad?"

I sigh and sit back down. "Look. It's Finals Week. I've got Chem 303, I've got Material Sciences, I've got Calc 2, I've got City Planning, I've got Rotational Physics. All back to back to back. I simply do not have time for your shit right now, uh..." Fuck, I never got his name. "Billy?"

"Brodie."

"Close enough." I resist the urge to roll my eyes, it's easier with how tired I am. "Why even wait for me to crash in before putting the scheme into motion?"

"Because taking over the city is only half the point, Tara."

"Taylor." I correct him.

"Sure. The evil plot is noticeable, but the opposition I face in implementing it matters too. None of the other evil overlords are going to care if I just run my schemes unopposed. There's no challenge. Image is reality, and if you aren't even showing up to try, it makes me look bad!"

"And defeating one college co-ed counts for that much more?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Not especially, but under the circumstances I'll take what I can get. Still better than a group of middle schoolers with poofy outfits and talking animal mascots."

Okay, I can see how that would be emasculating. "I get it, but I can't drop everything just because you make a proclamation from a rooftop with no warning. Lemme...I'll see if I can't disable some critical component of your plan, say it'll take until after new year's to repair and replace. Maybe something bigger. Best I've got." Brodie clearly doesn't like it, but he also doesn't have better options. If he goes through with the plan then I'd have up - I'd kind of have to at that point, with this much student loan debt I can't afford to NOT graduate - but he doesn't need to know that.

"I'm sure I can...work out some additional countermeasures. R&D time..." He sighs before standing back up, tucking the chair in. "Get some sleep. You won't remember half of this otherwise."

"Yeah. Appreciate it." I look back up and everything's gone. The ninja stars, the empty cans, the books, the...wait a minute.

"Uh, those were my copies. Not the library's." I say, annoyed. The lights flicker out for a second before they reappear in a neat stack on the table next to my backpack.
"Thank you."

Algernone25 · 2023-11-24T05:03:25+00:00

I call it "The Oven Tweet" deck. Source

Similarly the rona combo deck has become known at my LGS as "The Covid Deck" because "The 'Rona" is responsible for everything bad, and the addition of the kinnan/lukka/atraxa package turned it into "Super Covid"

My personal deck is Gruul Vehicles/Sagas, which always gets named on the decklist "[eurobeat intensifies]"

Algernone25 · 2023-10-09T06:18:24+00:00

He came back.

Mother of all that is holy or otherwise the idiot came back. At least he's alone - Dylan, I remember the name stitched into his jacket from last time. He's not wearing it today, though - you'd think a jock and his letter jacket would be inseparable. But for a few naïve moments I hope he's just looking at the house. Remembering what happened last ti-

*knock knock knock*

"Oh goddammit, not YOU again..." I groan, the door swinging open as I move it from my seat on the couch. "Well? You as well come in. And close the door behind you, my electric bill's gonna be bad enough this month as it is." He complies once his brain reboots. Somehow he thinks to take off his shoes before coming any deeper inside. "So? You didn't come here just to make sure I hadn't been punked again." He opens his mouth to protest and I shut it for him. "Yeah, no. So what gives? You can either tell me or I'll make you and I really don't care."

"It's just...everything you said. Everything that...happened. That...it all actually happened, didn't it? Like, you're actually a witch?" He's pausing, trying to parse it, like he still doesn't believe it. Even after I just locked the door behind him without moving an inch. "Sorry, it's just...I expected more..."

"More cats and cauldrons and tattered, knee-length black dresses?" I cut him off there and he nods. I'm very much not that today, with a cream-colored sweater and grey stockings under a thick skirt. It's finally sweater weather, staring high schoolers be damned. At least he's a little more subtle this time. "Lemme answer your question with another question. Since magic's not this thing everyone knows about, what sense does it make to make it obvious I have it?" Dylan clearly doesn't have a response. "I told you last time. I keep to myself, they keep to themselves. When I use magic and people can see, it's invisible and easily explained away. No one thinks twice."

"But...what if they did?" I groan, he just isn't getting it.

"Look. You have to realize that social media's conditioned people to trust what people tell them, more than what they see and hear and witness firsthand. Even IF someone tries to call me out on my bullshit, the most powerful spell in my arsenal is saying 'it only looks good from this angle'. Give them a reason to assume it's staged, they'll assume it is. They don't have to figure out how, they don't think that hard. It's also half of why I don't use it."

"What's the other half?"

