#Marie ALLOY

[revuetraversees]

Marie ALLOY - La ligne d'ombre - Poèmes et peintures, Al Manar, juin 2024, 116 pages, 20 €

Une chronique de Marc Wetzel Marie ALLOY – La ligne d’ombre – Poèmes et peintures, Al Manar, juin 2024, 116 pages, 20 € “Nous voudrions garder de nos saisonsla demeure d’ombre où reprendre source” (p.108 – derniers mots du recueil)  L’ombre, ici, est guide plutôt que lacune : c’est cette ligne flottante et plus foncée – comme un petit tunnel orageux qui passe – , un mince endroit plus chargé…

[bebemoon]

“pilgrim badge, probably from the cult of ‘our lady of willesden’. the badge depicts the virgin mary and the infant jesus christ within a crescent moon. the moon’s ever-changing nature is meant as a contrast, to highlight mary’s steadfastness. mary’s head is missing. she is holding jesus on her left and a sceptre over her right shoulder.” c. late medieval; late 15th-early 16th century

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

TODAY

I learned

That apparently the double-boiler I use to melt chocolate without scorching it is called a bain-marie

Because the "Marie" in question

Was a 1st century Jewish woman and ALCHEMIST ??

she may in fact be

THE FIRST ALCHEMIST IN THE WESTERN WRITTEN RECORD???

Her work primarily survives in Arabic, but it also exists in Greek and Latin traditions

In Arabic she is sometimes called daughter of Plato, and in Latin, Maria Prophetessa. MARY THE PROPHETESS.

I do not remotely understand her alchemical theories ascribing spiritual genders to metals and talking about the metaphysics of alloys, but they were so important and influential alchemists kept preserving her writing and using her ideas for CENTURIES

Also she probably invented some lab equipment we still use today? Including. Possibly. The bain-marie.

Omg. This was the best thing I learned all week. I need a lie-down.

[majordemonblockparty]

mary campbell winchester who doesn't necessarily regret her demon deal, because she loves john, she does, in a deep and intense and preternatural way that scares her, sometimes, if she looks at it head-on for too long, but sometimes....

sometimes she just misses what she lost. what she traded in exchange for john. to have his snapped neck put back to rights and the breath put back in his lungs; what has to stay dead because she wanted john alive more.

she misses her parents when she has to clean out the house without him. she calls her cousins, campbell kids semi-settled within a day's driving distance, and four of them descend on lawrence to gut the house of everything hunting related before john gets it in his head to help her. she misses her daddy when she puts her hands on john's chest and looks up at him with real, actual tears trembling on her waterline and tells him she needs to be alone to pack up her parents' things. she misses her mama when john tucks her hair back from her face like she's something delicate and worth protecting, something that wouldn't trade two lives already lost for his.

it all has to go, everything hunting.

they pack it up into cardboard boxes and plastic milk crates -- the books, the journals; the cb radio set in the den and the armory behind the false wall in the bedroom; thousands of rounds packed in ammo cans labeled with her daddy's neat draftsman's hand printed on strips of masking tape: CONSECRATED IRON. SILVER -- PURE. SILVER -- ALLOY. COPPER -- STANDARD. her mom's correspondence book of every hunter they've ever known, the names and numbers and home addresses of people who sat at the campbell's dining room table and bled with them and died for them all throughout mary's entire childhood.

most of the clothes in the closet get donated, but mary keeps the box of baby clothes her mama had kept tucked up high on a shelf in their bedroom closet, in case she someday has a little girl with john's dark hair and the winchester name. she keeps the memory box with her first lock of hair and the jar of her baby teeth and the tattered scrap of her crib blankie. she keeps her dad's letterman sweater and her mama's canvas jacket with the padded shoulder where a rifle's meant to rest. she wants her daddy's wristwatch, but it goes into the pyre with the rest of his effects. their wedding rings, her mother's engagement band, all of it; mary watches it all burn down to smoldering cinders with her parents' shrouded corpses.

mary keeps what she has to -- her knives (one for every birthday since she turned ten), and a few handguns. john knows she and her parents were big into "target shooting", so it's not implausible she'd keep a couple. but most of it goes to her family downstate, redistributed amongst the campbell clan. she keeps the slim leather-bound volume printed in 1932 with detailed runic symbols and protective sigils, the sort her mama used to draw with magic marker on the underside of the insoles every time mary got a new pair of shoes. (she misses her mama when she does the same thing to the tiny shoes she puts on the baby boy mary named after her.)

she misses her daddy, who never gets to walk her down the aisle. he's not there to give her grief about "that goddamn nightgown of a hippie wedding dress; jesus, mare, you gettin' hitched today or you just roll outta bed?" or do his best to scare john shitless "as is a father in law's prerogative, damnit!" but then make sure his tie's on straight, 'cause john hasn't got a dad to do it for him.

she misses her mama worst when she's pregnant -- the first time with her little angel, her baby boy with ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes and two-thirds of his grandmama's name on his birth cert. and almost worse with sam -- john stayin' nights on a cot in the back room of that damned garage and herself to blame for it (he shouldn't'a said that, but she shouldn't've drawn her pistol on him like that, either; not with dean in the next room, sprawled out on his belly on the rug in front of the tv), eight months pregnant and huge as hell, dragging the garbage cans to the curb at five o'clock in the morning with dean on her hip 'cause he'll scream if he's set down even for a minute, and her housecoat coming open at the front and mary wants to sit down in the new-mown grass and weep, she's so goddamned tired, she wants her mama, she wants her daddy, she wants to go back and change her mind and have them flanking her on either side at john winchester's funeral. she wants her mama to brush back her hair and give her a kiss on the forehead and tell her everything's gonna be alright, and she wants her daddy to admit that john was a decent boy even if he was a civilian, and she wants to trade all of them -- her husband and her son and the baby rolling like a hoopsnake inside her -- for her family back.

