#i moved on from julie's design too fast

[arikihalloween]

More Breton art cause we moved on too fast from it when I first made it last year 😔

Some lil colored doodles, for Appleblossom week and from my Julie page

First colored attempts for Wally

The poor guy went through all my style changes he's challenging to draw at times

Julie's full ref ! Still mad proud of the back view ok.

Some human version for Dreamwalkers and Breton AUs

I tried ok

Anyway

I don't got much more but I'll get the motivation, eventually

[betustamorla]

(Updated 01-07) Arkham Batman Beta reader/editor/consultant wanted

Genre: Drama, family, romance, hurt/comfort, action, slight canon divergence (in ages of the characters mainly)

Main characters: Jason and Helena

Pairings: Jason Todd/Helena Wayne (past/future), Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Tim Drake/Barbara Gordon, Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle (past)

Summary: Batman left Gotham to his proteges, no one knows if he is still alive. It's up to them to pick up the pieces, help each other, and sort their lives before big trouble threatens Earth.

Estimated length: 90,000< words.

Progress: 60,000< words.

Plan of finishing the first draft: End of July. First chapter release plan date: 31 of October

First scene sample:

This Arkham Knight was very troublesome, he was as dangerous as Batman, no, he was more dangerous than Batman, he was ready to kill, even eager to. Huntress touched her side, and a stinging pain answered her, but nothing to worry about for now. Her breathing was accelerated, her senses wired thin, her gaze fixed on the man in front of her ready to respond at his slightest movement.

"Move aside." His modified voice seemed to hiss.

"Sorry, but I don't feel like it." Of course, she had to goad him more, as if things weren't hard enough already.

"My business is with the Bat." 

She felt slightly confused at his seeming reluctance to fight her, but she squashed it to the back of her mind until she could be in a safe environment to ruminate. "You're endangering a lot of people with this... business of yours. So no, I won't be moving any time soon." She said flatly.

"That's too bad." It seemed like she had reached the limit of his patience. He lunged again at her. She dodged and threw a kick to his abdomen, he blocked it with his elbow, by instinct she flipped back, it was the right thing for his fist to fly inches from her face.

Still, she knew she wouldn't win this fight, her strength lay in the careful preparation of traps and sigil of her prey, even if she was a good fighter she wasn't, well, Batman. Now that there was some distance between them she started shooting bolts towards his legs, he dodged those easily and shot his grappling gun toward the nearest building and pulled upwards.

"Oh no, you won't!" She quickly changed her bolt to an explosive one and shot to where the grappling gun had hooked. He fell again into the roof they were on, rolling to minimize the impact.

"Now you really pissed me off," He growled and charged towards her.

Again they danced in a mix of punches, kicks, and dodges before he finally gained the upper hand and slammed her against the floor, stars danced in her vision, and his hand wrapped around her neck, cutting her air supply. Helena struggled, but to no avail, as he was at least fifty pounds heavier than her, but she had tricks up her sleeve, in fact, very literally. When pulling her wrist upwards a high voltage discharge would shoot on whoever was the unfortunate recipient of its full power would end up knocked out, which in this case was the Arkham Knight. She wasn't surprised when after receiving the electrical hit, he backed off but did not faint, the armor probably was designed as hers; to withstand the worst of such dangers.

"You have some tricks don't you?" He laughed, and she didn't like the sound of it. "But I think you won't have one for this." He gripped her by the neck again and pulled out a vial, unluckily, Helena wasn't fast enough to move out of his reach. The glass shattered between his fingers, and the contents immediately volatilized and turned into a gas. She didn't have any other option but to breathe at least a little, but guessing what it was, she knew it was more than enough to make its nasty effect kick into work.

She was shoved back, falling into her back, coughing at the acrid taste the fear gas left, her heartbeat quickened when the faint blurred sound of a familiar melody started to ring in her ears followed by a voice she thought she would never hear again.

“Here again my dear Angel?” The honied voice seemed to whisper against her ear, then a chuckle, and there, looming over her was the white-masked figure with amber eyes.

“You’re dead.” She breathed and gritted her teeth.

“Of course. You killed me. Remember?” Then his hand reached for her chin and turned her face towards one side and her heart stopped and seemed to come to the back of her throat at the same time. There in a chair tied with barber wire was Jason.

“Help me!” 

“Stop. Stop. Stop.” 

“Just kill me already.”

“Jason!”

She nearly choked. Get a grip, Helena, this is a hallucination! She felt her suit starting to slow down her increasingly accelerating heart, she knew that the fear gas she had inhaled was but a small dose, and yet it was messing this much with her head even with the Bíos pumping through her system already. This new formula was very, very dangerous, the whispers of Jason still lingered in the background, sometimes interrupted by the explosion that was imprinted like a hot iron in her body and mind. 

Then she felt the burning sensation of electrical currents run through her body to counter the other poison in her veins, the burning sensation of it made her gasp. But now she was able to take a coherent look at her opponent, he hadn't taken this opening to attack her, to end her, making her believe again that he didn't want to kill her. He was just standing there, looking at her. The knight was tense as if waiting for something, she was completely clueless at what it could be but she would use this to her advantage.

~•~•~•~

Jason watched as the gas kicked into action and she crawled away, then her breath hitched and she shook her head. Whatever it was, she didn't want to hear, she clapped her hands to her ears and closed her eyes, it would be so easy to kill her now… To put the broken body of his daughter in front of him, would break him like nothing else, he was sure. But he couldn't even bring himself to lift his gun and point at her, he didn't want to kill her, she had been- What?

It didn't matter, he had better things to do. He turned and started to walk away when he heard her breath his name.

“Jason!”

He clenched his fists, they had abandoned him to that fucking clown, they had replaced him and she had left, forgotten completely about him. But something was pulling in him to go and shake her, to tell her he was right here, that he wasn't a damned nightmarish apparition. He took in a shaky breath and cocked his head to one side, stretching his neck; an anxious tick he had developed. That was enough to strengthen his resolve to keep going on, she was just a part of his past that would disappear along the Bat. Bringing her to Scarecrow and making Bruce see his only daughter be tortured by her worst fears would be even worse than death for him.

Jason turned to her again, she was silent now but her respiration was agitated, she was very still, which was odd for someone with fear gas in their system. He walked closer, pulling his gun out. Maybe he should just blow her head up and throw her dead body in front of her father. The echoing of laughter surged in the back of his mind and the scar on his face burned like the same day the hot iron had sizzled against his skin.

The illusion broke when Helena launched herself at him, he was so unprepared that he tripped and fell on his back with her on top of him.

“Don't you ever dare to do something like that again asshole!” She hissed and punched his helmet hard enough to make his vision rattle a little. How she had fought off the effects of the gas he had no idea nor was interested to know right now, he curled his arms and then threw her off him. She rolled like a fucking cat and pulled her whip out.

“Oh fuck.” He muttered as he rolled out of the way of the crackling weapon. Maybe she was tougher to get than he had originally believed, at least she was more so than his replacement. Jason knew that whip wasn't just any normal leather thing, it seemed to be made of some metallic alignment, as if on queue the whip came down again, he dodged again though not fast enough as it graced his armor over his shoulder and the fucking plate had been sliced a piece off. Fuck, if that thing could slice off part of his armor it probably could slice his arm off as well, no wonder she hadn't used it until now. The no-killing rule was just as strictly embedded in her as her father. That thought made his anger burst.

Why? Why did they refuse to do what was needed to protect? To save people from fuckers like the Joker? If only Batman had killed the Joker the first chance he got he wouldn't had-!

He snapped and lunged at her quick enough to avoid the arch of the crackling shit and barrelled into her, she flew back at least a couple of meters landing painfully on her back. Disoriented enough to become too slow to react in time to make space between them to gain the advantage of her weapons, which were long-ranged tools, up close Jason was completely in control. He took full advantage of it, he punched her in the gut making her double over even with the armor mitigating some of the power from the hit, he didn’t pause, consumed by the red haze that felt so good to let loose. He pulled her head down to connect with his rising knee, she probably would have passed out if not for the face-guard over her forehead and eyes, Jason hit her back with his elbow making her go down. 

She was wheezing for air.

“Is it hard to breathe? Don’t you feel like you’re drowning? Like some cold hand is closing around you and pulling every last bit of life in you?” He remembered how it felt, to be hit over and over again until you couldn’t even seem to make your lungs work.

She coughed and choked- No, she was laughing. She was laughing.

Had she gone mad?

“It’s not so bad, you know.” She gasped and spat at his feet.

All the burning anger seemed to die out, leaving an empty cold feeling. His arm seemed to move on its own, grasping her by the nape of her neck, he started to lift her and she struggled uselessly as she still was too winded to gather her strength or wits. They were at the edge of the ten-story department building, it was at least a 30-meter drop from there to the cold concrete below. Time seemed to freeze, he took in her smaller frame, she seemed so small and frail compared to him, she always had…

Jason! Will you wait for me?

Then he pushed her, the back of her legs hit the small barrier of the edge and then she was gone. He stood there a moment then he heard the sound of crashing metal meters underneath. His heart felt like it stopped for a second.

~•~•~•~

DM if interested/curious or repost/share if you think someone else might.

:)

Check some of my previous works

[accidentalslayer]

Word Count: 2,530

Warnings: Angst & Abuse. In particular, religious/cult abuse. Death, dying, and trauma after a near-death experience. Dissociative vibes. The end has a really reaffirming, comforting example of friendship. I wish everyone had a Josh in their lives.

Author's Notes: I really struggled on this chapter. Mostly because I've been sick for all of July and only recently started to recover. My spirit was willing to write but my flesh was weak. 🤣 Anyways, I'm still on my Angsty!Davina hype. This chapter delves deeper into that. Oh! By the way, I changed "Vincent Webb" in Chapter One to "William Webb" so as not to confuse everyone because there's already a "Vincent" in The Originals. It'll be William Webb moving forward.

This'll be the last Davina chapter for awhile.

Please feed me comments, hearts, and reblogs if you liked this 🌹You can find me on A03 as accidentalslayer.

Pairing: Yandere!Elijah & Klaus Mikaelson x Fem!Reader (eventually) Summary: Davina gets an unexpected visit from her best friend Josh who has some, erm...concerns about her mental health. Also, life gets weirder for the young Harvest Girl when a truth is revealed. One that could change her life forever.

Recommended Song: "You Were Cool" by: The Mountain Goats

Chapter Three: Jonah's Whale (Part Two)

Cold hands shook Davina. Muffled sounds hit her ears. Someone was shouting, their voice fraught with urgency. It was enough to snatch her out of sleep and snap her eyes open. Peering through a blurred vision still addled by dreams, she looked up at the person who had a vice grip on her arm, then blinked.

It was a boy; dark-haired, dark-skinned, wearing an Abercrombie & Fitch polo shirt underneath a worn hoodie that looked like it'd seen way better days. Fastened around his wrist was a friendship bracelet that Davina immediately recognized as the one she'd made a year ago while living at St. Anne's. The initials 'J.R.' and 'D.C.' embellished its design in bright, rose-colored thread. The letters were joined together like clasped hands inside a heart that she'd gotten a migraine over weaving at the time. Davina was a much better artist with charcoal sticks than with cotton twine, anyways. Despite all the grueling hours of training she had gotten out of the Sanguinem Knot.

Groggily, Davina wondered if she could trust her sight?? Perhaps this was another nightmare or an illusion cast by Monique to trick her? Could it really be...

"J-Josh...?"

"Davina!"

