#and I’ve got to present a prototype that day

[adrift-in-thyme]

The urge to procrastinate is STRONG today folks

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐞:

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐂…

Hey it’s 1am here in the UK and I don’t have a valentine themed fic. So have this set of HC of my AU series that I’ve been working on instead. There is a mix of wholesome and spicy HC. I’m too lazy to put it in an undercut so minors DNI 🔞

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will rant about his day in the lab to you. You love hearing him vent to you if he had a terrible day or ramble about an exciting discovery he had made.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will come home to you from a hard works day in the lab. He likes to rest his head between your thighs while his wife massages his scalp. He melts completely under your tender touch. Your fingers are very soft and soothing.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive small love notes or doodles that are packed with his lunch from his wife. Sometimes even spicy messages if you’re feeling risky. They tend to end with him coming back home and fucking you on the nearest surface. Most likely the couch or kitchen counter top.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a personalised lab coat with his name on it from you, either as a birthday gift or an anniversary present. He now wears it in the lab everyday since.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will involve you when he’s designing gadgets and weapons to be used by the Spider Society. He values your input when brainstorming the prototypes.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have a personal gym right next to his lab where he would work out and train to maintain his strength and combat skills. This includes a high-tech simulation drill that replicate various combat scenarios to aid and enhance his quick thinking and problem solving abilities.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have his wife watch him work out from the sidelines. You would admire the determination etched on his face. Maybe even steal a quick kiss in between sets. Sometimes you would sit on the rooftops while Miguel would do his usual web slinging endurance, navigating the city skyline from building to building as part of his training.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will fuck you good when he knows he won’t be home for a few days because of a mission in another dimension. He’ll make sure he reaches every crevice deep inside you. You’ll feel a dull ache from the way he stretched out your walls— a reminder of that passionate night and of your husband’s temporary absence. He doesn’t like using toys, he’d rather use his hands and dick do all the work.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that loves to kiss you all over and talk about the function of each part of your body while praising you and telling you how perfect your are. He loves teasing your erogenous areas to increase your serotonin levels and see how much you would fall apart under his touch.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a blow job from you as he tries to explain the make reproductive system OR while he talks about his day at work to you. He’s lucky to have you help him with his pent up stress.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that probably keeps a track of your period. For research, of course. After you got off your birth control pills, it’s his responsibility to track when your fertility window takes place so he can breed you at the right time.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that is over the moon when you both find out that you are finally pregnant. Of course he would admire the changes of your body while you’re growing his child. He will eagerly share insight about the embryonic development and the hormonal changes, deepening the intimate connection you both already share.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will admire the changes of your body and will develop a serious lactation kink. He’ll feed from your breast from time to time…for science obviously. He’s just increasing your oxytocin levels so you can produce more milk for your baby daughter. Duh.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will help his daughter with her schoolwork. I know he will probably put extra effort when it comes to her school science project and will probably be more committed to it than her. He just wants what’s best for her.

Mood board

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @thealleydog @ultravioletrayz @club-danger-zone @lazyjellyfish300 @miguelbaby @miguels-aranita (lmk if you want to be tagged for this au idea)

- Ayrus <3

[writinandcrying]

TMNT HEADCANON - Turtle of choice x reader (GN)

Reader’s Birthday

the first slice goes to.. / showing love through cake lol

It’s a tradition in my country to give the first slice to the person you love the most during your birthday, so here a tiny Headcanon for how the turtles would react to it!

Here a demonstration of this wholesome act, TW cute kids

Reader and TOC (turtle of choice) are still on the “crush stage”, doing with the 2003 boys cuz I’ve recently started watching the show! (I only remember bits it cuz I was pretty young when it aired lol, I love how the very beginning shows how they found out a new lair, how they met april, how they barely got any human contact before meeting her, it’s super cool and has some fresh concepts comparing to most canon narratives, if you haven’t watched the 2003 series I highly recommend it)

Anyways, let me know if you would like me to do other versions as well :) hope you guys like it, feedback is welcomed 🫶

English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar mistakes !!

Mikey

🛹 He’s deadass behaving like this after you tell him the meaning behind giving the first slice (i love this gif lol)

🛹 “AWW !! ANGELCAKES!!” Hugs you so tightly you barely have time to move the tiny slice to the nearest surface you can find, one second later the cake would have gotten smushed between you two

🛹 good luck if you have labyrinthitis, he WILL spin you around a few (at least 5) times to show how appreciative he is of the gesture

🛹 he’s not letting you go for a hot second

🛹 Sees this as an opportunity to finally kiss your cheeks, he has always wanted to but never really had a “reason” to without making things awkward, this is his perfect chance!

🛹will randomly give you kisses through out your stay

🛹 Gets addicted to it, your skin are much softer and smoother than theirs, does a mental note to give more attention to this area from now on

🛹 If you blush to his antics tho? Oh he is DONE for

🛹if you placed a microfone to his chest it would def broadcast the sickest beat

🛹 boom boom boom boom 💥

🛹Actually he will cling to you, will do anything you want or ask for, it’s your princess / prince / royalty day!

🛹 Pls confess to the poor boy lol he’s actually anticipating it now

🛹 Literally vibrating with joy, expect lots of hugs from him

🛹 Your bday will become his favorite “holiday” (yes for him it’s a holiday now )

Donnie

🔬”Cake time! “ Mikey sings out loud as he has been patiently waiting for your arrival to sing happy birthday

🔬you insist that Donnie gets the first slice tho, and he definitely reads into why you are persistent of him instead of younger brother

🔬he of course accepts it, but D keeps it quiet most of the evening, doesn’t want to put you on the spot, but he can swear he saw a faint blush adore your cheeks when you looked towards him

🔬 will ask to speak in private with you, hopefully when the “birthday commotion” dies down a bit, he definitely doesn’t want to deal with Raph’s and Mikey’s “oooooh” and “get it Donnie!” Teasing remarks

🔬He still deals with it tho, cuz I mean, brothers.

🔬 Donnie shows the reason why he pulled you over, a PowerPoint complication of several different birthday traditions around the globe he has read some before setting up the party earlier

🔬 “Isn’t it interesting?? “Totally trying to cover up his main question, did you or did you not give him the first slice? aka just said in front of EVERYONE that HE is your favorite person in the entire world?????

🔬 “one of the most wholesome ones I’ve fond was this one, apparently, I mean, if you wish to, you give the first cake slice to your- erm, to the person it means the world to you…”

🔬 “that one is pretty cute, yeah” you chuckle, looking down as his nervous hands, fidgeting with a random prototype he decided to hold it for moral support while showing of his presentation

🔬”were you.. aware of such tradition? “ Donnie finally looks towards you, searching for any indication of you confirming his suspicions, eyes shining with anticipation

🔬 “I did Donnie” you smooth your hand on top of his as you caress it tenderly

🔬 literally let’s out the dorkiest giggle you have ever heard in your entire life

🔬 the “school girl / Kicking my feet” kinda giggle

🔬 cover his mouth right after he lets it out. Don is mortified, embarrassed as hell, deadass wants to crawl in a hole and die after he lets it out

🔬 Relaxes a bit after he sees you giggling as well

🔬 asks more about your birthday traditions, past birthdays memories you had to break the ice (that’s his way is being smooth)

🔬 please be noted, He does not let go of your hand, man is making his moves

🔬 but just a heads up; this moment will live rent free in his mind for MONTHS on end, for his sake (and his brothers sake as well) confess as soon as you can

Raph

🧨 says he doesn’t want it right off the bat

🧨 It’s not that he doesn’t want to accept your feelings, he actually has no ideia about this tradition whatsoever, if you have ever told him before, he definitely forgot it

🧨 Plus, I’m a firm believer most Raph’s aren’t really into sweet treats, they doesn’t want to mess with his diet or can’t handle much sugar (gym rat tendencies)

🧨 You try to empathize how special it would be for you if he accept it

🧨 you really don’t wanna say why tho, like, this is already really embarrassing as it is

🧨 just take the cake man, damn

🧨 mikey for the rescue! literally shoves the cake down his throat after Raph guarantees he doesn’t want it

🧨 Things get a bit awkward after that, you really don’t want to showcase that such a small thing had an affect on you

🧨 But there’s a tiny part of you that feels rejected, unconsciously start to shut down

🧨 Raph is extremely perspective of this, much the second youngest, he start to analyses what could have gone wrong, did something happen before you came to celebrate your birthday? Is someone bothering you? Should he teach them a lesson?

🧨 Will antagonize Donnie to check cameras around your area and work place

🧨 But it’s donn who comments about the birthday tradition

🧨 Will literally get so mad when he finds out lol

🧨 Feels SO stupid, Jesus Christ

🧨Will bark at mikey to spill the cake out, that was his slice

🧨”Dude, that was a week ago!

🧨 “I don’t care. Spill. it. out.”

🧨 “Raph, he probably already, uh- processed it out? “

🧨 “you guys are freaking disgusting, do we really have to discuss this at the dinner table?”

🧨 Will randomly show up at your place with a tiny red cake, a bit messy, but still pretty cute

🧨 “my birthday was last week, im pretty sure you were there to witness” you let out a chuckle, trying to ease out the undeniable tension in the air

🧨” this is my cake “

🧨 “ok..?”

🧨” …and I want you to have the first slice “

🧨 Oh.

🧨 OH.

🧨 oh.

Leo

🎏 Unlike his brother, Leo could never forget it

🎏He literally has a folder in his brain just for stuff you tell him

🎏Stores it like the most precious piece of information anyone has ever given him

🎏 It took him a really long time to process his feelings for you, but once he does it, he treasures every single moment he has with you

🎏 you don’t even have to say anything when he sees you holding the plate to his direction, holding a mix of surprise and yet seriousness look on his face

🎏it’s like eveything it’s suddenly in slow motion, The determination behind his eyes makes you concerned a bit

🎏”Thank you, y/n”

🎏He bows to you

🎏 His brothers have no ideia what that was but they are def crackling up a storm

🎏 “what was that????”

🎏 “Tone it down, splinter junior, it’s just a cake”

🎏 what the boys don’t see it’s you being absolutely speechless and looking like a tomato as Leo takes his slice

🎏 you are the one over-analyzing the situation here

🎏What did he meant by that bow? does he remember what you told him ages ago? He wouldnt simply just bow for a slice of cake, would he?

🎏It fuels a fire inside of you and him, both extremely aware of each others lingering touches and thoughtful gestures from now on

🎏This goes on for a while, this whole… mutual pining stage can be tricky, but when reciprocated, it’s so nice to navigate through, and honestly quite addicting

🎏 a confession won’t even be necessary, leo and you get together over thoughtful acts, your first kiss was under the mistletoe on Christmas was an easy feat, yes, it was barely a brush over eachother lips, but still just felt natural, like it was supposed to be

🎏the midnight kiss in new years was a whole other thing, hands gripping on each other, his hand holding the nape of your neck like his life depended on it, you two couldn’t get enough of each other, waiting for so long to actually make a move after the cake incident

🎏 you finally make it official on his birthday, gracing you a smile and a light peck as he gently places the slice right in front of you

[silverfoxstole]

Bears, bears, bears! Bears everywhere! And Doctor Who bears at that, made specially for and presented by me to Paul McGann, Sophie Aldred and Sylvester McCoy at Portsmouth Comic Con.