(she'll feel different in a few hours. after she and dean have gotten a little more shut-eye, and she's made breakfast that caters to the demands of a bacon-obsessed toddler but doesn't also make her wanna hurl, maybe they'll go see john. see if she can't win john's forgiveness with the guileless screams of delight her sweet boy will no doubt give his daddy, and a few kicks from baby to the hand john will inevitably rest on her belly. but for the moment she thinks, oh, god; I should've let him die.)

[blueiscoool]

16th-Century Compass Possibly Belonging to Nicolaus Copernicus Unearthed in Poland

Researchers have discovered a 16th-century compass that is thought to have been used by astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus in the canonical gardens of Frombork, northern Poland, during a recent archaeological dig.

Copernicus is famously known for his heliocentric theory, which posited that the Sun is the center of the solar system and the planets orbit around it, as presented in his work De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium. Copernicus, who served as a canon at the Frombork cathedral, lived in the town for nearly 30 years, conducting his clerical duties and astronomical observations.

Nicolaus Copernicus famously wrote himself into history by looking up at the sky and speculating that the Sun, not the Earth, was at the center of the universe. Now, researchers from Warminska Grupa Eksploracyjna, an amateur archaeological exploration group in Poland, have made a discovery about Copernicus himself by looking at the ground.

The compass, which was made of a copper alloy, was discovered buried under the gardens of the northern Polish cathedral known as the Archcathedral Basilica of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary and Saint Andrew, or Frombork Cathedral.

The compass is the third of its kind to be found in Poland, and the second to be found in Frombork’s gardens. According to an employee from the Nicolaus Copernicus Museum in Frombork, Zorjana Polenik, the compass “could have belonged to Nicolaus Copernicus himself.”

Nicolaus Copernicus (19 February 1473 – 24 May 1543) was a Renaissance polymath, active as a mathematician, astronomer, and Catholic canon, who formulated a model of the universe that placed the Sun rather than Earth at its center. In all likelihood, Copernicus developed his model independently of Aristarchus of Samos, an ancient Greek astronomer who had formulated such a model some eighteen centuries earlier.

[moutainrusing]

fire

When Dorcas was a kid, she burnt the carpet.

She had always been drawn to fire. On each of the seven nights of Kwanzaa, a harvest celebration derived from the phrase “matunda ya kwanza,” which meant “first fruits” in Swahili, her family gathered in their living room together, and a child lit one of the candles on the Kinara, the candleholder. After the candle had been lit, a daily principle, one of the Nguzo Saba, was discussed. For example, on the first night, they had to light the black candle in the centre of the Kinara, and discuss the principle of Umoja, unity.

Dorcas loved it when a candle was lit. The flame flickered, orange, white, emitting warmth, a soft glow, and it was mesmerising. Her eyes were hooked on its movement, tracing its trails in the air, the tendrils of ashy smoke, the shine it made in her family’s eyes. It was fuzzy around the edges, blurry, almost as if it were an illusion, a splotch of light seared onto the backs of her eyelids. She felt like she could watch it burn forever.

Then it was her turn to light the green candle, the furthest to the right of the centre, on the seventh and last day, to discuss the principle of Imani, faith, and she took the lit match between her thumb and forefinger. But it was hot, and the flame was creeping along the thin, wooden stick, closer and closer to her fingers, which were barely gripping it anyway, because she couldn’t let the fire come near her. She loved fire, but she couldn’t be near it, because it was scorching, yet she couldn’t bring herself to move, to light the candle… the match slipped out of her fingers.

And now, more than a decade later, there was still a black, sooty scorch mark distorting the red and gold geometric patterns on the carpet. Her mother had immediately quashed the flame with the heel of her sandal to stop the spread, and after a thorough telling off, she wasn’t allowed near a match. She wasn’t complaining. She and fire weren’t meant to be, and she could only ever love it from afar.

The same obviously applied to the fire that was Marlene. Because, damn, that Gryffindor burned. She was hot and fiery and truculent, craving fights and arguments and danger. And unfortunately, Dorcas was in love with the way Marlene flickered rapidly, the way she scorched her mark into the skin of the Earth, the way she glowed with her warm colours, her rosy cheeks and golden hair. She could watch Marlene burn forever. From afar.

Unfortunately, Slughorn and Mary had other ideas. Firstly, it was Slughorn’s fault for always pairing Potions partners up alphabetically by surname. Secondly, it was Mary’s fault for not taking Potions at NEWT level, meaning instead of Mary Macdonald being partnered with Marlene McKinnon, Marlene McKinnon was now with Dorcas Meadowes.

“Hi,” Marlene nodded, unceremoniously dumping her textbooks and quills on the desk. Dorcas nodded stiffly in response. Marlene spared her a glance, probably deeming this as unreasonably rude. But Dorcas didn’t really care. A girl such as herself didn’t have time for girls like Marlene.

Today they were practising how to brew Amortentia, the strongest love potion, for their final exams. Which was funny, because Dorcas didn’t need any love potion; she was already thoroughly enamoured with the girl beside her. She grimaced at this ludicrous thought process. Just to her luck, Marlene turned to face her again, saw the sour look, and scowled in return.

“I’ll get the ingredients from the cupboard, you prep the equipment,” she snapped, stomping off. Dorcas shook her head in amusement. Marlene was such a lovely flame. Then she shook her head again, because she really shouldn’t be thinking that, and went to grab a heat mat, a tripod stand, a gauze mat, a cast iron bowl, and a gold cauldron from the shelves.

The fact that Amortentia had to be brewed in a cauldron made from a real, solid gold alloy just went to prove how potent it was. No wonder Slughorn wanted them in pairs; it was far safer, with two sets of eyes keeping vigilance, making sure the powerful, dangerous infatuation-inducing potion wouldn’t be used with malicious intent. Although perhaps the safety had been significantly reduced when Dorcas was paired with the fire she was terrified of. Honestly, Dorcas’s obsession with Marlene should’ve really been a factor considered when assigning pairs.