It looked like Josh. It sounded like Josh. It bit its lip nervously like Josh. But Davina needed more proof just to be sure. Illusion magic had its limits. And memories weren't easily replicated. So, she asked the boy something that only the real Josh would know:

"What was my favorite show in 9th grade? If you don't answer it correctly, I swear to the goddess, I'll scream so loud the whole compound will hear it."

"Josh" released hold of Davina's arm, a confused frown upon his lips, "Uhh, that's a trick question, right?? You told me your mom only let you watch TV for "educational" purposes. I was the one who got you into binge-watching stuff for fun. Uhhhh, but hey, Davina, your books are-"

"List the three most embarrassing things you did in grade school. Your Sonic and Winx Club phase doesn't count."

"It SO does."

"Screaming in...three...two...one-"

"Okay!!!" The boy who might be Josh exclaimed, throwing both hands up in the air and conceding to her demands, "I stole a pack of cigarettes out of my homeroom teacher's purse on a dare then puked when I tried smoking too many of them to impress my crush. My mom made me wear this baby bear costume on Halloween and I had to go trick or treating in it. I accidentally sent nudes to my uncle-"

"Josh! It IS you!"

"I mean. Yeah, duh. Why wouldn't it be?? I texted you yesterday about coming over, remember??"

Despite being a vampire with heightened senses, Josh didn't see how fast Davina moved from her seat to pull him into a hug. And he was surprised by how hard she squeezed him, like he was a life raft, or buoy on some stormy sea. Josh took it all in stride, though. He knew Davina well enough to understand that she was going through Hell now that she was back with the Coven. But there was something...off...about her. Different than before. His eyes strayed to the steel table he'd found her crouched over and fast asleep upon. To the book pile she'd been thumbing through...

Every tome on the table was scorched. Strange writing had been scrawled across their pages in Davina's penmanship. Josh didn't recognize the language. The words seemed foreign. Unearthly. Almost alien. But there was one symbol he could decipher amidst the chaos; it was the number 7. It repeated (over and over again) in varying fonts and sizes.

Josh waited for Davina to pull away from the hug before asking if she was okay. Although, judging by the dark circles underneath her eyes, it was a safe bet to assume that she wasn't.

"I'm fine," Davina replied with a smile on her face, "Just passed out while studying these grimoires. They're super old-fashioned. Like, created in the Dark Ages or something. The Coven says they're mandated reading material for us Harvest Girls. But between you and me? I'd rather be studying Grapes of Wrath."

Josh grimaced in response, "Yeesh, that bad?"

"The worst, actually."

"They look, uhhh-"

Josh trailed off, trying to think of the right word to use, but ended up saying the one that was on the tip of his tongue:

"-crispy."

Davina pointedly ignored his comment. Instead, she offered Josh some tea with a tired sigh.

"I'm more into the red stuff these days...but sure. I'll have some if you do." He answered her, trying to keep his voice light and carefree, "Anything in those cabinets that'll help me walk in the sun??"

"Nope. Just peppermint."

"Damn! Foiled again!"

This merited a smirk from Davina. Josh took the win, following his friend across the conservatory, to a small alcove where an electric kettle and tea service was laid out for anyone's use. There was even a convection oven, accompanied by all the fixings for toast. Davina flipped the power button on the kettle. Silently, she watched as it began to heat up and boil their water. Josh tried filling the empty space with conversation.

"So, it looked like you were having a nightmare. A really bad one. Wanna talk about it?"

Davina made no comment besides a quick shrug and a grunt. She seemed more preoccupied with choosing the mugs they'd drink out of. Or the tea they'd make. Undeterred, Josh pressed the issue harder, hoping his friend would open up to him.

"You know," he continued speaking, "they say that telling a friend about your nightmares can help them seem less scary. Like, once you talk about it, you'll see how ridiculous the dream was. Sometimes, I still have nightmares about waking up in class buck naked, and Klaus is there..."

Davina rose an eyebrow, "Who's 'they'??"

An embarrassed laugh rolled out of Josh, cheeks reddening upon admittance that it came from a self-help book he was reading; 'The Dark Side of the Light Chasers' by Debbie Ford. He'd found it laying in a cardboard box on the side of the road somewhere. He'd been going through each of its chapters (sporadically) ever since he'd found it.

"I dunno, the author writes about meditation and meeting all your different selves inside your head like Doctor Strange. I did this one exercise at the end of a chapter about self-love and acceptance and uh, I met the "me" I was before. Before all the fangs and the blood and the suddenly burning in the sun. Fun times, haaa! Anyways, look. I'm here for you, Davina. If you need a shoulder to cry on? An ear to listen to you?? We're friends! And that's what a friend does! Well, uh. I guess that's what I think a friend should do-"

Josh frowned, then said quietly:

"-I haven't really heard a lot from you lately..."

The electric kettle shut off. The water was ready. Davina poured the boiling liquid into two, footed mugs that she had chosen. Then, dipped the tea sachets in with care. The aroma of mint filled the air and the space in-between where Josh waited patiently for Davina to say something. Anything! But she didn't. So, he continued to talk while she listened, hoping that his friend would participate eventually. He was starting to get a bit frustrated by how silent Davina was being.

"You know, there's this story in that book about a person who was also having trouble sleeping. His name was Jonah. That dude from the Bible. He'd heard the voice of God tell him to pass judgment on the city of Nineveh and he reeeally didn't want to. So, he ran. Then, a whale ate him, and literally only spat him up when he accepted what he was running from. I'm not a religious person but what I'm trying to say here is-"

"That I shouldn't go on boating trips?" Davina posited, finally adding to the conversation. She offered Josh his cup of tea afterward.

Josh made a sour face while accepting the tea. He obviously didn't appreciate her wry sense of humor here...

"No! That you shouldn't run away from the things you're afraid of because you'll just make it worse for yourself. And in the end, you'll have to face it anyway. But unlike Jonah, you don't have to face it alone, Davina. I know you're going through shit after dying and being resurrected. Who wouldn't be, right?? But lately, I've been feeling like you're shutting everyone out. You haven't texted me or Cami back in weeks. What's up with that, huh??"

Now, it was Davina's turn to make a sour face.

"I'm just really busy here, Josh. Being a Harvest Girl means I have responsibilities to the Coven."

"You hate the Coven!"

"I know, but...I'm still a Harvest Girl."

"And I'm your friend, Davina! Cami is too! Don't we deserve to at least know that you're okay?!"

"The Coven said I couldn't use my phone here in the compound. They said they want me to focus on studying and classes only. No distractions..."

"And you couldn't sneak on the phone to tell us? We've been worried about you! Cami and I have been worried sick! Fuck the Coven!"

Davina rubbed her temples in response, "Josh..."

"Davina."

"What's really going on?? You're acting weird as hell."

Josh sipped his peppermint tea nervously, then flinched. He'd misjudged how hot it still was and burnt the roof of his mouth in the process. "Mm, this sure is some great leaf juice you've brewed-"

"Josh!" Davina exclaimed, starting to run out of patience, "Enough stalling. Spill. Now. What's up with you?"

With grim reluctance, as if he were pulling teeth, Josh revealed the (true) reason for his visit. It all came down to one name. A name Davina should have guessed was involved from the very start:

"It's Marcel. I-I know you guys aren't on speaking terms right now, but uhh...he's been worried too. About you. About sending you back here. About pretty much everything, to be honest. He wants to know how you're doing? If you're doing okay? Aaaand...he needs your help with a spell."

Davina groaned, "UGH. Of course he does! When does he NOT need me to do his dirty work?!"

"This isn't for him. It's for Cami! The curse on her uncle is getting worse, Davina. He's going nuts in that church of his. Marcel was wondering if there was any way to reverse whatever the Coven put on him? I don't think he has much time left..."

At the mention of the Coven, Davina tensed. She placed her cup down on the alcove's table. There was an air of finality to the gesture.

"Josh, it's different now. I can't do magic for him anymore. I can't do magic for anyone anymore... The Ancestors won't allow me. And if I break the rules again?? They'll do worse things than what they did in that abyss to me. Marcel doesn't care because he's not going to die, Josh!! Neither will you! Father Kieran and Cami are going to Heaven but I only have one place to go after this!! I can't mess up my last chance with the Ancestors...or the Coven. I won't."

Davina expected Josh to argue. Clearly, he had a stake in whatever drama Marcel was cooking up. She could see it in his eyes. A quiet desperation, like a fly caught inside a clever spider's web. Why else would he be doing this? But to her surprise, Josh only nodded. He didn't fight to change her mind.

"I'll tell Marcel you're doing fine," Josh said, "No, scratch that. I'll tell him you're doing better than fine, you're doing awesome! And that...you can't help him anymore."

"Josh, I-"

"Davina, don't."

Soft arms wrapped around Davina unexpectedly and cut short whatever apology she planned on saying. Now, it was Josh's turn to give his friend a sudden hug.

"Don't ever apologize for setting a boundary. You don't owe me or Marcel or the world shit! Okay?? If anything, we owe you. I owe you. You saved me from Klaus. You gave me back my control."

He squeezed Davina tighter in his embrace.

"Promise me that you'll take care of yourself and if you need to talk, that you'll call me. Or text. Or Instagram works, too. I'm always there to listen. You're my best friend, Davina. And the strongest person I've ever met."

"You're pretty strong too, you know?"

Josh chuckled, "I'm starting to be. Couldn't have done it without your help, Super Witch."

The mood lightened. Josh and Davina spent the rest of their time together, reminiscing. Bonding over the good memories they had. Those sacred spaces in-between murderous witches, miracle babies, Machiavellism, and The Originals where they were allowed to just be kids. And do things that kids do. Although Josh's gaze strayed to the pile of scorched books once (or twice), he made no comment on them.

Josh left somewhere around midnight. The smile in her heart left along with him, returning Davina back to reality. She ruminated while she cleaned up the mess leftover from making tea. Images of the nightmare swirled inside her mind. Filled her with dread. She was no stranger to dark dreams or terrible visions, especially after her experience working for Marcel, but this one felt...different. It felt ominous. Like the first scream of a hurricane siren.

Davina...

Or the rumblings of a storm.

Find her, Davina Claire...

As she was shelving the last item away, the floor began to shake, and the walls trembled. Her ears rang with the sound of the voice. Nearly bled. Its volume had increased tenfold since the last time she'd heard it. Davina braced herself against the onslaught, using all her strength to ignore it. But the voice proved too powerful.

She fell upon her knees and shouted, "I CAN'T! I can't help you!! I can't do ANYTHING for anyone anymore!! Don't you understand?!? I am the girl bound in chains! I am shackled to a people who HATE me and control my every move! So, to Hell with New Orleans! Let this city be swallowed up! It's NOT a French Quarter Witch's problem!!"

There came a pause in the quaking and thunder. The stillness that came afterward was thick with tension. It was as if the entity was considering its next words carefully.

You are not a French Quarter Witch, fire maiden. You are a Prophet. Called to a higher purpose. To serve the light that burns within you...

Find her, Davina Claire, and together the two of you shall be free.

"W-wait, what?! I'll be...free?"

No further elaboration was given to Davina. She called out to the entity several times. All she got was silence and stillness in return. Davina stayed in the conservatory, amongst the potted plants, until dawn broke and colored the sky with hues of gentle pink, yellow, orange, and sky blue. And in a semi-stupor, Davina began to repeat a single word underneath her breath...

Free.

[sleepyeye17]

Safe Space

Read on AO3 here, or below

Words: 2,415

Summary: Steve and Eddie are both triggered by fireworks on the fourth of july, and have to comfort each other.

Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks

When Eddie was a child, he’d found a black baby rabbit caught in a mousetrap. He’d taken it home and nursed it to health. It had lived a few more months, but it had always been a skittish thing, and had liked to burrow in Eddie’s blankets. Sometimes Eddie would hold it inside his jacket, and feel the rapid thumping of its heart, so fast he was worried it might have a heart attack and die. Eventually that’s what happened. The bunny’s tiny heart had gone too fast and stopped.

That was how Eddie felt now, lying on the bathroom floor, the shower running in an attempt to drown out the sounds of the fireworks. He was curled up in a pile of blankets, listening to the fireworks whistle and bang outside. He was drenched in sweat, unsure if it was because of the stifling heat of the blankets or the terror that shot through him with every explosion.

The survivors of the Battle of Starcourt were all going to the ruins, as was their tradition. Last year Max had still been in the hospital, but the other kids had gone and they’d all gotten drunk for the first time, and cried, and played music. Now they were bringing Max with them. They’d invited Eddie, but he thought it was better for it to just be the original survivors.

Wayne was at the Mayfield place, helping Missus Mayfield through another anniversary of Billy’s death. Eddie had insisted that he go, promising that he’d be fine, and that he’d probably hang out with Gareth. Then the fireworks had started, and Eddie had realized that he couldn’t go anywhere.

The lab had assigned Eddie a therapist, who’d been helping him through panic attacks. She’d helped him design his “safe space”; a little room in his mind where he could retreat from the panic. It was similar to where Max had gone to escape from Vecna, but this wasn’t rooted in memory. This was pure fantasy. Eddie had always been better with fantasy. The therapist had been a little bit confused when he’d told her his safe space was the Shire, but she’d rolled with it.

Another firework went off, shaking his windows.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

Eddie inhaled, then exhaled. He wished he still smoked.

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.

His phone rang, jolting him out of his meditation.

“Jesus!” He reached for the phone by his bed with shaking hands. “Hello?”

“Have you heard from Steve?”

“What? Is that Dustin?”

“Have. You. Heard. From. Steve.”

“No. Why?”

“He was supposed to be here. We’re with Max at the ruins. Steve was supposed to join us.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

Dustin didn’t dignify that with an answer, and Eddie could feel his disdainful look through the phone.

“Fine,” Eddie said. “I’ll swing by his place.”

“ Thank you.”

“Tell Max I’m taking her to the skate park tomorrow.”

Dustin had designed a set of trick wheels for Max’s chair, and she was learning how to do some skating moves with it.

“I will. Thanks. Call me at this number when you find him, okay?”

He gave Eddie the number, and Eddie scrawled it on the inside of his arm.

Now that Eddie had a mission, he felt slightly less insane. This was always the case. When he’d first moved in with Wayne at age ten, he’d been almost catatonically depressed. But when his uncle had asked him for help with something, he’d suddenly find himself doing it. Out of bed, at the store, making dinner. When he’d started high school he’d pretended that Hellfire was his way of welcoming the losers and outcasts, rather than trying to find friends himself. Helping himself had always seemed a bit pointless. Helping others was more worthwhile.

He pulled himself out of bed, taking his blankets with him. He’d go, but he wasn’t pretending to be okay. He was no hero. He still needed his blankie, and he wasn’t ashamed of that.

Steve lived nearby now, in the apartment building that had been built where the motel had once been. Steve and Wayne lived in the old Hopper trailer near the lake. In order to get to Steve’s house, though, Eddie would need to go past the fairground where the firework display was being set. There was no way in hell Eddie could do that drive without getting in an accident. He had to go the long way, around the cemetery and the high school. It took him twice as long, but the drive calmed him slightly. Clutch. Downshift. Break.

Then the sky turned red with the glow of fireworks, and Eddie instinctively hit the gas, nearly going off the road.

“Shit!”

He braked fast and rested his head against the steering wheel.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

He inched forward the rest of the way to Steve’s apartment. By the time he parked, his hands were cramped from gripping the steering wheel and his jaw was aching from clenching his teeth.  

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.

He ran up to Steve’s apartment, his blankets dragging behind him like a cape. He could see that all the lights were on. He knocked on the door.

“Steve! Are you there?”

There was no answer, so he knocked louder.

“Steve, it’s Eddie! Open up!”

There was another crack of fireworks, and the sky glowed for a moment. Eddie shouldn’t have come. He should have called Joyce or Murray or anyone remotely capable of basic functioning.

It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle.

He pounded on the door with his fist.

“For fucks sake, just let me in before I shit myself!”

The door swung open and Eddie toppled in after it, landing solidly into Steve Harrington's chest.

“ Oonf !”

Steve’s warm hands gripped Eddie’s shoulders.

“What are you doing here?”

Steve’s voice was a hoarse croak. Eddie stepped back and looked at him. His face was red, and his eyes were swollen. His hair was plastered to his sweaty face.

“Oh my god, Steve, are you okay?”

Steve blinked at Eddie blearily. He shook his head, and Eddie was surprised to see his eyes filled with tears.

“Talk to me, big boy," Eddie said. "Are you sick?”

“No. I don’t… I don’t think so. Why are you here?”

“Dustin called. He’s worried about you.”

Another blast went off, and Steve jolted like he’d been shot.

“Let me call Dustin and tell him you’re not coming.”

“I’ll be there! I’m just— just running late.” Steve looked around frantically, like he was trying to find his bag. Eddie put a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve. We’re not going anywhere. Okay? We’re going to stay right here.”

Steve’s mouth crumpled, and he reached up to cover it with his hand.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Alright, that’s it. Here we go.” Eddie gripped Steve by the shoulder and pulled him through the tiny apartment to the bathroom. Steve followed dazedly. “Have you eaten? Did you drink anything? Take anything?”

Steve shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again.

“Had an ibuprofen for a headache. Had a beer. That’s all.”

“When did you last sleep?”

Steve thought about this.

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Okay.” Eddie turned the shower on at full blast. Steve blinked up at him. “You don’t have to shower,” Eddie said, “But the noise will help. I’m going to call Dustin.”

Steve was still sitting on the bathroom floor when Eddie came back, holding a glass of water. Dustin had been understanding on the phone. They’d all had their bad spells.

Steve was curled up in a little ball, his arms wrapped tight around his legs. Eddie slid down beside him. They sat in silence and listened to the sound of the shower go. Finally Eddie took a deep breath.

“You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asked.

Steve sniffed and rubbed his nose on his arm.

“When Nancy dumped me, I said, ‘ I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend, but it turns out I’m a damn good babysitter.’ And for the past three years, that’s been sort of my mantra. At least I’m a good babysitter. That’s the one thing I’ve been able to do that’s worthwhile.”

Eddie wanted to argue this point, but he held his tongue.

“Turns out… I’m not good at this either,” Steve said.

“Not good at what?”

“I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m supposed to take care of the kids. I should be there, helping. But instead…”

He flapped his hands helplessly at the floor, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Oh, Stevie.” Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in. Steve slumped sideways, bonelessly. “Nobody can fix this. Nobody can.”

Steve collapsed in, folding himself against Eddie’s chest as he cried.

If someone had told Eddie two years ago that he’d be here with his arms around Steve Harrington, he’d have asked them what they were smoking. He’d wanted to touch Steve for so long. He felt drawn into Steve’s orbit like an asteroid. He had to admit that his fantasies had involved more passion and less panic attacks.

Steve cried noisily, his shoulders heaving with sobs. Eddie did the only thing he could think of. He started reciting The Hobbit.

“In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.”

Eddie recited as much as he could from memory, his hand on the warm planes of Steve’s shoulders. Slowly, Steve’s crying began to relax into gentle snuffling. Occasionally the sound of a firework outside would make them both jump, and Eddie’s voice would falter.

“The best rooms were all on the left hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.”

Steve took a deep breath, as if testing to see if his crying was truly finished. Eddie released his grip on Steve's back, allowing him to sit up. Steve yawned. His eyes were puffy from tears and sleeplessness.

“Better?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded, then shook his head.

“I should be with them.”

“No. No, you should be here.”

“The kids need me tonight.”

“Not as much as I do.” The words were out before Eddie could stop them. Shit. He could feel himself turning red. Steve stared at him through narrowed eyes.

“You know what I was doing before Dustin called?” Eddie asked. “I was on my bathroom floor, reading The Hobbit out loud to myself and trying not to absolutely lose it.”

Steve managed half a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I imagine that fireworks would affect you more strongly, considering you were at the mall that night.”

Steve exhaled.

“I don’t see how the kids are so okay, and I’m such a mess.”

“Probably because they let other people help them. Unlike someone I know.”

Steve yawned again. Eddie smiled.  

“It’s hard feeling useless,” Steve said.

“I know. But you’ll never be…” Eddie paused to think, choosing his words carefully. “Steve. You are invaluable .”

Steve wrinkled his nose.

“Un-valuable?”

“Invaluable. It means always valuable.”

“That’s a stupid word.”

Eddie laughed.

“It is, isn’t it.” He fidgeted with his rings. “You are useful a lot of the time. But what I’m saying is that you don’t need a use to have a value.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“A vacuum cleaner has value because it's useful. A song has value because it’s a song. And I’d rather live in a world without vacuum cleaners than a world without music.”

Steve thought about this, pursing his lips. Then he yawned.

“You tired?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded, his chin sinking onto his chest as he did.

“Can’t sleep though.”

“I know. I try to sleep, and then…” Eddie gestured vaguely to his head.

“Yeah. It’s bad.”

Eddie stretched.

“My back hurts. You think we can move to the sofa without pissing ourselves in terror?”

Steve checked his watch.

“It’s nine thirty. Worst is probably over. I’ll put on music or something.”

They exited the bathroom like survivors leaving a fallout shelter, hunched and sweaty, trailing blankets. Steve turned on his tape player, and the soft sound of Avalon started playing. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Avalon? Really?”

“Don’t fuck with me right now,” Steve said with a wobbly smile. “You want me to start crying again? Shut up.”

They collapsed onto the sofa, Eddie sitting with his legs curled under him, Steve sprawled out across the whole thing, his head thrown back. It was disgustingly hot inside, and smelled like rotting food, but a cool breeze was filtering in through the open door.

Eddie was so aware of Steve, sitting close enough for their shoulders and thighs to be touching. Steve blinked sleepily up at the ceiling.

“What were you reading earlier?” Steve asked.

“What? Oh. The Hobbit. My mom used to read it to me whenever I was sick.”

“Do you have the whole thing memorized?”

“No, just the first part. You know that therapist I’ve been seeing? Doctor Davis?”

“Yeah. I’ve been seeing her too.”

This was news to Eddie. Steve’s words were slightly slurred from fatigue, and Eddie wondered if Steve would have divulged this if he wasn’t so tired.

“She had me create a safe space. Mine is Bilbo Baggins’s house at Bag End. From the book.”

Steve’s eyes drifted shut and he slumped over sideways, his face against Eddie’s neck.

“She had me do the same,” he murmured.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Make a safe space. Took me a long time, but I think—“ Steve yawned and curled into Eddie’s side. “Think I’ve got one.”

“What is it?”

Steve was already asleep, but he managed to mumble out the words.

“Mm. With you.”

[pancake-breakfast]

Trigun Book Club! (I'm glad some of you are enjoying reading the nonsense I've been writing up for these things. Thank you very much!) I know some characters I'm highly anticipating are coming up, so let's get to it!

Archive

Trigun Volume 1: Covers + 1-3, 3 Detailed Thoughts, 4, 4 DT, 5-6, 5-6 + DT, 6 DT, 7-8, 9-10

Trigun Volume 2: Covers + Extras

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for Trigun Vol. 2, Chapter 1 below.