As most of you probably know, I document my bear-making activities on here and I made an Eighth Doctor bear a couple of years ago, followed by a Seventh Doctor last summer. Ace was a new one, and because of that I ended up making two, the first as a prototype that I kept for myself, working out the details of the costume, particularly the jacket, and the second for Sophie.

Back in February when I decided to make Anne Bearleyn I found that my usual type of fur was unavailable so I had to go looking for another, ending up with something that while it looked lovely was fairly hellish to sew as it shed everywhere. It was all I had when it came to making the first Ace bear, however, and so I went with that. Afterwards, having got covered in fluff again, I tried to find something similar to the fur I’d used for most of my previous bears, but when it arrived and I started putting one together decided that when compared to the bear I’d just made it looked cheap and nasty, which was definitely not what I wanted for this particular project. Consequently that fabric went on a one way trip to the bin and I ordered more of the other stuff, resulting in what I’ve termed a ‘furpocalypse’ when I decided to cut and sew three more bears in one day:

I had to vacuum both the room and myself four times, and clean out the sewing machine twice! That fluff gets everywhere, even up your nose! It was worth it in the end, though, as the result looks so nice. As the pile is quite thick I had to glue on the noses and use felt for eyebrows as thread just vanishes, but I think that actually looks better and allows for more expression.

I made a second set of Ace clothes while I was waiting for the fur to arrive; the first jacket had been a bit too small and I’d only had satin to use for the lining which disintegrates as it’s sewn, not something I wanted to give someone as a gift. It was a painstaking job to replicate the badges and decoration on the jacket with felt and embroidery thread, but I was pleased with how it turned out:

The costume is based on one from Remembrance of the Daleks, the skirt and t-shirt made from jersey and the decorations on the latter also of felt. She has a plait, rucksack and baseball bat, as well as a nitro 9 canister in her hand/paw (which I actually swapped out for a better one on Friday but didn’t take any pictures of it). The nitro is attached with velcro and can be exchanged for the bat. My only tiny niggle is that I made the jacket lining the wrong colour, only realising it should be orange when I started rewatching Sophie’s episodes last week, but that’s just my perfectionist side at work and her new owner didn’t mind.

“Aaaaaace!” You can see my original Seventh Doctor bear here; I changed a few things working on the new one, this time using blue eyes and making the jacket in cream rather than brown, mainly as a contrast with the darker fur but also so he would match season 25 Ace. I decided to use red paisley for scarf, tie, hatband and handkerchief, adding a red trim to the last two. The jumper once again took a couple of hours’ work, and as this was a present for Sylvester this time I did embroider question marks and chevrons all the way round!

For the umbrella I cut out several long triangles and stitched them together in imitation of a real brolly, using a bit of a skewer covered in felt for the pole (that’s not the word but I can’t think what to call the middle of a umbrella for the life of me!), to which I attached some jewellery wire pinched from my sister (shh!) twisted into the shape of a question mark. That was then covered in yet more felt. I’ve made a lot of things from felt lately!

And voila: one finished Seventh Doc bear:

I do hope Sylvester spots that he even has spoons in his pocket. 😁

Last but not least, we have Eighth Doctor bear, which I actually started first but I didn’t have enough fabric for his coat so he had to sit and wait while I worked on the others. My original is here; he’s gone through a few costume tweaks as I’ve tried to improve on things and this time I mainly used scraps left over from my own cosplay and made them up in the same way: shirt, scarf, waistcoat, belt and gailters are all the same as mine, and the coat is identical material but from a different source.

His shirt and waistcoat both fasten with buttons, and I made the watch chain and belt buckle from embroidery thread. It took several attempts to get the boots and gaiters right, and I went from having quite a large piece of faux leather to something about a quarter of the size, most of it ending up in the bin! Unlike my Eight bear he has a sonic screwdriver, made from - yes, you guessed it! - felt. Fortunately the TVM sonic is quite a simple design, unlike the other one I made which can be swapped with this one to go with the Dark Eyes outfit I ran up on an impulse because I had scraps left from my own jacket and put in the bag with him; hopefully Paul will find it as that DE sonic took me two attempts to get (somewhat) right!

I changed the shape of the lapels on this new coat so that they were more like the real one, and I also took some pics of him in his Dark Eyes gear:

I confess that he was the one I found it hardest to give up. Look at him:

And he matches me!

I had to keep telling myself that I couldn’t keep him, I’d made him for Paul, but it wasn’t easy!

Finally, a few pics of them together:

I was so, so pleased with the way these turned out. Along with Bush (about whom I’ll post separately), these are the best bears I’ve made so far, and I’m glad that Paul, Sophie and Sylvester were just as happy with them!

[training-trio-irl]

Fusions have returned! And this time, I’m here with my hand-picked V3 fusions. I’ve been developing a Fusion AU for all three main game casts, and hopefully one day I’ll get to share my designs for the 1st and 2nd game as well!

— Below are some descriptions of each character. They’re a bit longer than I hoped for, but I would really appreciate if you took a quick read through them if you are at all interested in this AU! —

—===—

Kaeki Harumatsu => While in the foster care system, Kaeki has had to help care for many siblings, and her main method was to create and preform stories for them to be relaxed and entertained by. Her stories were very engaging and imagination-sparking for kids, and word of her talent quickly got around, leading to her publishing books and reading her fairytales at children’s events! She is soft spoken, but compassionate and resilient, and very much a leader. Despite her anxieties, she is always striving to achieve a bright future, not just for herself, but for the next generation too.

Shutaro Amahara => One day, Shutaro accidentally got caught up in an expedition through a rarely traversed jungle, lead by his uncle and his archaeology team. After single-handedly coming across never before seen ruins from an ancient civilization, however, he promptly received his ultimate talent. Now he continues to accompany his uncle, and with his exceptional observational skills, survival tactics, and adaptability, has made many profound discoveries. At the end of the day, however, Shutaro would much prefer to be back home, spending time with his three little sisters and stepping out of the spotlight.

Kaikichi Oumota => Kaikichi claims to be the captain of a crew comprised of thousands of members, dispersed all over the world helping those in need. Whether that is true or not, one can not deny that his never ending sea of anecdotes from their travels seem too detailed to be entirely fiction. He is relentlessly positive and strives to maintain a happy atmosphere, to the point where he’ll lie about the reality of a given situation in order to avoid fear and conflict. He calls the seven seas his home, but they believe that they can one day reach the stars as well!

Kiibu Irubashi => Coming from a family of engineers, Kiibu was no stranger to creating little machines with whatever materials were available to them. They always had a knack for robotics, but her incredible abilities were proven when, after a horrible car accident that resulted in the amputation of their right arm, he constructed the world’s first ever working cybernetic arm. Ever since their recognition as an ultimate, her ego has intensified tenfold. While their confidence has proved useful in presenting prototypes and giving speeches, it seems to drive away any potential friends he hopes to make. So for now, this eccentric will stick to building bots to pass the time.

Gorumi Tokuhara => Gorumi got taken in by a very affluent family at a young age after supposedly being separated from his real family in a hiking trip, although the whereabouts of his parents were never uncovered. Growing up, he was tasked with many chores around his adoptive family’s estate, and now serves many members of the upper class around Japan. He is very caring and calculated in nature, but he has also successfully and willingly taken on many assignments that involved physical altercations. Gorumi will do anything to keep peace and order among his friends, but isn’t stingy when it comes to them having some childish fun!

Ryokiyo Shinoshi => It is certainly bizarre that this world famous cricket prodigy turned convicted serial killer got accepted into Hope’s Peak Academy, but that seems to be more common than you’d think for this government-funded high school. Despite his enrollment, there is now doubt that his life has forever been ruined by his actions, but Ryokiyo doesn’t seem to care all that much. Nowadays, forces like “the rules” and “consequences” don’t seem to phase him. Handcuffs are ready on one of his wrists in case anything gets too out of hand.

Himugi Shiromeno => Himugi is, simply put, unhappy with her talent. It is true that she has assisted many impressive magicians and illusionists, helping them pull off many tricky stunts, but she recognizes that, compared to other talents at Hope’s Peak, hers is underwhelming. Of course, she can’t deny that she is grateful to attend such a prestigious academy, but she wished it would be for something cooler. Regardless, she does her best to focus on what’s important to her: following the rules, getting good grades, and making new talented friends! She still can’t help but be a little cynical, though…

Angko Chabanaga => Coming from a small but tight-knit community, she put her home on the map after joining a famous aerial arts troupe and quickly becoming the star of the show. Angko is always on the move, both physically and metaphorically, and her chaotic lifestyle can be hard for others to keep up with. Her larger-than-life aura may seem a bit standoffish at first, but in reality she is very outgoing and kind, always doing what she can to support others.

As always, if anyone has any suggestions, fun ideas, or ways to incorporate better the aspects of either component in a fusion, feel free to send an ask or leave it in the tags!

[ammonitetheseaserpent]

In the wake of all the epic Disassembly Drone headcanons I’ve been seeing (istg I am GOBBLING THEM I AM MUNCHING THEM I AM SLURPING THEM LOVINGLY THROUGH A STRAW-) I’d like to present some of my own that randomly struck me!

- There were DD prototypes and others before the ones we have now, and they developed a little system of hand/wing/tail gestures to silently convey questions/commands when they needed to (i.e. when they might have needed to coordinate attacks)

- Like, pointing a finger at someone and then giving a single, deliberate tail flick is a signal for that specific drone to follow them, a single long sweep of the tail means “spread out”, and pointing forward with any sort of weapon-hand is the ultimate signal to attack.

- They’ve also got some other like. militaristic, encoded ways of describing things like time

- This system was used so much it pretty much became part of the DDs’ software, so it ended up getting passed down to the current trio when they were repurposed

- N teaches Uzi some of these gestures and codes at some point as a lil ✨bonding thing✨, but they also came up w/ some of their own to be used in more just. day-to-day life (I could totally see them as the type to make up secret codes that only they know the meaning to. like. there ends up being several situations where they’ve used them around V in convos w/ her and she’s just. baffled)

- A lot of DDs have their own individual little tics and gestures; for example, @thecosmiccrow brought up the idea of N holding his tail like a stuffed animal for comfort, and I like to imagine V sort of. unconsciously brings out her knife claws if she’s angry/frustrated enough

[swaps55]

Fugue Update - 16 - Play the Cards

Pairing: mShenko

Rating: M

Tags: Angst, Grief, Major (Canonical) Character Death

Summary: Alchera, and the two-year gap.  

Chapter Summary: In which Kaidan makes a choice, and really hates the Hammerhead.

Many, many thanks to @pigeontheoneandonly and @urrone for betaing this beast of a chapter!