She cleared space for the heat mat in the centre of the desk, then placed the tripod stand upon it, with the gauze mat atop of that, and the cauldron on top. Lastly, she kept the cast iron bowl beneath the tripod stand, and while in the midst of dreading what it would be used for, Marlene returned, dumping a pile of muddled ingredients onto the table.

She frowned, “You haven’t put the firewood in the cast iron.”

“I was getting to that,” Dorcas muttered. She quickly grabbed a handful of wood from a nearby shelf, and threw it into the bowl.

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “Easy there.” She then looked at Dorcas critically, “Are you still scared of fire?”

Dorcas froze in the middle of sorting out the ingredients. “What?”

Marlene grinned slightly, seeming happy to launch into a story and leave Dorcas to weigh out the Ashwinder eggs. “In third year, James and Sirius thought it’d be hilarious to release Boggarts in the castle for Halloween. And before they were punished and given a very appropriate amount of detentions, because they were absolute dickheads for that, the castle was in chaos. I remember your Boggart. It was fire.”

Dorcas’s cheeks felt very hot. She was extremely glad for her dark skin tone, or else the blush would’ve been obvious. “You remember that?”

“Well, duh. You were the only one who didn’t run away screaming. You seemed kinda hypnotised with it, actually. It was strange.”

Dorcas felt her blush increase out of embarrassment. “Oh, thanks,” she muttered, gaze firmly fixed to the rose petals she was crushing in the mortar.

“Not in a bad way. Like, it was interesting.”

Dorcas hummed. Finally, she said, “Yeah, I’m still scared of fire.” She put all the prepped ingredients into the cauldron, and continued, “So would you mind if you lit it and heated this up while I stood over there?” She jabbed a thumb towards a shelf at least two metres away.

Marlene gave her a very unimpressed look. “Face your fears,” she ordered, before casting, “Incendio,” and setting the firewood below the cauldron ablaze. Dorcas yelped, and jumped back from the desk.

Marlene burst out laughing. “Aw, don’t worry, it can’t hurt you.” She curled her hand around Dorcas’s wrist to drag her closer, which only made more flames erupt across Dorcas’s skin as Marlene’s touch practically set her alight. She yanked her hand away, yet it was still hot and tingling from the burn.

Not realising her hellish effect, Marlene simply rolled her eyes. While the potion heated, or burned actually, because the heat Amortentia required was ridiculous (really, why couldn’t they just use basic heating charms, why fucking Incendio), she casually started, “Y’know, I also noticed your Boggart because you’re always staring at me. You’re hidden amongst the Slytherin crowd, all gathered ‘round each other ‘cause you can’t bear being near the filth that is Muggle-borns and half-bloods, but I can make out your eyes, and they’re glued to me.”

“I—” Dorcas dumbly responded. Marlene saw her staring? She genuinely thought she hid it pretty well, amongst the “Slytherin crowd.” Not just Slytherins, actually. Her eyes always sought out Marlene, no matter the crowd she concealed herself within. But Marlene didn’t know that bit. She just thought Dorcas was being a typical “Slytherin.” So Dorcas clenched her jaw, and instead focused on, “I’ve never thought Muggle-borns and half-bloods are filthy.”

“But you’re a pureblood Slytherin, who’s always staring at me, a half-blood, and who, when paired with me, reacted with the utmost disgust.”

“Just because I’m a pureblood Slytherin doesn’t make me automatically prejudiced. The fact that you assume that is prejudice in itself. And I don’t stare at you ‘cause I hate you. Really, if I hated Muggle-borns and half-bloods, shouldn’t I be staring at all of you in disgust? Why would I only stare at you?”

Marlene looked increasingly frustrated. “I don’t bloody know! And when I noticed you staring, I started looking at you! And so I saw your Boggart, and then I fucking remembered it, because— because, well, I don’t stare at you ‘cause I hate you either!”

Dorcas blinked. Who knew fire was so hyperactive and confusing? Marlene was a complete blur of unrestrained emotion, and Dorcas didn’t understand half of it. “Sorry?”

Marlene just grumbled under her breath. She spoke up, “So you don’t hate me then?”

“No.” Of course not, Dorcas wanted to laugh.

“Right. Okay. Good.”

Dorcas nodded amusedly. Although her amusement soon faded when Marlene grinned wickedly. “Oi, Remus,” she called to the desk in front, where for some reason, Remus Lupin had decided to roast some fluffy Muggle sweets over the flame in front of him with his stirring rod. His partner, Jabari Kimani, was looking on with the well-known expression of confusion, exasperation, amusement and concern, typically worn when dealing with a Marauder.

Remus turned around, slowly chewing one of his roasted creations. “Yeah?” He mumbled around it.

Marlene nodded to the packet in his hand. “Could I have some of ‘em?”

Remus shrugged, and dumped a couple in her hand. “Don’t be obvious,” he advised sagely, turning back to roast another for himself.

Marlene waved her successfully acquired sweets in Dorcas’s face. “Marshmallows,” she grinned. “Remus is a bloody sugar-addict, but we love him.”

“We do?”

“Mhm,” Marlene nodded vigorously. “Okay, taste one.” She proceeded to jam it into Dorcas’s mouth.

Getting over her initial shock, and the breach of personal space, because she couldn’t really blame a fire for being invasive, Dorcas chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t see the appeal.”

For some reason, Marlene only looked happier. “That’s ‘cause they need fire.” She stuck one onto her stirring rod, and brandished it over the flames. Then she blew on it for a few seconds and stuffed it into Dorcas’s mouth.

And wow. It tasted like a molten miracle. Marlene smirked. “Want another?” Dorcas nodded enthusiastically. Marlene’s smirk seemed to soften at that, and she stuck another one onto the rod. Then she passed it to Dorcas. “Make it yourself.”

“What?” Dorcas’s eyes widened at the rod in your hand. “But then I have to go near the…”

“Exactly. Go on. It’s tasty, innit?”