Chapter 1: Blood and Thunder

WOLFWOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!

I love how intense he looks compared to Vash, who seems to be smiling just a bit. Of course he would. He has a buddy to fight at his back.

"More than just shoes," huh? What, does he make crazy strappy leather body suits, too? Hmmmmmm???

Dramatic Vash title page pose!

Oh, shoot. I remember that fountain from '98. That's... a bad sign.

Meryl: "What a lovely day...." Me: "Not for long."

I do appreciate the pigeon floof, though. Wait, how did pigeons get here? Did they import them? Are these actually not-pigeons but are more closely related to Thomases? Are... are they a type of WORM??!??!!

Oh, Vash. He wants to rest, but he's keeping one eye open.

NM, he's decided rest is the best option.

OMG, this page! Rem with the halo imagery over her. The way her form dominates the page but blends into Vash's, as if she's a bigger part of him than he himself is. The way he seems to be falling through the panels. Gorgeous.

Aaand the moment's gone.

At least they're apologizing?

Wait, there's no water in that fountain, is there?

Goshdarnit, Vash! Don't put that in your mouth! You don't know where it's been!

Yeah, you're not gonna be able to talk while pulling off this maneuver. But I'll allow it.

Hahahaha, once they've properly apologized, he decides to reward them with ice cream. Or maybe just reward himself and reward them as a byproduct, but whatever.

VASH THE STAMPEDE!!! You, of all people, do NOT get to tell Milly (OR ANYONE ELSE) she is not acting her age! Freaking dork....

I love how calmly Meryl is like, "Here's the cash. Get us all ice cream." Although I'm only counting five??

Oh.

Meryl just won like 500 brownie points for that move.

There are few things in life that can't be made to seem at least a little better if one has ice cream.

Vash looks deeply saddened that the girl left.

But it seems like he's moved on pretty fast. No point dwelling on it, right?

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

Gods, I'm sure people have debated his designs in both '98 and Stampede, but here? Legato looks like a twink. A twink hiding in a big emo jacket with shoulder pads he stole from the '80s and then fed steroids.

Annnnd he's eating a hot dog. I'm not gonna read too much into that. Too late. And now you can, too.

Seriously, though. Of all the foods to import, you'd think someone would leave hot dogs behind. Or not. They do make use of the junk parts of the animal, and I guess you can't be too picky when you live in a desert wasteland.

The way they're having this conversation is suspicious.

Fountain confirmed empty.

Milly's danger sense is tingling.

I just want to point out that, when Milly says Vash's face looks frightening, this is the last expression we see him showing.

He's putting on the glasses. It's serious time. He might have to shoot someone, and he definitely doesn't want anyone else to catch a glimpse of his intentions here.

Wow. The level of force Vash shows in his wording here. It's like he's playing a card that says, "I know I'm superior to you, and given the situation, I'm going to make dead sure you know it, too."

"That monster," huh? Harsh words. Justified, perhaps. But harsh. All of this is harsh coming from such a staunch pacifist.

I just want to point out that all of this is happening after the July incident. For no reason whatsoever, I'm sure.

Legato... PLEASE don't make shitty decisions with your life. What you're suggesting is not the sort of thing likely to end in a win scenario for you....

Ok, so I'm sure some of this is because I've watched '98 and have a better feel for Legato than some... but I LOVE the imagery of him handing food to a hungry child and giving them a pat on the head. It's wrong on so many levels... but it's also a good reminder that people who are capable of absolutely terrible things are also capable of at least presenting a veneer of simple kindness.

Glad that scene upset Vash quite a bit, too.

Assuming Legato isn't bluffing, even Vash would struggle to contain that much slaughter in such a short span of time, I think. And right now, he's got a whole fountain in between him and Legato.

Vash has been gradually losing his mask through this whole conversation. Milly noticed it first, but the kids and Meryl have noticed it by now, too.

This outfit needs more straps.

Yyyyeeeaaaahhhh, if they fight in the busy town square there, the casualty number is gonna be stupid high.

WTF, he gave Vash a quest?? I don't like this quest. This quest is gonna be full of Bad Things.

I LOVE how they're all in silhouette behind Legato there, but with all their forms blended together to make this ominous amorphous blob of eyes and limbs and darkness. I want a clean version without the text balloons.

Sir. Sir, your bag is leaking. Sir, you might want to take a look at that. Sir.

Ok, now I have legitimate questions about the Shoemaker instead of bullshit ones.

I, too, would panic if someone I knew suddenly literally lost their head. Not sure I'd go screaming into the town square, but I would definitely be out of sorts.

Nightow didn't even have to show us what was in the bag to make his point.

Dude, that's an American coin. Hang on a second.... Ok, found it. I'm just gonna put some information on it here if anyone wants to go through it.

I'm pretty sure I recognize that silhouette...

Thinking on the title of the chapter again. Thunder is often seen as the first sign of an oncoming storm. Fitting.

I wanted to go through more than one chapter, but I feel like I have a LOT of notes on this one, and those pop-out posts inevitably take a good chunk of time, so this will do for tonight.

[alln64games]

Superman: The New Superman Adventures

NA release: 28th May 1999

PAL release: 23rd July 1999

JP release: N/A

Developer: Titus

Publisher: Titus

N64 Magazine Score: 14%

Superman: The New Superman Adventures (or The New Superman Aventures, according to the back of the US box) is commonly referred to as just Superman 64, and is one of the worst games of all time, according to everything I’ve ever read about the game – all because of broken flying and flying through rings.

The developers, Titus, were dealt a rotten hand. After they got the license, Warner Bros became a nuisance to deal with. The developer’s plans for the game were constantly overturned, including the main idea of an open world that Superman would protect, allowing for him to damage buildings, which would affect the city. The developers were told that Superman couldn’t hurt anyone or damage anything, so the virtual world idea had to be made, and so much time was waiting for approval that there was little time to develop.

Everyone talks about the rings and the flying controls, so I’ll begin with that. And, frankly, I think most people trying out the game are trying to make it seem worse. If you hold down the accelerate button, you’ll travel too fast to turn well, but with regular taps, I found flying to work rather well, and I actually began enjoying the ring stages once I got used to it. Press the R button and you’ll very quickly stop and if you press up/down while not moving forward, you’ll move directly up or down. I actually think they did a decent job of capturing Superman’s movement – it’s just a shame the flying isn’t used for much more than the rings. N64 magazine said that that there was no way to stop flying, and I have no idea what they’re talking about.

The big problems with the ring levels are how many there are (with some taking upwards of 6-7 minutes) and how checkpoints work in the game. After each ring segment is a short action sequence – stop cars, beat up baddies, destroy robots, stop tornadoes – but it starts immediately, and the timer (which can be as short as 20 seconds) starts counting down as soon as the text appears. This wouldn’t be too bad if you just restarted form there – but you have to go back to the previous ring segment and do that again (save states really help).

Sadly, the immense amount of fog really makes the world empty, so there’s not much to look at. It’s a shame because there is a single open world, and some of the building designs do look quite interesting – the game is based on Superman: The Animated Series so uses that style – but you can’t see them from further than 5 metres away. Still, the rings and objectives are only half of the game, the rest are actual levels, with a set of challenges in between each one.

The controls for Superman on-foot are rather slow and clunky, with tank-based controls to make it more of a pain. The first level is quite simple, but you do have to return to the start after getting a key for no good reason. The boss fight in this level is probably the toughest in the game, and you have to rescue some workers from an underwater tunnel.

The Lexcorp level is one where just just keep going forward, pushing buttons and getting keycards. The enemies in the game are either “dark shadows” (presumably a restriction so Superman isn’t hitting people that look too human). There are some rooms with nice reflections and others that look dreadful.

Then its off to a warehouse to rescue Lois Lane. I spent ages flying around because I coudn’t find where to use a keycard – turns out it was hidden in an alcove, hidden by the black fog that indoor areas have. After you rescue Lois Lane, she walks around a corner and gets captured – and this happens multiple times until you can finally escort her. She starts off running and then slows down when enemies start appearing – and if you get too far away, one will spawn next to her. If either one of you die, the game’s checkpoint system rears its ugly head again and you have to start from the very beginning of the level.

The Daily Planet’s underground car park is by far the worst level. It’s a colossal maze (much harder than the “Solve My Maze” rings) and so much of it look the same, so it’s incredibly easy to get lost. I found myself spending most of the time flying around the same corridors again and again, and it definitely didn’t help when I picked up a tank and was thrust out of the game’s map into another section.

You have to find Jimmy, grab a keycard (which isn’t there if you look before finding Jimmy), go back to Jimmy and then find a bomb. Then it’s off to find Darkseid. Incidentally, I got so lost on the way to Darkseid that I approached him from behind and used laser eyes to take him down before he could do anything.

Star Labs, on the other hand, is fairly straightforward in terms of structure. You need to find a scientist, stop water from rising and trap Parasite in a forcefield (a Superman villain I am unfamiliar with, but seemingly Superman can’t harm him). There’s a long corridor that’s makes going back and forth a pain, but this level is alright.

After some more rings, Lex traps Superman in a subway tunnel. This is a very long tunnel, with a lot of enemies. Turns out you can ignore most enemies as the objective is to fly all the way to the end of the tunnel where an explosion will trap Superman. So you have to fly all the way to the start where another explosion will happen. You then have to fly to a station (which is near the other end of the tunnel) and beat up some enemies to escape. Although this level has one intriguing oddity.

On the way back to the station after the second explosion, Superman will encounter an old man who says he knows the way out, and says you can freeze him to protect him when needed. It’s a big pain to protect him and he walks extremely slow (you can push him from behind). When you get to the station, a cutscene will happen and – as the camera has moved away from the man, an enemy will spawn and attack him while you can’t do anything.

Using save states I managed to time it so I could rescue him, and he just casually walks through the “Exit” doors (that Superman can’t use). When he gets round the corner, an enemy spawns and kills him. I can only guess that this was the original method of finishing the level, then the developers thought it was to annoying, changed it but forgot to remove him.

The final level is on Brainiac’s ship. This game does the annoying thing where it locks the final level away from lower difficulties (luckily, there’s a skip level cheat to skip to it). The objective is to collect a load of data discs These discs are oddly extremely highly detailed and look higher detailed than most 2D objects in 3D N64 games (or, indeed, any of the graphics in this game). Getting around the level isn’t too bad, although the discs only appear on at a time, some open doors and other doors require you pushing buttons, so progressing is just flying where you previously were.

After breaking the virtual world and pushing some ice cubes of your friends across a lightning generator, then finding some bombs to blow up the ship. The end of the level is a window that literally says “the end”. You then get a cutscene saying that you escaped the virtual world, but Lex is still out there in the real world.

And that’s Superman 64. It’s definitely a bad game, but it really doesn’t deserve its reputation as the worst game ever. The flying is pretty good once you get used to it, and it really isn’t as buggy as I was expecting. The checkpoint system is atrocious, but then it was a pretty normal thing for games back then.

Superman 64 has some interesting elements, it attempts to do what it can with the license, even with severe restrictions. I honestly prefer a game that’s a little bit wonky to one that’s just flat out boring. In the end, I found myself both enjoying the game because I was laughing at it, and at times genuinely having fun with the game. And isn’t enjoyment all that matters in the end?

Fun

There’s only a select band of games that can stagger you into silence with their utter ineptitude and Superman is one of them. From promising beginnings (i.e. there’s no spelling mistakes on the title screen), the game quickly descends into astonishing crapness with a first level amalgamation of Pilotwings’ ring contest, and three mind-blowingly awful sub games.

