#Holy Potatoes! Were In Space!?

[superblysubpar]

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Honey, On Your Knees

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Your husband and you get nasty in a church…again.

the song: Holy by King Princess

2.5k words

warnings: This fic is a part of my "Her Body Is Bible" AU - you can find the first story linked at the masterlist above | warnings from prev fic still apply - religious themes, and the holiday Christmas being celebrated | Mentions of trying to get pregnant | Alcohol mentions and use by reader | SMUT (oral - reader receiving / public - in a church again, right off the worship space / steve is kind of edging us a little if you squint)

He hadn’t meant to say it. 

The house was warm, the low murmur of relatives catching up while silverware clinked together mixed with Nat King Cole crooning out of the stereo. Mashed potatoes heaped by spoonfuls onto plates, kids’ new toys scattered in a rush once the ham was carved, and soon wine started to be poured for those of age.

Vivian Harrington simply smiled as you told her none for you and moved on, but the same couldn’t be said for others at the table. 

“Not drinking, huh? Are you pregnant?” 

If his scotch drunk uncle jumped over the line of appropriate, Steve ignored it all together, replying hopefully and without thought. 

“No…not yet!”

He hadn’t meant to say it. 

Your eyes widened, jaw tensed as you huffed out a breath through your nose. Steve’s cheeks flushed, and the table erupted into chaos, terribly intimate questions directed towards you. 

“Oh! Are you trying?! How exciting!”

“When you are, make sure Stephen here does everything. It’s the least he can do.”

“How long have you been trying? Don’t give up, Ben and I took two years, but look at us now…”

“How many do you want?”

“Are you still going to work?”

“Kids? So soon?”

“Who’s having a baby? Uncle Steve?!”

“Vivian?” You called, flagging Steve’s mom over.

You took the bottle of previously passed on wine and gave yourself a more than generous pour, and Steve whispered, “Baby, I thought that alcohol could affect your…”

The look you gave him had his mouth closing quickly, keeping his concern about ovulation and hormones to himself. You turned away from him, then answered every single question with grace and a grip on the glass that made Steve gulp around his own drink. 

Eventually, the table settled into topics that gave you a small reprieve. 

Steve leaned closer, lips almost to the apple of your cheek and you turned, so his kiss was cut off, mouth parted in surprise as he blinked at you. He spoke softly, fingers reaching for yours as he did, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Should we give you two some privacy?” A quip and waggled eyebrows from the other side of the table, and you plastered on a perfect smile and faked a laugh, poured yourself more wine and Steve’s shoulders deflated. 

You still hadn’t spoken to him. Dinner passed, and then dessert, and then coats were being pushed on and kids wrangled into cars for the midnight service. 

Steve managed to get you close to him in the very backseat of one of the vehicles. He kept his eyes on your profile as you stared straight ahead. 

“Are you going to ignore me the entire night? I’m sorry,” he started, voice low. 

Your gaze turned to him finally and your chest ached from how apologetic he looked. And honestly, you were over it as quickly as it happened, and the glasses of wine helped, and you were ready to say so. But then Steve’s fingers brushed your knee, up and down and back up your thigh. They nudged at the hem of your skirt, testing. His other fingers curled around your neck, words dipping even lower, soft and for only your ears. 

“How else can I tell you I’m sorry, honey?”

Steve’s thumb swiped down your neck, soothing and far too close to your racing pulse. It’d been sort of easy for him lately, and the thrill of making him think you were mad, the chance to make him sweat a little, to work for it, had your underwear growing wet. 

“We can talk about it later, when we get home,” you whispered, sternly. 

Steve nodded earnestly, until your fingers curled into your skirt, until the red, green and gold fabric pulled higher and higher. Your eyes remained on his until he had to look down, to see your black tights were not tights, but stockings. A sliver of supple skin revealed between plaid skirt and where they ended high on your thigh. The black lace disappearing as quickly as it was shown to him as your skirt dropped again, fanning nicely over your thighs.  

His tongue swiped over his lip, adams apple bobbing. He cleared his throat, voice a warning, “Baby-”

The car pulled to a stop, and you were out on the pavement with his family, heading into the church before he’d really even caught his breath. 

He watched you hang your coat, and help his nieces and nephews with theirs. His eyes traveled from the black heels up the black stockings that he now knew ended under your pretty Christmas skirt, curved around your thighs delicately and sinfully. He swallowed at the sight of red velvet over your breasts, at the memory of what happened last time you were here. 

It was easy to slip away as churchgoers caught up over coffee and doughnuts before the service, as kids became preoccupied in the Sunday school rooms with toys. You made your way down a dark hallway under the guise of the bathroom, and had to bite down on your smile as an arm slunk around your waist and pulled you into a room silently and quickly. 

Only lit by the soft light of the navy sky and moon outside, the room was obviously rarely used, a place for mismatched and forgotten things. Steve spun to face you, his fingers behind him clicking the lock closed with a barely audible, but still noticeable click. 

“Yes?” You prompted, folding your arms over your chests and hiding your delight at the way the movement made his eyes flit down to your breasts. 

Steve crossed the room in quick strides, hands finding your hips and tugging you to him gently as he spoke with sincerity. 

“Angel,” his nose traced down the bridge of yours, before he kissed the tip of it, “I’m sorry.” He kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your lips before he pulled away enough to look into your eyes again, so you could see how truly sorry he was. 

“I really didn’t mean to say it, it slipped out. I’m just so excited, and I didn’t even think…” 

“I know,” you offered quietly, as your fingers slipped into his hair, curling stray and unruly pieces behind his ears. Your eyes remained focused on your adjustments, sure that if you looked at his eyes for longer than two seconds, you’d forget you were “mad” and fuck him in a church again. You’d break and he’d have barely worked for it. 

Steve knew this, you think. 

Because your eyes caught the subtle twitch of his lips, the fake deep sigh, the way his head leaned forward until he was at your ear. Hot breath hitting skin in a way that had goosebumps exploding over your entire body, his voice sultry and low as he asked, “Can I make it up to you?”  

“Steve…” your half-hearted start to a protest you didn’t want to give lost as he dipped lower, pressing silk lips to your neck. 

His palms brushed over the curve of your breasts, they skated down your sides, lower and lower to your hips. As your head fell back, they circled to your ass, grabbing generous handfuls and squeezing as his breath grew sharper against your collarbone. Parted lips dragging across it, the tentative trail of his tongue warm and testing. 

“We…we’re in a church,” you gulped around the words, his kisses traveling up the column of your throat now as he nudged your feet backwards. 

“Didn’t stop us the last time.” Steve’s voice was shot, a goner the minute you showed him the stockings. 

Men were too easy. 

Your legs hit a couch arm, and Steve’s fingers grabbed for your jaw gently, thumb pulling at your chin so you had to look at him. Both of your chests moved rapidly, anticipating, as you fell deeper and deeper into the moss and honey in his iris’ - lost in the forest, stuck in the sticky trap. 

His other hand roamed to the hem of your skirt, pads of his fingers buzzing over the skin above the stockings as he pulled the fabric higher. His head cocked in a way that said he knew what he was doing, the ghost of a smile on his lips telling you he knew that you weren’t mad, not really, but he’d play your game anyways.  

“Let me make you feel good, honey,” his lips brushed over yours as he spoke. The chatter of people filling the chapel right outside grew louder, but his voice remained even and soft, “It’s the least I can do, don't you think?”

Maybe you were easy too.  

Because you were nodding, and he was easing you down onto the couch. Steve knelt before you, watching you carefully, hungry, as he pulled your heels from your feet, letting them fall to the ground. 

Your palms pressed to the cushion behind you as he lifted a leg, your words swallowed and caught somewhere in your chest with your breath as he kissed your ankle bone through the thin material. Steve kept his eyes on you, warm and greedy as he kissed up your calf, at your knee until he was at the top of the thigh high. He gently laid your leg back down, and then pulled at your waist until you were at the edge of the seat. 

“You gonna be quiet for me?” 

The nod of your head was pitiful, putty in his hands and from his words as he flipped your skirt up. Steve’s lips pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, sweet and in a slow way that had heat rising to your cheeks. Your body hot, spine turning to liquid as he nudged his nose into the damp black silk covering you, as his fingers curled into the waistband. 

Steve pulled them from you, sighing at the way they stuck to your lips. He slipped them down your legs, never letting his eyes leave the space between your thighs. He was taking his time, drinking you in with his eyes in a dirty gaze that had your entire body tightening, making you want him more than you ever had, erasing any sort of rationality or thoughts from your brain other than him and this.

His fingers tugged at your hips, squeezing possessively until a whine bubbled out of you, his name a desperate whisper, barely audible over the choir singing. 

He hummed when you spread your legs wider for him, pressing against the couch as he leaned in. His hands roamed down and back up your thighs, until they were spreading you. 

His thumbs held you apart, mouth a ghost over your cunt. Hot breath exhaled against slick lips that had your toes curling and your lungs somehow forgetting how to take in air. He had you on the ledge, and he hadn’t even started. 

Steve pushed closer, the tip of his nose a slow drag through your slit, his lips skimming over your folds behind it, tasting, testing.

His tongue finally made contact with you, a long, slow lick from your entrance to just below your clit, making you wait, making your fingers dig into the cushion and your eyes look towards the heavens.  

Steve did it again, painfully slow, the hot and wet glide of his tongue along you sinful. Over and over, flat, broad strokes of it, tasting every bit of you except for your clit, getting you higher and higher, closer to bliss without giving it to you.  

You were throbbing, an insistent and buzzing pulse under your skin demanding to be felt, demanding to break. It felt like your ears were crackling with static like the speakers the pastor was now giving his sermon in. 

Steve lifted on your hips that wiggled, caressing over the top of your ass. He stopped his movement with his tongue, panting over your cunt, letting his mouth hover against your glistening lips. 

Your chest grew heavier with each rise and fall of labored breathing as you watched Steve’s tongue flick out, tracing the curves of you and letting his nose drag and nudge behind it. Teasing and taunting, pulling every last drop of want out, your body taut and ready to snap. 

Then he looked up at you.

His cheeks flushed pink, and pupils blown wide, lit up in glittering moonlight streaming in through old and warped glass, he looked like something holy and angelic between your thighs. As if he were worshiping you, praying on his knees at your feet.

The grip he had on your hips shifted, pushing down your thighs and spreading you wider, and his voice was raspy as he asked, “You forgive me?”

Your head nodded once, fingers reaching for his hair to pull him closer, desperate for his mouth to be back on you. Your own voice shot, a pitiful whine as you begged him, “Please, need your-ohmygod.”

Steve’s spit hit your clit, making your thighs go to snap close, but his palms held you open forcefully. He wasn’t an angel worshiping, he was unholy, he was sin, he was filthy as he kept eye contact with you and dipped his mouth over you again. 

His lips molded around your pulsing nerves, tongue flicking out in a rhythm that had your entire body lit up, vibrating, fraying and sparking. His hands pushed at your thighs that resisted him, he moaned against you as you fell forward. Your fingers yanking in his hair as your hips moved against his face. 

Steve’s exhale was sharp as he released, sinking lower and dragging his tongue over your slit again. He was faster now, keeping his tongue flat against you as he lapped at your cunt, nose nudging against your clit over and over again as you rocked against it. 

“Fuck, Ste-,” your hand slapped over your mouth and your eyes widened, but Steve didn’t let up. You tugged on his hair, whimpering, and his hand rose, finger pulling at your pouting bottom lip until you were parting for him. You moaned around the black silk he shoved into your waiting mouth. 

