#cue slow pan to drafts

[freewheelshippin]

FIC: “be proud”

Let me indulge in the fantasy that I got to help, just a little bit, in making one of the only ballads on this earth I like. More “utapri characters that aren’t ranmaru” content than usual, especially Ai, since this is vaguely based on their Idol Songs album! 

Content warnings include an allusion to home invasion, Ranmaru’s usual backstory things (i.e. dealing with debt), and some eating/meal scenes. 

Ranmaru was surprised to receive the package, a fairly big box from someone he never expected to get mail from. Something in the pit of his stomach half-expected it to be everything he’d sent her, unused and returned to sender. 

For a second, he thought he was right. It was a similar array of trinkets and colors as the merch she’d designed for his album, but it quickly became obvious this wasn’t his merch, but hers. Trinkets from her shop, like patches and pins, and one of those handmade prints she liked making on weird paper. Candies he didn’t recognize, some American snacks he did, a little box of something that looked homemade with a hand-scrawled label on it. At the bottom, a shirt, printed with a cleaned version of an album art draft he’d especially liked but the agency didn’t approve. Folded within it, a note, written in English on one side and clumsy Japanese on the other. 

Yo, Kurosaki! 

I know I already messaged you thanks for sending me my comp copies of everything, but I wanted to return the favor! You really didn’t have to go out of your way get it to me like that, much less pack in all the other shit you did. But I’m glad you did! It arrived on the day I got another rejection, one I was really hoping would pan out. I got back all the time I would’ve spent feeling sorry for myself and instead just wanted to try again. That’s kind of the message I got from the sound of your album, so I guess it’s appropriate! 

Honestly, even if it was tough figuring things out sometimes, I had more fun on that job than any other one I can think of. You don’t have much to apologize for, I’ve survived way worse than some grumpy e-mails from a cool client, and you actually had pretty good feedback to offer. I think the end result was pretty metal. (Or well, rock, since it’s your shit, after all.) 

If you’re cool with it, I think it’d be fun to keep sharing our work with one another, outside of just being a client and artist. Get some fresh perspectives, you know? You know where to message me if you think so, too. 

-- M 

P.S. You’re the first person to get this custom pick I got designed. Be grateful (LOL). 

Taped to it, there was a pearlescent pick, red and black with white lettering. Ranmaru took it off, careful not to tear the paper, and ran his fingers over it. It wasn’t even close to the type he’d tolerate using if he wasn’t going to finger-pluck his bass. 

He clasped it in his hand, pausing for a moment, before he let out a ‘hmph,’ equal parts amused, relieved, and a little bit giddy. 

--------- 

“...Ranmaru,” Ai said, looking at him with those big saucer eyes. Sometimes Ranmaru felt like the guy never blinked, which made his curious once-overs scarier than he’d ever admit to. 

“What,” he growled back. 

“...according to every piece of data I know about you…” he started. He already didn’t like where this was going. “Nothing would point to you being the cell phone charm type.” 

“So?!” he barked, frowning at Ai as he self-consciously stuffed his phone into his pocket. It buzzed from a message notification, as if on disastrous cue, making a plasticy noise as it rattled against the charm. “What’s your data know about the real heart of people, anyway,” he continued, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. 

“It hasn’t been wrong about anything yet.” Ai tilted his head. “Why do you have a charm all of a sudden?” 

Because I saw she uses one of mine, Ranmaru answered frantically in his head, thinking back to the video chat they’d had where she showed it off. His hand was in his pocket, muffling his phone buzzing as more messages came in. He ran his fingers over the smooth pick, the subtle grooves where the letters were, the jagged hole he’d poked into it, the string that ran through it and knotted into a hole on his case.  Because she told me about how much she liked it, so I wanted to return the favor. 

“Why is this so goddamn important to you, Ai?” Ranmaru bristled. “Can’t we just get on with work already?” 

Ai stared at him a moment longer before shrugging slightly. “I’m simply curious. What would motivate you to act against your usual protocol seems interesting. But if you won’t tell me, I suppose there’s no use prying, especially when we have work to be done.” 

Ranmaru grunted back, leaning back to the table and looking over the notes. “We’re decided on what we wanna do for our duet, but we still have to decide on a direction for our solo songs on the album. Something that makes each of us stand out but doesn’t ruin the cohesiveness of the whole thing.” 

“You should do something slow,” Ai said, after a moment of thought. 

“Why should I?” Ai should know by now Ranmaru wasn’t about that sort of sound, especially when Ai already had the sad lullabies more than mastered. “Nothing about that’s very rock or wild. It won’t work with my image. Or do whatever that “gap” shit is that people like…” 

“Really?” Ai looked at him again. “Ballads are an intrinsic part of rock music, and wouldn’t it be ideal for communicating feelings that aren’t as energetic as your usual work?” 

“You should’ve just said power ballad in the first place,” Ranmaru grunted, but he had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. “It’d work better with your usual style. And the duet, from how it’s going so far.” The biggest problem Ranmaru could think of was he couldn’t imagine what on earth he’d want to sing about in one. 

“Then it’s decided,” Ai said decisively. 