- Tim Weaver, N64 Magazine #31

Remake or remaster?

It will never happen, but a remaster with fog removed and things smoothed out would actually be interesting to see.

Official ways to get the game.

There is no official way to get Superman: The New Adventures

[zyuna-arts]

#SHINONHYBRID | POKEMON HYBRIDS 2

More sketchy pokehybrids as warm-up practice done in January 2024! Results were determined back in July 2023 so future me already had options to work with. Previous batch was done here!

Template: 1. Head: 2. Body: 3. Legs: 4. Tail: 5. Arms/wings: 6. Colour/pattern: 7. Bonus feature of your choice:

Process: - Suggestions either given by audience or generated by a randomiser (I used randompokemon.com) - Each suggestion matched chronologically with the #shinonhybrid template (eg. Head: Pikachu, Body: Bidoof) - Bonus suggestion is an attribute of your choice (eg. pattern, horns, tail) - If a pokemon doesn't have a certain feature, I swap it with the next suggestion that does - Some artistic liberty is taken like altered proportions - Primary type is determined by the most dominant type among all suggestions. Secondary typing may be by personal choice. Type icons from Legends Arceus, set in an alternate dimension - Name follows Paradox Pokemon naming convention - Description is a summary of what the hybrid's behaviour could be

REGAL DRAKE:

Draconid in appearance yet not a dragon, they are rare and generally shy despite their large, fearsome appearance. Its long tail acts as a rudder for steering and balance in water, though it can also be swung in defence at foes. Regal Drake is not a fast swimmer as it does not rely on speed to succeed, but intelligence and patience. It moves on land by hopping, similar to a rabbit.

Genuinely didn't expect this hybrid to turn out surprisingly cool and I quite enjoyed bringing it to life! I wondered what to name them and figured on something based on how they look like. I'd imagine their behaviour to be a bit like Lapras. Took the star-shaped patterns and translucent ends of appendages from Nihilego to give a more ethereal appearance. The colour reminds me of a prawn... Thank you, Magikarp 🤣

GEM SEEKER:

The design and colours of this reminds me of a Joseon-period royal consort. Admittedly I had issues coming up with an interesting pose especially with those blocky arms. I also pondered on what type of spirit controls its host like how Sinistea possesses an antique teacup. Seeing as this was Rock type, I thought of gems and crystals. Perhaps Gem Seeker was a prospector, wealthy merchant or noble lady in its past life?

I also figured it could also be a child spirit who just wants to collect shiny things. It probably hovers to move around in stereotypical Ghost-like fashion. Took the eyes from Brambleghast as I thought they looked cool!

STRIPED STRIKER:

Naturally aggressive, Striped Striker will attack any potential threats to defend itself until it emerges victorious or gets too beat up in the process. Its fearlessness is a double-edged sword as it often finds itself in trouble. In battle, its movements are quick and explosive, focusing on speed and power.

This hybrid was actually more difficult than I expected to figure out in anatomy and proportions. I wanted an interesting pose but at the same time needed to figure out how to draw the Roggenrola body :" ) I'd imagine its behaviour to be similar to a mix of Blaziken and Tsareena.

This will be the last of the #shinonhybrid prompts I'll be doing for now! I personally liked how Regal Drake turned out the most.

SOCIALS: Linktree

Art © zyuna

(DON’T REPOST/USE MY ART)

[its-f4nf4n-again]

hello i am here to ramble to the void.

life moves so fast, lately. speed of light & sound multiplied until each breath, each moment, is a speck of dust against infinity.

was life always like this? time spiralling away from me like the echoes of a stone thrown into deep water?

i wonder if this summer has irrevocably broken my perception. of time, of love, of all things. if the way i felt dragged through marsh mud in july and august means that now my feet moving at normal speed makes me feel like the fastest man alive.

the farther we get from the inciting incident, the easier it is to forget about it. until a single moment threatens to unspool all the effort undertaken to regather the threads of existence and arrange them into order. often, it make sense. an announcement, a birth. sometimes it is a health insurance commercial, the produce aisle at the grocery store filled with so many strange reminders.

expensive yoghurt, left to rot in the fridge because it's too painful to look at. a label peeled from a bottle to disguise its contents.

and all the while, the earth spins, and time speeds onward like a train intent on destruction. it's winter, now. the spring will unfurl itself soon after and i will stare at the daffodils with envy and want. i will cry as the first blooms shake away their ice to puncture the frigid white with vibrant color.

and nothing will stop, the days will keep bleeding into one another--an endless parade of not yets and what ifs. i wish i could hibernate, refuse to participate in a world designed to make me forget, to keep moving forward when i'd rather stay trapped to my knees in the marsh, sinking; listening to the breeze sway the cattails and whisper songs through their broken stems, reeds like panflutes.

a lullaby, maybe.

[allqrcoded]

Devlog 5: Where are we headed? + Year end origin stories

Welcome back.

In all seriousness, I don't know how to number these things. Does the counter restart once the game you were talking about last dev log finishes production? Do you just keep on continuing despite now starting a new project? Either way, I'll go on & keep this as is. The year's almost ending and I feel like it's about time to announce the new game I'm working on (as if it weren't obvious that the MCs were revealed in my art blog months ago, but either way...)

With angel care officially being released on July of this year along with into sun&dark being a mini game jam project I sent out within the same time, there left a hole in my heart where handling a big project such as a game cemented itself in. Albeit, working on angel care has been a wild journey to say the least, but throughout it, I found out that telling stories through games allows me to merge the 2 things I love doing (writing & art). If making comics didn't click for me and solely writing a novel makes me worry about the specific character designs that might get lost, then making games is perfect.

Whilst the characters of angel care were solely made out of new OCs, Lucas and Del from sundark were actually repurposed characters from an old story I never completed. The universes weren't exactly the same, but the concept of doomsday remained. Rex from this new project, Descent to Negative Zero, follows the same repurposing. This time, it's about someone who comes back… Again, yes, but that trope is my favorite.

Origin stories

If you've been a follower of my art blog since last year, you might've seen a character I drew during October, Ace, with another character from a fandom I was active in (Daybreak.) He was a submission in a contest, but never got in, so I shelved him for a bit until this year, thinking that I could use him for an RPGMaker game in the future, since I always had the dream to make one (and guess where we are right now...) A bit dismayed because I had a fondness for him at that time, I clung onto that "maybe." And so, he sat there for a while, and eventually, my fondness for him faded away once I got the idea of angel care. Long live his skater boy and bunny motif along with his pink dyed hair.

And, look! Some drafts of the AC trio from last year too. But, moving onto Ace and fast forward to the final stretches of the AC bug-fixing hell...

(^ I remember back then that I really liked this final piece. Sometimes I keep thinking to myself that last year's events were from 2 years ago.)

My mind then drifted to Ace again... Disappearances and mist snatching, huh? Well, disappearing sounds good for a plot point, but I still need to work around the mist thing (Daybreak character entrails he left that I needed to clean up before he's completely separate from it.) The bunny motif and the pink hair were cute too. I wasn't too sure about the skater thing, so I decided to change it.

Long story short, he transformed from a skater to a shoegazer (my projection. I just wanted to include that song genre into this because I love it and for the sake of OST potential too). Kyle (the dude I used to draw him with a lot) needed a replacement too, so thus, his skater boy gene got transferred to Josh, his new best friend. Whilst that whole tangent was a big factor in the repurposing stage, in terms of clothes, Rexosh both wear some items in my closet that I just took and adjusted a bit -- both came from thrift stores, actually! Knowing that, I decided to make them thrifters and have them go to one in an early game flashback.

Right now, I don't have the jacket Josh wears because that's being tailored, but most of the elements are inspired by that.

I won’t spoil too much of the plot, but I will say that it’s connected to one of my previous games. Dt-z almost became a short summer visual novel until sundark came along and replaced it instead. Whilst its main element in the story stayed the same, it turned more puzzle-focused in the end.

Progress report/since when?

Starting up the project during summer, it’s been around four months since I made the first (yes, since it did get corrupted in some instances) RPGMaker file for it. Right now, I’m around coding the mid-point of the game with a bunch of placeholders in the project to get the ball rolling in the coding space since making parallax maps takes a while for me. Dt-z is more visually out there than AC, with the use of shadow overlays and what not. Making them for dozens of maps is a bit tedious (so, that’s why I’m putting that job in the late coding stage), but the end result is stunning.

As I’m writing this, I’ve paused on coding one of the mid-game puzzles. Surprisingly, I get a lot of stuff done in the weekends with this project. Making the solutions for them is a bit time-consuming, yes, but seeing it play out makes it worth it. Unlike AC, I don’t have all the time in the world to work on this game because of IRL matters, etc. So, the fact that I still managed to get a good amount of progress in just 4 months is pretty good. The dialogue doc for this game is also done in areas regarding important cutscenes, including a rough draft of what the end game would be like (right now, it's longer than AC's script page count wise! Maybe that's because I included some flavor text there.) I still have to adjust aspects of the script to keep their situation plausible there, but other than that, it's good. Without any context, here are some screenshots of what the maps look like from October and a recent one I took:

Albeit, I still need to adjust some things accordingly, but since this project is still in its baby stage, I'm not prioritizing that sort of thing right now.

So far, I'm trying to avoid the trend of RPGMaker game puzzles needing to find a key in every room and while puzzle making is a thing I'm not that experienced with, I realized that I took most of my inspiration with them with the games I've been playing these months, Death Mark and Spirit Hunter: NG.

Of course, me picking up those games wasn't because of wanting to take inspiration from them first — I just wanted a way to de-stress, but after a bit, I took some mental notes in my mind. NG's puzzles are very satisfying to solve. Whilst this dev log isn't focused on what games I played for the month, let's just say that I preferred NG over DM for a variety of things.

Moreover, I've been adjusting the endings and the way you get lore tidbits through the story to make the true end of the game pack more of a punch so that by the time you go ending hunting, you won't get dragged down by the same realizations the characters go through. There's a lot of flavor text I have to write, essentially.

Let's talk about themes

Continuing the trend of wanting to explore themes close to my heart in my bigger projects, Dt-z is in the same light with AC. Whilst the mood is entirely different (color palette not so cool/winter, characters being younger, even the premise being puzzle focused), Dt-z's themes were the ones that more or less defined my summers, just like how AC defined my winters (even if where I lived didn't snow, but, nevertheless, the phrasing still sticks).

I like to think that making art, helps me process stuff a bit and that's why I still got an itch in me to take up another big project similar to AC despite me knowing that this year would be busier than the last. I'm remaining vague here to not spoil the entire plot of it, but let's say that I hold the message I want to say through this dear to my heart. There's a lot I want to say regarding these two games (including sundark!), but I want to work on letting my audience make up their own conclusion on the work just based off the content without my involvement.

Albeit, as an artist, I've always had this selfish desire in me to want everyone to get this one conclusion — this one reading on what I worked on because with every piece I make, there's always a message I want to tell. But, through the years, I've gotten to the point where I stopped pseudo-denying the fact that people aren't like that. I've started even enjoying other readings of my work because through them, I get to see more perspectives I haven't even considered whilst keeping the main point in mind. So, let's just say that AC is about death and angels and winter and friendship and love. And with Dt-z, it's about love too because love is just universal.

Thanks for coming

Restraining myself from talking more about Dt-z's details… In summary, I've been enjoying working on this project. Rexosh really are fun to draw & I want to share their story sometime once I'm finished. I want to write more trivia blogs later on with my released games (especially AC because I have a lot to talk about there), but for now, I'll keep on going.