Chapter 16: Play the Cards | Read on Ao3

08 February 2185, Arcturus Stream, Arcturus, Arcturus Station

The hour and a half debrief Kaidan has to sit through on the M-44 Hammerhead is almost enough to convince him to resign his commission right then and there. But now that he’s getting a good look at the R&D behind it, the hell the prototype has put him through for the last month is starting to make a lot more sense.

The Alliance R&D lieutenant in charge of the project has never been in the field. It’s being funded by Cord-Hislop Aerospace, who developed the airframe and propulsion system but has never designed an infantry vehicle and are now scrambling to answer the question of how to stop the overcomplicated hover technology from freezing at -53C, which, coincidentally, was the temperature on Lattesh where Kaidan was testing it.

Kaidan raises his hand when he can’t take it anymore. He’s in a room with five admirals, one of them Admiral Hackett, two senior VPs from CHA flanked by someone with ‘chief engineer’ in their title and an entourage that Kaidan hasn’t bothered to count. On the other end of the table is the Hahne-Kedar senior VP and the project lead. Those two are the ones Kaidan can blame for the damn weapons system.  

If Kaidan is the first person with boots-on-the-ground experience they’ve talked to, he’s going to eat his datapad.

“Commander?” the lieutenant, Olasz, Kaidan thinks his name is, asks, almost flustered. Apparently it wasn’t question time yet.

“I’m sorry,” Kaidan says, trying to suppress his exasperated sigh. He’s not even sure how much he’s expected to speak up in this meeting, but hell, if he doesn’t, he’ll owe an apology to every marine in the damn service. “I have to ask. Why are we so dead set on rocket jets for an infantry vehicle?”

Olasz stares at him, then back at the notes for his presentation.

Uh oh, Kaidan thinks. Went off script.

“Because it can reach 120 kph,” he replies after a momentary panic, repeating exactly what he’d said ten minutes ago. Or an hour ago. Kaidan’s lost track. “Over rough terrain, water.”

“I don’t see how that’s an advantage,” Kaidan says, and this time the sigh sneaks through. Across from him, Hackett’s chair creaks as he rests his elbows on the conference room table and steeples his fingertips.

“Would you mind elaborating, Commander?” he asks in a gruff voice. There’s a glint in his eye, like Kaidan just handed him an opening he’d been waiting for.

“It’s adding complication where we don’t need it,” Kaidan replies. “Or want it. Those jets are hell to maintain in the field. The fuel lines kept freezing on Lattesh to the point we almost had to abandon our mission. I’ve personally experienced the M35-Mako handling temperatures eighty degrees colder than that. We nearly got blown into a lava field on Zeona because we couldn’t stabilize it against the wind. The dust on Corang grounded us when it got sucked into the inlet. These are all problems you don’t have with tires.”

“But the efficiency—”

“It’s not efficient,” Kaidan snaps. A smirk lurks behind Hackett’s fingertips. “The design sacrifices an entire weapons system for an inferior one.”

This time one of the duo from Hahne-Kedar tries to speak up – undoubtedly in defense of the damn rockets that Aslany had to deal with when the geth colossus was almost on top of them on Corang – but Kaidan shuts her down.

“The M35-Mako has a mass accelerator cannon and a machine turret, both of which operate off the same ammo block. It’s easy to maintain, ammo is nearly infinite, and a rail gun is going to save the day almost every time. This thing has rockets. We give up infantry space to store a finite supply of them, and when they run out, we’re screwed. And then there’s the fuel. The Mako runs on a hydrogen-oxygen fuel cell. The Hammerhead runs on actual rocket fuel. Not only does that burn all the weight allowance the eezo generator gives us, but it’s very flammable cargo. Which brings me to the armor plating.”

One of the admirals, Mikhailovich, raises a hand. “Thank you, Commander. That’s very enlightening.”

I can’t believe I’m arguing in favor of the damn Mako, Kaidan thinks to himself.

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Fugue Playlist

[sunriseverse]

4 for the ask meme??? I desire all your thoughts. require them even. and a glimpse into your wips. 👁️

okay. deep breaths. i will not throw my phone out the window because tumblr crashed this ask and deleted everything i had written. anyway.

i have a LOT of wip ideas but the most active wip i have in my head at the moment is sunrise, and i have a couple things planned at the moment.

1. this is a xiaoge pov fic, with a mixture of third and second person pov (third for past/present, second for behind the rift). i keep trying to write it and stopping because it’s such uncharted territory for me and i want it to be PERFECT but i know i shouldn’t be so intense about it……..but also i want it to be exactly how i have imagined it in my head. here’s what i have so far:

2. this is a xiaosanjiao fic, with two main focuses: one, how wu xie in this verse is specifically callous and cruel towards li cu while also trying to maintain his innocence, the only reason he has any use for him, and two, the way li cu only survives because he is loved. i’ve got a lot of thoughts about prototypal anchor bonds and they are quite literally the case study for it—especially when you consider that their bond is basically comparable to the iron triangle’s. what can i say, sha hai took me out back and shot me with that metaphor and now i can’t let it rest.

now onwards and inwards towards my notes app, where lieth the beasts who dwell in waiting (wips i would like to get to some day but which have lower priority). there’s a lot of these so they’re going below the cut.

1. iron triangle time loop fic. i love a good time loop i love when things hurt and people have to watch their loved ones die. for a change of pace it would be pangzi who remembers the loops. because i like to torture the characters i love.

2. xiaoge taking pangzi and wu xie to visit baima’s grave. i just………have a lot of feelings about graves and how xiaoge only knew her for three days and how she wasn’t even really conscious and how despite that it was clearly an incredibly meaningful thing to him. also i think xiaoge would want the men he loves to meet the woman who loved him, even if they’re separated inescapably by time and distance.

3. silly fake marriage fic that hinges on that stupid marriage chair of fo ye’s (okay that’s not what it is and that’s not what happened but allow me to jest for a moment. to joke.). this is 100% self indulgent and ignoring any real world implications etc etc so the likelihood of it getting written ever is vanishingly low (i cannot stop thinking about Implications, alas), but hey, it’s a fun concept.

4. technically i wrote this but i would love to revisit it: dæmon au where xiaoge’s dæmon isn’t able to cross over the bronze gate with him and instead is left comatose in the real world and the only true indication that wu xie and pangzi have that xiaoge is still alive. i think initially when i thought of it my plan was for wu xie to care for them, but i’ve since decided that he would probably entrust that to pangzi, both because that’s safer, and because he doesn’t trust himself with the task.

5. pangzi in a qipao as a disguise for some fancy party they’re infiltrating for whatever reason. do i need to explain this further. alternatively a mundane au where pangzi is a model.

6. au where wu xie’s hatred and disgust and fear of what he’s turning himself into physically alters him into being visibly “monstrous” and it doesn’t go away after everything and he tries to hide it because he’s terrified of how pangzi and xiaoge will react if they find out. heavily inspired by this one comic i saw about a character hiding in a bathtub behind the curtain because they turned into their monstrous form and can’t remember how to turn back, and then the other person gets into the bathtub and holds their hand and shows them a photo of some happy moment and tells them it’s okay, they’ll wait. yeah. also vague allegories for bipolar onset because i have exactly three dead horses and i’m not going to stop beating them.

7. wu xie with glasses. listen. look at me. the glasses agenda must be advanced.

8. boyfriend item thief xiaoge. sweaters. food. that one blanket pangzi could have sworn he left on the sofa. hearts. etc.

9. technically i kind of wrote this a bit with “hearts’ keep” but a fic where li cu and wu xie keep running into each other and li cu is horribly reminded repeatedly of the ways that people keep drawing parallels between him and su wan and yang hao and the iron triangle. i just want to write about complicated relationships and the horrifying knowledge that you are in love with your best friends you know?

okay that’s it i THINK. or at least everything that’s more than just three words and no context/scribbling that got incorporated into other things.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Vicarious (Part 18)

He should have expected it. That she would stop talking to him again. Sokka thinks that he should have done more. He should have done anything at all to keep her from feeling awkward about the kissing ordeal. As it is, she has been avoiding him. It stings and he is worried that his friends are going to get the wrong idea and start avoiding him again. But they don’t shoo him away when he tries to join them for meals. And Katara doesn’t ask him to leave when he sits down with them by the turtleduck pond. But he can still sense her unease when she looks about the garden and finds that it is just the two of them alone. 

“Where is Sokka, I was hoping to talk to him?” He asks Katara. 

“With our dad.” Katara says. “There are only a few days left until they have to present their work before the nations’ leaders so they’ve been pretty busy. I’m kind of worried about…” She falters. 

“About what?” Sokka prompts. 

She seems to consider for a moment whether or not she wants to share this with Azula, by extension, him. Finally she finishes. “I’m worried about Sokka. He says that he can handle all of this stuff but, it’s a lot. Dad thinks really highly of him and he doesn’t want to let him down.”

Sokka nods. “I wouldn’t want that either.”

Katara grimaces. “Yeah, your father is…” She doesn’t have to finish for him to nod along. 

“I’m sure that he’ll be fine.” He certainly hopes so. Just as much as he hopes that her lack of conversation has more to do with being busy and stressed than it does truly wanting to avoid him. “Do you know when he’ll be back?” 

Katara shrugs. “He and dad have been getting back late. I’ve been trying to get him to relax a little and go to bed. But when he’s got a job to do, he does it and he won’t take a break until he sees it through.”

“Well, jobs should be seen though!” He declares. “You can’t just drop a project when it becomes difficult or nothing would get done.”

“But it doesn’t pay off to overwork yourself. I think that you and Sokka could stand to learn that.”

They do have that in common; spirits they would be either unstoppable or exhausted wrecks if they ever worked on a project together. “Yeah, maybe. But some things have time constraints.”

Katara nods and clears her throat. “So what about you? Are you doing better?”

Smiling comes easier now and he hopes that it does for Azula too. “A little, yes. I like talking to people but it’s…” he hesitates, wondering if Azula wants him speaking so much on her behalf and when he isn’t sure if he has read her correctly. “Difficult for me. I’ve really only talked to Mai and TyLee. My father didn’t really leave me with much room for idle time.” 

“Well there’s not a whole lot going on lately so now would be a good time to, I don’t know, figure out what you want to do with your life.” Katara replies. “You still have goals, right?”

“I’m not sure.” It is a good question really. He imagines that Azula does have some type of goal. Or maybe she still needs to find what she enjoys. 

.oOo.

It is one thing after another. 

Not only does she have to come up with a compelling pitch for the Republic City Project as well as a speech that details how they are going to execute the  project and a detailed explanation of all of the cities blueprints both for the architecture of at least three different types of buildings and for how they play to layout and name the streets.

But she also has to have a working prototype of the new machines that they will be using to construct those buildings and prove, using model buildings, that the real ones will be structurally sound against earthquakes, strong winds, water damage, and fire damage–things that Hakoda has already assured her that they are. 