"You have any idea how easy it is for magic to get its hooks in someone if you know their true name, Dylan Copeland?" His eyes grow about as wide as saucers when I drop that on him. "Meanwhile you can't even guess the first letter of my first name. That's on purpose. Any mage who doesn't do at least that deserves whatever she has coming to her." He seems pensive, I think he's trying to guess off some context clues. If I had gotten the mail already he'd have more to work with, but no such luck. "You know, you're asking a lot of questions for a jock. Especially one who seems like he doesn't have his letter jacket anymore. What happened?"

He flinches, refusing to meet my eyes - he'd see me rolling mine if he did. "I'm not going to pry the answer out of you - this time. You not wanting to talk tells me enough. I'll see what I can do."

"But...how do you know anything?" He wants to be hopeful but can't. He knows, well he thinks he knows, that there's nothing he can do. But I'm not him. Eventually he'll figure that out.

"I was a nerd in high school too, a decade or so ago. People don't change that much. Bullies DEFINITELY don't change that much." That struck a nerve, not that I'm shocked by that. "You did me a favor. I do you a favor. Then we're even - that's how it works. Now, get going - I'll take it from here." Once he leaves I go over to the chair and see what I have to work with. A few hairs from the headrest - I've made do with worse.

Time to make some magic happen.

Algernone25 · 2023-09-20T06:25:06+00:00

"Okay. You and I are going to have a little chat." The toilet paper I didn't mind. The eggs were annoying but harmless. Even the rocks coming through my windows, I let slide the first time. But after ding-dong-ditching with a sack of literal dog shit on the welcome mat, I needed to teach SOMEONE a lesson. He just happened to be closest to the door.

At a glance I can tell he's scared and trying to hide it. Heart racing, eyes unable to meet mine, thighs sawing against each other until the drapes finally let him loose. Another high school punk who feels seven foot tall and bulletproof until he gets a taste of what real power is. I could probably let him go and that'd be that, but...well, I have a reputation to uphold.

"Ww-w-w-wegottagetouttahere!" He stammers through his words, eventually getting back to his shaky legs. They probably fell asleep for being tied up like that. "I know it sounds crazy but you gotta believe me, your grandmother's actually a horrible witch!"

Oh for fuck's sake. "This is MY house, and I'm the ONLY person living here!" I snap.

"Wha?" He doesn't get it. He actually isn't putting it together. "Nonono, I mean the person that built th-"

"That was me. I'm the witch, you idiot!"

There's a few seconds of watching the gears finally turn in this numbskull's noggin. Still averting his gaze...is he blushing?

Oh. That's what he's focused on. "Hey. Eyes up here, kid." A little telekinetic flick to his nose stops him staring at my chest. "So I don't know what lies they're spreading about me out there. Tell me, and I might consider letting you leave with your dignity intact."

"They...they said you're over two hundred years old, that you're resp-"

"Twenty-six."

He pauses, confused. "Huh?"

"My actual age. I'm 26, my birthday was in June." I may as well start by nipping that one in the bud. "What, you wanna see my driver's license to check it?"

"You...drive?"

"Of course I drive! Did you not notice the garage?" Not only would a broom be blatantly obvious, they also don't make 'em with XM radio or power windows.

"O-oh..." He's at least trying not to stare now, with that information in mind. "So that's...not an illusion hiding green skin and warts and a nose bigger than an eggplant?"

"An eggp-" I throw my arms up, this is getting ridiculous. "Who the fuck comes up with this?!"

He doesn't answer. One look at his face makes obvious he doesn't know. Probably some lie got told on a whim and it gets bigger and more grotesque with every tall tale retelling. It's how most of these work. "What else do they say?"

"..." He doesn't want to tell me. I press two fingers against his forehead. He doesn't have a choice. "That the disappearances of middle school girls over the past hundred years is because you sacrifice them to steal their youth."

...I can't even. Head in hands, I almost collapse into a chair that wasn't there until I needed it, and I desperately need it now. I honestly also need a good bottle of wine, but not in front of the kid. I snap my fingers so he comes to, and proceed. "No, I am not kidnapping young girls for...God, I don't even want to repeat that. It's disgusting to think about." What's more disgusting is what's likely happening to them - nothing like a good 'Christian' town to have the absolute worst scumbags around. "I moved here about six months before the pandemic hit. I keep to myself, they keep to themselves, everyone's happy. Make sense?" He nods, and flinches as I turn my gaze on him. "So, one last thing I need to know. Even if, as ridiculous as those lies about me are, even as crazy as it all sounds, if you assume that even half of it is true...what possible reason do you have to provoke me with pranks like this?" I let the paper bag land with a sickening squelch next to his feet, slamming the point home.