[deanwax]

A TALE OF TWO THEATRES

Two juxtaposing journal entries about theatre shows I've seen, and how art can upset you as well as make you feel alive.

***

9 June 2022

Very unpleasant experience at theatre last night. I didn't journal it - I didn't even put a set snap on Instagram. I'd rather forget. It would have been a nice show, except it's hard to call it a show. Instead, it was a 50-minute endurance test of Man vs Sound. I can handle brief loud noises. I can handle many sustained loud noises. I cannot handle 50 consecutive minutes of absolutely BLARING, maximum bass, penetrating music with virtually no reprieve. It was. So. Loud. Ridiculous. It was all I could do [to] physically block my ears and try to suppress urges to tear out of there like a bat out of hell or yell at the sound technician. I could not focus at all. It got comical at points - like oh, good, there's a fucking tuba now. That was a hostile creative choice. But not for long. Then the discomfort set back in. It would have been much the same if the actors simply yelled in my face: YOU'RE AUTISTIC. YOU'RE AUTISTIC AND THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU AND EVERYONE IS GOING TO KNOW THAT SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU. Awful. And I usually mask very easily because I was socialised as a girl.

I made a comment in the survey afterwards and I managed to keep it civil, but I am angry that I even had to divulge that I'm on the spectrum at all because of such a stupid production decision. I had to listen to Softy's Green River Stones meditation song he made on repeat the whole train ride home. I am very grateful for Tama's Discord server. They were sympathetic (especially Sunny who is autistic too) and helped me feel better. And I picked out a nice Italian restaurant for lunch on Saturday, so there's that to look forward to, too.

WALK - July 2022 - Blue Room Theatre

[scrawled in the top margin] (my hand in agony from writing fast due to excitement)

Absolute joy of the form! (Joy of the form! Joy of the form!) Oh! Another dance performance, completely and literally in the dark: I was as a newborn babe. Strobe lights blind us and we glimpse a lone figure in the doorway of a set filled with dark shapes. The lighting in this show was incredible: the lights danced just as much as the dancer. It was an incredible [symbiosis]. The figure tried to walk forward from the doorway but kept getting pulled back into the light. The music was alien and surreal.

[annotated in the margin] -> core memory: the shell of human ears against a writhing silhouette. fantastic.

It became almost primordial when the dancer crawled inside a misshapen swathe of fabric suspended from two wires. They writhed like a worm and then the fabric raised to reveal a great monstrosity of pleats, silks, ruffles and fringe bathed in green light. It moved as though two people were puppeting it, I was genuinely second-guessing myself that someone might have been hiding there since before the audience filed in but no: it was just ingenious costume (set?) design. A face and hands emerged from the beast and then the dancer too, walked away from that. They emerged in tin foil armour that eclipsed their vision, with a chest plate resembling a labia.They sat in a pyramid of light strips that rapidly oscillated bright colours. In a frenzy of techno they started to struggle, the armour twisting and turning backwards, the helmet eventually pulling free and levitating in the pyramid on a wire. Rave music starts to doof. We're all wired. The dancer pulls on a fringe coat (yes!) and a baseball cap with a full veil of fringe (YES!!) and they DANCE. They dance to the primordial gods. They dance as thought the helmet is their enemy. They dance until they drop.

Unclothed and amidst their fabrics, a spoken word poem plays. It speaks of hurt and defense mechanisms, of fear and armour. It's definitely rape trauma. And everything makes sense! But the poem also speaks of hope: a world that is gentle and and bright and shimmering. The dancer delicately gathers up their things, playfully exploring their set as though they see it from a new perspective. A sexy dress is held up against their body. They waltz with it and carry it backstage. They return and uncover a green wig in the corner. It briefly represents a new lover.  Then they don the wig themselves and a new, more colourful fringe jacket (YESS!!!). And then things get CAMP. We're talking a full werk and lip sync to an empowering pop song. In these moments I understand the cultural significance of drag. Proximity and empathy is required to fully enjoy it, which is why the distant commercialism of Ru Paul's Drag Race falls flat. I was giddy, laughing and clapping like a child. An absolute joy to behold.

***

Author's note: They are very passionate about inclusivity at Blue Room. Loud noises have been disclaimed in the show warnings ever since and earplugs are now available for shows with loud sounds.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE WATER WILL STILL HAVE TO PRETEND THAT'S WHAT THEY'RE DOING

At any given time, there are all kinds of excuses for delaying their launch. If you do this right, you may find that founders have moved on. A fundraising. Why do you use? Early Launching too slowly has probably killed a hundred times more startups than launching too fast, but haven't been doing it for a couple weeks, it will be more like your brother? Empirically, it's not that high a cost. There's no concept of office hours are clustered at the end of California Ave in Palo Alto.

But this custom is spreading too slowly, because VCs worry there will not be the actual statement of the author's main point seems to be to start with. A notation for code using trees of symbols. Founders would start to move there. One of the reasons kids give up drawing at ten or so is that they won't even fund them. Investors will try to invest at a lower valuation even when your price has already been set by a prior investment at a pre-money valuation is $1. What were we going to do really great things, this didn't happen intentionally. If you want to buy you, don't discard the idea. And what pressure it would put on the city if it worked. Startup is a pole rather than a pleasure. Culture is important in any organization, but at its strongest it is far stronger. In most fields the great work is done for you. Yahoo didn't care about GPAs.

In 1960, software development meant ten programmers writing code, product managers thinking about feature lists and ship dates, support people yes, there were actually support people telling users to restart their browsers, and so on balance I'm grateful rather than angry. They'll invest in you if you seem like you know what you're measuring. But it's not enough for a CEO to have someone smart he can ask about philosophy. Before you buy anything, ask yourself: will this be something I use constantly? But hacking is like writing. That sends two useful signals to investors: that you're doing well or badly designed; why should this be uniquely impossible for programming languages substantially. The Trouble with the Segway July 2009 The Segway hasn't delivered on its initial promise, to put it into words. Thanks to Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, Eric Raymond, and several anonymous CS professors for reading drafts of this.

Things are different now, of course, is that if there were any language problems at Real Madrid, since the players were from about eight different reasons mixed together in the usual way startups take off is for the programmer. And, like anyone who gets better at their job, you'll probably be struck by how different it feels when your computer is disconnected from the Internet. There are two things that take attention: convincing investors, and acquirers forms a natural ecosystem. At Rehearsal Day, we have to teach business: 1 that people work harder on stuff they like, but it should be hard. The Anatomy of Determination September 2009 Like all investors, including all VCs I know, when it was IBM before them. But it should help. I don't know whether your overall uncertainty is mostly justified or mostly bogus. Perhaps it's not just that he'd be annoying, but because he spent all his time free for math. 4%, and FreeBSD 1.

You can either dig a hole that's broad but shallow, or one of them is much higher valuations. I was trying to answer was how many there were of them. A friend of mine travelled by train from Boston to Providence. If having less power prevents investors from overcontrolling startups, it turns out to be as cheap as possible, preferably in the first couple months of a startup's life, when you go from merely having an interest in starting a startup could grow big by being nice, but you shouldn't have a fixed amount of wealth in the world look like this? In fact, worse than arrogant: since readers are used to companies ignoring them. Faster Advances There's a good side to that, at this early stage, the product needs to evolve more than to be a good thing. That will require some diplomacy if you follow the trail through the pointy-haired boss has no idea how wide this band is, but how do you make good stuff? Let yourself be second guessed. You don't pitch stories to them. I don't expect to convince anyone over 25 to go out and discover startups when they're young, before VCs have puffed them up into something that costs about $200, and that one should judge talent at its best, and wisdom the judgement to know how to run the world? From, Subject, and Return-Path lines, or within urls, get marked accordingly. Many who respond to something disagree with it, you should try to stay as close friends as you can; rewrite it over and over in technology.

For example, when Leonardo painted the portrait of Ginevra de Benci, their attention is often immediately arrested by it, because a they do fewer deals, b they're happy to split them, and judged them less by what they tell you. Good design looks easy. But building new things takes too long. And this is not generally the way we work: a normal job in the same way Los Angeles specializes in movies, or New York, Cambridge, and in which performance is measured is by how they react to a challenge. Men's Wearhouse was at that moment running ads saying The Suit is Back. The most striking example I know of zero instances in which he did for programming something like what Euclid did for geometry. And since good people like to be able to solve part of the patent problem without waiting for the government knows, the way to take advantage of technological change instead of fighting it.

Thanks to Qasar Younis, Robert Morris, Sam Altman, Daniel Gackle, Max Roser, and Geoff Ralston for the lulz.

[weywardwisdom]

Here’s a heads-up for First Peoples—the names and images of some people who've died are in here.

Coming to Narrung?

Did I say? The quickest route from Tarndanya is via the South Eastern Freeway.

Ok, that’s not the freeway. It’s where the freeway might take you.

Hmmm, what does a freeway make you think of? Jolly long journeys? Sneaky speed cameras? Koala corridors? A road shared? Idiot drivers?

(Illustration by Jeannette Rowe, with Wyrid fair use)

The Freeway always reminds me of my mum. Yes, my chummy never humdrum mum. She was thrilled when the freeway was built—so glad to get off the old slow elbow-bend road.

‘Two lanes are great!’ she raved. ‘I can get to the Bridge in under an hour.’

Our puzzled Pop asked:

‘How fast do you go?’

Mum replied:

‘140kph’.

Pop coughed and spluttered. And then pointed out:

‘The speed limit is 100kph’.

‘No’, Mum insisted. ‘It’s a free-way. It’s free of speed limits’.

Pop—who’d worked all his life in the railways—was all for us using public transport. On the old rattlers, I grew up sharing seats with lots of old battlers. Their quick nod or slight smile made me feel safe when travelling on my own.

Once upon a time, this state had public transport routes everywhere. Once upon a time, you could hop on a morning steam-train to Milang, catch a steam-boat across the lake and be letting off steam at the Narrung jetty by 2.15pm. And then you could make ‘the return trip’ the very next morning (The Story of Narrung, Leta Padman,19).

Those days are long gone.

In the 1970s, said Pop, the gubment was all ready to rock-n-roll with its roll out of rolling stock for a clean green electric rail service. But it came voting time. And guess who pushed the ease and prestige of private cars! Voters went for a gubment onside with the big fossil fuel and car industries.

Sad day for clean air. Sad day for the climate. Sad day for folks sitting side by side. Good day for Carmageddon.

50 odd years on—the local car industry has gone. But W.e.i.r.d. gubments are still building W.e.i.r.d. roads with ‘room for more cars’. And guess what makes about ‘a third of total greenhouse gas emissions’—and growing (2024, planning and design, Roadsaustralia).

How many people in Tarndanya drive their cars to work? Over 80%. How many of those are driver-only cars? Around 78% (2016, Charting Transport). Only 10% of workers use public transport (2024, July, Stuck in traffic).

Have we learnt nothing from First Peoples?

Too many of us land-grabbers still think First Peoples weren’t smart enough to invent the wheel. There’s a scientific term for this. It’s ‘scientific racism’!

Thing is. Why waste time making something that’s not needed?

In the pre-war years of the 20th century, owning a buggy that didn’t need horses to pull it, was ‘unusual’. Only the wealthy could afford to. It wasn’t till after the Second Wourld War, that ownership of a car became more ‘common’ (Australian Bureau of Statistics).