He doubled down then, tongue prodding at your entrance, fast and precise licks up to your clit he kept working at with his nose. Steve’s heavy lidded gaze up at you had you crying out around the fabric, your chest crumpling over his head as you grinded down against his nose, unraveling for him. 

Tears pricked behind your eyes, skin hot as you came around nothing but his tongue, he hadn’t even slipped a finger into you. Steve held your waist now as you arched, letting your thighs finally close around his face as he licked over you, humming against your sensitive nerves as he greedily took in everything you gave him. 

He pulled away eventually, nose and lips skimming down your thigh until he was at your stockings. He pressed his cheek to your knee and looked up at you. Your underwear pulled from your mouth and crumpled in your fingers, your eyelashes fluttered as you tried to keep your eyes open, chest rising and falling ragged. You looked at him under your straining eyelids, warmth and affection and something far too sweet for what you two just did behind your gaze. 

The choir was singing again, Silent Night, and your fingers pressed to your lips, hiding a smile and a giggle.

He hadn’t meant to say it, but he was kind of glad he did. 

[genderqueerdykes]

I do apologise if this a weird ask and fairly jumbled but you're the only blog I'm not terrified to ask.

How to not be scared of people is my ask.

I've passed for a while as male and really the second I did then everyone left me. A few stayed longer to convince me against it but they left to. Even the queer club I went to stopped letting me in. i have not had friends or anyone close for a few years now. I don't remember my last interaction that wasnt a stranger.

I don't know how to change it, my last interactions were around them hating me being a man. So I just don't know how to not expect that at this point. I'm just scared of everyone, being online has probably made that worse. Every video or post will have the punchline of hating men or trans people. It's It's normal and that makes me so scared to ever even try talking to another person again. You don't have to answer this of course but you're the only person who has made me feel worth something, that I'm not automatically a monster because of something I can't control. So I figured to try to ask. If not then that's okay, I do really appreciate you posting.

the queer club you were going to stop letting you in???

this is seriously out of control. i can't believe how many people this is happening to in real time. this isn't an issue that just exists on the internet. the man hating, antimasculism and transandrophobia that's present online is affecting the real world. this isn't small potatoes, this is a massive problem that's excluding and hurting and abusing people in real time. i'm so sorry to hear that holy fuck

I'm just scared of everyone, being online has probably made that worse. Every video or post will have the punchline of hating men or trans people. It's It's normal and that makes me so scared to ever even try talking to another person again.

a lot of trans men are expressing this sentiment right now. even im wary of who i interact with because i have no idea if they're going to freak out when i they find out i'm a trans man. it only feels like a matter of time some days. it's ridiculous. i lived with trans punks and they all ridiculed me for being transmasculine. rad feminist ideals have become the norm in the queer community as of 2024 & 2025. the people running these spaces are radfems. this needs to come to an end.

no matter what you think, man hating, antimasculism & transandrophobia are perpetuated the most by radfems. doesn't matter what kinds of radfems, trans or cis. this behavior comes from lesbian separatism. it comes from political lesbianism. it comes from disenfranchised trans women who hate being misgendered and take that out on trans men. this is the norm right now. it's not okay.

i hope things get better for you soon. i have no idea how we've let things get this bad but it's not okay. we can't keep doing this. so many trans men feel like you do where they just don't wanna interact with the queer community at all because of this. and honestly i feel it. i feel so disconnected from so many people who think it's cool and progressive and funny and based to hate men and mascs like we've all hurt them personally. it's hostile as hell

[rei-ismyname]

Magneto Cyclops Exodus Was Right

That's right, the craziest of the crazy. French Crusader from the 12th century turned Omega Mutant hero of Krakoa. The Black Knight's boyfriend and the guy who rebuilt Xavier's brain. The guy who looked at Catholicism and said 'nah, you're all wrong. Here's the real religion and I'm Pope.' Bennett Du Paris - Exodus.

This celibate sex God. He was right... about at least one thing, though it was a very important thing. Join me for a journey into the work of a prophet - a tale of a baby, a pink guy, and a big bird.

Eating a potato raw in his midriff with Kafka. It's true, he is definitely intense.

Exodus benefited immensely from the First Krakoan Age, getting a seat on the Quiet Council and all sins forgiven. Since being awakened by Magneto after centuries asleep, Exodus followed his beliefs that boil down to Mutant Supremacy + Catholicism put in a blender and mixed with whatever extremism the writer needed at the time. He was rudderless Pre-Krakoa, both in universe and out. He didn't make a lot of sense and was used as a pseudo religious fundamentalist powerhouse/troublemaker. His character and belief system on mutants' personal Eden with battles to build solidarity and support from a community for the first time in 900 years fit perfectly.

He started to grow, chill out a little bit, had his beliefs challenged and shared. He became Apostle to the Messiah, teacher to children, puncher of dragons. He was EXTRA (that's getting its own post) and, for the purposes of this post, he started to adapt scripture. Pope stuff. We don't get to read the New New Testament according to Exodus, but several things about his theology were made crystal clear.

1. God was still God, but mutants were the chosen few.

2. The Nazarene Mutant (Jesus) was a Messiah, but not the Messiah. Hope Summers is.

3. The Holy Spirit is The Phoenix. They are one and the same.

Got all that? In X-Men Forever, the Kurt/Raven/Destiny family subplot is playing out and comes to light during a 'council meeting.'

Hope is happy for Kurt learning about his parentage and she mentions in passing that she doesn't know who her bio dad was. Exodus, true to form, declared that the Holy Spirit (The Phoenix) 'quickened the womb of...' AKA immaculate conception. Hope has little patience for this, also true to form (plus by this point she knows she is going to die soon.) They're all in the White Hot Room, you see, mutant heaven kinda and Mother Righteous killed Jean/The Phoenix. They need to bring it back to beat this nasty AI God, Enigma. It's got a lot of steps so I'll simplify it.

1. Feed Hope to The Phoenix while shooting it.

2. Jean/Phoenix/Jeanix go kill the mean AI God.

The rest of the X-Men/Mutants bounce back to Earth to kill fascists and the girls get to work. The Gun is Legion and the 'she' being referred to is The Phoenix, who's scared. They need it to stay still for the ritual to work.

The AI God learns of these plans and, making use of his access to all of time and space, visits Hope's mother before she's pregnant in his sleazy ass human form. If he's her Dad then he'd be able to influence her and stop all this Phoenix business, or better, absorb it into his greedy, nasty self. He tells her (truthfully) that she'll die soon after giving birth by fire and it will not be pleasant. In the present, Jean notices Hope starting to change (picture Back to the Future when Marty is disappearing but also not) and realises what's going on.

Jean comes in with the truth and Enigma shoots himself in the foot because he's forgotten how to be anything but a selfish dick. Louise (Hope's bio mother) says BAD VIBES and he *tortures her.* She still says fuck off cos she's cool AF.

Louise doesn't even blink and signs up to do the right thing, though she doesn't want to fuck Jeanix. As soon as she consents, Jeanix touches her forehead and it's done! Back to normal reality for her. Boom, Hope is no longer all weird and completes the ritual...

... sadly dying. Pour one out, but know that she did this willingly. Died for our sins would be pushing it, she's better than Jesus - Hope died for our lives and happiness, and to kill a shitty God.

So with all that mumbo jumbo and time travel stuff, two new pieces of information are confirmed.

1. Hope is the goddamn Messiah. ❤️❤️

2. Her previously unknown father turned out to be The Phoenix AKA the motherfucking Holy Spirit.

Let's check back with Exodus and his thoughts on the matter...

EXODUS WAS RIGHT Y'ALL.

As established, Louise was neither DTF nor pregnant. Jeanix laid hands and quickened her womb. All dictionaries agree - quickening is entirely fetus-related. The Holy Spirit created a whole ass baby and it was our Messiah, Hope. Move over, Nazarene Mutant. Move over St Peter. Hope and Exodus are here. Joyously, Cable is still her father. He just gets to be her step-sister/half-brother too. Most importantly, Exodus was right. I'm pretty sure he knows, too. (Send an ask if you want proof.) Aren't comics great?

[gamie99]

Hi people of the Internet today I just finished playing Portal 2 for the first time!! No, I did not play Portal 1, nor do I possess Portal 1, I just noticed that Portal 2 was installed on my Xbox (who knows how long it's been there) and I was like "huh. eh sure why not lol"

Here are my general, overall, completely disorganized thoughts about the game:

Funniest fucking dialogue I've ever lain witness to. At several points in the game I just completely stopped what I was doing and just paused to read the dang dialogue and just. Soak the wittiness in

"okay say apple" "[jumps] :D" "..okay good enough!!" love that

[Gordon Freeman 🤝 Chell] silent protags of Valve games gotta love it

The puzzles themselves were very fun. Sometimes they made me feel like a moron (Glados' words, not mine) and I had to go look up walkthroughs, but that's okay we've all done that maybe probably

Both Glados and Wheatley are wonderful characters 10/10. Against all odds they both occupy the holy trinity of "holy shit you're hilarious and I love you", "jesus fuck you're awful", and "goddamn I feel real bad for ya aw man aw geez"

Environments were beautiful. Favorite parts were the vintage look of the old testing facilities and the 'between' areas of Aperture Science that you run through when escaping from Glados/Wheatley

AWWW THE CORRUPTED CORES they got like 5 minutes of screentime but I love them already. Space Core my beloved. Can somebody tell me if they have fan names/canon names I must know damnit

...Aw man that ending. Made me feel all sorts of shades of melancholy goddamn

[Something happens] "is THAT WHERE THAT'S FROM???"*

*List of Somethings I didn't realize were from Portal 2:

the whole thing about the potatoes

the bit where Cave Johnson rants about committing arson with lemons

The Part Where He Kills You™️

The song Glados sings during the credits (wonderful song btw I danced around in front of the TV during that bit <3)

[pagan-stitches]

Svatá Agáta (Feb. 5, the feast day of Saint Agatha)

I brought bread (more home baked buchty) and salt, down to my sacred space at the creek behind our home and an antique bottle to gather water—and prayed to Saint Agatha, adapting once again an invocation that sang to me from the Carmina Gadelica (yes, here I went again, muddling up my slavic and Gaelic heritages):

Svatá Agáta,

The sacred Three,

To save,

To shield,

To surround.

The salt,

The water,

The bread.

Protect

The hearth,

The home,

Those who dwell within.

This morning,

This dawn,

Oh! This morning,

And every morning,

Each single morning.

This afternoon,

This midday,

Oh! This afternoon,

And every afternoon,

Each single afternoon.

This eve,

This night,

Oh! This eve,

And every night,

Each single night.

Amen.

When I returned to the house I sprinkled hátová water at each of the four corners of our home and proceeded to place bread at the closest space I could find to the ceiling behind the beam:

“A piece of bread was placed on the ceiling behind the beam to protect the house from lightning. The housekeeper sprinkled the holy water in places around the house and poured it into the well so frogs wouldn’t stay in it, and sprinkled the grain intended for sowing in the spring so it wouldn’t be eaten by worms.”

I also sprinkled her salt and water down our sink to protect our water supply and on a bit of symbolic grain while praying for easy food abundance in the coming year.

On Svatá Agáta (Feb. 5, the feast day of Saint Agatha) water, bread and salt were consecrated in the churches. Whosoever ate this bread was protected from snake bite throughout the year.