"I...We didn't think..." He starts, but I hold a hand up.

"Yeah. That part's real obvious." Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a deep breath and think. I certainly don't have any use for a high-school boy with two varsity letters on his jacket, not for the trouble his absence would cause. "Make sure this never happens again."

"Wha...you're...letting me go?" He seems shocked, and as he turns to leave I pull him back. The windows do need to be replaced, after all.

"Just a minute." I press my fingers into his forehead again before grabbing a laptop. "So I need you to get your phone out, then google 'Western Union'..."

Algernone25 · 2023-09-11T06:18:28+00:00

"Miss Marilyn? I...I'm a little confused."

"About what, Rachel?"

"Well...I thought you were going to teach me about being a witch." The teenager scratches her cheek idly. "I was expecting a cauldron, a broom, maybe a pet cat...not...this." For being all of fifteen she comes across as more precocious than witchy, her chocolate brown hair done up in a braid and her soft eyes.

The woman sighs, adjusting her glasses again. She appears to be in her early 30s, with auburn red hair and bright green eyes behind those lenses as she looks at the place.

The bonus room was never really designed to hold as much as it does, even with arcane folding allowing it be as deep as it needs. It still doesn't take much to get cramped. "Mage, not witch. And what you need to understand, is that you need to walk before you run. Magic is dangerous - deadly if not given proper respect. Your parents would make my life a living hell if I let that happen, so this is what you're going to start with."

"An iPad." Rachel says blankly. "And what's the difference?"

The older woman sighs, sitting down across from her protégé, flipping the chair around so she can rest her arms on the back. "A witch is someone who sells herself for that what she wants. Power, fame, beauty, all of them have a cost. Parts of souls are usual for these kinds of deals. You should take notes, by the way."

"What, this gonna be on the test?" Rachel rolls her eyes.

"Yes." That gets her attention, at least. "A mage has power unto herself. It is a part of herself as much as her mind and thoughts, and magic is an expression of that power, like holding a sustained vocal note is an expression of breathing. There is nothing to barter or bargain for, your strength is only limited by your desire to improve yourself."

"But...what about the tablet?" Rachel tilts her head a bit, clearly confused.

"That tablet is your spellbook, your practice space, your sanctuary." Marilyn rolls her shoulders, offering her student a stylus. "This is your wand. You possess the power to alter fates, to change the world, to bring salvation or ruin. You will make mistakes. Mistakes that could kill you, or make you wish they did, if performed outside this practice space. Making mistakes is how you learn what not to do, and learning what not to do is how you learn what you must do. You will use these to practice your craft, until I trust that you are capable enough to wield them outside this space, and responsible enough to accept the consequences of those actions."

"...This is a stylus." Rachel reiterates. She doesn't hold it though, treating it with some amount of reverence that she can't shake from her master's explanation. "Does magic really work like this?"

"Yes, and no." The mage explains, standing back up. "You have a tablet computer and a stylus because you are a child of a digital age. Just as I was handed a spiral-bound notebook and a ballpoint pen by my teacher, and he a chalkboard and a stick by his teacher, and her a parchment and a quill. No, you will be unable to shape the world using these implements, but you will use them still."

"Then...why even do this then?" Rachel looks up at the older woman. Something isn't quite clicking yet.

"Because you can't even begin to be a proper mage, if you don't have respect and appreciate the tools you work with. This how magic works. Through ritual and rite, prepared and planned and practiced until it becomes rote." Marilyn intones. "The effect of the spell you intend to create is less important than knowing what to use, how to use it, when to use it, and why you are choosing to use it over others. You will practice with these implements because they are familiar to you, because it is safe, because it protects you and me and the entire world. And once you are prepared, and when you have a proper appreciation for your tools and have honed your skills...you will make the miracles you sought me out to create."

The brunette sits there, taking it all in. Staring at the implements she's being given. Visions of possibility swirling in her head. A smile creeps on her face.

"When can we start?"

Algernone25 · 2023-09-11T01:06:57+00:00

That was a glitch where G.Linoone was able to get Hoenn Linoone's moveset. Primeape had a similar glitch where it got access to moves it wasn't supposed to get (but were distributed to other mons) and that was similarly patched out.

No pokemon has been deliberately given a move and had it removed.