“...Oi, Ai, when did I say I agreed to this?” The kind of thing he’d rather shape into a ballad instead of his usual, urging style was a complete mystery, which Ranmaru didn’t like the idea of committing to in a partner project and on a deadline, even if it was months away. But like hell he’d admit that to someone else in Quartet Night, much less Ai, who’d just give him “logical” suggestions Ranmaru already knew he’d hate.  

“Was your reasoning not enough?” Ai tilted his head. Ranmaru met his eye. Something about the curiosity on that blank face felt less pointlessly prying this time. Now it was more like someone who just wanted to see something new. 

Ranmaru couldn’t fault him for that. And he was due to challenge himself in this way, anyways. 

“....Fine. Whatever. That means you can’t do your usual sentimental stuff. You should do something that’ll lift everyone up after the heaviness of the other songs.” 

“That sounds logical,” Ai replied. His eyes moved to Ranmaru’s pocket as it buzzed once again, but quickly turned back as they brainstormed ideas. 

-------- 

He wiped his eyes as he leaned back from the computer, surprised by how quickly and unbidden they came. He hastily tore up a strip of paper and hung it over the camera built into the laptop -- he knew it wasn’t on. This wasn’t a video call. But the idea of someone seeing him like this felt surreal and, frankly, too scary to confront right now. 

They chatted a lot more, now. It’d been about half a year since they’d started talking outside of work. It wasn’t just occasionally sharing art and music with each other anymore, either, it was a big stew of ideas, inspiration. A lot of breaking down what they liked in all the albums they shared with one another, and how they wanted to integrate all that in their work. Her siphoning gear and singing tips off of him, while she broke down expressions and visual composition to a science to help him out with modelling. And amid all that, something easygoing. Complaining about work, about weird clients, about shitty train rides, but also the nice parts of their days, too. 

He’d gotten short with her today, and she got frustrated with him. They argued -- for the first time since they’d tossed aside client-and-professional for friends-and-colleagues -- and it turned out she was as passionate a spitfire as he, assuming she got in the right mood. 

And in the middle of all that furious typing, she paused. 

M: You know, it’s kind of relieving to argue with you like this. 

Ranmaru was so startled, he forgot the point he was making. 

R: what the hell are you talking about?

M: oh, come on, we both know I’ve used diplomacy to handle your grouchiness before, and that worked fine enough then. But I just appreciate that I trust you enough to not take such a safe approach, for once, and the thing you’re most upset about is that I didn’t feel comfortable calling you out on your horseshit sooner.

Ranmaru didn’t have an answer for that as she typed on and off. He imagined if this were a verbal conversation, this would be the point where he’d just listen while she strung her thoughts together -- wordily, but getting to good enough of a point that it was worth letting her meander. 

Instead, she cut right to a point he wasn’t expecting. 

M: hey, I’m not taking back anything I said, but I probably should’ve asked sooner. Are you doing OK? You always get stuck in asshole mode for a reason. I don’t have classes to teach today, so you can bend my ear if you need to. even on voice chat, if you like, japanese or english. 

An uncomfortable wave of relief washed over him. He hadn’t told her about it, but things were the kind of stressful that pushed his stoic approach to its limits. Too many deadlines at work. Too many people there talking, too few saying anything he gave a damn about. Money was tight this month -- the debt collectors suddenly hiked up what he owed, and they’d banged down his door to “tell” him that. And another shitty argument with Camus, after he “freed” all his bananas for some ridiculous flambe parfait he just had to have for lunch on a day when Ranmaru couldn’t afford any. 

This was just how things were. Why was he upset about it now? He was beyond cursing how things had turned out for him. Making useless wishes when there wasn’t anything to do but work and survive until he didn’t have anything to lament. 

M: alright that’s a suspiciously long amount of time between messages for you when you’re riled up. are you OK? It’s fine if you’re not, and it’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me about it, but i’m here if you want. If something’s really eating at you, that’s more important than me being mad. (for now, anyway)

It felt surreal as he leaned back to the computer and felt his fingers find the keys as he started finding the right words. 

R: it’s not a light subject R: and it’s not on you to deal with it M: LOL bro c’mon. M: I eat heavy for breakfast, and I said I’m here for you. M: lay it on me

He wiped his tears away with his sleeve. It’d been long enough since he’d cried that he didn’t even think about how it’d smudge his makeup and stain his clothes, but he didn’t especially care as he started to explain himself, the words coming out hesitantly until they coalesced into a small cascade of short, tight sentences, heavy with years of restrained sorrow he’d ignored so aggressively until now. 

--------- 

Recording Haruhana went well. Ranmaru expected it to, somewhat. Ai’s cold problem-solving could be annoying, but they never got in the way of the heart of his vocals. Their voices blended into an interesting harmony, and the acoustic guitar bridged their styles into a bittersweet sound they slipped into easily enough that recording sessions went uneventfully. 

“It does not surprise me, but.“ Ranmaru couldn’t bring himself to outright glower at Ai as they stopped recording and stepped away from the mics. “You’re very good at conjuring a strong, wistful image with your voice.” 