Kostel Nejsvětější Trojice (Holy Trinity Church) in Běhařovice, Czechia — the church in my great-grandparents’ village.

Hátová water and bread have the power to ward off the elements, not only storms, but also floods and fires.

To ward off a storm, a person had to go outside, sprinkle hátová water in the direction of the approaching storm, and make the sign of the cross.

In the event of a fire, a handful of hátová salt was thrown into the fire. Bread sprinkled with water was also thrown into the fire, especially if the fire was caused by lightning.

The salt was also thrown into the pit when digging a well or cleaning it to ensure the purity and good quality of the water.

When a flood threatened, hátová water poured into a river or stream, along with prayer, was supposed to ensure a decrease in the water level.

Her bread was taken on journeys as protection against misfortune. It was also placed in mouse holes to drive away mice and ensure beautiful potatoes.

Sources:

Od Hromnic až do Tří Králů From Groundhog Day to the Three Kings: Customs and Traditions of Villages in Znojmo (Southern Moravian district in Czechia that my great-grandparents were from) by Jiří Mačuda

Obyčeje a slavnosti v české lidové kultuře Customs and festivals in Czech folk culture by Eva Večerková

Greetings from Běhařovice

[jmdbjk]

Good morning! Pt. 1

Breakfast: scrambled eggs with heavy cream mixed with cut up cup noodles and brown rice = under 500 calories.

His shoulder is bothering him. Not good.

He has turtleneck syndrome but obvs not the kind that makes us weak in the knees.

He's working out, pilates, going to the dermatologist, ignoring his guitar lessons, a day in the life of just being The Bun.

He will rest at the dermatologists... lol.

Because he's been a couch potato, his muscles deteriorated and that's why he's having trouble with aches and pains. Getting old sucks, Koo.

Damn the sounds his body makes when he cracks his bones...holy shit. Sounded like dominos falling.

He's going to invest in some workout equipment to keep at home... why he doesn't already have that, who knows. I guess because that's not his permanent home. He said he ordered some equipment but sounds suspiciously like it will sit in the box unassembled for a while...

Kookie, you spent six months being a couch potato in your mikrokosmos cave NOW you are going to invest in home workout equipment right when you are starting to ramp up on activities?

Y'all.. when I say he is the most adorable thing explaining in detail how to correct your posture and giving us walking and sleeping techniques to strengthen the neck and back... I just want to put him in my pocket.

"My here..." and he pats the backs of his legs... my god Kookie. Stob it.

He's killin' me. The most adorable goofball.

He scrolled through the comments and couldn't figure out why some disappear. Who's gonna tell him? Not me.

He's already talking about lunch... salad... superfoods... he found a great salad place and will have that with smoked duck or chicken. Eating healthy.

Kookie Pookie TMI: he might be lactose intolerant. Dairy doesn't agree with him. But he eats it anyway. Same, same.

Sooo many details... shampoo, body wash, face... towels...

His ghostbusters phase... he summoned the spirits from the netherworld with gadgets but never saw or heard any. (The other members did though. That explains everything.)

ISFP (Introverted, Sensing, Feeling, Perceiving) People with this personality type tend to be peaceful, easy-going, and down-to-earth individuals. They have a strong need for personal space and value time alone to recharge. He needs to have some management. I've said this before. He is not a self-starter.

Now he's talking about setting up a movie date with Army but how to sneak it past the company. He needs to hire a spy. All of a sudden we're conspiring to do something without the company knowing and have a private movie date with Kookie...

This man who stood in the middle of Coachella and didn't think he'd be recognized because he cut his bangs.... is trying to sneak out of the house to go to see a movie with us. What could go wrong?

The imbeciles who keep asking him to speak another language and not Korean. Brainless people who waste everyone's time by typing those comments during a live.

Hold up buttercup. What's that dark area under his jawline?

[squints at the pixels... hmmm]

The Rainy Day Fight story.... this is the most precious retelling of one of the most (formerly) mysterious moments in Jikookistory. Bless the Army who caught his eye with this request in the comments.

According to Jungkook: It happened in the early years, JK was acting like a petulant teenager and pissed everyone off, even "angelic" Hobi-hyung got mad. Jimin even got pissed off. So much so he told JK he wasn't going to take care of him any longer (I've always suspected that Jimin held some responsibility over JK when they were younger and this might be JK confirming that.) JK stormed out of the building and started walking and got lost. He admits he's directionally challenged. THAT'S WHY JIMIN SAID BAM DOESN'T PAY ATTENTION TO HIS SURROUNDINGS JUST LIKE HIS DAD!

Anyway, JK, in the midst of his temper tantrum, got lost and started to panic but first he had to overcome his pride. He called Jimin, hung up on him and then did it again and on the third call, Jimin quickly answered. I think the panic was overwhelming JK by this time and the avalanche of emotions caved in on him. Poor Jimin probably also was worried by this time, especially after JK couldn't figure out where he was. The telling of how he broke down sobbing while talking to Jimin is so sweet and pure. WHO tells other people they actually did this? The details????

Somehow, Kookie found a taxi and got back to the dorm with Jimin standing there waiting. What a story. Jimin took him up to the roof where they could talk in private and I'm sure the words spoken there made an impact on Kookie. He thoroughly regretted it, enough that he had to bring it up during Festa 2020 and say he felt sorry that he made Jimin feel so bad that day.

All of that in the first 38 minutes of his hour and 45 minute live...

Then he proceeded to wake up the neighbors and ruin his furniture at the same time by drumming on his coffee table.

He tossed a book around for a few seconds... Crying In H Mart by Michelle Zauner, in case anyone wants to read what Kookie is reading. Except I think that's the first time he's actually touched the book because there was a big ass brochure in the middle of it that he had no idea was there.

It seemed like a booklist brochure advertising the latest and best books.

omg... bless his heart...

Next topic: Yoongi's concert. Was Kookie watching a fancam livestream of Yoongi's concert too?

HE'S JUST LIKE US! HE SAW JIMIN AT YOONGI'S CONCERT! I BET MANAGER-NIM WAS LIVE STREAMING THE CONCERT!!!

He tells us he will go see Yoongi's concert (I'm assuming in Seoul). Sadly, Jimin might be in Europe on those days. We'll see.

All of a sudden he's blaming fruit flies for knocking over the phone. I didn't say it, he did.

Scrolling through his video library/youtube/whatever he has tons of cooking shows. He mentions 1mincook several times which is a channel of "1 minute cooking" dishes. Quick meals. All the videos are a minute in length. Perfect for JK's short attention span.

Jeon Jungkook is one of the most unpretentious people I've ever seen in my life.

I am 50 minutes into this live. He was very gregarious and jumped from one thing to the next.

I will run out of image space on this post so Part 2 coming soon!

[kanene-yaaay]

In Between Feathers and Smiles

Kanene's notes: As it seems when I wasn't looking ??? Fucking Felipe Minecraft just came here and made a nest in my mind and refuses to leave so now I have a new comfort character as it seems.

Also I know that Richas and Philza didn't interact a lot but I like to think they are final bosses for each other. The day Richas adopts him as his father and Philza adopts him as his son the island explodes and life come to a full cycle.

Warnings: None! Just a tad of angst with plenty of fluff and some silly cheer up tickles. Ticklish!Richarlyson and Ler!Philza. Around 4.000 words. Richas uses all pronouns here.

[~*~]

Tio Phil had a nice place.

Richas didn’t spend a lot of time there. Important talks were usually held in other secured spaces and he would rather spend some time building with her parents or causing some ruckus somewhere in the island than constantly invade Tallulah and Chay’s home. Even if they got closer after the Egg Island, it didn’t mean that he stopped feeling awkward around his siblings.

But today… They was tired.

So they hiked to the top of the wall, turned off Philza’s collecting machine and fell in the middle of the potato crops, watching the clouds as they calmly danced around their always-perfectly-sunny sky. 

Looking at them, she wouldn’t have to think about how much she missed pai Cellbit and Pa Roier every single day, about how scared Empanada looked and the way she was always clutching her scythe now or how she and mãe Bagi barely came out of their securated base anymore. 

If he watched enough the fading forms of the fluffy clouds and the occasional birds that came and went, he wouldn’t have to think about the sharp shapes and bright colors he saw today when he woke up in his old room in pai Cellbit’s castle, full of new stinging scratches covering entirely his arms and legs, the canvas and room filled with red drops of paint and blood. Nor how it felt to burn the piece of art and bury the ashes aways before anyone could see it.

Yes. The Wall was nice. It was calm and beautiful and since her tio and siblings were sleeping like rocks somewhere well hidden he could sneak a few jumps in their trampoline before coming back to a second nap by the plants. 

From time to time he would feel something bump on his hand and turn around only to see a cute, small tortoise calmly biting and chewing on a leaf of the crop, probably a fresh fugitive from Talullah’s pond. They could respect its chaotic nature.

“Holy fuck!” A shout nearby almost made him jump out of his skin, fastly turning around, sword in hand, only to see his tio in a similar situation, hand on his heart as he tried to regain his breath amidst his surprised laughter. “Gods, Richarlyson you scared the shit out of me.”

That fished an amused crackle out of Richas, who didn’t feel much like it, but got up and waved a few times, writing a greeting for the adult. She kind of was in his home, afterall.

“Hi, tio! Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” Philza answered, putting his tools back on his trusted backpack once again, now already realizing what was the reason for his machine to have stopped working out of nowhere. He instead pulled a basket out of it. 

It has been a while since he harvested his own potatoes by hand, but he had no hurry or plans today. Besides, it was quite a calming activity. 

“Were you looking for me? Sorry, me, Chayanne and Tallulah have been spending a lot of time in our… other house.” 

It was definitely a way to explain Rose’s protected sanctuary, but he couldn’t tell the kid about that.

A crossing thought made Philza’s body freeze and his eyes became wide. “Wait, is it about our trip? Is it time? Ok, I already got everything prepared but I still need a couple more minutes to leave Tallulah and Chayanne somewhere safe with someone and then we can go… Let me see who is already awake…”

A push in his arm stopped his sentence and called his attention to the dragons’ words. 

“It’s fine! :D” Another blue sign quickly followed the first, the sentences being written fast and messily. “It’s not the time for our trip yet, don’t worry. I was just passing by here and decided to take a nap.”

The small dragon, a barely nestling, crouched and let their tail drag across the soil in a calming manner. 

There was no rush today. Philza felt his muscles untense.

“Alright then. That is good.” The adult smiled, more relaxed. Richas never commented this with anyone, but sometimes his tios looked like they’re a thousand years old. “Sorry for interrupting your relaxing nap then, mate. As I said, I already got everything covered. The moment you need me, just call, ok?”

Energetic nods. Philza answered with one of his own and turned around, going back to his activity. It was already a habit at this point, to watch a kid with the corner of his eyes as he went on about his day, always aware to any danger or enemy that could appear. That is how he watched as Richas swayed in the same place when he turned around, expression falling to a neutral face as they broke their signs and threw them out of the wall before falling on the ground again, closing her eyes.

Richarlyson was a good kid. An energetic little shit rocketing from one place to the other with an adventurous and reckless spirit almost as big as his heart. Anyone who spent more than 2 minutes with him would see, clear as day how much he loved his parents and loved even more to give them gray hair, always ready for a playful chase, a harmless prank or a fun playdate with his siblings. They didn’t stumble on each other too much nowadays, but at any given time Philza would protect and take care of him just as much as his own kids if needed. 