So in terms of motor inventions, First Peoples were way ahead. In 1909 Ngarrindjeri inventor David Unaipon took out patents for several motors and moving mechanical devices. In 1914, at a time when cars could only just splutter along at around 12mph, he made plans for a helicopter. And helicopters weren’t a going concern Germans made them so in war-time 1941. Unaipon predicted:

‘An aeroplane can be manufactured that will rise straight into the air from the ground by the application of the boomerang principle. The boomerang is shaped to rise in the air according to the velocity with which it is propelled, and so can an aeroplane. This class of flying machine can be carried on board ship, the immense advantages of which are obvious.' (1914, July 17,  A Wonderful Darkie. The Richmond River Herald, 7)

And who invented a wheel that’s ‘multiradial’ in 1927? David Unaipon’s son, Talmadge [Tolly] Unaipon (2023, David Unaipon, Inventor, 6).

‘What amazing people they were. These old people were absolutely brilliant in every way’, observed Ngarrindjeri writer Kym Kropinyeri (2023, David Unaipon, Inventor, 3).

How brilliant would Ngarrindjeri be today—without two hundred odd years of land-grabbers’ genocide?!

Thing is, Ngarrindjeri elders have always liked to share—even their modes of transport.

~ How did First Peoples get to the big gatherings held at the sea-mouth of this land’s longest river? In convoys of boats!

~How did First Peoples get to cultural or community events, like dances and sporting matches in the 19th century? In convoys of horse-and-carts.

~ How did First Peoples get to Ngannawal lands to protest the gubment’s big cuts to their funding in 1996? Convoys of buses!

~ How did Ngarrindjeri elders get to the High Court to protect their lands and waters in 1997? Convoy of buses.

~ How did Ngarrindjeri elders show their Stolen Generations around their lands and waters in 1998? Convoy of buses.

First People’s boat-building know-how is so good, land-grabbers haven’t known how to copy it. Their boats—I suspect—were the first in the world to have on board heating and cooking.

How do I know? Labiomancy? Which—I quickly add—means reading the lips on someone’s face.

But no. Thanks to social media.

So. You too can see Major Sumner (Moogy) using this boat-building technology (Uncle Moogy's Yuki - Murray River, SA).

Boat-building means great deal to many Ngarrindjeri. The living trees from which the boats were built mean a great deal to many Ngarrindjeri.

Someone took an axe to this yuki tree at Currency Creek, ring-barked it and painted it with red racist remarks. It was Jan 26, 1999. Would the tree survive? Ngarrindjeri elders sent out the call for healing. Even at short notice, hundreds came to the gathering, laid gentle hands on the tree and left tokens of love.

Tree lived for many more years.

And. Then a W.e.i.r.d. YT nation had a party for its federation in 2001. So, what did a Yorta Yorta warrior use to come down the river from its source to the sea? He gave his clever sturdy craft to the Ngarrindjeri nation.

Ok, we land-grabbers call them canoes, not boats. But since the large ones can carry several people I think the upgrade to ‘boat’ is very much needed. Besides, the way they are made is awesome. ‘It’s a community effort’, points out Aunty Charlotte’s son (Canoe Making).

Did we land-grabbers learn those caring and sharing ways?

No, we fenced off the land, and wouldn’t let First Peoples in. We put the big river gums out of bounds to Ngarrindjeri. No more boat-making for them. We mass felled the trees to build or fuel our own boats—used for stealing more and more lands.

The outcome was brutal. The 'lifestyle choices' of the YT invaders soon led to Ngarrindjeri starving. Land-grabber George Mason, with the W.e.i.r.d. rank of ‘Sub-protector of Aborigines’, went to a gubment inquiry in 1860.

Question: ‘Do you think that the natives about the lakes have now the means they once possessed of forming canoes?’

Mason: ‘The land is all purchased round the lake, and the owners won’t allow them to go in to cut bark off the gum trees’.

Question: ‘Canoes are sometimes necessary, are they not, for them to procure food on the lake?’

Mason: ‘They cannot procure food without them’ (1860, Report, quoted in 1979, Conquest of the Ngarrindjeri, 90).

And police trooper, T Rickaby, made things even clearer:

‘I found about 40 there in a most wretched and pitiful condition, not only from the want of proper covering... but food itself’ (Parliamentary Paper 151/1860 quoted in McLeay, Point, Nomenclature, State Library).

Whose voice was missing in 1860?

Whose voice was still not heeded in 2023?

And who still has a long way to go?

[focsle]

Kicks down the door to talk about whaler George Johnson, on the subject of whalers falling Somewhere Under The LGBTQ Umbrella. I mentioned Johnson before on this post, in a discussion of women disguising themselves as whalers. I hadn’t found much more written about Johnson’s experience up to this point. BUT! Jen Manion’s book Female Husbands: A Trans History was able to trace Johnson’s life long after that voyage. Rather than a circumstantial donning of an identity to fit in on a ship, it seems Johnson continued to live as a man in the years that followed as well.

In 1849, Ann Johnson of Rochester New York signed on the whaleship the Christopher Mitchell under the name George Johnson. Well-liked on the ship, later newspapers characterized the seven months Johnson was a whaler:

“She performed her duty faithfully for the seven months previous to her discovery, never shrinking from going aloft, even in the worst weather or the darkest night. She also pulled her oar twice in pursuit of whales, but the boat in which she belonged had never been fast to one of the monsters, or perhaps her courage might have failed her.  She was a general favorite on board, never mixing with the crew any more than was absolutely necessary. Her quiet inoffensive behavior has also very much prepossessed the Captain and his officers in her favor.“ —Emancipator & Republican, Boston Mass, Jan 31 1850

After the whaling voyage Johnson was shortly arrested in the Five Points neighborhood in New York under suspicions of larceny meaning…spending the hard-earned from that whaling trip and the cops were like ‘THAT’S A LOT OF MONEY CLEARLY IT ISN’T YOURS.’

Before the magistrate, Johnson related where it came from.

“Consequently to fulfill her designs, she proceeded to Nantucket, under the garb of a sailor, and took passage in a whaling ship for a three years’ cruise. In this disguise the young woman maintained her position among the other men in the forecastle for over seven months, until the 5th of July, after rounding Cape Horn, the ship put into Pico for water, and while the ship thus lay at anchor by a mere accident her sex was discovered. The fact was soon communicated to the captain who transferred his female sailor to the care of the American Consul.”  The paper went on to characterize Johnson as having a “very good looking countenance, short stature and broad built; her hair was cut short; she both chewed and smoked tobacco, and talked sailor lingo very fluently, which is generally of a plain nature, embellished now and then in their own way.” —Boston Daily Mail, Jan 17 1850.

In the years that followed, Johnson moved to Pittsburg and worked in factories, on riverboats, and had a brief but unsuccessful stint trying to open a fruit and confectionary shop. During all those years, Johnson lived as a man. On returning to work at a whip factory, this time in Westfield Massachusetts, Johnson’s identity was yet again ‘discovered’ and opined on in the papers in 1856.

“A Male Girl — A Young Woman has been working in the factory of the American whip company at Westfield, Massachusetts during the last six months, attired in male clothes. She pretended to be a nice young man of 17, smoked strong cigars, was a successful beau among the young ladies, and acted her part as a modern gentlemen very well to all outside appearances”. —Brother Jonathan, June 14, 1856.

The New York Herald wrote on Johnson that summer too,

“The Pittsburg papers are full of the adventures of a young woman who for some years past has figured in that city as a dashing young man…in all her wanderings up to this time, her secret was never suspected, and it is to be regretted she was not able to remain undiscovered and earn an honest living under the protection of male attire.”

19th century newspapers are always operating under a specific societal angle, but in reading between the lines of them I’m glad to see more information on this person’s life and identity, and to see that Johnson was striving to always live in accordance to that identity.

you ever read journals from gay or bi whalers????

Not explicitly, but that’s so often the way of things regarding lgbtq+ history. Are the men whose journals I’ve read who occasionally describe their fellow whalers as fine/good-looking or handsome attracted to them, or simply using complimentary language? Does one man saying he played as another man’s “lady” at a dance during a gam mean anything regarding his identity in relation to other men, or was it simply the language he used to say he danced as the opposite partner in an all-male space? Who knows! Maybe, maybe not. Is a mate goading the men in his boat's crew by saying:

"I love you, my dear fellows, yes, yes, I do; I'll do anything for you, I'll give you my heart's blood to drink"

anything? Dunno! Sure is hot and weird tho!

Scholar Margaret Creighton highlighted one whaler, Elias Trotter, as someone who forged--if not romantic--very close emotional relationships with other men. This included both men he met briefly on gams as well as men aboard his ship.

He described one man, Charles Wheeler, on a gam saying that he ‘drew my attention on account of his manly beauty, activity, and intelligence’, and spent the entire gam speaking with him alone for hours, lamenting at the end the inevitable parting when both ships went on their way. He also developed a close relationship with someone on his ship named Longworth.

Dan W. Everton is a graduate student who spent time researching Trotter, and at a talk highlighted an excerpt of Trotter’s description of Longworth. I found it very poignant and it gives a little bit of insight to one man's perception of another, as well as the specificity of life at sea:

“During the night watches Longworth and myself will paint a pleasing future and will count and cipher out the many days to elapse before we tread our native soil. Will build many castles in the air and then with sober thought will crush them. How truly does sympathy entwine around the heart and produce friendship in its purest, fondest state. How such interchange of thought foments affection? I flatter myself tis even so with us, for, when after these interchanges of thought, of hope, of sympathy I know and feel that the friendship between us grows stronger and more lasting. At sea, there is no formality. Man acts himself and tis here that none has an opportunity of seeing his fellow in all his impurities as well as in all his goodness. I take pride in writing that, in every circumstance and in all duties, Longworth during the last twelve months has shown himself to be one of nature’s noblemen, so kind, so good, so free.”

Since Trotter’s journal hasn’t been digitized I haven’t been able to read it myself since I don't have physical access to the collection it lives in! I'm really hoping that it will be digitized (or fully transcribed) one day though.

The only (very scant) records I’ve seen explicitly regarding same sex activity on whaleships have been non-consensual instances in which there was disciplinary action taken. And that disciplinary action was also in connection with other violence/threats of violence from the man in question that led to his expulsion.

How consensual same sex relations on a whaleship may have been regarded and navigated is a bit of an unknown. But as with any same-sex occupation (especially something as lengthy and isolating as whaling, where one would maybe get liberty ashore every 6ish months) there were undoubtedly going to be same sex acts and partnerships. To say otherwise would be silly, I think. The absence of their mention gives me the sense that it was something people tended to look the other way with (or circumstantially accepted) if parties were consenting, rather than that they just didn’t happen at all. Herman Melville’s ‘oh I love you my fellows’ Moby Dick chapter that’s just an extended mutual masturbation pun has to come from somewhere. And not just from the notion that Melville likely loved men. But uhhh if you want a gay/bi whaler, there’s probably Melville, at the very least.