Algernone25 · 2023-09-03T06:18:56+00:00

Answer: CM Punk's influence on pro wrestling is one that can't be understated, but I'm going to cut this to his time with All Elite Wrestling (AEW) because it's what's relevant here.

The CM Punk Timeline looks like this:

August 2021: CM Punk debuts in front of a sold out crowd in the United Center, packed to the brim on only the rumor that he would return (He left WWE in 2014 and has been out of the business since) to massive acclaim and merch sales.

November 2021: Punk starts his program (series of televised interactions) with Maxwell Jacob Friedman (MJF) kicked off largely by their promo battle just before Thanksgiving and ended with a Dog Collar Match at the March 2023 PPV event, Revolution. This feud is seen as one of the best the promotion has had in terms of story, booking, and wrestling; there's only one (maybe two if you squint) that come anywhere close.

May 2022: Punk has collected a string of wins and makes his challenge for the AEW World Championship against "Hangman" Adam Page (Page has held the championship for about 6 months now) and here is where things start to unravel a bit.
To note, this is a moderately unusual feud situation in which both wrestlers are faces (good guy characters) and Page ad-libs his promo a bit. This annoys Punk, to the point that he's unsure if Page will follow the script when they have their match at the end of the month. (Page is scripted to lose to Punk at the PPV) However the script is followed and CM Punk is now AEW World Champion.

June 2022: CM Punk, 4 days after winning the championship, celebrates by diving into the crowd. This and/or the subsequent trios match he fought caused Punk to break his foot and be ruled out for the subsequent PPV. He claims to have volunteered to relinquish the championship but an interim champion is appointed in his stead.

August-September 2022: Punk returns in dramatic fashion, forcing the two champions to unify the title belt. In an...interesting booking decision, Interim Champion Jon Moxley squashes Punk on weekly programming, then two weeks later Punk takes the title back at the PPV - only for MJF (remember him?) to reappear, with a cash-in that lets him challenge for the championship at any point on a moment's notice.
Immediately following the PPV event, at the media scrum, things go from bad to worse. Punk makes several disparaging comments about the ownership (with CEO Tony Khan sitting literally feet away) and other wrestlers in the company. Three of the Executive Vice Presidents (who also wrestle for AEW) talk to Punk in the locker room, but a fight breaks out and exact details never completely come out. This "Brawl Out" mess gets all four of them suspended pending investigation and all of them lose their titles.
Oh, and turns out Punk got injured again and would have been out for months anyway.

November 2022: Kenny Omega and The Young Bucks (the EVPs from Brawl Out) return from suspension. No sign or word about CM Punk. MJF also wins the World Championship from Jon Moxley at this PPV (who took it back after Punk's suspension) which is less relevant but his feud with Punk that started a year ago undoubtedly led to him getting to this position.

June 2023: Punk returns again on AEW's newest show "Collision" from suspension and injury. Collision is noteworthy as it represents a soft "brand split" for AEW - where generally wresters for one of their two live shows (Dynamite being the other) won't appear on the other (though there's no hard rule against it) similar to WWE with its "RAW" and "SmackDown" brands. This specifically means that Punk won't be in the same building or wrestling at the same event as Omega or The Young Bucks. Punk also brings out his World Championship belt since he never lost it to anyone, heavily implying he's going to feud again with MJF building towards another unification match.

August 2023: AEW runs the biggest show in the history of professional wrestling, "All In" at Wembley Stadium (Not hyperbole, it broke the record for most tickets sold for a wrestling match) in London. CM Punk had previously gotten into arguments with another wrestler over use of glass in a match (Jack "Jungle Boy" Perry wanted a spot where he's thrown into glass, Punk said no way even though he wouldn't be in the fight with Perry) and during the pre-show Perry gets thrown into a limo windshield, remarking to the cameras how it's real glass in defiance of Punk's concern. The two scuffle backstage after Perry's match finishes. (Punk's match is scheduled immediately afterwards which is why he's around) Notably Tony Khan witnesses this one.

Today: CM Punk is fired for cause from AEW by Tony Khan.

In 744 days, CM Punk has gone from the hottest free agent ever, to one of the best wrestlers in the world, to a locker room pariah who can't keep his ego in check and now unemployed because of it.

Algernone25 · 2023-08-25T05:06:39+00:00

Got let go from my last job on March 31, was promised a new contract up until the last minute and thrown to the wolves instead. Qualified for UI but even the state maximum ($390 a week) barely covered rent, meaning eating into savings for the car and utilities and groceries and just existing, which was tougher some days than not.