He was a good egg (literally).

That is why it was easy to see that something was off with her. Seeing her walking around without one of his parents or Bad was rare, but not an alarming sign itself, being as independent as they was. But that together with the way that her gestures lacked their usual uncontrollable energy, how he fell the moment Philza turned away and how tiredness clung in his form and brought shadows to her eyes and a weight to her shoulders was definitely something worth noticing.

Something had been bothering the boy and knowing his family and their history on the island… Well, not a single islander had been free from the horrors that permeated every corner of the place, but the brazilians seemed to receive a special - and not in the good way - attention more often than not. 

Needless to say, Richarlyson probably had a lot to get worried and sad over, unfortunately. 

All of them, the guardians, did their best to save their nestlings the best they could from the enemies and disasters that seemed to follow their every step. However there was just so much a small group could do against gods knows how many entities before their children also began paying a parcel of the price.

It was sorrowful to see the young one like this, but Philza wouldn’t pry. If the kid wanted to come and vent he would happily lend them an ear and give his best comfort. If Richas wanted to just hang out in silence and enjoy the refreshing breeze from the top of the wall then Philza would let him be, as well.

Therefore, he kept collecting the potatoes, humming one of Tallulah’s songs while putting them in crates and organizing the crates in a pile next to the security fence together with the other thousands crates that were already there.

Maybe he should follow Pierre’s example and start selling them to the Federation. Getting paid and becoming an official provider or something like that.

… Nah, he would rather die.

Philza turned around to get another round of potatoes, this time to make more avocado toast to nibble on until dinner, where his daughter would oblige him to cook actual true food for them - which is unfair, because avocado toast is a very good, healthy and energetic, fulfilling food! - when he saw it. ‘It’, more specifically being Richarlyson, who was still around three feets away from him, just like she was after the end of their conversation. Which didn’t make any sense since Philza had moved a good distance further away from his initial spot while harvesting and taking care of his plantation.

Hm. 

Interesting.

He kept his gaze forward and his hands moving, not actively watching the kid but still paying attention for any kind of move.

A few steps away, he crouched to adjust a crop that had been almost removed from its spot, planting and firming it back on the soil before getting up again, his wings partially open to lower the sun rays hitting his back.

(With them being destroyed as they were, there was little use he could give them, but this would have to do.)

Pretending to stretch, he tilted his head just slightly amount, in the perfect angle to see that Richas, once again, had moved somehow in this short period of time and was now closer to him, laying on the ground with her eyes closed, a light snore coming out of her muzzle in a quiet ‘mimimi’ sound.

Philza held back a snort.

They kept this up for a while, almost as a game. Philza would continue his task, turn his head for half of a second and when he turned his attention back to the young one it was to see that they was already close again, “napping” with no worries, dead to the world as a rock, all across the field. There was a moment when the winged blonde could almost swear that he saw him crawling amidst the potatoes while following him. 

Philza thinks he did a pretty good job in not laughing out loud at their antics, only letting out one or two small snickers here and there fly in the air before being swept away.

He was taking the toasts out of the furnace and storing them in pots when the little dragon “woke up”, yawning and stretching, an amused grin blossoming in his face.

“Hey, king, glad that you're awake. Just made a fresh stack of avocado toast. Here, take some, take some, make sure you have enough for any emergency or attack.”

A loud wheeze was pried from his lips at watching her previous grin quickly turn into a sour face at the sight of the toast, stepping away from them in a half of second. 

Richarlyson quickly shook her head as she emphasized that he “would rather have a short and happy life instead, thanks” and that “Tallulah told me terror stories about these when we were in Egg Island 0_0 I am traumatized”, as the signs he placed on the ground said. 

Philza had to hold himself on the fence so he and the toast didn't fall from the wall with the force of his laughter.

“Alright, alright.” He quickly acquiesced, putting the rest of the food in the remaining pot and disposing them all in his backpack, planning to bring it to the pantry later. “What if we shared these sandwiches Chayanne made me this morning, then? He is trying a new recipe and it's just delicious.”

The disgusted expression quickly melted away when they heard the mention of a new snack. Philza unwrapped it under Richas’ wide attentive eyes and offered him only to have his hand pushed away, the kid shaking his head furiously.

“What? Why? Did Tallulah tell you scary stories about her siblings’ cooking abilities too?”

Richas denied, looking a tad out of the place before apparently deciding on their words.

“You can keep it, tio! Chayanne made it for you and it's no problem, I am not hungry >:D” 

Another sign. 

“Besides, if I need some I can just go to Tio Bad's house and steal his refrigerator! I still have a lot in my backpack though.”

To show his point, the small one began pulling pot after pot of cooked goodies from his backpack: lasagna, soup, candies, more candies, chocolate, a not very good looking or even fresh bread, tamales… He proudly showed his collection, bouncing on the same spot before starting to put them back from where they came from.

This nestling…

“I am not saying that you don't have food. I know you're always prepared and I am pretty sure you even have one or two illegal items in your backpack too.” He rested his back on the tree behind him, careful to avoid hitting Missa's painting, smiling as his nephew stared at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes, bouncing on the same spot, not denying or confirming his suspicions. “But I still want to share a good sandwich with you, mate.”

Richas still didn't look convinced. He seemed to be listening, though. That was a good step.

“I am sure that Chayanne wouldn’t care too. He actually loves giving everyone good food and showing his skills to the island. Which is perfect. I can send him your thanks later.”

It was interesting how, even though all the similarities, every sibling was still very different from each other, in both their personalities and actions, and sometimes Philza liked to muse about it. At his words Richarlyson didn't nervously twist his fingers like Tallulah used to do when thinking hard about something or deviated his gaze like Chayanne when he knew what he wanted but thought that he should want another thing. Instead, the dragon fledgling watched him intently, looking for something. 

They must have found it, because they smiled in an embarrassed manner and let his tail wag excitedly once, breaking the signs and walking to his side on the tree.

Philza handed them their sandwich and Richarlyson began eating, satisfied, small growling sounds escaping between each bite as they enjoyed the moment. 

Without meaning to or even thinking too much about it, Philza answered back with a quiet, pleased caw, his right wing expanding to surround the little one, not locking her amidst his feathers, but creating a shield from the Sun.

(If only it could completely shield them from the dangers.)

“Do you like it?” Richas answered by taking a large bite and ripping the sandwich in half, ears wiggling in contentment. The adult chuckled.

“Good to know, king.”

They spent some time like this before a sign was placed, successfully calling the other’s attention. 

“How is it to have feathered wings, tio? Yours are so pretty! :D” 

Flashes began filling his mind. The feeling of the wind hitting your face, the sound of the birds singing and chirping when flying in flocks, the adrenaline of falling without a single fear of hitting the floor, of expanding his wings and feeling each one of your feathers bristle in the air…

A light touch in one of his primaries shook him out of his memories and his eyes automatically flew to the… mess that were his wings now, with weak muscles and feathers missing from some spots. 

Grimly, Philza could surely think about plenty of adjectives he could give them, “pretty” definitely weren’t one.

It was quite hard to focus on that when the fledgling kept carefully touching and looking at them with so much curiosity, however. 

“It’s incredible.” He sighed, a mix of longing and awe painting his voice. “They can help with so much stuff, like, I’m not even kidding. Mine are very roughed up, especially after Purgatory, but when they were in their prime they were perfect not only for flying but also for shielding, holding stuff, attacking…There is a lot you can do with them. You also will probably be able to do all of this and more when yours grows.” 

“You could attack with them? 0-0”

“Pff, yeah. Actually, you would be surprised about how many people wouldn’t be prepared to have a face full of feathers swinging with full force when fighting an avian.”

At the mention, he shook his black, glistering feathers in demonstration, finishing his sandwich with a final bite when a snorted squeal cut the air. 

Philza turned around to see Richarlyson rubbing a spot on his neck, their other hand pushing his wing away while a small smile grazed his lips.

Hm.

“Also, you see those muscles?” He purposely brought his wing down, letting all the black feathers hit and briefly wiggle on the young’s face and neck, pretending to not notice the way he squeaked and jumped away, shoulders bouncing with the uncontrollable giggles that naturally resulted from the tickles. Philza continued as if nothing happened. “Lot of people don’t think too much about them, but to be able to carry a whole person, the muscles, tendons and bones need to have a lot of strength. So, being punched by them usually hurts a lot more than attentive enemies are prepared for and gives you plenty of time to run away or finish the fight.”

Richas rubbed the buzzing, tickly tingles left by the sudden attack of feathers away, airy titters still escaping from their mouth while they squinted suspiciously at the blonde, who seemed distracted enough by his explanation to realize the onslaught of accidental tickles. 

The dragon risked a step closer. The conversation continued to flow without interruption.

“That is also why it’s important to always keep exercising your wings, especially during their initial growth or periods of recovery. Have you been building your core strength, mate?”

Brushing off the previous episode aside, Richas nodded, not helping the excited thrill that filled the air. 

“Yes! Tio Bad taught me how and pai Mike has been trying to build a machine to fly with me so he is studying a lot of mechanics about how it works and accompanying  me with the exercises. Pa Roier also said he will help me when he comes back, since he used to watch a lot of tia Jaiden and Bobby training.”

Philza tried to not visibly frown at the words. How long has Roier been sleeping, again?

He would have to ask Bagi and Fit for news later. 

For now, he had a kid to distract.

“Sounds good. If you need any help you can call me, I wouldn’t mind giving you a few tips. Even if crow wings aren’t that close to dragon ones, they still have a lot in common.”

“Can you teach me the attacks? I want to surprise Dapper the next time he tries to fight me.”

The avian laughed. “Sure, king. Come a bit closer.” 

Richas gave two more steps in his direction with wide watching eyes. “Alright, it depends a lot on your wingspan but usually you will need to be in close combat to use these techniques, so that is something to pay attention to. A good tactic you can have is to use them as a distraction.” 

With a mischievous smirk, Philza began quickly moving his wings around the kid, letting them get close and then moving them away before he could touch them, the feathers skittering freely across his neck and ears with each swipe. When Richas squirmed to one side to hide, trying to push them away while firmly pressing his mouth shut so no squeak or squeal would escape, Philza simply attacked the other side, even managing to slip a few wiggling of the fluff feathers on his belly and armpits when the shirt would move up enough to reveal a bit of the scaled skin, catching a new giggly growl every time.

“And, when the target is sufficiently confused by them is the moment that you attack.” 

Before the words could sink in the kid’s mind, Philza striked, giving to one of his sides a quick tweak, successfully fishing a loud yelp and managing to free a string of snickers that only grew louder and gigglier as he kept the soft, light feathery tickles intertwined them with more and more surprising squeezes and tweaks. 

“You can keep it up as long as you need. Remember: confuse, confuse and attack.” Swipe. Swipe. Squeeze. “Again: confuse, confuse and attack.”

Laugh, laugh, laugh.

Richas gave up trying to push his wings and hands away, instead trying to hug himself to hide his most ticklish spots. However, the playful, soft and silly tickling  kept following them no matter how much they wiggled or squirmed around, totally surrounding him with those fluffy bristles that made every single patch of skin buzz with a funny kind of electricity, freeing more and more squeaks between peals of uncontrollable laughter. 

She started walking backwards, trying to put some distance between her and the tickles, almost stumbling on his own tail by how hard it was wagging in adrenaline and joy.

Philza’s eye twirkled with a gleeful shine. 

He stopped his playful attack, but the young one kept stepping away.