And maybe Dorcas was a little bit addicted. To Marlene, to marshmallows… so she took a hesitant step forward. Okay, it was a tip-toe. Then another millimetre shuffle. And even though she was moving at the pace of a snail crawling through syrup, Marlene was still smiling at her encouragingly, and finally, she held the rod above the flames. They were hypnotising.

An arm yanked her back. “Alright!” Marlene cheered. “That’s well cooked!” She looked at the marshmallow held between both their arms proudly, blew on it, and pushed it towards Dorcas’s lips. And while Dorcas chewed, she looked at Marlene’s lips, and wondered if they would taste as meltingly delicious as the molten marshmallow.

Maybe she could be near fire. Maybe Marlene could always be there to pull her back. Maybe Marlene could wrap her arms around her and roast her like a marshmallow, because even if she ended up a little scorched, the outcome was only sweeter, softer, lovelier.

“Guys!” Remus had turned around. “Your potion’s gonna overheat!” Frantically, he cast, “Aguamenti,” at their flames, and a jet of water extinguished them. He waved a careless hand, gesturing vaguely at their bodies, “You can do whatever mating ritual this is later.” Then he turned back around and muttered, “Honestly, turning my marshmallows into foreplay, I question what this world has become.”

Marlene winked at Dorcas, before leaning over the desk and whispering, “Like you wouldn’t kill for some marshmallow foreplay between you and Sirius.” Without sparing her a look, Remus flipped her off, and she cackled.

“So, Dorcas,” she suddenly faced her, eyes gleaming with… something. “Meet me in the third floor broom cupboard if my lil’ mating ritual worked.”

Dorcas opened and closed her mouth like a gobsmacked fish. She finally managed to say, “Okay.” And then she whispered into Marlene’s ear, “Set me alight.”

- - -

They were twenty, and she and Marlene were celebrating their first Kwanzaa together. Dorcas clicked a lighter, and lit the black candle in the centre of the Kinara.

She stepped back, and Marlene grinned at her, “Umoja today?”

Dorcas smiled. “Yeah. The principle of unity.”

Marlene wrapped a hand around Dorcas’s waist, eliciting flames across her skin, and pulled them together. “Like how you and I are united,” she breathed over Dorcas’s lips.

“Yeah. And how every human on this planet is united, no matter their race, skin colour, magical ability. The unity between families and friends.” She looked at Marlene. “The unity between lovers.”

“I love you too,” Marlene whispered, pressing their lips together. Uniting their lips. Making them one. Spreading the heat to Dorcas until they both went up in flames. Who knew fire could be so sweet? (Dorcas did.)

[rethdis-love]

Horizon Zero Dawn

(Alloy so Mary-Sue...eeeewwww)

[literaryspinster]

working on superhero names for my Limoreau joins The Seven AU

Marie: Pulse

Jordan: Fortress

Cate: Mindgame

Emma: Upgrade

Andre: Alloy

Sam: Tantrum

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[revuetraversees]

Marie Alloy, Jean Pierre Vidal, Ainsi parlait Eugène Delacroix, « Dits et maximes de vie », Éditions Arfuyen, 170p, 14€, octobre 2023.

Une chronique de Marie-Hélène Prouteau Marie Alloy, Jean Pierre Vidal, Ainsi parlait Eugène Delacroix, « Dits et maximes de vie », Éditions Arfuyen, 170p, 14€, octobre 2023. Heureuse et stimulante initiative que la publication de ce florilège, « Dits et maximes de vie » d’Eugène Delacroix que nous présentent Marie Alloy et Jean Pierre Vidal, dans la collection « Ainsi parlait » des éditions…

[halfbakedspuds]

Here's another oc bio to follow up on Sasha's one. Once again: Picrew is used because I have no ability to draw.

Johan Suiderkloof

Full name: Johannes Antonius Suiderkloof

Alias/es: Boss

Age: 23

Ethnicity: Mixed (Chen, Petrovan, and others)

Nationality: Zuurveldter (The Republic of Zuurveldt)

Languages: Vosch, Riets, mostly forgotten schoolroom Rostovan, like one song in Chen-khel.

Magic capability: Metalworker, order two

Skillset: Deduction, perception, intuition, decent aim with a pistol, knowledge of the occult.

Background

Johan was born to Marie Lisbet Suiderkloof and Anton Martinus Suiderkloof as part of a pair of twins. His family was a group of goudstoft farmers (Goudstoft- literally, "Golden dust"- being a sour-tasting plant whose leaves produce gold tinted smoke when burnt and induces a minor psychoactive response in the minds of whomever inhales said fumes. Often used to create cigarettes), and his six older brothers each turned out to be bioworkers specializing in flora whose job it was to ensure that the Goudstoft plants grew as well as possible and year round, giving the Suiderkloof family an advantage in trade of the plant and indirectly contributing to an agricultural revolution.

His parents were both of mixed descent, with the majority of their bloodlines coming from Chenyi to the north, the original Vosch settlers in Ost-Rietland, and a multitude of others including Ostian, Naveja, and possibly even a bit of Somaj. Although they are officially classified as simply being of mixed descent, people with similar ancestry to them are incredibly common in the Rietland Republics, and over the centuries have even developed their own culture that borrows from their various lineages along with elements unique to them. As a result, many contemporary political groups (specifically those of this kind of mixed descent) are actually pushing for legislature to have people like them be defined as a separate and distinct ethnic group.

For a long time it was believed that Johan and his sister- Aletta Mariaan Suiderkloof- would turn out to be nieheksen (a Vosch word describing people without magic. Not an insult) just like their parents.

However, as he grew older, Johan began to develop a sort of sixth sense regarding any kind of metal, to the point where if he told his mother that a part she was buying was faulty or of an alloy that wouldn't survive the work they needed it fot, she'd trust his intuition over the words of a qualified expert any day. The people of rural Zuurveldt being as superstitious as they are, his family and their workers assumed it was the spirits' gift to him, given that he had no magic to provide a 'natural' explanation.