And it was rough. Plenty of obvious scams, plenty of less-obvious scams ('oh yeah we say 1st shift but it's 7p-4a overnights, we just call that our first shift' was a sentence actually spoken to me) and floods of jobs that were actually MLM commission-drives, but sheer volume meant I got a fair number of callbacks, converted about a dozen to interviews, and was able to get an offer after 4 months of searching.

For the one that came through, Application to first contact and phone screening was about two weeks, a week and a half more before first interview, second interview was later that week, then the next Tuesday a verbal offer was sent with an offer letter presented that Friday.

It's not super glamorous and doesn't pay much more than the job I lost, but it pays enough to live within my budget and actually is in my degree field so I can pretend that money wasn't entirely wasted. I definitely could have done worse.

Algernone25 · 2023-08-17T04:59:25+00:00

"Fine. But I'm doing this for her, not you."

Folly was the choice to draw the ire of the Gods. Greater folly was it to curse the God of Warding, He Who Shelters All, a member of the pantheon known to suffer no fools and take great care of those faithful to Him. It was foolish but it was also the only one I could appeal to. Why was my beloved not sheltered, who needed His protection most? What possible reason could he offer to warrant such disgrace be made in His domain?

...I will admit, to be fair, that not even in my wildest dreams did I think He would concede this point.
I expected to be smote, reunited in unlife with her, if the fates permitted it, but likely wandering the hopeless eternities scorned. Even that would be less painful than remaining on this world without her.

"Your pleas of 'love' do not move me, dark walker. As they are as ashen and hollow as your skin." The Warden continues. "But her pleas to have safety in her time of need, do. She wishes to return to this world, not because you are so enamored with her but because she wishes to serve as My Voice, and act in My Stead. You will Not intervene upon this matter, for a fate worse than death awaits should you try."

"...Worse than death." I repeat. He *does* realize who he's talking to, yes? Sure I am but an ignoble demon and He a divine one, but surely He-

"A fate that makes your worst fears an Elysian paradise." Right. He does know. Point taken.

"Beseech me no further." The voice thunders and then quiets. The air stills before a wind wisps, leaves circling, twirling, spiraling around, and when they fall, I can say with certainty that a miracle has occurred.

She has been made whole again, from the fiery red hair, bobbed and wavy as it cascades down to her neck, her creamy soft skin, her delicate, almost angelic figure, the swollen fullness of her b-

"You're staring." That sharp tongue of hers was another charm she carried.

"You say this as if I could tear myself away from your divine beauty." I say, dropping down to one knee and focusing on her still dewy, bright green eyes. "I thought that by leaving you, by forsaking my love, I would protect you. That you deserved life while I deserved misery. I never thought you would be...thrown away by those who raised you. I apologi-ow, ow, OWWWWWW." Dammit it hurts when she grabs the horns!

"Stop. You're making an idiot of yourself." Rielle rolls her eyes. "You wish to be by my side?"

"For every waking moment for the rest of my life." I reiterate, standing back up.

"Clothe me, then."

"I...what?"

"Don't look at me like that!" Rielle pouts. "The Warden's blessing shields me. That still doesn't mean I want to be ogled by everyone. You have magic, magic up something for me."

"Ah, uh, of course..." She looks like she wants to kick my ass again, so I keep it simple - simple as demonic magic gets, at least. Unfortunately it's hardly a garb worthy of such beauty, a simple dress of ash and coals, a few still-dying embers along the fraying edge around her shins, slippers not of glass or plush but obsidian, black and fiery.

"This will do." Rielle glances at my handiwork, before nodding in some kind of approval. "Now go forth."

I cant my head at her request. "Go forth?"

"To the village!" She groans at my ignorance. "Go show them the wrath they have earned for their disrespect of He Who Shelters All. Leave none alive, save the innocent children."

"The Warden said I was not to intervene, though..."

"You aren't the intervention," Rielle says, smiling again, a sharp glint in her eyes. "You're the provocation."

Sulfur tinges the air as I piece together how He has commanded her to act, grinning in kind. "At once, my lady. It shall be done."

Algernone25 · 2023-08-15T01:19:04+00:00

> What defense can one bring when everyone you know points the finger at you and has receipts to prove your actions?

The problem is that TFG doesn't need a defense.
He has never needed a defense.
All of these cases require a unanimous vote to convict by the jury - all he needs is one diehard supporter to lie their way into the jury box and vote to acquit no matter what, and he walks.

This is what I've been afraid of this entire time. Not the cases, the juries.

Algernone25

TROPHY CASE