“Another good technique that you can use is to create a physical barrier with your wings. It can be dangerous since your enemy can get a hold of them if you’re not careful but very useful in the case you want to stop them from touching you or, in our case,” Richarlyson’s back hit something soft but immovable and suddenly the wheezy titters and snickery snickers were back in full force once again, bordering on a hysterical laughter when skillful hands began scribbling and scratching his ribs. “Preventing them from getting away.”

His fingers danced and burrowed themselves in the space between their ribs, vibrating on the spot, which made a funny kind of squeaky growl escape from the dragon, more high pitched, bouncy laughter and unstoppable wiggles taking over him when the hands kept running away and attacking all over his torso. They spidered over his ribcage to then poke his armpits, or washed down to sneak some digging and squeezing on his stomach and also even skittered across his spine, pulling all kind of yelps, chortles, snorts and high pitched, wheezy laughter over and over again. 

It took a few more minutes and a bunch more of snickering and wiggling - which was actually even worse now because each squirm made him sink even more on the tickly feathers - before the avian eventually let him go, chuckling in amusement at the way Richarlyson fell on the floor and curled in a ball, shoulders bouncing with the leftover giggles.

An amused snort was pried from the adult when they showed him their middle finger, trying with no success to frown in his direction while still smiling and snickering non stop, remnant sniggers twinkling freely in the air.

“That is a surprise tickle avian attack for you. Now you already know a few uses for your wings in a battle.”

The dragon nestling ignored him, dramatically rolling and turning around and away from the avian, still fully stretched on the floor as if he had just survived a fight for his life and not some harmless playful sillness. Philza chuckled a bit more, not resisting and giving his unprotected neck one last tickle, which immediately melted the half heartedly pout in a smile and made him turn back again and hold a tnt as a threat, making the adult laugh and pull his arms up in rendition. 

Richas showed off his tongue and then fell dramatically on the ground again.

(It was good to him in a lighter spirits, again.)

Philza then got up, stretching and shaking his wings fervently, wincing a bit when their muscles trembled a tad more than normal while holding them, probably from getting so much exercise after being kept so long hidden and immobile. 

Maybe he should follow his own advice and build more of their core strength.

Letting them rest, he went back to adjust a few more crates around before checking on his communicator to see if Chayanne or Tallulah had woken up. 

It was almost evening now, and yet it showed not a single signal of life. 

Hm. 

Well, he could give them their cookies tomorrow if needed, there was still plenty of time before the end of the week.

A light poke hit him right below his shoulderblade and suddenly a loud giggly yelp was ripped from his throat. He turned around quickly only to find his own nephew looking at him with a malefic grin in his expression.

“No.” He said, wagging a finger in warning at them, already realizing their intentions just by the slight slow drag of their tail and the step they gave in his direction. His tune tried to come out as stern, but he was pretty sure that even the kid could see there was no real heat behind his words. 

Richas answered him with an excited thrill, ignoring the threatening caw - more like a soft chip but he wasn’t about to admit it - he gave her in return.

“No. Richarlyson, you do not want to get into this fight with me, ok, mahahate?! Hey! No! Lehehet go!”

There was indeed a valiant and grandious fight. One of the most playful, silly and joyful ones to ever graze that land, they said. The winner was never revealed at the end but passing friends mentioned listening to plenty of surprised caws and giggly growls falling like waterfalls from the wall, especially when certain two other kids woke up to the lack of their father and went to investigate his whereabouts. They said that the growing match continued until the sun set. 

Who knows, who knows.

And since that day, if Richas decided to visit his tio Phil more frequently and if Philza would take the habit of turning off his harvesting machinery from time to time to watch the clouds, that is nobody’s business but their own.

[lolkitkatbar]

Sorry y'all but this episode was the WORST murder drones episode EVER :(

Strap in folks. This is gonna be one LONG complaint...

(Sorry for the bad screenshots. I'm so fucking tired idgaf) SPOILERS UNDERNEATH THIS LINE GIRLIE! I REPEAT! SPOILERS UNDER THIS LINE!

Okay, positives (Don't worry. There isn't much) First of all, animation is GREAT. A bit zany and exaggerated but definitely not BAD. Voice acting is great. Cyn is great, Music's good....uh, Nuzi?...yeah that's it

Okay so we start off with Copper-9 exploding and the teacher giving zero fucks. I thought that was pretty funny. Then we see Uzi in space, currently tweaking out until Nori just basically spells out how to defeat the solver. There is no realization about how they can defeat the solver, it's just given to them. And no real reunion scene with Uzi and Nori. Sure they meet each other but there is NO closure. They act like they've been together for YEARS! Why doesn't Uzi freak out about meting her mom? Why doesn't Nori freak out about seeing her daughter? Or bring up N? Or how her life is? I get we're on a time crunch but COME ON!

Then N just swoops in to save Uzi. We kinda just skip past his reaction to Uzi's sacrifice which is a disappointment. He just says that he was mad about that and that they'll talk about it later, but they never do. It's just brushed over and done with. Then the solver comes in and throws them into space and then they're falling and burning up and then Nuzi becomes officially official.

As a Nuzi shipper, I should feel happy. My favorite ship was just mentioned of course, but it feels so shoe horned in and rushed. I was hoping it would have a bigger impact but it's just shoved in there without a celebration and the abruptly ends because Uzi want to slap a demon

You might also notice that it's been four minutes and SO much is happening in such a short amount of time. This will be a problem for the ENTIRE episode

Next we cut to J, Thad, Lizzy, and Khan and holy shit I am SO upset because they do NOTHING with them in this episode! They were setting them up for a fight but now everyone is just laying on the floor and doing jack.

Also SURPRISE, J is evil! Did you want more J screentime. Did you want her to be important to the plot or even have the SMALLEST redemption arc by the end? WELL TOO BAD because J being evil is all you're getting before she's kicked into the void forever :)

V also comes back and she has befriended the sentinels. I don't think anyone really believed she died. She basically just fights J and realizes how horrible of a person she is. She then says sorry to N for lying to him and stuff. That's cool. Don't exactly have anything to say on her. She's a good part of the episode but she suffers from underutilization like the others

Something something hot drones. Something something NxUzixV canon (My Uzi's Bi headcanon is REAL! YIPPEE)

Then they have an admittedly good fight scene. I have to say tho. There are a LOT of times where it seems like the characters are actually going to die and then the story just doesn't let it happen like some twisted game of hot potato and it gets annoying after a while. (Like when Cyn pulls out their hearts and stuff)

Then N and Uzi make up a handshake mid-fight and it just...stops the momentum of the fight. IF YOU DON'T HAVE TIME TO MAKE A JOKE IN THERE THEN JUST DON'T MAKE A JOKE!

Then Uzi just...kills the solver? Or at least Cyn? Not because of something she did btw, but because Cyn went too crazy with fazing around and shit. ARE. YOU. SERIOUS! This character has been set up to be a strong a challenging foe and she just DIES because of an OOPSIE!? It's Doll's sudden death all over again but somehow WORSE. But of course we have to make Cyn's death rushed! WE ONLY HAVE 20 MINUTES IN THIS DAMN EPISODE!

And then Uzi, like, eats her heart? And then solver is just...inside her? And there's no consequences? It's just treated as a cool accessory? Holy shit this episode was rushed

Nori saves Khan from dying. I thought they were also going to have a heartfelt moment or something. All sobing. All tears. But no. For some reason Nori gets nervous about seeing her hubby again and runs off (Honestly if I was a fleshy spider heart, I would be nervous too). Then Khan calls the flesh heart hot because he's a freak

And then....that's it. They go back to the school like nothing happened. They don't really adress that the world is currently broken, or that N, V, and Uzi still got that dawg in them (Solver). They're all just like, YEP! THAT'S THE END OF THE STORY NOW!

N says that Uzi's his girlfriend, V and Lizzy are shown to be friends even tho we've only ever been TOLD that they're friends, We get a cut away to Doll's dead body that only makes me sad they didn't do more with her, and V gets turned on by N's anime drawings, the end.

Oh yeah, and there's an after credit scene of Uzi looking miserable, probably still having issues with the solver, so clearly not EVERYTHING is resolved by the end of this season. Uzi having to battle with the Solver inside her body is a cool concept and NOBODY can tell me that Liam was TOTALLY going to do another season with this premise, but then by episode 7, decided to stop mysteriously

Okay, not part of the episode but N's merch don't make no sense. V and Uzi's make sense because they have something that is related to what they did in that episode. V fought against the sentinels. Uzi got corrupted by the solver and dragged into the hole. But N's stand shows an event that happens in episode 2. Yes! EPISODE 2! At first, I was confused why this was but it's probably because unlike the other 2, N did nothing significant in this episode except get beat up and have panic attacks. (I did feel bad for and sympathized with him the whole time ngl). But I guess getting beat up and having panic attacks wouldn't make a cool stand now would it.

Yeah, all in all, I'm disappointed. So disappointed that I might just make a fanfiction rewritting episode 8 for myself and then make it canon out of spite. Honestly the lowest ranked episode for-

Wait

Hold on

CAT V PLUSH!!!!!!!!!!!????

NEVERMIND Y'ALL THIS EPISODE WAS AWESOME 10/10!!!!

[andiv3r]

let me tell you a shorter version of that story we started a world where we were gonna collect resources for a while, fight, and then fuck around for the rest of time. Anyways, here's the story so far:

-We spawn on a small island in the middle of nowhere, (white X on map) surrounded by sea serpents (very dangerous) -we make boats and hightail it. Youngest goes north, (green X) other two go southeast.

-Youngest ends up in a mushroom island (green X) and we end up crawling through a fuckass desert/savanna. -I find two villages. Lots of food. I almost die (bright red X) just before I get to the first. -We both find dragon skeletons, and dragon bones mean we are very stronk now. -youngest is fighting slimes and mining iron in a mushroom island.

-Black X and dark red X show the rest of my path. After this, I teleport everyone to the mushroom island and fight. -I win really good, but thats pretty irrelevant. -afterward, me and older fight sea serpents (for some reason. mostly fun.) and I get my ass kicked by one-shotting big fish several times. -We begin to settle down more. Older picks a spot in the mainland (blue X), and younger stays in the mushroom island. I just wander for a bit.

Now for the really interesting parts.

-I find a "new" continent (which I later discover is connected to the old) and settle my house (evil wizard tower still under construction, black O on map) on a mountain. I soon learned my house spot was so good a dragon had taken up a space ~260 blocks from it lol. Would kill that soon.

-Older followed, settling 400 blocks north of me (Blue O.)

-Younger went wayyy south on the desert for some reason. Not pictured, but farther than my farthest south, I believe. He would soon move to Older's place (built his house at Green O) so its not like it matters anyways lol.

-We begin to explore dimensions, start up on increasingly advanced stuff, and kill dragons. I'm pretty much the only one to have extensively explored the aether, and I plan on being the first to explore multiple less pleasant dimensions too. I kill the first dragon (remember the close by one?) and Older explores the Nether and Twilight Forest first. -Younger grows an enormous tree from a sapling from the Twilight Forest, is building a tree house (I call it a tree complex, there are several platforms strewn about the top.)

-I go into tech mods a bunch. Lately, I've coined a currency. In what, you ask? Well. You know those elements in the periodic table that don't exist in nature, so we create them ourselves? Basically, a mod adds platinum, but doesnt spawn platinum ore, so I found a way to alchemy the fuck out of the stuff (I am an evil wizard, after all,) to produce hundreds of ingots out of trace platinum dusts. I turn most of this into coins, but platinum does produce one alloy that makes the final tier of stuff in the mod that adds it.