When he was twelve, he watched a runaway harvester barrelling down on his brother, knowing he would surely be shredded into a fine red mist if it caught him, and without hesitating reached out and crushed the machine, stopping it in its tracks.

He was taken to be tested at the boarding school he and his sister attended later that year, and he clocked in as an order five metalworker. Aletta, however, never developed magic.

When he was sixteen, Rostov invaded the Rietland republics yet again, sparking the Fourth Frontier war. Despite their parents begging them not to go since they still remembered the previous conflict, he and his sister were young and of enlistment age, so they and their brothers left home to fight for their country, heads full of propaganda and lies about the glory of war.

The war was brutal, as such things tend to be, and as a way of coping with the stress he took to smoking goudstoft to help calm his nerves. Most of their brothers didn't make it back, and two of them died fighting the infamous Artyom Maxim, a Rostovan general and the highest ranking matterworker- hell, the highest rank mage outright- to ever be recorded. (Matterworkers are the most powerful caste of mage-, with direct control of all matter down to a subatomic level)

During the war, the twins were stationed at a borderwatch base with the Angeheimish 107th volunteer corps, which was where Johan met Maire.

After their tour of the warfront had ended, Johan and Aletta returned home, directed to the city of Doringpoort by letters from their family claiming that the farm had been sold and that they had moved that way to start a new business.

They would see the city, but they would never arrive.

While they were still on the train several miles from the city, general Artyom Maxim would stand trial for warcrimes within the Doringpoort human rights court, and although no one in-universe knows exactly what he did, as outside observers we can piece together what happened.

A bright flash, a deafening roar, and a rolling earthquake tailed by hurricane-force winds.

By the time people could rush to the cabin window, the city sat in ruins, and above it bloomed a smoke cloud in the shape of a mushroom, easily large enough to be seen for miles around. This event, later called the Doringpoort bombing, is the only case of a nuclear detonation in this world's history. Maxim had split the atom.

When the shockwave hit the train and derailed it, Johan's magic kicked in, deflecting a stray piece of debris flung from the city that would've impaled him, before the impact itself knocked him out. He awoke to a head splitting migraine, nausea, confusion, and the sight of his sister dead on the ground, impaled by the very debris he had deflected as a mere reflex.

For five years, no one would hear from or about Johan. It was assumed that he had also died to this strange ailment that seemed to afflict all survivors of the bombing.

Until one day he turned up in Zuidpunkt, setting up shop and advertising himself as a private investigator, where he would quickly Garner a reputation as the man you went to if you wanted an investigation done that the Stadwag were unwilling to. He was still cordial with everyone from his old unit, joking around, openly talking about the condition he now had and how difficult having a barely functional immune system or ability to naturally heal injuries made his life, although he would pointedly avoid any questions about where he had been for the past half a decade, simply saying that he had been travelling.

The only clues to his hidden past being the pendant of unidentifiable make that he seemed to always be wearing, and that he now ranked lower as a mage than he had in his youth.

Physical Appearance

Johan is tall, just about eye level with Sasha, with a weaselly appearance. Although it's quite difficult to see when he's wearing a trenchcoat (as he usually does), his body is extremely emaciated as a result of his medical condition, and since he can't naturally heal his own injuries anymore he's usually got a bandage wrapped around some or other part of his body until he can go to get it healed.

He has light but tanned skin and long ginger hair that he constantly complains about but rather keeps tied back instead of getting cut.

His eyes are green, and although he is no longer powerful enough for the same effect to occur anymore, his eyes used to turn grey whenever he used his magic. (Although, when adrenaline bolsters his magic it will still sometimes change)

Johan has a scar on his shoulder from getting shot in the war. He also has a suspiciously rune scaped scar on his chest that occasionally pokes out from his shirt.

Personality

Johan has a good sense of humour, however Rietlander humour has a tendency to come across as mean spirited or rude to foreigners, so he makes a conscious effort to suppress his desire to crack jokes.

He is methodical and logical, preferring to piece together as much information as possible before reaching conclusions, and will often keep his opinions to himself until such a time as they can either be proven irrefutably correct or serve a purpose in being revealed. This makes him someone that people will listen to whenever he advises against something or gives his two cents on a subject.

Johan abides by the old Vosch adage: 'En boer maakt en plann' [A farmer makes a plan], which essentially means that no matter how bad or bleak a situation is, as long as you have something, anything, on hand and something between your ears, you can find a way to make it work. Granted, this is meant to apply to farmers needing to come up with creative solutions to unexpected problems, however he likes to apply it to his own life as well.

He has an incredibly high tolerance of discomfort and mental strain, owing to the soul-grinding experience of being near constantly sick or injured due to his condition, and as a result tends to also be a beacon of patience and silent endurance.

Although he's only 23, he's often misconstrued as being significantly older than he actually is, to the point where people on the street or in shops who are clearly older than him refer to him as 'Uncle' (In the Vosch language, 'Uncle', 'Aunt' and variations thereof can be used as a slightly less formal variant of 'Sir', 'Miss', 'Missus', etc.). This isn't helped by the fact that he acts and occasionally feels like an old man

Having been raised in a former Vosch colony, he subscribes to their idea that how a person looks, presents, or chooses to live their life doesn't matter as long as they have something to contribute to society in some way, and also believes that everyone deserves a fair chance to provide that contribution and be fairly compensated for it.

Johan obsesses over profiling, and arguably enjoys the act of gathering information and constructing a psychological profile and history of various people he meets. However he only uses publicly available information to do this, and will only begin to sift through personal information if it's for a job. He's also very quick to back off if he feels that he's overstepping boundaries.

His problem is that he has a tendency to get stuck in his own head, either obsessing and worrying over a case to the point that Anastasia has to remind him to eat, or escalating his own anger by running back small arguments over and over again in his head, or by beating himself up over unavoidable and usually inconsequential mistakes.