But she has her doubt; each nation has tailored their buildings to meet their needs. Caldera City was built with fire hazards in mind just as Ba Sing Se has accounted for earthquakes. During the course of the war, Caldera City has made some touches to earthquake proof their buildings in the instance of an invasion but she they haven’t flood proofed the city nor accounted for high winds. None of the nations have managed all four. 

How is she supposed to sell something that she isn’t confident in. Something that she herself isn’t fond of. She has not grown fond of those boxy, ugly high rise buildings. She is among those mentioned by Hakoda who strongly oppose the construction of these things. 

And maybe it is because she values tradition and isn’t particularly fond of chance. Not when change has been so unkind to her. 

She spends most nights these days pacing and digging at her hairline. There is so much to do and she hasn’t had nearly as much time as Sokka had to get acquitted with the tasks at hand. She can only do so much at once. Can only handle so many tasks. 

She rubs her hands over her face. 

Why do people always expect so much from her?

Why does she always expect so much from herself?

Why, when she has already proved that no matter how much work she throws in, it simply won’t be good enough?

On top of it all is the added pressure of knowing that she is going to drag Sokka under with her this time around. She needs to get it together, she needs to, she needs to, she needs to…

She brings her pacing to a halt at the sound of the door. 

“How’s it going there, Sokka. Teo’s father is here and he was hoping that you could show him the blueprints that we…”

The blueprints, the blueprints, the blueprints. She is getting tired of the color blue. Tired of the color she used to adore. He is always asking about the blueprints; has she looked them over yet, has she revised them, has she made a copy of them, has she gotten really familiar with them…

He never asks her if she is handling everything okay, if she’d like something to eat or drink, or if she’d like a break. 

He says that he is proud and he couldn’t have raised a better son. He says that he knows that she will exceed his expectations. And so she has too. He expects her to exceed his expectations and, surely, after that she will have to exceed his exceeded expectations. 

If she doesn’t, he won’t look at her the same way. He will give her patronizingly simpler tasks ones that she can ‘actually handle’. Tasks that he knows are beneath her and she knows have been assigned to her to remind her that she has let him down…

When she looks up, she is no longer looking at Hakoda. He is going on and on about his high hopes. About how excited he is, about how this project is going to change the lives of so many people for the better. 

“It’ll change mine for the worse!” She snaps. With every success he is going to pile more and more work onto her. It won’t stop, it never does. And she can’t ask for a break unless she wants him to snub her entirely. 

She just wants him to care about her, to love her. She just wants him to do it for no other reason than that she is his daughter. “How am I supposed to get all of this…!” She slaps her hand down onto the blueprints. They flutter to the floor. Ozai flinches “Done in three days? You’re just using me.

“Sokka.”

She swipes the rest of the sheets and watches them scatter. She has just enough of her senses left to know that she is going to have to pick those up and put them back in order. She leaves the second stack alone.

She has no fire to throw. But she has a boomerang and she has two fists. 

Agni, what is wrong with her? She isn’t like this? She is more collected than this…

“Sokka!” 

She jolts. He is going to burn her. He is going to…

“It’s alright.” He says softly. He holds his hand out and she flinches back but no fire splays across her face. And finally it comes back to her that it isn’t her face and that it isn’t Ozai’s hand that has been extended to her. “Can I?” 

When she doesn’t protest, Hakoda takes her into his arms. He has strong arms. Fatherly arms. The kind that are definitely well versed in embracing children. The kind that have definitely rocked them to sleep and carried them to bed. The kind of hands that have tucked children in. That have taken very good care of a son and a daughter. 

“Raava’s tendrils, Sokka. We’ve talked about this; you have to tell me when I’m putting too much pressure on you. You’re such a strong man, you have take on so much. Sometimes I can’t tell when you’re enjoying a challenge or working too hard.” 

“Neither can I.” She practically whispers. That line has long since blurred and distorted. She doesn’t even know if she really enjoys the things that she enjoys or if it is just a comfortable habit. Some type of compulsion that she has in place of all of the things that she never got to try or explore. 

The only thing keeping her upright are Hakoda’s fatherly arms. 

She wonders what her father’s arms would have felt like. Would have have a tighter hold or a looser one? She imagines that a hug from him would be much firmer. Firmer and warmer. Somehow, she imagines that Ozai would be the type to ruffle her hair at the end of it. 

She swallows hard and the tears come forth. Uncontrollably and impossible to stop. If Sokka can embarrass her by sobbing in front of everyone, then he can deal with her doing it. 

Hakoda sighs. “What am I going to do with you, Sokka? I know that you don’t like telling me no, but you have to.” He pats her back. “I can ask Teo and Bato to give me a hand now and again. I promise that I’m not going to be upset or disappointed.”

She tries to imagine how those words would sound coming from Ozai’s mouth. She does so with enough success to make herself cry harder still. 

Hakoda pulls her in closer and holds her head against his chest. “Take the night off, Sokka. Three days was just the goal. I’ve already warned everyone that a project of this scale could come with several delays.”

“But…”

“No buts, Sokka. I’ll take care of things. You go back to the palace. I’m sure that your friends would like to spend some time with you.”

She can’t tell him why that hurts so much to hear. 

They aren’t even her friends. 

She doesn’t have friends; she has already chosen father and his impossible standards over them. She isn’t even confident that there had been any other option. 

Expectations and conditional love have already broken her, but at least Sokka will be okay. Maybe now he’ll have more time to spend working on his love life. Maybe his next partner won’t feel like she is being chosen second to his work life. 

“Do you want a moment alone?” Hakoda asks. 

She nods. 

“I’ll keep this between us.” He smiles. “Just let me know when you decided to head back to the palace.” 

She nods again.

She will have to compose herself first. 

Father would have never given her the chance to. Not without berating her until she had more things that required regain composure from. She had sacrificed all of the things she hadn’t realized she was sacrificing to make father proud. To make her nation proud. She has disappointed them all and now she has nothing left. 

Nothing but this little chance that Sokka created on her behalf. 

It will be a long night indeed.

[dark-arts-and-crafts-universe]

A Dying Art (Chapter 17)

A Dying Art

Lorcan Verdigris is a time wizard, a misanthrope, and a single father to a household of magically-sentient furniture.

Lorcan Verdigris is not a necromancer. Anymore. But when the leader of the  local necro coven comes to him with a request he really, really can’t  refuse, past collides with present and he finds himself back in a world  he’d tried to leave behind. Someone is trying to steal a powerful  magical artifact, one whose destruction could unleash chaos upon the  city. Or save it from an even greater danger. Or do nothing at all. Who  knows. See, this is exactly why Lorcan stopped messing with the stuff.

Unfortunately,  one way or another, Lorcan’s the one stuck dealing with it. He’d like  to say this is a challenge that will take all his magic and his  ingenuity to overcome, but let’s be real, stopping this threat will take  something even more dire: actual effort. At least he’s getting paid  this time…

Previous | Table of Contents

Chapter 17: What Remains

Word count: 3,618

Content warnings: no major content warnings

So this is the last chapter of A Dying Art! I’ve been really nervous about posting this, wanted to make sure it was as good as it could be to end the story strong. I do plan to write more with these characters and universe (because wow is there a lot more story to tell) but this work represents the first major chunk of Lorcan’s arc. If you’ve stuck around until the end, thank you so much! I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it.

-

Osiris did live up to their promise to pay him if he survived. They even threw in extra to cover expenses. Lorcan got the letter in his mail five days after the mall battle–he almost didn’t check until the kids pestered him about it. Alongside the cash was another message. It read: Darken my GameStop one more time, Lorcan Verdigris.

The normal people were definitely staring when Lorcan entered the mall. He couldn’t blame them–he’d found a big stick in the small patch of grass outside and was regularly jabbing it into the walls on the off-chance something started breathing. He tossed five rocks onto the escalator before deciding it was (probably) safe.

Of course, if the mall was still evil and liminal, his time sense would be killing him again and everything there was comfortably usual. So. His slipshod plan had worked, then. The scenesters hadn’t connected the mall dimension back to their plane of existence, and Osiris hadn’t taken the space for themselves. Maybe this incident wasn’t entirely over, but some things were back to the way they’d been.

“You did not bring your familiar this time,” Osiris’s voice greeted Lorcan as he stepped into the shop.

“Well, fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice and I really will irradiate you to death.”

“We see,” they said, then: “That was not Dexter’s death curse.”

If Lorcan was a little bit snippy, it was because he was still catching up on sleep from the week before. He ran a hand through his hair, then asked, “Did you summon me to your shop to say things we both already knew?”

Because, duh. Dexter Young would never bury anything important in a place he and Lorcan had explored together. His trust extended just far enough to let him help with the mostly-useless first attempt, ten years ago.

But, “The prototype looked close enough to fool the others.”

“Not us, however.”

Yes. Osiris had all of Dexter’s memories. That was how that worked.

“I didn’t need to fool you,” he told them. “I just needed to get you in a position where it benefitted you to play along. The fight had been going long enough I figured you’d want it stalled, if nothing else.”

And they nodded slowly, like Lorcan had given them something they needed. “An intriguing gambit.”

There was almost a note of respect in their voice–exactly what Lorcan had hoped wasn’t going to happen. Aside from the ethical implications…he’d only been able to get the drop on Osiris because they’d underestimated him. He would bet that wasn’t going to happen in the future.

“Not without its consequences, of course,” the Crown said, probably thinking the same. “What you gained from the ploy must have been worth the risk.”

Not this again, Lorcan thought, pretending very suddenly to be interested in one video game on the shelf in front of him about…cars? “I thought my demands were clear enough. My son, and the petty, fleeting thrill of victory symbolized by a pair of overpriced shoes.”

Osiris let out a hum.

Before that hum could turn into a barbed comment, or worse a question, he added, “So I guess you won the fight, then? I mean, this place looks less hell-dimension than last time.”

He couldn’t say things seemed entirely normal–he was studiously avoiding the new, very artistic posters the Crown had added to the decor since last time–but it was still Osiris’s store, so he had to assume things had worked out for them.

“More or less,” they answered, with a tilt of their head. “After your…outburst, you could say the adrenaline of the moment had dimmed. The Dominion sought respite for their injuries–”

“Who the fuck is the Dominion?”

“The ‘scene crowd’. Their collective nom de guerre,” Osiris told him. They frowned. “They had a monologue about it when the fight began. Were you not there for that?”

“No, I was busy being left for dead,” he said.

“Ah.” They gave it a second’s thought and moved on, “The Dominion broke to in-fighting soon after you left–petty complaints about being ‘frightened’ and ‘dying’. It was as if they had not yet considered murdering a powerful necromancer might involve some degree of personal consequence. We know that you would never be so foolish.”

And Lorcan flinched at that, because it was true in exactly the way he didn’t want Osiris to think about. “They seemed pretty young,” he offered.

“In years, they did not differ much from you. In maturity…” They nodded once. “Their worldview is very much marked by youth: the old is worthless, everything must be fresh, new.”

