Okay, so there’s been a ton of Humans are weird/Space Orcs and Earth is Space Australia stuff going around, and there’s like one common thread that is in all of them.
The human manual/guidebook.
So I’ve taken a shot at it.
THE HUMAN GUIDEBOOK (Slilaxirth Edition)
Please see your local database for any other alien editions. Note that the Glaglag and Thoed editions may be unavailable due to the frustration of the researchers of those species. Note also that only editions for races in sectors 3095 through 7088 will be available, since that is the farthest humans have really traveled.
This book is accurate to the best of our knowledge, but recognizing that Humans are a relatively new species, we invite any how have interacted with humans and found something either not covered or contrary to the text to send us a datachip with their species, name, contact information, and a detailed report of the interaction(s) concerning the new information to the Central Intergalactic Database, with the additional label HGA(species identification number). We will evaluate the report, and if additions to the book are necessary, we will update the book. Please be sure to check every cycle for updates, as we are sure there is much about the humans we do not understand. Thank you very much. –HGA
TABLE OF CONTENTS [no page numbers yet. I’ll get there. I’m also going to skip a lot of detail here]
Ghost Rider: Re-Imagined designs from tonight’s stream! I was mainly revisiting characters I’d already designed, to give ‘em a second pass and a bit more refinement towards what I want for them.
Click for captions! I’m pretty tickled with how Badilino turned out. 😀
Thank you to everyone who hung out with me! This was a blast!!
-we should ignore Mark, that is, not post in the tag, for, say, 12 hours, starting at 11AM, Eastern Time, January 17, A Silent Wednesday, to punish him for what he’s putting us through. What good would killing him do? The dead can’t learn. The living can be taught a lesson. If nothing else, it would be interesting to see what he would do. Maybe we’ll see our darling throw a little tantrum, hmm?
“But Jim!” I hear you protest, “we still want to talk and theorize!” As do I. That’s what the @ is for, my friends. And it makes reblogging all that more important.The only secret tag is no tag.
I will take the risk of posting this in the Markiplier tag, so as to reach as many Jims as possible.
If he does see this, hello, Mark. If this upsets you, just remember, it’s
He was singing again. The same infernal song, over and over. It was beginning to get annoying.
“Sprinkle it with dew…”
You would have told him to stop long ago, if he were able to hear you. Unfortunately, you’re stuck with it.
“Forget who we became and chase away the red and blue…”
Wait. Those aren’t the words, are they?
“The colonel can…”
Definitely not the words. He was always a bit crazy, but he never remembered before. Not like this.
“Celine and Damien can…”
They probably heard that as well. The way his voice was carrying, it comes as no surprise when they round the corner. Panicking for once in their life.
“The three of us can because they fill my world with love and make my life feel good….”
No. He needs to stop.
“But now the void feels good…”
At least he doesn’t remember you. It’s better this way.
When Wilford slips out of the main lobby where the fans are gathered, he presses his back to the wall, gasping for breath and shaking slightly with a nervous energy. They’re all scared, mostly for him, and that makes his blood ring with fear.
He quickly rips himself out of the hallway and into his void where he lets out a blood-curdling scream. All the built-up anguish and terror and, yes, hatred, pour out until his voice cracks, and he’s left gasping and clutching his sides where he’s landed on his knees among the vicious pink insanity.
Will drags himself to his feet after a few minutes spent listening to the echoes of his screams and staggers out of the void, hoping for comfort. His thoughts lead him to a familiar, cool office where piano music rips violently through the air as Dark hammers at the keys before standing so quickly his seat topples over with a clatter.
His shell cracks as he tears his sheet music from the stand and tears it to pieces before quickly resuming his calm demeanor. That’s when he notices Wilford, bent over in pain and panting, Dark squares his shoulders at the sight and then crumbles, unable to keep up the act for Wilford.
“What’s going to happen?” Will asks, eyes sparking with madness as the roiling emotions inside of him battle against his sanity for control of his mind. “What are we going to do? We can’t just take this lying down! WHY WOULD HE DO THIS TO ME? TO US?”
Dark’s face twitches as he tries to formulate an answer, but he can’t. He doesn’t understand it any more than Wilford does, and he doesn’t want to try, not now, not when he’s hurting and can’t deny it any longer. He could lose it all because of that selfish idiot, and Mark would even take Wilford down with Dark. The two of them gone, forever. “He can’t mean…” Dark starts but can’t finish. He can’t mean it’s really over.
Wilford pushes both his hands through his pink hair with an agitated scream. “I… I…” He stops himself from spilling his guts. The things in Wilford’s head would terrify most, but then he blinks and remembers who this is. This is Dark: the one with the even more terrifying mind, the one who knows Wilford better than anyone, better even than Damien.
“I want to kill him. I want show him that he can’t just mess with us like this!” Wilford laughs and draws his gun, waving it around as he speaks. “No one messes with Warfstache! And I don’t care what I have to do; he won’t end us!”
Dark sighs and brushes his hair back. “As much as I’ve advocated for making Mark pay in the past, it may not be the answer in this situation… at least not yet.” He eyes Wilford carefully. “Put the gun away.”
“I wont’!” Wilford shouts like an angered child. “I WON’T! NOT UNTIL WE’RE SAFE! NOT UNTIL I DON’T NEED IT ANYMORE!” His face is red, his eyes a burning pink. Glitter twinkles in the air around him, and the office warps with the force of his anger.
But Dark holds his ground, taking the steps forward to close the distance between them and to embrace Wilford stiffly and forcefully. Wilford himself goes stiff for a moment until he can’t hold it back anymore. He begins sobbing into Dark’s shoulder and clutching at the back of Dark’s suit, dropping the gun back into his void to await its use.
“You’re stronger than this,” Dark tells him. “Don’t fall apart now. Not when I need you.” But Dark is breaking, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep himself together before it all comes crashing down around their heads. He starts to pull back.
Wilford continues to cling to him. “Don’t let go yet.”
“I’m not Damien,” Dark says through his clenched teeth, feeling the words like a gunshot to his chest.
“I know.” It’s short but definite, and a small piece of Dark is put back into place. “You’re Dark, and you’re cold and mean. But I need you.” Wilford only clings tighter. “Don’t leave me.”
Dark lets himself break, just a little, in this place, leaning against Wilford. He lets his shell break for just a moment and lets himself be vulnerable and scared so Wilford knows he’s not alone. And when the moment passes and Dark is back in place, his suit just so and his hair neatly swept away from his face, the two of them are just as they should be.
A cold-hearted manipulator with a broken shell and the candy-coated killer with a broken mind, holding each other up by sheer force of will.