He firmly believes that since he's dying anyway, it doesn't matter what happens to him (one of the reasons why he has no problem tracking down cults and hunting demons), and has stated on multiple occasions that where other people have things worth living for, he has things he'd gladly die for. He recognises that the cigarettes he smokes so readily aren't healthy for him, recognises that he likely has developed a kind of dependency on them, but he also feels that he's only got another six months left, so he'll enjoy the few vices he has.

Weapon of Choice

Johan has a pair of ornately made six-shot revolvers. When he and his sister came of age, they were each given a gun (as is tradition in rural Zuurveldt. Also a necessity given that there's no law to protect people out in the Fynbos).

In honour of her memory, he now uses her revolver as well.

Relation to the rest of the team

Sasha: He sees a disturbing amount of himself in her. How he was before the world happened, and despite his seemingly constant fights with her, he's also trying to make sure that she won't repeat his mistakes.

Anastasia: Officially, he's just her employer. Unofficially, she's like a sister to him.

Hans: Originally Hans was just his client, however their shared experience of living on a frontier and working as enforcers of the law in different ways became something for them to bond over as they were forced to work together for longer. Even though there were some nasty kinks that arose in their relationship, Johan was the first person that Hans trusted enough to tell his whole story to.

Maire: Johan's relationship with Maire is quite complex. Originally they started out as acquaintances who met often because of how regularly he had to get her to fix even the most minor of his wounds, and eventually became close friends. Johan acknowledges that there may have eventually been a spark of something more between them (although in what sense, he doesn't know), however he simply doesn't have the lifespan remaining for such a thing to develop.

[wolfgabe]

Astro Bot VIP list Nintendo Edition

Been watching gameplay of Astro Bot on PS5 and now I want to see Nintendo make their own celebration game that is filled with Nintendo character cameos complete with deep cut nods

Super Mario VIPs

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Other VIPs

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Third Party VIPs

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[gcsharp]

hello, rotumblr

my name is sonata. I'm 17, and I go to bba (formerly uva). if I look familiar to any of you, no I don't <3 (my dad was terrible. don't associate me with him /srs)

left to right: suzie, amunet, alloy, andre-marie, ripple, ... I haven't decided on a nickname for my ralts yet

yes, she is a fankid whose design is almost fully identical to her dad's, but there are in-universe lore reasons for all that. feel free to bother her about it, we love a bit of ic drama >:)

rules and mun info are over on my main's pinned post

[android-anthology-hub]

A Robot and a Girl - Part 2

So continuing on with the updates, here's part 2 of A Robot and a Girl. And this is our introduction to Himari, one of our support characters for D'Anna. ^_^

You can of course also check out this chapter on Fiction Press, Ao3, and Tapas.

Himari held tight to the frame of the landing doors, her small but sturdy frame holding fast against the rush of air that whipped at her steel gray hair.

She looked out into the solar shaft, the golden yellow diamonds on her shoulders standing out in the morning light against her dark skin.

“Look alive! Get your goggles on, all of you. A stray bolt or driver blade won’t care about cybernetics if you’re not careful!” Himari called out as the aerial craft touched down on the workshop’s landing pad. “Let’s see what they need!”

The workshop crew quickly went to work as they all rushed out onto the landing pad, a wild mishmash of hand-dyed fabric, alloy, and paint. What bound them together was their emblem, golden yellow - the color of the workshop - tattooed, etched, or sprayed onto one arm or another.

She never could help but have a proud smile on her face when she stood beside them.

A young android ran up beside her, their voice ragged as they caught their breath, “Pilot sent our passenger’s papers ahead, once they’re ready and onboard they’ll just be part of the flight crew.”

“Alright, now we just–”

As she stepped out onto the platform they all stopped - the diamond at the center of their emblems pulsing with light as a bell tone sounded in the shop.

Someone was at the door.

“I’ll catch up!” she called out, turning to the young android beside her, “Think you can cover for me?”

“Just fine, ‘mari,” they said with a grin, optical sensors flickering as they stepped out into the whirlwind of the solar shaft.

Himari looked back just as she got inside, “And be careful!”

The workshop was a wide and towering warehouse, big enough to haul in any aerial craft that needed to hang around for more than a pitstop. 

And yet, it was home. In every little space they could, they left their mark, they made it theirs.

They’d worked for months just to expand the old office into the massive loft that now dominated the back half of the workshop. One of them - though none of them could ever remember who - managed to find some great old couch from the upper towers; no one was even sure how they got it up the stairs.

A little work and it just became another piece of home...

With a few taps to the emblem tattooed on her arm, the monitor beside the inner door at the back corner lit up.

"Entry camera," Himari said, stopping at the control for the door. "Let's see who it is."

She raised a brow as the camera view came online - D'Anna, and she wasn't alone. With a small smile, she slid the door open with a simple turn of the switch.

She practically yanked the taller woman through the door, “D’Anna! It’s been months since your last visit, you should drop by more.”

"I've been a bit busy," D'Anna sighed, a slight smile on her face.

She looked past her side to Rosi and the mechs behind her, "Right..."

Himari sighed and waved them all in through the door, "Come on, come on. We're in the middle of a drop."

She closed the door behind them as they made it inside, waving them behind the machinery that held the landing platform outside. 

There were plenty of moving parts in here, and she’d sure as hell keep any of them from stepping in them.

"I'm sure you remember where to go," she said with a smile.

D'Anna smiled back, polite but warm as the others followed her, "you haven't moved that mech table have you? Some of these people could use it."

“Closer to the commons up in the loft, keep folks company while they’re getting patched up,” she said as she ran to meet up with the young android from her crew. 

His optics shifted behind the goggles as he looked down at her, a thick line of sensors running across where his eyes should be. 

“Alright, what do we have to work with?”

"Something's up with their atmo-drivers, I gave them a look, and I think there's a short in a couple of the coils," he explained as the two of them returned to the landing pad.

She pulled the clip off her safety belt, locking it onto the magnetic rail that ran the length of the platform with a single, practiced swing.