“...like the New Osiris?”

A scowl. “That was part of the monologue, yes. A quite vainglorious sobriquet–the name Osiris is not for any common ruler to claim. It belonged to a truly admirable individual.”

Lorcan did not resist the urge to roll his eyes. “You know,” he drawled, “some people would pretend to be humble.”

The look of unamusement on Osiris’s face was expected. But it seemed different from usual. Somehow more solemn. “We mean the first Osiris. Contrary to popular belief, we chose the name out of respect.”

He turned that over in his head. The first necromancer in the area to call himself Osiris was before Lorcan’s time. But he did know the stories. “He convinced his enemies to merge their covens together,” he said, working through the thought. “No enchantments–supposedly–no shows of force. Just words and charisma.”

“Osiris the First achieved through will alone what for others required powerful magic.”

“And you…admire that?” he had to ask. Osiris (the Second) did value hard work, and skills separate from magic. The GameStop was proof of that.

What Osiris (the Second) didn’t bother with was charisma. Needing people, trusting people–Lorcan had seen their lip literally curl enough to know their disgust at the thought. The necromancer souls that made up the gestalt had needed people, and they’d failed to achieve anything close to the first Osiris. He’d think, with their ego, that would more likely lead to envy.

“You admire someone,” he repeated.

“We do have a heart, Verdigris,” they said. “On occasion it is capable of positive emotion.”

“So is this–” Lorcan pointed at himself, then the Crown, and the store. “--one of those rare moments of gratitude, then? Because I saved your ass back in that fight?”

There was the lip. “Whatever minor assistance you rendered was, truly, unnecessary in the grander scheme of things.” They paused. “But, as the opportunity did arise, we decided acquiescing to a momentary stalemate would allow us to allocate our remaining stamina for this upcoming shift. Besides which, the ritual circle had been damaged in the battle somehow.”

“Oh?”

“The liminal death dimension still exists,” Osiris explained, “but its connection to our own plane has been frayed. A new bridge would need to be built before the space is again usable.”

Little victories, Lorcan thought.

“As for the physical Spirit Halloween in this mall,” they continued. “It has vanished as quickly as it appeared. A front the entire time, we assume.”

Osiris let out a small huff of breath, not quite a sigh. It was still more defeated than Lorcan had ever seen them. “A clean victory would have been preferable, though it seems this time that was not quite possible.”

And for a moment, Lorcan could feel a sense of kinship with the wistfulness in the Crown’s voice.

“Things keep happening.” He looked down at his hands. “You don’t want to be the one who has to handle them. But you’re the one who’s there and that means it’s up to you. It sucks.”

“Indeed. ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears the’…” They trailed off mid-quote, and pointed to their crown upon their head. A soft, halfway-chuckle slipped out of their mouth. “True rest escapes us still. The Dominion’s fiendish accountancy knows few bounds.”

“I thought you’d have dealt with that by now.”

“You know as well as we that the advent of online shopping was the dagger in the metaphorical intestine of the American mall,” they informed him. “It bleeds slow, but death is certain.” Sad silhouettes of signage flashed into Lorcan’s mind. Empty halls and dusty floors.

“The only locations turning a profit at this complex are this GameStop and–” Osiris let out a disgusted shudder. “--the Hot Topic. Pre-orders alone may not be enough. We will likely need to devote even greater attention to this job simply to hold the line. We may even have to cut down on our extracurricular murders.”

Hm. “That’s rough.”

“Yes. We must all make sacrifices in this trying time.” Then, after a pause, “Or rather, some of us must make fewer sacrifices. But the time of separating business from magic, at least, is at an end.”

Lorcan wouldn’t say no to less extracurricular murder, but it was overall a somber statement. A lot of necromantic status quo in the area was going to get upheaved. It might, emphasis on might, work out better for the locals for a new enemy to distract Osiris’s attention. But there was a lot of new room for innocents to get caught in the crossfire.

It had been the same way back before the Crown had merged into a necromantic gestalt, and Lorcan didn’t know what he, as one mid-tier wizard, could do to stop it.

“You did not answer our question, Verdigris.”

They were doing this, then? They were really doing this. “I’m pretty sure I did, actually,” he said. Argumentative, but there was no helping that.

“We wish to hear why you did what you did that night.”

“You know damn well why,” Lorcan snapped. “Is it really so confusing I might want to protect my children? My children who I love?”

“Perhaps.” Osiris raised an eyebrow. “It is such a feeble, human emotion, after all.”

Yeah, he didn’t buy that. “I’ve heard you do have a heart on occasion.”

It was too easy an answer: the evil, inhuman villain who does evil things because they don’t feel love. Better than admitting your old friend had just stopped caring. No, for all Osiris insisted they were no longer mortal and weak, their evil was human enough. Something about the specifics of Lorcan’s family did seem to be tripping up their inestimable wisdom. But it wasn’t that.

Osiris liked to avoid emotion. Lorcan knew firsthand that didn’t stop you from feeling it.

“And you know what,” he threw out like a challenge, “you never answered my question: did you call me here just to talk about things we both already know?”

The words were more confident than he felt, and Osiris stared at him, eyes piercing, stance sure. Lorcan tried not to shift, not to fidget. Whatever they were looking for, they were only going to see what he’d already explained. For a moment, he could see hesitation flickering in the dark of their eye.

When the Crown finally spoke, they said, “Dexter was surprised when you began calling yourself a father.”

And how could Lorcan respond to that except, “I was, too.” It was a vulnerable admission, and for once, Osiris didn’t press their advantage.

The feeling in the silence that fell prickled at his neck. It was almost like…uncertain smalltalk back in Belial’s tattoo parlor. A kind of verbal joust he still didn’t know the rules for. He was missing something big, he just didn’t know what. So there was a moment of relief when the door to the back of the shop opened, enough that he didn’t think to question who could be coming out of it.

There had to be wards hiding Jennifer Lynn’s shimmering spectral form from non-magical eyes. Even in a dying mall, there were too many people who would notice a translucent woman carrying a stack of games to the shelves like she was any normal employee. It was a sign of the upheaval Lorcan had been the unwitting architect of, he thought with a sinking heart. The days of the Crown Osiris’s GameStop being a place safe from magic were over.

Then he saw the person standing behind Jennifer Lynn.

Necromancy made a lot of common idioms hard to say with a straight face. So for Lorcan to say that spotting Kyle, in the flesh, carrying a stack of video games was like ‘seeing a ghost’--well, there was a ghost right in front of him. This was more shocking.

“You are staring,” Osiris noted.

“I’m just surprised to see him still–” Alive. “–employed.”

“Clearly we overestimated his ability to lead independently of our instruction,” they said. “It does not matter. We have long been in need of a footman whom we can provide with much firmer management.”

“And how’s Kyle feel about that?”

“Kyle?” Osiris asked him.

“Super grateful for not being dead, um, your royal magic-ness Opal ma’am!” The kid had a plastered-on smile that looked only halfway fake. “I mean, the new hours suck a bit, but it’s better than food service. Also being a, uh, footman comes with health insurance?”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. Lorcan glanced back at Osiris.

“We bound a wraith into the fabric of his soul to ensure his body will not expire before our use for him has,” they said. “That counts. Honestly, we would not have bothered in the first place,” they added with a wave of their hand. “But Jennifer Lynn saw potential in him.”

The realtor’s shade hadn’t looked at Lorcan since she walked out, almost pointedly ignoring him. It wasn’t until the split second where Osiris turned to examine a display that she met his eyes.

Huh, he thought. How about that?

Lorcan wasn’t going to insult Jennifer Lynn’s intelligence by letting slip any more than a single nod, barely more than a twitch of his neck. But when she pivoted back to her work as if nothing had even been communicated, he thought she got the gist.

It was a bigger favor than Lorcan thought he could ask for. The situation Kyle was in was not ideal by any means. It was a lot of trouble Lorcan didn’t know if he could get him out of. But more achievable than full resurrection–he wasn’t that good a necromancer.

“You will need somebody to keep the shop running,” he said, because anything that kept Osiris from doubting Jennifer Lynn’s judgment was good. “Even if you black-market-gem your way out of debt, the customers are what keep the mall alive in the first place.”

Osiris disfavored him with a sour look. “Why should we surrender our own wealth to fix others’ inadequacies? No, we have found a more ingenious solution to our budgetary distress,” they pronounced, eyes glittering. “We have garnished Kyle’s pay.”

Lorcan glanced over to Kyle. “Hooray for capitalism,” he said.

He shouldn’t even be surprised anymore. Osiris was who they’d always been. As Dexter, as Opal, as the full gestalt. These were all people who would do anything to never need anyone.

Kind of like Lorcan. He took a deep breath. He was trying to be better. “Look, Osiris. This might be out of hand–”

“Then do not say it?”

He pressed on, “But you could consider giving a little more recognition to your underlings. There’s stuff they’re doing that you can’t, or won’t, and it doesn’t hurt you to let them pick up that slack. And maybe,” he added, “if you happen to owe someone for past services rendered, just pay them? I cannot stress enough that you’re a rich person who can do that.”

Osiris hummed to themself, seeming to consider it. “What you are saying is that re-investing in our minions now is the opportune moment to secure more unwavering loyalty in the future. Achieve our goals through mundane manipulation, like our predecessor.”

“No,” he said. “No, do not take this and turn it into a necromancy power grab. I’m trying–I am trying to be nice here, goddammit.”

“We know. It is a strange gesture. It hardly suits our working relationship.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“And yet you slave to the impulse in your mortal mind to meddle so. Our nigh-infinite wisdom is at a loss to explain it.” Their voice lilted for a moment, like it was a funny joke. But if they had seemed amused at first, their next words made it clear they were very, very not: “One would think the collateral damage alone from your interferences would deter you.”

Lorcan’s heart stuck in his throat. “Is that a threat?” he asked, and tried to sound confident.

“To your, ah, children? No, we have resolved that to attack ones so frail and helpless no longer befits the dignity of our gestalt. Consider it a courtesy after all you have done for us.”

Sure, he thought. That was the reason.

“No, it was,” and Lorcan knew exactly what the Crown would end that sentence with, “a simple observation. You must know by now that your nature is a poison, rather than a balm. Look at what you have wrought in the last week alone–was any of it ‘good’?”

He didn’t react. He didn’t let himself. His very breath stopped. Osiris was looking for a reaction, and he would not give them the satisfaction.

They smiled, and it was as unkind as anything Lorcan had ever done. “Some people were not made to be helpful, Verdigris. Remember that if you seek to interfere in our affairs again.”

Message received, Lorcan thought, mouth suddenly very dry. “Right,” he said, mechanically. Going through every motion. “It’s been real, Osiris. Corporate must love your progress reports.” He turned to go.

But this time, they didn’t let him leave with the parting shot. “Do you know how a conflict between us would end, Lorcan Verdigris?”

This again? “Yes,” he said tightly.

It was an obvious, obedient answer. So it sent a chill shock through his system when the Crown told him that, “We are no longer so certain. But if need be, we will put the question to the test.”