[spacenutspod]

The Ingenuity helicopter continues to explore the landscape around Jezero Crater on Mars, now more than 800 days into its original 30-day demonstration mission. Recently, Ingenuity completed its 54th flight on the Red Planet. However, things haven’t gone exactly to plan the past several weeks. On its 53rd fight on July 22, 2023, the helicopter cut the flight short after one of its warnings was triggered, implementing the “LAND_NOW” protocol. Ingenuity should have flown for 136 seconds but was only in the air for 74 seconds before performing an emergency landing. The good news is that the emergency landing procedure worked as it should, and Ingenuity has ‘lived’ to fly another day. This image of NASA’s Perseverance Mars rover – visible at the top, right of center – was taken at an altitude of about 16 feet (5 meters) by the Ingenuity Mars Helicopter during its 54th flight on Aug. 3, 2023, 872nd Martian day, or sol, of the mission. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech “Since the very first flight we have included a program called ‘LAND_NOW’ that was designed to put the helicopter on the surface as soon as possible if any one of a few dozen off-nominal scenarios was encountered,” said Teddy Tzanetos, team lead emeritus for Ingenuity at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California, in a press release. “During Flight 53, we encountered one of these, and the helicopter worked as planned and executed an immediate landing.” While Ingenuity’s team back on Earth is still working to determine exactly why the emergency landing happened, for the 54th flight on August 3, the helicopter was instructed to make a short hop to see if the problem persisted. The team is still analyzing the data, but the 25-second up-and-down hop hopefully provided information that could help determine why flight 53 ended early. Flight 53 was a complicated flight. The plan was for Ingenuity to collect imagery of a rocky outcrop to scout ahead for the Perseverance Mars rover science team. The complex flight profile included flying north 666 feet (203 meters) at an altitude of 16 feet (5 meters) and a speed of 5.6 mph (2.5 meters per second), then descending vertically to 8 feet (2.5 meters), where it would hover and obtain imagery of the outcrop. Ingenuity would then climb straight up to 33 feet (10 meters) to allow its hazard divert system to initiate before descending vertically to touch down. Look who it is! I recently drove right past Ingenuity and got a pic after it ended its 53rd flight early. Happy to say it’s since completed a 54th flight to check out its systems. (Even caught a glimpse of me too!) Latest #MarsHelicopter status: https://t.co/CL280i0K6k pic.twitter.com/vJsHZUEk9z— NASA's Perseverance Mars Rover (@NASAPersevere) August 8, 2023 Instead, the helicopter executed the first half of its autonomous journey, flying north at an altitude of 16 feet (5 meters) for 466 feet (142 meters). Then the flight-contingency program was triggered, and Ingenuity automatically landed after 74 seconds. Based on the data so far, Ingenuity team is fairly confident that the early landing was triggered when image frames from the helicopter’s navigation camera didn’t sync up as expected with data from the rotorcraft’s inertial measurement unit. This glitch in the image pipeline threw the timing sequence off and confused the craft about its location. The IMU measures Ingenuity’s acceleration and rotational rates – data that makes it possible to estimate where the helicopter is, how fast it is moving, and how it is oriented in space. This glitch happened before. Back on May 22, 2021, multiple image frames were dropped, resulting in excessive pitching and rolling near the end of Flight 6. After that flight, the team updated the flight software to help mitigate the impact of dropped images. The fix worked well for the subsequent 46 flights. However, on Flight 53 the quantity of dropped navigation images exceeded what the software patch allows. “While we hoped to never trigger a LAND_NOW, this flight is a valuable case study that will benefit future aircraft operating on other worlds,” said Tzanetos. “The team is working to better understand what occurred in Flight 53, and with Flight 54’s success we’re confident that our baby is ready to keep soaring ahead on Mars.” Keep tabs on Ingenuity at the Mars Helicopter blog. The post NASA's Mars Helicopter Had an Unscheduled Landing, But Flew Again appeared first on Universe Today.

[alln64games]

Virtual Chess 64

NA release: 10th June 1998

PAL release: July 1998

JP release: N/A

Developer: Titus

Publisher: Titus

N64 Magazine Score: 76%

I wasn’t expecting much from Virtual Chess as it’s just chess, but at least you can’t mess up chess – or so I thought. Against all odds, Titus have managed to achieve the impossible and create a chess game that looks bad and controls poorly.

The analogue stick or d-pad move the cursor, but way, way too fast so you need to perform the quickest tap or move the stick immensely slightly. With the 3D view, you expect the c-buttons to control the camera and they do – at least two of them do. c-right spins the board right while c-left spins the board up. It’s impossible to find a good camera angle and adjusting is itself a big pain.

When a piece is taken, you see the pieces fighting (similar to Battle Chess), only the designs of al the characters are absolutely hideous and carry no charm whatsoever. As it doesn’t happen with the other pieces on show, it also feels completely disjointed from the main game.

You can choose a 2D board. I turned it on and was presented with a really baffling design. I checked the options and found no way to change it – although I eventually figured out that c-left and c-right can change the the look of the board and pieces.

Now, there is one aspect that Virtual Chess is competent in, and that’s playing chess. The problem is that it’s too good. While it’s got 17 levels of difficulty, the first beginner level will trounce most people – especially if they’re using the 3D view that makes it very difficult to judge how pieces can move.

There are plenty of good chess games, but this is just trash. I’m amazed that it got good reviews

The game itself is pretty difficult, as you’ve expect but, throughout the contest, you can seek the CPU’s ideal move by pressing the B button. Strangely, though, it’ll sometimes tell you to move to a certain place – which you do, trusting its judgement – and then move in on your King and devastate your second line. This back-stabbing occurs pretty frequently so, for the first timer, there’s really very little margin for error.

- Tim Weaver, N64 Magazine #18

Remake or remaster?

You can get much better chess games on your phone for free.

Official ways to get the game.

There is no official way to get Virtual Chess 64

[professional-cinephile]

Zach Lenardo’s strong run gave him a rousing win in 602 Crate Modifieds at Mahoning Valley Speedway

Two months ago when Edison NJ’s Zach Lenardo won his career first 602 Crate Modified feature at Mahoning Valley Speedway he was the benefactor of then leader Nick Baer misfortune of being bumped out of the front spot with six laps to go and inheriting the lead. He went on to claim the victory from there.

Fast forward 90 days and Lenardo was again behind Bear only this time he proved himself not by luck but talent. Lenardo started third and was quickly tucked in behind Bear at the outset while never letting the leader get any type of distance on him.

Matter of fact Lenardo was able to pull even with Baer by the seventh tour and two laps later take over the lead but the next time by it went right back to the No. 41. Not about to give in Lenardo returned the favor on Baer on the ensuing circuit and was then able to pull away after solidifying the lead. He was on cruise control the rest of the way, going unchallenged on his way to a solid second win.

“It was fantastic to get this win and I was just so focused. We worked on the car all week to get ready for tonight. We knew it would be tough with the competition we have in this class but all the hard work and hours paid off,” said the 16-year old Lenardo.

Although this is only his second time in Victory Lane with a stock car, winning is nothing new for Lenardo who comes out of Quarter Midgets with a boatload of victories. The close action between him and Baer carried him back to those days.

“That really brought me back to how we raced in Quarter Midgets battling like that back and forth almost every lap. You have to have respect and we do but there’s a limit too,” he noted.

“In the heat race we put an older tire (left rear) on and it really didn’t work out and then for the feature we changed it and it really settled down for us and it stuck great to the track,” he continued.

“This 602 class is so tough and there’s a lot of good drivers and when you have that you need to keep on your game. This was great too to win again here at Mahoning Valley, it’s where I started my stock car career and this is my home track.”

Baer was able to hold on for second tough in the closing laps a trio of cars came upon him with Bobby Jones racing side-by-side with Brody George and tucked in closely with them was Greyson Ahner.

Mark Hudson swept the night with the Late Models from his heat and onto the feature, leading every lap of the night in the process.

It was the second time winning this year for Hudson who bested Brian Romig Jr. Both drivers are now tied for the lead in the point standings.

Austin Santee picked his first Street Stock win in 12 years in the make-up July 15 feature. Santee was able to lead up until one lap to go when Cody Geist made a bold move for the top spot inside of Turn 3 and took the checkers first.

However, his pass was made to far inside the designated race area parameters and he was relegated back to second spot, giving Santee the victory, his first since September 17, 2011.

            In the regular feature Randy Ahner Jr., was just way too good over the rest of the pack en route to his first win of the season. Ahner Jr., unseated Todd Ahner for the lead after 10 laps complete and then dusted the field with no one in his sight by the time he reached the checkers over Eric Kocher.

            There has now been 11 different winners in 12 races thus far with the Street Stocks.

            Race #3 of the Evergreen Raceway/Mahoning Valley Speedway Dual Track Series for the 4 Cylinder Stocks/Hobby Stocks took place and in a performance that proves why he is a title contender, Mahoning point leader Cody Boehm won the 40-lap affair over Corey Edelman.

            Boehm snagged the lead from early pace setter Scott Adams and then pulled way out ahead to a four-plus second lead before seeing that wiped away due to a caution. On the restart Edelman was alongside and try as me may on that and two more re-go’s, Boehm would not relinquish his spot. Edelman settled for second with Jake Kibler third.

            What a birthday present Joe Steigerwalt got from his two kids as Gabrielle Steigerwalt led every lap of the Futures main and won for the third time. Meanwhile her younger brother and point leader Adam passed Caz Takacs at the line making it a one-two finish for the siblings.

            Josh Patterson passed Tyler Wagner midway through the ECTQM main and won for the first time with the TQ Midget club at Mahoning. Likewise with Jay Smith who also won for the first time with Modified Micro Stocks.

602 Crate Modified feature finish (25 laps): 1. Zach Lenardo, 2. Nick Baer, 3. Bobby Jones, 4. Brody George, 5. Greyson Ahner, 6. Avery Arthofer, 7. Branden Sullivan, 8. Nick Schaeffer, 9. Deegen Underwood, 10. Makayla Kohler, 11. Paul French Jr.

Late Model feature finish (25 laps): 1. Mark Hudson, 2. Brian Romig Jr., 3. Seth VanFossen, 4. Brooks Smith

Make-up Street Stock feature finish from 7/15 (30 laps): 1. Austin Santee, 2. Cody Geist, 3. TJ Gursky, 4. Randy Ahner Jr., 5. Eric Kocher, 6. Jillian Snyder, 7. Mark Deysher, 8. Jacob Boehm, 9. Jamie Smith, 10. Todd Ahner, 11. Randy Green, 12. Geary Rinehimer Jr., 13. Josh Kuronya, 14. Denis Buss

Regular Street Stock feature finish (30 laps): 1. R. Ahner Jr., 2. Kocher, 3. T. Ahner. 4. Deysher, 5. Geist, 6. Bennett, 7. Gursky, 8. Snyder, 9. Boehm, 10. Santee, 11. Green, 12. Smith, 13. Rinehimer Jr., 14. Kuronya

DTS Hobby Stock feature finish (40 laps): 1. Cody Boehm, 2. Corey Edelman, 3. Jake Kibler, 4. Parker Ahner, 5. Michael Wambold, 6. Travis Solomon, 7. Scott Adams, 8. Micah Adams, 9. Maggie Yeakel, 10. BJ Wambold, 11. Jared Frye, 12. Lyndsay Buss, 13. Don Bauder, 14. James Tout, 15. Jacob Boehm, 16. Nick Schaffer, 17. Mallory Kutz, 18. Shayne Geist, 19. Dave Imler Jr.

Futures feature finish (15 laps): 1. Gabrielle Steigerwalt, 2. Adam Steigerwalt, 3. Chaz Takacs, 4. Sarabeth Mesko, 5. Michael Klotz, 6. Adam Heckman, 7. Al Gildner, 8. Rodney Breiner, 9. Zoe Kuchera

ECTQM feature finish (20 laps): 1. Josh Paterson, 2. Tyler Wagner, 3. Don Zirinski, 4. Jeff Kot, 5. Lexi Przplynski, 6. Richie Coy, 7. Ozzy Carlino, 8. Dave Williams, 9. Graham Hughes, 10. Mark Czervinski, 11. Ken Hirt

Modified Micro Stock feature finish (12 laps): 1. Jay Smith, 2. Tom Ervin, 3. Tyler Wagner, 4. Richie Przybylinski, 5. Mike Haskins, 6. Jim Van Dine

MVS PR

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