-I built a vault defended by about 25 potato cannon turrets. This is the treasury, and it will be where I hold all platinum not yet put in circulation.

This hall leads up to it. And yes, the redstone lamps dramatically turn on one at a time. And yes, the door has a key code, even if it's easily breakable. Professionals have standards. In the back of the vault is the machine that produces coins. I currently have it working right now, it'll take a while to go through all that metal. Anyways, just look at all those potato cannons. Beautiful.

-I built a flying Ford F150. I call it my 2008 Ford F150 Seraph. It has four wings made of aerclouds from the Aether and is utterly majestic. I'll be strapping gun turrets to it soon enough.

Not only does it have 4 seats, a glovebox, and four glorious angelic wings, it has actual engines in the engine! And it actually does fly!

Yeah I can't really top the Ford F150 lmao. feel free to not answer this, I'm just not copying all of this over to discord so please respond about it there lmao

HOLY FUCKING SHIT NO I'M DEFINITELY REPLYING HERE AS WELL. OH MY GODDDD THAT'S REALLY FUCKING COOL I am a huge fan of your potato cannons... although I must ask why potato cannons instead of. Massive death lazers or something. Not questioning your choices but I am curious.

ALSO the 2008 Ford F150 Seraph is wonderful.

[charlesandmartine]

Wednesday 25th December 2024

Happy Christmas, everyone from Sydney.

We awoke with the sun already climbing the totally, wall to wall, cloudless blue skies and the sound of bin collections being made! No rest there. It is always fascinating to watch the bin man here, and I refer to him in the singular because often they have trucks operated by one person, a mechanical arm appears to the side, grapples with the wheelie bin, lifts it high and tips the contents to areas we would not wish to visit. The bin is then returned, upright to whence it came. That's efficiency. However, having praised them such, on walking down to the beach, a truck came along with a full crew of three. Maybe they all wanted to work on Christmas Day.

We joined a long stream of people heading for Manly Beach, passing a garden proclaiming, I assume, that the inventory of animals in the Holy stable has expanded to include 4 kangaroos. We have never seen the beach so crowded. Beach and sea safety are taken extremely seriously on these large public town beaches. Currents are the main concern when there are no jellies or sharks to worry about. The strategy is to confine bathers into managed areas. Therefore, flags are erected about 50 metres apart, and that is your allocated bathing space with an undetermined sea space out to sea. There will be a few of these designated zones, and a lifeguard is positioned to ensure there are as few drownings as possible. Outside of these zones are non-designated areas where you shall not go. A spare lifeguard will patrol these areas on a quad bike with a huge tannoy on the front. Any sighted miscreant will be hunted down, and the bike will be aligned with a swimmer such that the horn is directed precisely in their direction out to sea. What follows is an incomprehensible barrage of hysterical abuse with the intention of redirecting the felon back into safer waters or removing them altogether from the sea. The words may not be entirely deciphered, but the message is seemingly understood, and usually, the desired result is achieved.

In between beach sessions, a stroll to Shelly Beach, and to celebrate Christmas in our own special way; a Coles mince pie washed down with coke.

It has been a quiet but reflective day today. We were thinking back to the carols yesterday at the Cathedral. It very much reminded me of our last visit here watching a Shakespeare play at the opera house. It was entirely odd hearing the beautiful language of the bard being uttered in Australian nasal tones. The same might be said for the liturgy. When an Australian voice speaks it, it sounds somehow incongruous. But I guess we became familiar with it after a while. The Dean said he has been told to start and end his address with a joke. So he asked, "What is King Wenceslas' favourite pizza?" Answer, Deep Pan Crisp, and Even. Well, you can imagine the thigh slapping laughter, can't you. Imagine away because we didn't get it, but there was a slight snigger. The second joke was indistinguishable from the rest of the chat.

In due course, the Coles pork joint struggled to an agreed completion in cooking, the potatoes kind of looked roasted, and we sat down in the sunshine to celebrate an antipodean Christmas dinner, with of course a glass or two of SB.

Tomorrow, Boxing Day is the Sydney to Hobart Yacht race. We intend to position ourselves to watch it leave the harbour.

ps. The nativity story last night was translated and updated slightly to suggest that the reason for the adoption of the stable was that there was no 'spare room'.

pps. Forget the myth of Aussies on the beach having BBQs on Christmas Day. We walked the length of Manly Beach and smelt one BBQ, and actually saw another. That's it.

[conalnghing]

An Acting Snail religion post because i wont be avaliable for the the next week:

Misc. Info

The Acting Snails believe in 3 main gods:

The God of the Skysea, in charge of the Skysea (ofc) more info on this in this post:

The God of Tubers, in charge of everything under the ground and especially tubers like potatoes, yams, cassava, and to some extent ginger (which may not be a tuber idk)

And the God of Snails, which is in charge of procreation and organisms in general.

This time, were going to focus mainly on the God of the Skysea. They are the creator of both the Net and the Great Opaque, (details in the post i linked before) which they must expend some concentration to maintain.

If either fails, a great disaster will happen. If the Great Opaque fails, the souls will rush into the world below and fill every object with life, even normally inanimate ones such as rocks and corpses. If the Net fails, the souls will escape to outer space above, and every organism born after that will be soulless.

Soulless plants will have plasticky, waxy and unnaturally green leaves, and their fruit will be oversaturated but tasteless. Soulless animals will be unconcious and unmoving, and their eyes glassy like a corpse. The only sign of life is their heartbeat and breathing. However, if they are fed and hydrated enough, they will age and die just like the normal animal.

But anyways, more on the God of the Skysea:

The God of the Skysea

Heres a traditional depiction of them:

As you can see, they are made of fog and air, and fog is constantly flowing out of their nostrils, mouth (creating the trunk like thing in the picture) and pores on their skin.

The spirally-maze patterns on them are an abstracted depiction of wind, a common pattern in art depicting the God.

Their most notable feature is their 8 arms, which they use to constantly maintain the world. The story goes that 2 of their arms are dedicated to searching for rifts in the Great Opaque, 3 dedicated to maintaining the Net, and 2 dedicated to grating magic to the people, leaving one arm to themselves.

Their tenples and their worship

Here is a stele dedicated towards the God of the Skysea:

The stele is made of volcanic rock, mined and carved by artisans on the Southern Islands I mentioned before.

The first thing you might notice is the use of 3 colors on the stone: orange, light orange and dark red. The actually reflect the importance of different carvings on the stone.

First, the orange is a pigment of yellow ochre. The spirally, maze-like patterns from before are drawn in orange, and a hand also made with yellow ochre. This is the hand of the God of the Skysea, reaching out from the clouds to help the devotees who offered this stele to them. This pigment is of least importance, as it is easily found, prepared and can be rubbed off easily. So, it is normally used to draw patterning or images used to inform other people reading what the purpose of the stele is.

Second, the blood red pigment is made of either hematite or red ochre, mixed with tree sap. It acts like a glue more than a paint binder, so the patterns must be drawn onto the stele fast after the ground hematite is mixed into the sap. In this particular stele, it is used to draw a picture of a cloudy sky (the {{{s represent abstracted clouds) and rain falling from it, and is used to make it clear what the devotees hope the God of the Skysea does: bring rain for their crops and drinking water. This pigment is of secondary importance, as it is a bit rarer. The red color and metallic smell also play a part in it, as it is similar to blood, considered as a holy substance granted by the God of Snails during birth. (this is not true. Blood is created by bone marrow just like in our world, but it is a cultural holdover from ancient times.) It is used to draw important images used to clarify what the stele is for to the gods reading it.

Third, the light orange pigment is a mixture of ash and yellow ochre, mixed with water and pressed into carved grooves in the stone. On this stele, it is used to write the words:

God of the Skysea (lit. Skysea God)

This sentence is used to indicate the recipient of the stele.

The next sentence says:

The light at the end of the dark passageway, the God of the Skysea (lit. cave light Skysea God)

This sentence is used to praise the God a little, to make them favour the devotee sending the stele a little more.

The next sentence says:

Give us (lit. give me all)

The "me all" part of the text is a compund word that means "us". It's use is to tell the God of the Skysea what the devotees want.

The nest sentence says:

Potable water. (lit. food water)

This sentence is used in conjunction with the picture in red, to clarify what the God of the Skysea should bring down.

The last character is:

Written message. (lit. carving)

This character is used to clarify that it is not supposed to be read out loud, and insead read by using clues from both the pictures and words.

hope you guys liked this short religion post before another geography one!! byeee

[ilikereadingactually]

Translation State

Translation State by Ann Leckie

LOVED! THIS! BOOK! i think the first three books of the series are still my favorites, but this one also really blew me away! it's doing some cool things the series has done before--more gender and pronoun delights, more examination of what makes a person human or not and what makes a person themself, both philosophically and legally--and it's also dipping into conceptions of family, and ethnic discrimination and political struggle, and rape culture and consent, and what it means to come of age in a deeper sense than chronological. and holy shit, very cool xenobiology and alien methods of travel, too!!

we get three POV characters in this book, which Leckie wields so skillfully to contrast events and create little cliffhangers and ramp up tension, and all three characters are delightful. each storyline is intriguing from the first moments, and by the end i loved these characters all deeply. i was also delighted to see the return of Leckie's really carefully scaffolded chains of events--none that actually surprised me, but they're not meant to be surprising, they're meant to make clear the ways in which small individual choices have unknown effects down the road.

and when the storylines all satisfyingly combine, we start to get cameos as well! what i think of as sort of general cameos, like Radchaai characters turning up misgendering everyone and imposing their tea preferences on all the coffee drinkers--some are not characters we've met before, but it's wonderful to me every time to get that little hit of familiarity from the culture we learn first and best in the series. and actual returning characters as well, either showing up or being mentioned, from the Ancillary books and from Provenance! i won't spoil any surprises, but i spent a lot of the last fourth of the book yelling out loud.

overall this book felt a little more viscerally intense than any of the others, still made me weep, raised more questions for (one can only hope) future books, and made me extremely happy in literary and fannish ways.

the deets

how i read it: as you can see from the photo, i actually picked this one up from my local library! bless them for having a copy, the wait for the ebook was very long. excited for the paperback to come out so i can add it to my growing collection.

try this if you: again, if you liked the other books, read this one!!! i don't think it would make sense without the rest of the series, frankly. but especially make your way through the series to this one if you are into families of choice, space politics and legal drama, and fantastically horrifying and weird alien culture shock.

maybe not for you if: you need to avoid stories involving rape, vivisection, cannibalism, and alien body horror. none of these are hugely graphic portions of the book, it's more thematic, but for me this was a slightly higher-intensity level than the more generalized moral horrors of the other books.

some lines i really liked: how the hell do i choose?? but there are so many good lines that would spoil my favorite cameo, i will leave those out.

"Oh, it gets worse than that," said the jurist. "There's every likelihood any petitions their jurists submit will be full of nonsense about how the Presger don't really exist and were just made up by the Radchaai so they can secretly control every other system authority." Enae frowned. "I don't think the Radchaai need to control anything secretly?" The jurist raised eir hands in agreement--or maybe surrender.

---

"Your Teacher will tell you what to do with this," the Translator said, hefting the potato and setting it down on the table between us. It hummed pleasantly, a wide, smooth-feeling sensation. Beside it, the heap of seeds--longer than the radish seeds, narrow and pointed at one end--chorused brightly. I wondered what they would grow into.