If there was one thing Lorcan had learned about Osiris, the thing that was new and strange about this person who was almost an almost-friend, it was that they liked their labels. It was their way of making the world predictable. Life and death. Work and magic. Threats and fools.

And if there was power in breaking boundaries, Lorcan might have done the worst thing he could in the long run by establishing himself as a threatening fool.

The unsettled feeling stuck with him all the way back to the apartment. “Hey, you’re still alive,” Vulk said, watching TV.

“Yeah.”

<But it’s done.> Frank flickered his light, letting out a satisfied creak.

“...Yeah.” He looked over to the desk, where Loretta’s light shade had swiveled to peer directly at him. “Loretta. Could…” He trailed off.

Going back to a lazy schedule meant he didn’t have to wear himself down thinking over everything that had happened. It meant he had plenty of time to do it anyway. And some thoughts were less avoidable than others.

His nature…a crafter’s art and their magic reflected who they were. It wasn’t supposed to be as simple as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ types of magic. But maybe Lorcan was just an unlucky jerk with nothing below the surface.

If he was a little nicer, would he have ended up with magic like Kryptonia and her friends, something that created instead of destroyed? A seer knew, at least, what it was they were supposed to do. Whether their actions would help or hurt. He could admit he envied that.

When Lorcan first saw the vision of red, he assumed it meant blood. The consequences of a bad choice. Frustrating, vague, and in the end it had been a clue to something else entirely.

No, despite the hint Lorcan was all alone, making his own choices the best he could. And look how that had gone.

In one week, he’d injured several people in a magic fight, gotten a hapless GameStop employee near-permanently subjugated, and threatened to destroy an entire mall. He’d potentially maneuvered the Crown Osiris into a position of even greater strength if they managed to win this necromantic power struggle. Vision or no, maybe there was going to be blood on his hands after all.

“I need a little more light in my room,” was what he said.

Loretta tilted her lampshade. “Sure thing, Dad,” she replied. “You’ve had a rough day.”

Lorcan took her back into his bedroom and plugged her into the outlet by his bedside table. Once he had, it felt like all the fight drained out of him; he slid down the edge of his bed to the floor, head resting against the table.

“Mad and sad, you said?” he asked softly.

He heard a squeak of metal hinges, then her voice in his head. “You did what you had to.”

“I did,” he said. “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again, if any of you needed it.”

“I know.”

His hands were shaking, and he could still feel the mall’s deathly chill. “I just wish--if my magic wasn’t like this--anybody else would have had other options.” His voice was pathetically weak as he asked, “Why me?”

Loretta didn’t answer, and Lorcan didn’t expect her to. He closed his eyes.

When he woke up hours later, his children had crowded their way into the bedroom, entertaining themselves with soft conversations in hushed voices. Loretta was watching over him, Vulk’s cord gripped his wrist, and Terry was wrapped around his shoulders to keep him warm.

Some things in Lorcan’s life were predictable. And despite everything, it was good.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I got to see Garnet Rogers live last night, the last time I saw him was probably at the Edmonton Folk Festival when I was seven years old. The tickets were my Christmas present to my mother this year, which I loved because it was the first the in a very long that I could afford to get her an actual gift. I had a lot of years of financial precariousness where I’d do nice sentimental things for gifts, and of course my parents are lovely people who appreciate the thought that I put into things, but it was nice this year to be financially stable enough to get her a regular gift (I mean, I’m not doing financially well by any means, I’m just not in imminent danger of losing my ability to pay rent if I buy a few non-essential things, and that is true even once I take into account the money I’ve set aside for/already spent on a trip to the UK this summer, so I feel pretty lucky these days). The tickets weren’t expensive or anything, but still, the price of two of them was more than I’d have spent the year before.

Someone at work asked me if I had any plans for this weekend, which immediately made me feel awkward, for which I mainly blame the backlash against hipsters that took over all of culture in about 2010. When everyone became obsessed with making fun of the prototypical hipster who, when you ask them what music they’re listening to, says “You’ve probably never heard of it.” This has caused a problem for me, as it leaves me with no polite and acceptable way to answer if someone asks me what music I’m listening to.

There’s no winning. If I say the name of an artist they haven’t heard of as though I expect them to know it, then it just sounds weird, they look at me strangely and I feel the way I did when I was ten years old and brought my Lennie Gallant CD in for show and tell and all the kids made fun of me. If I explain who the singer is, then that sort of feels more pretentious, or at least, gets into a longer conversation than the person was asking for when they just asked what my weekend plans are. And the people who perpetuated anti-hipster backlash have taken away the option of saying “Oh it’s a guy you won’t know.” Like. I don’t think I’m better than you for it. Quite the opposite, my personality today is largely driven by the inferiority complex I developed when I was ten and other kids thought my music was weird. It’s fine that you’ve probably never heard of it, I’m not saying that as some sort of power play. I’m just saying it because, you probably haven’t heard of it. And you don’t want me to explain who it is, and I don’t want to explain who it is while you listen politely and try to get out of the conversation, why can’t we just bring back “You probably don’t know it” as a normal and value neutral thing to say?

Anyway, this time, I was pleased that I did have a way to explain who I’m seeing via a reference point that most people know. Because Garnet Rogers is the older brother of Stan Rogers, a very famous Canadian folk singer. He died in 1983, and I think my music collection contains at least five different songs, written by various other Canadian folk singers, in tribute to his death, which is how you know he was a hell of an influence on the culture.

There’s an entire folk festival dedicated to his memory, called StanFest in Canso Nova Scotia. I’ve traveled the 15-ish-hour drive to attend that festival twice in my life and it’s been two of my favourite weekends ever.

Stan Rogers was so famous that he became one of the folk singers to break the containment of the folk niche, and he’s a cultural touchstone for most people in Canada. I’m pretty sure most people in Canada can sing at least the chorus of his most mainstream successful song, Barrett’s Privateers. So when my coworker asked me who I was going to see, I said, “Okay, you know Stan Rogers?” And she said “No”, and I just wanted to call in a referee and say "Hey, that's not fair! I know that usually a flaw in the social interaction is my fault, but this one can't be on me, it was a reasonable expectation on my part that a random person would have at least heard of Stan Rogers. This social interaction field has been stacked against me, how can I be expected to perform under these conditions?"

Anyway, I was totally unprepared for that answer to I sort of stammered, “Oh, right, well I’m seeing his brother,” and she looked at me like “Why have you told me that you’re seeing the brother of a guy I’ve never heard of?” and I looked at her like “Because I’m not allowed to just tell you you’ve never heard of it for some reason” and it was awkward and this is why I don’t usually try small talk with coworkers.

Anyway. I remember being a kid and asking both my parents who their favourite singer was; my dad said Gordon Lightfoot and my mom said Garnet Rogers. My dad briefly revised that to Emmylou Harris when I was a teenager, but I think my mom’s answer has stayed the same for about thirty years. My dad likes Garnet too, but not as much, and this is a rare music thing that I share more with my mom than my dad, which is cool.

My mother likes music, but not normally as intensely; she’ll come along for the first day or so of the folk festival, if it’s nice weather, and doesn’t want to do the whole long four-day, rain or shine adventure the way my dad and I do. Music has always been a big bonding thing for my dad and I, so I really enjoyed getting to have it as a bonding thing with her last night. She was so excited, she kept talking about how she used to see him at folk festivals all the time but hasn’t seen him since about 2006. She bought his book at intermission and got him to sign it. She had two glasses of wine and had me drive her home.

He was great; he looked older than his age (which is presently 68), but his voice hasn't started fading at all. He played mostly acoustic, but plugged the bass guitar in for his really famous song called Night Drive, about touring with his brother, which was amazing. He did some of his old stuff and some new stuff and an unexpected Greg Brown cover and ended on a Stan Rogers cover. It's got to be weird to spend 40 years best known for being a dead man's brother.

And the crowd was great. First of all, great Canadian folk singer James Keelaghan was in the audience, and it's always cool as fuck when that happens. When you go to one person's gig and someone else is just walking around. That used to happen all the time when I lived in Nova Scotia. In one Halifax bar, I once saw Bruce Guthro with Jimmy Rankin in the audience, and a few months later saw JP Cormier with Lennie Gallant in the audience.

Anyway. It was at this folk music club that just opened in 2021, and it brought all the folk people back. All the people who used to go to our local folk festival, until 2012 when they sold the festival to some people who overhauled it and brought in the "indie rock" acts, and then the just regular rock acts, to draw in younger crowds at the small cost of having a folk festival with no folk music. I kept going for a few years, and then stopped bothering because it had stopped being a folk festival at all, it was full of drunk young people and indie rock bands (I've recently started getting over my prejudice against things labeled "indie rock" that was caused by that, because some of that music I quite like, I just don't like it taking over folk festivals) and it was shit, it still is. Folk festivals are meant to be for hippies who are 60+ years old, wearing tie-dye and makeshift ponchos and with grey ponytails. I fucking love going to a folk festival and seeing all the grey ponytails, on men and women. Makes me less anxious about getting older, seeing that some people who reach that age don't feel the need the cut their hair or dye it.

Anyway, it turns out all the hippies with grey ponytails in the city didn't disappear when the folk festival got sold, they just stopped coming out. But now this folk club opened and that's where they all were last night. Both my parents and I have tickets to see JP Cormier and Dave Gunning there in April and I can't wait to go back.

I've realized this is the only thing in my life where I get to be in the liberal bubble. The rest of my life has been taken up with this sport where you're considered fairly left-wing if you were open-minded enough to be willing to get a COVID vaccine, even if you still had "concerns" about it. I've now started sometimes hanging out at local comedy places; I went to a club comedy night the other night with 8 men and 2 women on the bill, almost all the men had some amount of racist or sexist material, and that's still considered one of the more progressive nights because they had women on and most of the material wasn't like that. I know that sometimes I overlook bad stuff because my standards of what counts left-wing is skewed by a community where only being mildly bad is considered centrist.

But folk festivals. Folk festivals have always been my one point of access to the liberal bubble. The performers and the audience full of people who were hippies in the 60s and then just kept on being that way after everyone else stopped. It's fucking great. I'm a big fan of the liberal bubble, and have less and less tolerance these days for people who deride it, because even if it's imperfect it's so much better than the alternative.

My favourite Garnet Rogers song is Underpass, and annoyingly there's no good quality version on YouTube of just that song, but here's a video of him playing it along with Twisting in the Wind, which is another great song. It's from 2011, apparently, but last night he looked pretty similar to that, aside from a few more wrinkles in the face. He definitely still has the same hair as in that video, though. Last night, the most impressive grey ponytail in the room was on the guy on stage.

While we're at it, here's my personal favourite Stan song:

There's this thing at the end of the John Robins/Elis James radio show called the Keep it Sessions Sessions, as an outro to the podcast and separate from the live radio broadcast, where they'll take turns picking a musician or band they love, will talk for a few minutes about who they are and what they do, and then they'll play 30 seconds (all they can do without running into copyright issues) of a song by them. Usually used for bands that are not on the Radio X playlist, so they can share music they like the listeners even if it's not something the station will let them actually play.