"Let's check out those coils then!"

They had seventy minutes to finish their work and get their passengers on board before they had to pack it in.

And still, the clock ticked down…

“You moved the path,” D’Anna’s voice was soft as she leaned against one of the shop's support beams, watching everyone work in the bay below.

"Heh, you almost sound worried about us,” Himari chuckled, looking out to the crew - her family - as they quickly got the craft in the air, and back on its descent down to the landing docks at the bottom of the shaft.

A bell tone sounded outside with ten minutes still left on the clock, a voice crackling out that sector security was inbound. All of them were ready, rushing back in before the platform started to retract, and the doors closed.

Security’s last raid had been far too close.

D'Anna bit her cheek as she looked back at Rosi and the others chatting with some of the crew coming up from below in the commons, “because I am, ma’am.”

“So formal!” Himari wrinkled her nose, her Japanese a harsh but welcome huff as she elbowed the other woman, “Don’t you go calling me ma’am, I’m not that old just yet.”

D’Anna didn’t answer immediately, hands fidgeting in her lap, golden knuckles standing out against the red of the early morning light that came through the bay windows.

She still remembered that scared young lady that came to her door, wrapped in synth-silk, and clutching a scrap of paper with the workshop’s diamond on it. Back then, even as scared as she was, she stood tall and harsh. Himari didn’t know who she had something to prove to, but even then she couldn’t turn her away. It was years ago, and still, it felt like only a short time…

She swore she sounded like a grandmother in her own head sometimes.

"Can you… take them in?" D’Anna asked.

Himari couldn't help but roll her eyes at the young android.

She cared, she knew that all too well.

“Have I ever said I can’t in the past? If I really couldn’t do this, I’d be out there playing boss on one of those aero-craft or a land-ship. I’m up here, and this little crew of ours will do what we can for them. Like always.”

She sighed, shoulders sagging as she watched Rosi get patched up on the mech table, "I know."

Himari turned and looked Rosi over as some of the crew patched them up, eyes lingering on the ionization burns and tow cable damage on their plating, "Shock and Haul, hmm?"

"...yeah, yeah I think so."

She frowned as she clenched her fists, “Rotten little thing, using an arc gun like that. It’s supposed to be a welder, a--a cutter! Not some damn stun gun.”

“I know…”

“Well,” Himari grunted as she rose to her feet, old joints complaining as usual, “let’s see what we can do for them.”

It was good to see D'Anna smile at her again.

With a wry smile, Himari nudged her on their way into the commons together, “So, what’s the job this time?”

“Really?” she raised a brow, golden eyes glancing up with a soft chuckle. “Search and rescue.”

She cracked her knuckles as she came over to the mech table, gently shooing the others to the side.

“Let me have a look at them,” Himari sighed as she closely examined the damage, the young android from before handing her a pair of scanning goggles. “...and the ko nashi that you had to rescue them from?”

Rosi’s eyes flickered on for a moment, glancing between the two of them as they spoke, “I…believe I saw him tied to a table.”

She let out a barking laugh, “Ha ha! Serves him right! Now, I’m going to need you to shut down for a bit so I can check your circuits. Okay?”

Rosi’s eyes let out a nervous click as they adjusted and adjusted again. They looked from Himari to D’Anna with a silent question.

“You’re in good hands, Rosi,” D’Anna soothed, bearing a smile she rarely showed anyone. “Himari here is the lead mechanic.”

“The medic too, don’t pretend you haven’t been ducking me. I need to check your shoulder replacement. And don’t think I didn’t see that burn either,” she said as she looked up through her goggles. “I swear you need to be more careful with those fists of yours.”

“Well ma’am it was either my fists or a core resetter to the face,” she deadpanned.

Himari froze there, clenching her tools tight as she turned back to D’Anna.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Rosi looked back and forth between them before promptly shutting their eyes off again, “Powering down now…”

“Good idea, Rosi,” Himari said with a growing frown. “Good. Idea.”

Himari frowned as she looked D'Anna over while they sat in the commons, D’Anna’s coat hanging off her chair. And all the while, the young android wouldn’t look her in the eye.

They’d argued the whole time she was working. Every moment it was just the same routine that she wished they could change. D’Anna never wanted to talk about it, never wanted to worry her. 

For the moment she tried to focus on bandaging her hand… But there were far more scars than she was comfortable with, more than she saw the last time she was in.

Her blood boiled in a familiar silence that she hated.

“I know it’s dangerous,” D'Anna said, soft-spoken as ever. “But...it’s the job.”

It didn’t have to be, they both knew that.

“You know the crew here misses you.”

“Ma’am, please don’t start…”

“Kiite kuremasu ka!” Himari sighed and rubbed at her brow, “I–I worry about you, okay? This is dangerous work you’re doing.”

D'Anna frowned as her voice grew louder, harsher, “And this job is safe, Himari? What would happen if security found us here?”

She looked Himari right in the eye, freehand curling into a fist as she kept at it, “What if they weren’t in a charitable mood? How would it be any safer than what I do now?”

Himari took a deep breath, biting back so many arguments they’d had before as she stared at the surgical scar on her shoulder.

She wouldn’t shout, not this time.

Slowly D’Anna relaxed, letting her shoulders sag as she looked down at the floor.

She knew she hated the silence too…

“I will always be grateful for my time here, ‘Mari,” D'Anna said, laying a hand over hers as she met her gaze. “But I’ve got work of my own.”

“Orokana… Why you stick your neck out like this, I’ll never know,” she sighed, shaking her head. 

She took a glance over at the mech table, mechanical arms carefully holding Rosi’s exposed frame. 

“Your friend’s plating should be repaired soon.”

D'Anna gave a bow and a polite, but small smile as she spoke, “thank you, for everything you’ve done for me.”

“You’re welcome,” Himari sighed, looking down at her bandaged hand, “I don’t mind helping the people you bring here. I… just wish you could be safer.”