---

Ambassador Seimet closed her eyes. "Amaat give me strength," she murmured. And then, opening her eyes again, said, "Did you listen to a word I just said?"

---

He returned to the cushion fortress in the bed, with a plate of dumplings and a flask of tea. "Oh," said Qven, stirring. "Teacher won't be pleased about dumplings in bed." "Fuck Teacher," Reet replied, and climbed into his side of the construction. "I don't want to do that," said Qven, taking the plate of dumplings from him before it could spill.

[iseldomunderstand]

It came to me in a moment of inhuman fatigue. Finals had me studying until the dawning sun's rays filtered through my half shut blinds into my dark apartment. I felt like a cryptid in a cave back then.

I was getting ready for bed, too tired to understand the concept of time yet absolutely certain I would not feel any better after whatever amount of it I would spend sleeping. Mouth slightly open, greasy hair, boxers I wasn't sure whether I changed today or not, a drop of drool rolling down my chin, I didn't care. I'm not the kind of person to go out often and as such I'd rarely leave home if not for academic obligations and tended to shut myself inside when on vacation. I tried to remain clean and fresh out of principle but finals preparation was an exception. Anything goes for the sake of finals preparation.

I was under the covers looking blankly at the ceiling. Not a thought in mind, fully lost, the only sensation I felt was a pain in my back, probably due to my less than impeccable posture when slouching over my notes for four hours a day. And as the light of the sun hit the wall next to me through the spaces of my blinds I had left open before going to bed, like the dumbass I am, I made out a word.

"Research"

The rays hit the blinds and refracted through my windows to spell the word very clearly on my wall. It lasted about ten seconds before it just became an assortment of rainbows and slightly yellow light.

"The fuck" were the first words that came to mind in response to this sighting.

I wrote the word "Research" down in my notes app then dozed off, this would have to wait. After a generous eleven hours of sleep, I woke up too late to eat lunch, realized I had to do laundry today and rushed through my shower and "breakfast" (at 4PM) in order to get to the laundromat before it closed.

I forgot about the note for two weeks.

I stumbled upon it while trying to make a grocery list for my birthday cake, and naturally, I freaked out. As tired as I was back then, the details came back to me very vividly yet I was half convinced that it was all a dream or the hallucinations of the sleep deprived maniac I was at that moment.

Generally, people didn't exactly know what they were meant to be good at until they tried their hand at it and realized they were, well, good at it, great even. It's usually mundane stuff. Some people are great at peeling potatoes in a dimly lit room, some are great at speed walking down hills without tripping over a rock and tumbling down, trivial, sure, but useful in some circumstances. The thing is, usually, those people do not get a revelation type visual above their head coming straight from the holy light of the sun into their bedroom.

This type of event is not unheard of but it is extremely rare, it is usually something people born in wealthy families or dire circumstances witness, the kind of people you see on the news as prodigies in their domain; diamond in the rough or born to rule kind of deals. And these were no minor events, mind you, because they were usually followed by plenty of supernatural stuff.

I never followed history classes with a lot of interest, I knew the basics, but the endless quizzing on party trivia never caught my attention, yet I was fascinated by the stories we were told of people with manifestations of their talents. They all sounded fantastical, partly because they were, but also because of the lives the lucky few went on to live afterwards. During world war two, a nineteen year old spy was surprised to read the word "communication" spelled out in blood on the ground after she killed her first victim. She turned out to be capable of telepathy and was extremely useful for acquisition of intel regarding enemy lines and strategies, mind reading is a priceless talent. Not to mention her ability to manage troops on the battlefield.

We're all favored, but not equally, if you get a manifestation of what you have been endowed with, it means you're bound to sooner or later bear heavy responsibilities, and that you've been given the tools to face them. So naturally, when my sleep-deprived corpse saw a manifestation of my talent, I thought I was tripping balls and dozed off straight to wonderland. There was no way I, a disheveled student about to fail my second year in university, was blessed with a manifested talent, and not just any talent but a talent as broad as "Research". Besides, I was fairly certain I had found my gift already, I could parallel park with my eyes shut, well, as long as I was driving with my parents' car so I could use the rear view radar.

"There's just no way I'm gifted like that. "Research" is so broad, that's the kind of deals prodigies get, I'm pretty sure the last chief archivist of the united nations had that, ain't no way."

I suddenly snapped out of my day dreaming and remembered I was making a shopping list for my birthday cake and gathered my stuff to head out. As I walked towards the store, not taking my car on purpose so I'd have more time to ponder, I resumed my reflections, thinking to myself.

"It's too broad, it's just too broad, it's one word and it's so motherfucking broad. "Research" is huge, and a manifestation means it's a big deal."

I started to think about situations where I could have confirmed this kind of gift.

"I don't think it's too hard to be great at research nowadays, if you have a question the answer is usually on Wikipedia anyway, I know how to use google but that's about it. My midnight frantic scrolling sessions through obscure articles isn't anything out of the ordinary. I get obsessed, sure, read article after article, but as much as I devour, the research it takes me to quench my curiosity isn't anything special."

I was beginning to believe more and more that I just hallucinated that one morning, yet, part of me wanted to believe, part of me was too eager to find out. So I figured if I was so good at it, I'd have to research how great this "Research" talent was, if I was gifted with it at all, that is. I strolled through the aisles, mindlessly putting my usual groceries in my bag.

"What's the number one place to do research in anyway, the library? I don't think I've ever been at the one on campus, so I guess that'll be a fun trip. I'll go and enter with one question in mind and see how long it takes me to find the answer without even trying."

I went through self-checkout, conveniently "forgetting" to scan a few items then went home. Once I was done putting away the groceries, the time was six PM. The campus library closed its doors at seven and I lived fifteen minutes away by car.

"Welp, seize the moment as they say."

I grabbed my keys, got into my car and headed to the university. As I drove, I wondered what to even look for once there.

"With something supposedly as strong as "Research" I should probably aim for the stars. What would be one answer the library couldn't possibly have..."

I was mentally flipping through a rolodex of outlandish questions to ask myself, things you'd never get the answer to in a book, not in a public library anyway.

"How many grains of sand in the Sahara desert? Nah, too plain, and I'm sure some deranged mathematician asked the question. How much garlic is too much garlic in garlic bread? Actually, I don't want to know the answer to that..."

I flipped and flipped, I wanted the first one to be grandiose. If I really was gifted with that kind of power, I should start with a bang, make it count.

"How to craft a private pocket dimension. Sure. Why not, let's see if the library has the answer to that. Don't think that's ever been done before."

Just as I settled for that question, I parked in front of the library. Perfect timing.

I entered and tried to figure out the layout of the building, having never been here before. It was a tall building with a full glass exterior, I passed by it on foot a few times and figured the library was on the western wing, but the parking lot was on the eastern side so I'd have to make my way through to the other side once in. The receptionist told me they were closing in a little over half an hour as I walked by, I guess I'll see if I perform well under a deadline sooner than anticipated.

I took a good look at the map of the building on an emergency fire escape plan and made my way to the stairs. My steps echoed as I climbed my way up, the stairwell was at the heart of the building and was entirely made out of concrete, glass and metallic guardrails. You could hear a pin drop five stories above. This was pretty grandiose.

"You know" I thought to myself "If I ever get that pocket dimension maybe shaping it after this place could be a good idea, it feels... Nice, in a way. Aesthetically pleasing."

I pushed the glass doors of the second floor, where the occult, religious, and physics aisles were if the signs were to be trusted. The place was actually really nice. The floor was carpeted, there were reading nooks, and warm overhead lights with a glow specific to the lightbulbs in the lampshade aisles in interior and furniture stores. It was raining outside and the sky was darkening as the moon rose. Truly a magical moment.

"You'd think if I were to get a revelation about my research capabilities it would be in a moment like this, not in a complete daze as I was going to sleep." I thought aloud, mumbling as I approached the aisles I was after. I was progressively becoming more and more reassured in my idea that I had hallucinated the whole event. Still, I came to check and check I would.

"Ok so, crafting a pocket dimension, let's see" I rolled up my sleeves, stretched, then squatted to be face to face with the books. I began to crab walk my way across the shelf, examining title after title, yet not finding much about what I was after. "Eh, thought so. Next." I moved on to the religious shelf, examining the titles and covers I found, yet nothing promising showed up. I had about fifteen minutes left. Well. It was quantum physics or nothing.

I was walking to the shelf as I came across a computer. "Surely" I realized "Surely it'd be simpler to just type 'Pocket dimension' in their database and see what pops up. Hoping they use tagging efficiently." I went to the desk, opening the online register of the available books and did as I planned, going in advanced search, yet, still, other than one or two fantastic novels, nothing came up.

I sighed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

The librarian at the desk on my floor politely asked me to leave, I obliged somewhat sadly. I walked down the echoing stairs, grabbing the guardrail as I descended towards the exit, the nightguards locking the door behind me.

"Damn. I really was hoping I actually saw something." I walked out of the building as the streetlights lit up the avenue. It felt bittersweet, like your parents buying you a lottery ticket at the school fair and winning nothing. You lost in the end, but the fun was the anticipation. Yet I couldn't help but feel pretty bummed as I got into my car

"I was really hoping I was actually somewhat... Special." I said aloud to nobody but myself. "Maybe I went too strong, I mean, 'How to craft a private pocket dimension' is pretty ou-"

As I voiced my question out loud, what appeared to be a floating transparent sort of computer screen appeared above my passenger seat.

I froze in shock in front of the wheel, the screen glowed softly inside my car in a light blue hue. It displayed a very barren interface, with nothing but a search bar and a keyboard underneath. Above the search bar was a short line of text that read "Quench your curiosity".

Oh. Well. Color me fucking surprised.

I hesitantly placed my hands above the keyboard, looking around to see if anyone was in the parking lot, and most importantly, if anyone could see me, but I was alone.

I typed my question in the search bar, hit enter and was faced almost instantly with a page explaining in detail the pre requisites of crafting a private pocket dimension. All the concepts it involved that were all alien to me were explained in great detail and perfect clarity, what I knew enough about was not elaborated upon. I saw on the right a scroll bar. The page kept going. It was long. Very long. Yet I read through it at a speed I did not know myself capable of, breezing through lines and lines, no, paragraphs and paragraphs in an instant, devouring the knowledge that I sought in a matter of seconds. I finally reached the bottom of the page. I understood it all perfectly. It was clear as day. I knew all that there was to know on the topic of crafting a private pocket dimension. I did not however have the materials for it. I was wondering how I could possibly get my hands on all the required equipment necessary to see it done, then I looked at the screen once more.

No. It had arcane knowledge, but I couldn't just...

I refined my search : "How can I craft a private pocket dimension and get away with little to no consequences." And sure enough, the page displayed an elaborate plan for me to put in action. It was brilliant. There was no doubt it would work.

Oh. My god.

This was all too much. I had a power allowing me infinite knowledge over anything and could make it so I was essentially capable of all I wanted. I had in my hands the power of an actual god.

A flow of questions swirled in my head. Answers I needed. Answers the world needed. What's the meaning of life? Is there a god? How does this even work? What's the system behind talents? Who gifted me this power in the first place? Is free will an illusion?

I looked at the screen. I placed my hands above the keyboard, but then I froze.