I've quite enjoyed those segments, and it's introduced me to a couple of singers where I've ended up downloading and enjoying their stuff (like I said, I am overcoming my anti-indie rock prejudice, to be honest listening to Kitson's radio shows went a long way toward getting me to overcome that and a lot of the Robins/James recs are in the same vein). But every time I hear it, I think, that sounds like fun, I wish I had a platform to just spend a few minutes every week telling people about a band or singer I like, explaining where they come from and what they do and then playing people one of their songs and offering recs on their best stuff.

Then I remembered, I have a Tumblr blog where I can post whatever I want. So I might just start doing that. Here, this is a decent quality version of his song about touring with his brother.

[asoulunbound]

@resignedworkaholics asked: Wandering into his office in the early hours of Christmas Day Alec was not the last person Q had expected to see but he hadn't exactly been at the top of the list. Despite everything that had happened since the last Christmas (oh, simpler times), he had to smile gently at his agent as he crossed the room to stand in front of him. "I do hope you're not working on Christmas Day. Unless your request for a present is to get to test some prototypes." He teased softly before letting out a sigh. "Merry Christmas."

Christmas had never meant much to Alec. None of the foster families he had strayed with during his youth had made a big deal out of it. If he was with a family during the holidays at all. And as an adult, he had found ways to spend this time of year differently. With MI6, he would often volunteer for long-term missions that kept him out of the country. And if none was available, he would usually disappear to a tropical island and distract himself with booze and company. But somehow, this year, neither had worked out. The mission he had been on in the Czech Republic had been cut short – not his fault – and it had been too late to find anything last minute over the holidays. Thus, he had decided to go to Vauxhall and finish some long overdue paperwork with no one else around.

It had surprised him to see Q on the way to get some coffee from the cafeteria and, instead of returning to his desk, he had made a detour to Q-Branch to investigate. “I’ve got nothing better to do!” he answered with a shrug. “So, I thought I would finish some paperwork before the year is over. Tanner’s been bugging me about it for weeks.” He took a sip of coffee, one eyebrow rising at Q’s suggestion. “I wouldn’t say no to a present, especially if it’s testing out prototypes. Nothing like it to get the blood flowing. Something particular you’ve been working on I could try out?” Alec didn’t return the question of what Q was doing here on Christmas Day. It was none of his business.

[thuganomxcs]

jay talks about characters meme / accepting / @eternalbxtterfly

'🗣' + Sinbad

It’s time to sit down as I talk about how I feel about THE GOAT. The anime itself had been recommended to me by a friend and she had told me to watch it, told me there will be a character I would absolutely love. Tellin’ ya fam, episodes one to three damn near put me to sleep, the series wasn’t BAD but Alibaba and Aladdin definitely wasn’t doing a good job pulling me into this series, little did I know there was a man that would have cemented my love for this series just on the horizon. 

On the glorious seventh episode I was introduced to the man, the legend himself: Sinbad. And let me tell y’all he stole the show. He was presented to us as a laid back goofball but the way he spoke to Aladdin regarding adventuring with friends and whatever gave you the idea that there’s a little bit of wisdom there, like he’s definitely better than you think he is. BUT for real the first time you see him it’s just utter comedy chaos, even his subordinates (or just Ja’far) is really done with his shit. We see him get lectured and strangled and this was the man Ja’far built up as The conqueror of the seven seas.

AIGHT so this turned into one LONG ass post, so you can read more under the cut. XD

It isn’t until later that you find out that that isn’t just a nickname because it sounded cool. Without his metal drip he was still upheaving those hands against the thieves, making people bleed out from palm strikes, when people using their OWN metal vessels against him and he touches their arm and is like ‘nope’. That’s when I was like ‘OOOH I have a feeling we finna see this man cook.’ BUT we don’t until a LONG time from then. At that point it was night and I’ve binged as much magi as I could and then i remembered a little somethin’ somethin’.

Netflix also had a series titled Adventures of Sinbad, checked it out, main character had purple hair JUST like Sinbad..the ART itself was similar so i’m like ‘origin story?! OR just prototype spin-off. Said fuck it and watched it and I didn’t know what I had gotten myself into. 

Folks there was a BIG difference between Magi episode 1 and Adventures of Sinbad episode 1 and you know what that is? FRIGGIN’ BADR. Sinbad’s old man was the GOAT himself and his ma OOH that’s a convo for another day cause I KNOW ya’ll see that healthy Esra <3 EITHER way, from then on we saw Sinbad’s humble beginning as a kid. For the most part I really thought we finna see this man go from broke to GOAT. BUT MAN was I mistaken because EVEN AS A TEEN this man WAS THE GOAT.  Y’all can’t tell me Ohtaka wasn’t straight COOKIN’ when she made Adventures of Sinbad. Sinbad was such an engaging protagonist, no disrespect to Aladdin and Alibaba cause I know they got their fans but Sinbad was just different for me. For two little seasons we literally watch sinbad finesse his way into success and this is my opinion but his group of friends were just so much better than the group in the next generation, for real. Hear me and hear me well if Ohtaka came out the wood work and said she was finna give us five episodes of Ja’far, Hinahoho,Mystras and Drakon’s past? I would have been on high alert waiting for them eps to drop before I go back to magi’s episodes 1-6. That’s just me. Either way by the end of the anime you get a feel for who sinbad is..kinda. See, my man’s was born in a poor little village where they draft boys of age and men into war. Left women as widows and parents outgrowing their children, it was just a terrible time so my man Sinbad was on his hero arc where he said he was going to change the world. 

THIS HE DECIDED AT 14 and the anime only gave us three quick years of that journey and by the time Sinbad was 17 he was UNTOUCHABLE. ALTHOUGH if I’m being for real the boy was untouchable by the time he was 15, the only reason he’s even gotten attack I think is just the plot working against him. Most protags get plot armor but my man here got plot nerfs. But what I find is a good balance is that eventhough Sinbad has the power to end you in less than a second he really doesn’t like fighting. I mean hell he’s in this to put an end to it in the first place so he does what he can to end the fight as quickly as possible. 

From there on we know Sinbad is nice, kind and considerate and really altruist about his goals, it isn’t until much further into the MANGA you see it’s not all black and white. By the time the anime ends Sinbad was on top of the world to the point that he’s gotten a little cocky. If the anime had went on ahead we would have been introduced to soo much angst, we saw Sinbad being humbled to becoming a slave and he makes his first contradictory step to his dream. Had it not been for Ja’far I think he would have dived into despair from there on out. I still question why Ja’far didn’t just kill him then and there…if only someone could enlighten me on their headcanon. Either way from there Sinbad just kept moving forward, whilst it was not an option to get his hands filthy he made a vow to build that beautiful world with those filthy hands. 

We could see he tries and tries to stay on the straight and narrow but he’s faced with choice after choice which would just break anyone, but not my GOAT he went on strong. AND don’t get me started when his body because the vessel for the world’s greatest Evil Father David. GOD I do admire the fact that Sinbad did not fall victim to ‘the devil made me do it’ trope but it still would have been fun to see David completely possessing Sinbad during certain moments of the story when it came down to moral choices. See? My man grew up from a boy with altruistic desire to a man with a similar goal but I think from there he really believes in the phrase ‘the end justifies the means’. I was Okay with him becoming a manipulator, hell i would have even been okay with his transition to villainy, I just find it was handled poorly. I honestly believed of all people in the world Ja’far would be the ONE person that could bring him back to light and for making him literally LIE in the man’s face to me was like spitting on their friendship, no on their bond as brothers. The series didn’t end perfect but Sinbad was great and he delivered for me. It’s why he’s my second most favorite anime character.

[talenlee]

September 2023 Wrapup

Spring has sprung and with it the first thirty degree day since February. Oh, that’s not a hot hot day, but it is a hot day. I sit on that evening and sweat slightly and wrinkle my nose as I consider the wrapup for this month, almost two weeks out from it. Let’s get into it.

Normally I open this with a piece about the Game Pile articles that went up this month, presented as a bulleted list. Game Piles go up on (my) Friday mornings, which means that September had five of them, and those five lined up to put videos in three. I had planned all along to, at some point this year, put my three existing Commander Keen articles together into a script to make a big compilation video for my friends who Don’t Like Reading So Much, and then turn that into an easy video.

It was not easy.

It wasn’t easy because the first ‘article’ I wrote on Commander Keen was a rambling voiceover practicing the academic study of Stimulated Recall, which is super interesting but not helpful for script building. That meant instead of having scripts for four of seven games I actually had more like two and a half. That means this video features some of the most stuff I’ve ever put together for a single video. The script is over eight thousand words, about twenty pages of text with the notes appended. Normally, a video is about one thousand words, so that’s why it’s such a big beast of a story. I had to go break out some academic books and teach myself how an EGA interpreter acted so I could put that same idea away in a tidy fashion. I actually consulted with my friend Decay about my description of EGA because my first parse of it was just uh

Wrong?

Anyway, that’s the big Game Pile article this month and I did four other ones, which included two other videos:

Les Manley Shouldn’t Be For Sale, an updated video about a game I still want to talk about for how awful it is

Ring Fit Adventures, an incredibly painful diary of my relationship to my own physical body

The Wingspan video, where I took an old article about Wingspan and updated it the consider new experiences and the beautiful steam version of the game

Brew, a chat with Fox about a really nice looking board game that hides some brass knuckles under its coat

And of course, the Commander Keen Retrospective, where I consider all six of the PC games about Commander Keen. Yes, there are more. No, I don’t know much about them.

Five Fridays doesn’t mean five mondays, though, and that means we get four Story Piles on:

The Executioner and her Way of Life, a series I really liked and which has obvious problems like stupid outfits and the homophobia of its distribution service,

Ya Boy Kongming, a series I really liked and which has obvious problems like stupid outfits and the homophobia of its distribution service,

Nobody, a movie I really liked which has obvious problems like the glorification of masculine violence and the power inherent in the actions of the US state’s military arm

Beck, an anime I watched because I wanted to tease Clae about one of the singers only to find that the series absolutely rocks, even with all its really uncomfortable gross stuff about women

What else did we do this month? Well, a chonker of an article about the Halfling Trade Houses in Cobrin’Seil in Piton, Jura, Carpathia, Northumbria, a piece about the strange symbolism of the Otyugh, a new D&D culture and the place they’re from, a alpha print of the game Feinting Couch if you’re down for that, two different game prototype concepts in Lysen Co and The Wandering Samurai, writing practice to reconsider how I describe characters in One Stone, a consideration of the work of Donald Norman, a truly painful introspection on my childhood church and who’s allowed to wield power over you, the academic consideration of autoconnoisseurship, and oh yeah Jimmy Buffet Died so I got to be full of feelings.