“I know, ‘Mari, I know…”

The quiet was the part of their routine she hated most. But in some ways, they needed it, if only for a few moments.

She kneaded at her brow as she worked through her thoughts, taking it slow as she spoke, “Where to next for you? Where’s home for your friend?"

“Family in the Upper Towers Sector.”

D’Anna gave her hand a few testing flexes, joints barely humming as she stretched her shoulder.

She laced her fingers in thought, looking D’Anna in the eye as she spoke, “How you make getting in and out of the towers look so easy, I’ll never know.”

“I’ve...got friends in a few places.”

“Hmm,” Himari broke into a small chuckle. “So do I, you know. I’d love to know their name someday.”

Before either of them could continue, they heard a soft tone as Rosi came over to them, looking as good as new.

She couldn’t help but admire their workshop’s handiwork.

“Apologies,” Rosi said, their eyes refocusing as they looked between the two women, “I just wanted to know when we would be going. I…don’t wish to keep Cole waiting.”

“Well then-” Himari grunted as she got up, her joints complaining the whole way as she rose to her feet. “-you two have had a long night. And I think the others are settling in just fine.”

Rosi couldn’t smile, but there was something in the way their eyes shined that made Himari smile back at them. She’d had plenty of time to get used to reading those little expressions in these mechanical eyes, the way some of her crew would have a bounce in their step when they were happy, or bear the full weight of their frames when they were down.

She knew D'Anna saw it too from the look on her face as she went to Rosi’s side.

“I’ll meet you at the door,” D'Anna said with a reassuring smile, squeezing their hand.

Rosi tilted their head for a moment, almost studying her bandaged hand before quickly nodding and heading off.

“Of course.”

Himari just kept smiling as she joined her at her side, laying a gentle hand on her arm.

“You’ve been up all night,” she sighed, looking up at D'Anna as she chuckled. “Not exactly a recipe for a good night’s sleep.”

“I know, I know,” she sighed, giving her a small, apologetic smile.

“You should come by again soon, if only for a meal. I meant it when I said the crew misses you.”

D'Anna looked down at her for a moment before giving a firm nod, “I’ll try.”

She lightly punched her arm, giving a nod in Rosi’s direction, “Go on now, you’ve gotta get them home.”

“Yes ma’am.” D'Anna said with a growing smile as she headed off, ignoring the indignant shout that followed after her.

[theinquisitxor]

October 2023 Reading Wrap-Up

In the month of October I only read six books, which is not many for me, but I had a busy month with classes and a short trip. I read two audiobooks and four physical books. I enjoyed everything I read this month, and got to some new releases that I've been looking forward to.

1.A Conjuring of Light (Shades of Magic 3) by VE Schwab, 3.5/5 stars. I read this mostly on audio and completed my reread of the series. While I enjoyed the series more when I first read it back in 2018, it was still fun to revisit the series and remember all that happened. The floating market remains one of my favorite scenes/moments in a fantasy book, and I'm glad I took the time to reread this. Portal fantasy

2.Tiamat's Wrath (The Expanse 8) by James SA Corey, 4/5 stars. I'm finally almost done with the expanse series, and this book has been one of my favorites of the series. It had me turning the page wanting to know what happens next, and I've been enjoying the last plotline of this series. I'm really looking forward to the final book. Science-fiction.

3.The Chalice of the Gods (Percy Jackson and the Olympians 6) by Rick Riordian, 4/5 stars. This book was 100% just hype for the tv show, but was very fun and cute to read. It was nice seeing Percy, Annabeth, and Grover in a lower-stakes setting. This felt more like a novella instead of a novel, but was a fun nostalgia read. Middle grade fantasy

4.A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid, 4/5 stars. This is Ava Reid's first young adult book, and I was looking forward to it as it promises a dark academia fairy tale. I really enjoyed several aspects of this novel: the setting, the ambiance, the fairy lore. This definitely felt like an Ava Reid book, and touches on many similar themes as her other novels. Reid is an author that I plan to keep reading. YA fantasy.

5.The Fragile Threads of Power (Threads of Power 1) by VE Schwab, 4.5/5 stars. I’m always worried that continuation series are just going to repeat the original series, but this gave a fresh new plot while still retaining what makes the Shades of Magic special. We spend a lot of time with the characters from SoM, but we are introduced to a few new characters who are great to follow and get to know. I flew through the second half of this book, and this book felt like it was setting up a lot for the next books (even though it is almost 700 pages). Adult high fantasy.

5.The Alloy of Law (Mistborn 4) by Brandon Sanderson, 4/5 stars. I wasn't sure if I wanted to try reading the second-era Mistborn series, but I decided to give this a go on audio, and I'm very glad I decided to give it a try. This was super fun and entertaining, and different from a lot of the other stuff I read. It's a sort of fantasy crime thriller. I would recommend the audiobook. Fantasy.

That's it for October! I was hoping to get through two more books this month, but I'll have to finish them up in November. See below for my November tbr.

November tbr:

The Hollow Places by T Kingfisher (holdover from Oct)

Shadows of Self by Brandon Sanderson (holdover from Oct)

The Bands of Mourning by Brandon Sanderson (audiobook)

The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater (reread on audio)

Starling House by Alix E Harrow

Steelstriker by Marie Lu

Leviathan Falls by James SA Corey (Expanse 10)

Murtang (Inheritance Cycle book 5) by Christopher Paolini

(possibly Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros, if I feel like continuing with the series)

[notjusthespongenextdoor]

A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his tranquility. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge is an exception to this rule. If the study to which you apply yourself has a tendency to weaken your affections and to destroy your taste for those simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then that study is certainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the human mind. If this rule were always observed; if no man allowed any pursuit whatsoever to interfere with the tranquility of his domestic affections, Greece had not been enslaved, Caesar would have spared his country, America would have been discovered more gradually, and the empires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed.

Damn ok. Mary Shelley really said ambition is a destructive force hang out with your friends