This was a trap. A trap of my own making and one I was happily jumping into with both feet. I'm not a god. I'm barely in my twenties. I'm a student and I'm in my car typing away into a floating screen in a parking lot. This was ridiculous. I was about to reveal eldritch knowledge to myself, as if I tried to educate an ant in advanced rocket science. No. I'm wiser than this. I'm not fit to be a god. Not yet. I'm a human and I haven't lived as a human fully yet. This could wait.

I drove home.

I locked my door, threw my keys on my kitchen counter, took off my shoes and body slammed into my bed.

"What the fuck" I said into my pillow.

The screen appeared again. It had disappeared as I started to drive back in the parking lot, but here it was again. I didn't want to fully indulge in its power just yet but I had plans for it.

"How to make this screen appear" and "How does my power function" were the first questions I asked.

The screen appeared anytime I asked a question aloud. Simple as that. I could change how that worked by asking how to change the way it appeared in the search bar. It was a real wonder how in the span of two weeks between the revelation and today I hadn't asked anything to myself aloud. Yet, in hindsight, preparing for finals made it so I essentially talked to no one and only ever muttered a curse or two when going over my notes.

As for my power, essentially, it was as simple as it gets, I asked, it answered. It only had a few safeguards for me not to get hurt, if any research I did would almost guarantee that I either go mad or get killed in the process, the page would warn me and offer to redirect me to pre-requisite pages so I could go about it in a correct way. It was essentially moron-proofed. Besides, if any research or answer involved harming me, it would be highlighted so I did not get myself into any sticky situation or ended up in a sort of evil-genie or monkey paw situation.

I was also pleasantly surprised to learn that the screen was only ever visible to me and would not appear if I addressed a question at someone else in a conversation, so the screen wouldn't appear anytime I asked someone else how things were.

It was incredible. I had all that there was to know in the world at my fingertips, very conveniently too, and just one ask away.

Yet... I didn't want to put it into use quite now. This was the tool of absolute knowledge and power, I could have access to ways to make anything happen in any way I wanted and with little to no repercussion. I could change the face of the world. Make it a better place. But I doubted that I was wise enough to go about the proper course of actions in my questions. I was afraid my own bias would betray my good will. Perhaps I would even go mad with this power. Eradicate anyone or anything that bothered me.

The thought scared me.

So I pondered what the best way to go about all this was.

I had to become wise enough so I would not let my youth and instincts get the better of me, besides, when it comes to bettering the world, the best way to know what is best for it is to live in it. And using my power to go about living the easy way would alter my thinking. I had to live through it first. My mind was set.

I would grow old first, using only my power to ensure I don't die by then, then once I will have seen a lifetime worth, I will be ready. I will finally use it. But for now, this could not work, I was too naive, too young. I would hold true to my standards and values, do my best to do good until the time comes and only then would I take things in my own hands.

I summoned the screen and asked "How do I make sure I can live by the age of eighty-five". Sure enough, the page appeared and the way to go about it was clear as day. I'd have to switch studies, which didn't bother me anyway, and move away.

Then, I asked how to change the way the screen appeared and set it so it would only appear once I explicitly state aloud that I wish to summon my power and make the screen appear.

I looked around my apartment, then at the screen again, taking one last look at it for a long, long time. I was already mentally thinking about packing up my things.

"See you then". It disappeared, then I went to cook dinner.

As a rule, the shorter a skill is, the more dangerous it is. You’ve never used yours. You were scared of what a single word could do.

[buffaloareafishfrygal]

April 4, 2025

Transit Music Lounge

4723 Transit Road

Depew, NY 14043

Arrived at 5pm and there was no one there! Just a few people at the bar. Most places with a solid fish fry have a pretty good wait on a Friday. Looks like this gem is still a secret! Stacy was the hostess, the bartender AND our server and did all three jobs like a pro. She was giving out free high fives, so we all took advantage. The happy hour drink specials helped us kick off our weekend right. 4-7pm $2 blue light drafts, $2.50 domestic bottles, and $1 off well drinks. We looked over the menu, and decided we couldn’t miss out on the “pint of bacon.” Glazed with maple syrup, caramel flavored whiskey and secret spices served in a pint glass. Absolutely delish!

Fish comes beer battered (Sam Adams) or broiled (Cajun, lemon pepper, or plain). It was delicious. Nice level of crisp, perfect amout of batter, not greasy. Skinless haddock. I give it a 9.5. Really,really, flavorful.

Now let’s talk homemade sides! Holy Trinity done right! Fries were shoestring, a McDonald’s clone. Who doesn’t love those?! (8.5) Mac salad was standard elbow with carrots. Nothing special but did the job. (8) Next you have your choice of potato salad (American or German) American (8) was standard as well but I liked how it had a completely different taste than the mac salad. Many places they taste so similar with the only difference being there’s a potato in one and a noodle in the other. Two separate side personalities! The German was good, with a nice amount of zing. Potatoes were a tad overdone though. (8). The real star of the show was the Cole slaw. I’m a sucker for crunchy and sweet and this one had both. (10) The whole plate was topped with 2 slices of rye bread. Tartar was pretty good too! Nothing unique, but tasty and creamy.(9)

All in all, an incredibly SOLID fish fry. (9.0) Really great fish and sides! All of my boxes were checked and I was pleasantly surprised. Blown away really. For a bar that is known as the place to see live bands, don’t sell the kitchen short. Small amount of fryer space or not, it’s worth a stop in my book! I’ll have to come back on Thursday for build your own burger night. Parking is plentiful. Staff was full of personality. Plus their beer prices can’t be beat!!

#transitmusiclounge #lancaster #fishfry #germanpotato #haddock #highfives

[mydyspraxiablog]

Now not going talking about Dyspraxia today going start moading about Gluten-free food how different get cheep Gluten-free food it see impossible at movements but old girl guide so I don't give up. So today this afternoon I went town me and mum were going walk down then charge mind was going cath 101 bus to station going to Tesco but didn't cheep passport photo wasn't paid £6 for passport for Cimera card it get impossible. So though hear on Facebook Iceland was going do Gluten-free food but sadly not Iceland only meat free incude Gluten-free food there was Gluten-free bar for £1 each but only £5 so thought going Cafe up town have nice jacket potato it was £8 " Not paid that price" Walk out cafe wait to pub and was Gluten-free chips and refill of coffee but coffee machine broken down. So when got Gluten-free chips it wasn't very warm but too hungry take then back so just eat them. Then went get birthday card and Holly community card ( even nobody doing holy community in our family) Trescothick didn't as medice as want NHS fall down as broken jigsaw puzzle but doctor saying " Not doing on prescription buy it" bit dispont in Stafford town lack of Gluten-free food in small supermarket e,g like Iceland really didn't have much that is good enough "I could not get any cash paid clubside £6.50 and £5 for dancing tomorrow and 75p for Monday for knitting and coffee and £12 for Art on Tuesday and like bring some money for church. Now two warmspace going too first going knitting and chat and it warm space and men come in have drink coffee or tea for 75p sit with lovely women doing knitting but few people get on my nerves but hold my tongue there. 👅 enjoy the social skill as well lot people visit knitting group but isn't voluntary in the library will all help when we can I would like knitting doll clothes but havn't got doll at movements need knitting a bag with pocket so don't get mess up with wool and like learn freach knitting.

So here some knitting I doing on Tuesday there another warm space at new Northfield centre and do free soup for art and computer learning and Parants for adult with disabilities only on March 26 hopefully weather get warmer and can picnic in Victoria Park and Doxy mash see all duck. Oh forget say I going church on Sunday and After coffee and gluten-free biscuits or Gluten-free chocolates bar it nice then going church it community church in youth and community centre and dance to worship God in my own way wish could do more for church but all can do is chat bit rubbish chatting at movements my mum alway get in there first then can't speek sign " " I sad now none brother and or children don't come to church anymore see lost without my family."

[potatoes83]

Random...

K-Love is playing Christmas music now on the weekends. I love that!

Politerotica 3: Family 'round the Christmas tree...

Well, around the Thanksgiving table, but it didn't rhyme. Commit to the bit, yeah? So. The shambling dinosaur on life support that is the liberal legacy media has been telling us for weeks now how we can prepare ourselves for those evil, bigoted Trump voters that are about to darken our doorstep for the holidays. To be clear, I am one of those; I use the 'we' as in the targeted populace of their posts and broadcasts. Including, but not limited to just uninviting them. Classy. Grandpa's uninvited for Thanksgiving because he wants peace, a strong economy, and to not end up eating cat food because the grocery bill is too dear.

So I was at my in-laws for Thanksgiving. I know they voted differently than we did. They know we voted differently than they did. And who we voted for, and why we did, and just a full political recap... was never once mentioned. Not once. Now, I am not ashamed in the slightest of my vote, and if questioned, I will happily defend my position. But instead, we talked about what we've been up to. About family, about friends, about the holidays. About the things that actually mattered. Because here's the thing. Two things actually. First off, whatever happened to the big three not coming up in polite conversation; money, religion, and politics? Controversial topics. But even beyond that, politics is mind-numbingly, head shatteringly BORING!

Oh yeah, I voted Trump, but then we also had a local school board election, and don't you know it, there were only three people running for four spots, and I wasn't overly invested in the incumbents anyway, let alone those two millage proposals, and speaking of incumbents, how about those circuit court judges, I mean...

And no, it's not like we were uncomfortably avoiding the topic, stilted silence and awkward pauses revolving around the orange man bad elephant in the room, it's just that we not only have mutual respect for one another, but also have INFINITELY BETTER THINGS TO TALK ABOUT. Especially when we're all but doing a dine and dash; we got on the road after work Wednesday, stayed Thursday, and had to leave by noon on Friday. Which, as an aside, totally sucked, because they're in the greater Kalamazoo area, and Thanksgiving night through next Tuesday is seeing lake-effect snow bands just ripping through. The entirety of the I-94 corridor through Ann Arbor was off and on whiteout blizzard conditions and shitty roads.

...for those of you not familiar, lake-effect snow is something that greatly affects the west side of Michigan; it can extend throughout the state, Buffalo, New York also gets it bad. Cold air whips over the relatively warm Great Lakes (Lake Michigan is still about 50 degrees right now), picks up stupid amounts of moisture, and dumps snow. It can be blue sky and sunny, fluffy clouds, and turn to black sky and whiteout blizzard with an inch of fresh snow on the ground, and then back to sun out... in the space of literally fifteen minutes. And it just keeps doing this.

But getting back to it, we have been bombarded with politics now for the last what, year and a half? I mean, let's be honest, politicians start running for reelection the minute they're elected into office, but it obviously really ramps up before the election itself. In our social media, in our legacy media, in conversations around the proverbial water cooler, it has been absolutely inescapable. It's done. Let it fucking go. Like, seriously, the only thing worse than being bombarded with political ads during the election would be to be bombarded with politics after the election. I didn't walk in holding my hand in the shape of an L on my forehead going suck it bitches, we won, I asked if there was anything I could do, and helped peel the potatoes. They didn't splash me with holy water as I walked through the door, they made me breakfast. And we chatted and caught up, because even more so this visit than most, it was over in a flash and we had to come home.

Yes, politics are important, and many of us have been immersed in them because they are directly related to the direction of the country, which has been on the wrong road for the last four years. But if you can't put that aside for what is really important, or moreover, if that makes up so much of your identity that you can't look away, that well and truly is a shame. And I would also point out, that it's usually a one-way street. Because you notice how all the advice is how to cope with the Trump voter... not how to deal with the deluded Harris camp and company. 🥔