Not just Jimmy Buffett — he just got to be the centerpiece of a single article. This month also took Steven Harwell of Smash Mouth, a well intentioned idiot who made fun of DJ Khaled, and Sheldon Menery, the godfather of Commander magic.

It has been a rough one for me!

Uh anyway, here’s a shirt design I did.

You can get this design in a bunch of colours, I like it a lot. I mean to get stickers of it.

Then uh, what was there, uhm,

Jesus, we lost Paul Woseen as well.

You know what, fuck it:

Screaming Jets - Helping Hand - Official Music Video

Watch this video on YouTube

The Screaming Jets scared the shit out of me growing up because they did a cover of Eve of Destruction that I heard that uh, I thought was literally a ‘next week’ thing.

Smash Mouth - I'm A Believer (Original Version)

Watch this video on YouTube

It’s so weird to think that I was a Smash Mouth fan before Shrek. Before there was anything like the Smash Mouth ironic hatedom. All Star sings about global warming and our helplessness in the face of it. But this song, this version of a fuckin ‘ Neil Diamond song, I think genuinely elevates the whole thing.

God.

I had Astro Lounge on a casette.

Beyond The End

Watch this video on YouTube

I remember this chorus sending me into horrified clenches in the dark of my bedroom in the cult. Beyond the end, it spoke, and it knew something that I had never been told.

He is beyond the end, and his music is his long and beautiful wake. We can say goodbye, my friend.

Loved outlasts living.

Fuck.

Uh I’m fine.

It’s a marking period at work. I’m down because I feel like I’m failing to connect to students’ minds. I feel like I’m not good enough. I feel like bits of my world are collapsing and the body I inhabit is a meat husk that’s lost something vitally important because I didn’t love it enough to fix it.

I don’t feel good.

Very proud of the writing I did this month though.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[spectres-fulcrum]

I restarted Clone Wars chronologically as possible Ahsoka prep(I’m not getting too mad at myself if I lose interest at some point, Rebels will be my main Ahsoka prep, and I may pick and choose episodes) last night(While making an RV for my Rebels fam in the Sims so I couldn't looking back I wish I had) and oh my god that show. I watched Cat and Mouse, Hidden Enemy, and the film.

So first of all I burst out laughing when Obi-Wan was flirting with Ventress. I’ve always been fond of their flirty banter and kinda salty that Quinlan got the romance with Asajj plotline but I disgress. But going back and seeing the camera pan over her body after he used a pet name with her and she took her cloak off. It’s so… overt. So the opposite of Satine. It’s wild. At 24 it’s a bit cringey but it’s wild and I’m not sure how I feel but it’s not bad??? It’s nostalgic at least.

It's all so nostalgic lbr

But why did they think giving Anakin a padawan was a good idea?

They even say the true test is if he'll be able to let her go and I'm like-you did the same shit with Xanatos Yoda-his estranged older brother- you're just repeating the same shitty traps

I can see it end as it begins my one request is-

But the first scene with Rex, Anakin, and Ahsoka was EVERYTHING. They were so young and teasing "don't get snippy with me" and "you said you'd never take on a padawan."

Stinky. I still remember being 10 in the theater and my mom scolding me for giggling too loud at the adorable baby huttlet

Yularen. Yularen, Yularen, Yularen... I love his role in C+M. And interesting note: he knows Palpatine already. I figure Palpatine has to know most of the inner Imperials pre-RotS(Which is why I ignore Tagge and Motti's backstories) and this helps.

God I love the stealth ship. I really truly do. It's also a prototype for the Carrion Spike(And some sources say the it IS the Carrion Spike pre-modification, hi favorite ship) so the fact that Anakin gets to use it scratches my Vadarkin shipper so well. It's the silent version of their Star Destoyers being called the Executor and the Executrix(Which is so loud).

Ships are definitely their couple item lol. Very large and very expensive

Any other interesting facts I should've liveblogged? Nah.

I'm really excited to fall back in love with these guys. It was so nostalgic to have Anakin, Rex, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Asajj, all there again. Like way back at the beginning. I definitely am going to do it like I did last night, in the background while I game, but that's fine.

Other things I plan to throw into rewatch prep: TCW, placing Thrawn Alliances flashbacks pre-S7, at least the OG Thrawn books, interspaced with Rebels in chronological order. So most of Thrawn, Rebels S1 and S2, Batonn, S3, Alliances present day S4 part 1, Treason, S4 part 2. I might attempt Ascendancy, which will just be post TCW. But all my Ascendacy rereads have just been failures so idk.

[tangiblejournal56]

12/28/11

These past couple of weeks, a whirlwind of activity & emotion, some good, a lot rotten to the fucking core.  I sit & try to eke out what exactly I’ve been through & the weight of it all feels crushing, as though I couldn’t find the start of pulling myself out of it all long enough to compartmentalize it & store it away.  My usual process of dealing with it all.  Perhaps the link to why my temper has been shorter, my energy running low.  I type this out now because the thought of writing it down yet still seems like a feat, I am as yet incapable of executing.  I will start off slow, no order of importance as you will soon see.  More of an order of what I am able to deal with in this moment, an attempt to build myself up toward spewing out the rest of it.  Among all of this procrastination masquerading as prologue, I will begin.

Max.  The past few weeks (excluding my first couple of nights with him upon returning) we have not slept together.  Slept next to each other, yes, but without engaging in sexual congress.  Neither one of us has made any moves toward each other, & it just never happened.  I told myself I wouldn’t try for anything, as it was clear that we were only ever going to be friends, something I pathetically need to remind myself of, as my longing gets in the way of reality more often than than I’d like to admit.  So the curse of abstinence was keeping me company.  While dealing with the fact of my grandmother’s impending death, I had a bit of a breakdown.  Max saw it coming, picked me up & took me to get a bottle of gin & ingredients to make his meatloaf, even purchasing me a pack of cigarettes.  We went to his house where I got wrecked on a lot of G&Ts, & we watched cartoons & movies.  Eventually I couldn’t stay up any longer in my drunken state, & lay down in his bed, crying heavily.  He came & held me, keeping his arms around me & letting me bawl into his shirt.  I didn’t see him again for a few days.  When we next met up something seemed a bit off, like he was annoyed with me, his patience & entertainment for my silliness seemed needled down to nothing, & I wondered what I’d done to bother him so much.  I wondered if perhaps I’d come back & wasn’t the girl he had thought me, or if he was no longer the boy who had liked that about me.  As if one or the both of us had simply & quietly outgrown each other.  He certainly acted accordingly.

Then Josh came home for xmas, & Max came over after work to see him & my family.  He & the boys went out to the bars while I stayed in, making my grandmother’s xmas present.  They returned with my brothers drunk & Max well on his way, with more beers in hand.  I stayed up with them a bit, through some of the absurd “Hobo With A Shotgun,” but eventually went off to bed.  I awoke later to Max taking his clothes off & joining me, crawling beneath the thick comforter & clinging to my body for warmth.  I don’t recall whether it was he or me who initiated the sex, but it occurred, in grand fashion.  Passionate & trying to stay quiet, lest my parents in the next room overhear, even leaving a hickey on my neck, a first since we were sixteen, which I spent most of the holiday trying to mask & failing.  He left the next day & I busied myself with my family & Shawn’s arrival.

Monday night, after our respective family celebrations, he picked me up, excited to show me his gains.  He was wearing a plain black teeshirt with his new pair of one-of-a-kind jeans, a prototype too expensive for mass production, a gift from his sister-in-law, the head of this particular brand’s men’s design.  He received three other like pairs.  We went to his house & set up his new blu-ray player, & put in Woody Allen’s latest, “Midnight In Paris,” which I’d been anxious to see.  I began drinking the gin I had left over in Max’s freezer & found myself drunk quickly.  Mostly in response to Max’s snapping at me, his impatience at my drunken chatter throughout the film.  This came unexpectedly, as he usually has no problem with my chatter, & he himself usually is the source of the chatter during most movies we watch together.  I suppose I was probably annoyingly excited at the context of the movie, some of my favorite writers/surrealists being portrayed in such interesting worlds, but I still did not expect his actually telling me to shut up at one point.  My feelings smarted from the comment so I tried to burn them back with more alcohol, & texted Shawn & Thom.  I told them my night was miserable & they told me the same.  Shawn offered to come pick me up but I demurred.  Thom ended up calling me to relay a full account of his evening with Shawn & Josh, fistfights & drunken revelry.  His story got my head spinning & I stumbled to the bathroom & informed Thom I needed to get off the phone & puke.  It was a small amount, & Max slipped in with a glass of water, & back out again.  This was a first, he’s never seen me drunk enough to throw up.  I’m sure it came as somewhat of a surprise.  Eventually I rejoined him, freshened.  He was watching a bad television show & we chatted for a bit.  He made a pizza & forced me to eat a slice so that I had something in my stomach.  I couldn’t hold my head up for long, so I went off to his bed & passed out.

I woke up to his arms tight around me, we’d slept through the whole night like that, which is not a regular occurrence.  Seeing him there, his pale strong arms in stark contrast with the black of his teeshirt, his face, half-buried by blanket in the morning light, it had a warming effect on me, like lying in the sun in the dead of summer.  I ran my hand up & down his thigh, & he looked at me through slitted eyelids, helped me unbuckle his pants.  “Well, someone woke up in a good mood,” he remarked, smiling.  I grinned, buried my face between his arm & chest, “You just looked so good in that shirt,” I mumbled, bashful suddenly.  The sex was silly & laughing & playing around, the mood light & affectionate.  I sat atop him & told him we needed a diner breakfast, to have a badventure day.  He laughed, I climbed off of him, we got dressed & departed.  The first stop was Denny’s, “We gotta carb up!” he insisted, in anticipation for the heavy purchasing he was about to embark upon.  The second stop was Best Buy, where he deliberated & pretended to consider my opinion upon new televisions I don’t know anything about, but bulshitted an answer because he wanted my preference.  That same old fun game we play where we pretend my opinions mean anything.  I say this good-naturedly, as I really don’t care a bit for technology.  Racha was there working, she helped us load the final choice into his car.  This was a necessary purchase, he couldn’t have a blu-ray player without getting a hi-def television, that would be absurd.  Along with a new set up of course is required new blu-ray movies to watch on it, which is how he ended up with “The Tree of Life,” “The Dark Knight,” & the complete “Rocky” collection.  Throw in an HDMI cable, frozen pizza & whiskey, he was set.  All in all I watched him drop over a grand in two hours.  It served only to enhance his good mood that began with such a lovely wake-up.  Watching him put together his new television & setting everything up was so damn attractive, it really intrigued me.  Made me quite impatient to watch him put together everything in our future apartment.

To sum this whole entry up, he acts cold & hot towards me, & I don’t know to what end, or just how to interpret it all.  In short, everything is pretty standard to how it always is with him.  I guess I can’t really ask for more than that, right?  It’s at least a still point in my hectically turning world.  That’s all I have the energy to contemplate right now.  Next entry I’ll catch up on the rest.  Maybe.