“Then why do you look surprised…” he grunted back, loosening and lowering the mic for whoever had it next. “...You do it well, too, but we already knew that.” 

“The heart of things you’re so obsessed with,” he said plainly. “It wouldn’t do if we couldn’t bring truth to the emotions we write about.” 

Ranmaru hadn’t given much thought to why Ai’s songs were so lamenting and sad, for the most part. He’d acknowledged they were genuine, had a tone color that suited him right, and made the fans happy. Truthfully, he’d only thought of those songs in the context of work -- Ai was a rival and a colleague he respected enough to sing with and not want to lose to, so he’d only looked at his songs from that standpoint, too. But Ranmaru realized better, now, just how good Ai was at sharing sadness that wasn’t so heavy it dragged people down with it. Wistfulness that grasped forward towards something, like a greater understanding. 

“How’s the ballad going?” 

Ranmaru clicked his tongue. “How’s your synthpop bubblegum bullshit going?” he shot back. 

“Well,” Ai replied, unfazed. “I have the chord progressions and kits mapped out.” 

“Good for you, then,” he grunted back. Great. So Ai was making good progress while Ranmaru hadn’t made any. 

“Are you struggling?” 

“Isn’t that the point of a ballad?!” Hopefully Ai couldn’t argue with that and would leave him alone from there.  

“Shouldn’t you defer to a composer or lyricist if you’re stuck?” 

Ranmaru glared at Ai. “If it’s a ballad, I should write it myself, not leave it to someone who’s just gonna put words and music I don’t mean into my mouth.” 

“Past data suggests you won’t back down about this,” Ai said smoothly, stacking the notes and papers they’d brought into the studio neatly. “I suppose I should wish you luck, in that case, and remind you this is my album, too, and it’s the fans who are most important.” 

“I know that,” Ranmaru spat, long done fussing with the mic. 

*************

R: you hate ballads, right  M: I sure do! :D  R: why  M: too slow for my tastes, sentimentality done like that isn’t my thing, don’t always feel genuine, you know   R: that’s literally every problem i have with the big project at work right now M: oh no you have to make a ballad?? Like….poppy enough for shining agency and all that? Oh boy.... R: what’s your advice to making a ballad you don’t hate, then  M: HMMMMMMMMMMMMM M: pass a kidney stone  M: WAIT RANDY COME BACK I’LL HELP FOR REAL  R: If you want to help why are you calling me randy?!  M: suffering is the root of all good ballads. I’m helping   R: can you at least remind me what the one ballad you like is  M: oh, turn on your light  M: judas priest M: it’s always judas priest  R: so why don’t you hate it R: other than it’s judas priest  M: oh, nothing big  M: my first gf just made me a mixtape and confessed with it is all M: and that was my entry point into western metal  M: sealing my fate forever as a queer metalhead and thereby forming the foundation of all my aesthetic, social, musical, and auditory sensibilities forevermore M: and some other stuff  R: oh is that all   “We are about to arrive at ____ station, please make your way to the doors if your stop is ____ station....” 

R: what’s the other stuff M: oh dw about it  M: it’s, you know, the stuff everyone brings to listening. the mushy baggage that lets ‘em connect with strangers. you know how it is

The train arrived right after that message went through, and he had to put his phone away over questioning her further. Recently, he’d felt more irritated with himself than usual. He knew he got this way when he felt he owed someone and hadn’t done his part to even the score. 

He was kind of in the same camp as she when it came to slow songs. Rock was about energy, passion, an urging sense of power, and even if he could understand why those slower songs were important, it didn’t mean they had to always resonate with him. He thought about their exchange. She dropped art into their chats a lot because, as she insisted, it helped having a musician look at her work, instead of another illustrator. And he liked her perspective for the same reason -- more personal than a fan, but more refreshing than everyone else at the agency. 

Really, it sounded like what made the ballad feel genuine was the context she could apply. It wasn’t just a song, but a personal gesture that singled her out from the millions of other people who’d hear the song and imagine it was for them. 

Ranmaru frowned as he exited the train station. The solution to his ballad problem was simple, so obvious he felt stupid for overlooking it. If he expected people to connect to his music, he had to give people something to connect to. All he had to do was what he always did -- just go for what his heart told him to. No frills, no fancy trimmings, just something he wanted to honestly express. 

He strung basslines in his head as he walked to his apartment. Let the music-making guide him, instead of demanding it follow rigid instructions. As he pushed the key into the lock, he caught the faint stain of his eyeliner on his sleeve. 

Don’t look at me … while I dry my eyes....

His stomach lurched a little, but moreso he felt his body surge with the truth of the song he wanted to write. The same rush of a surging venue, somehow, but with the kind of wistfulness and earnest desire he appreciated in Ai’s work more now. 

Tama had started to squeeze through the little crack in the door, investigating why Ranmaru had just stood there like an idiot for so long. 

“...c’mon, you little dope,” Ranmaru said softly, surprised how breathy he needed to keep his voice to get past the tightness in his chest. He squatted down, scooped the soft little creature up, and walked straight to his workspace. He did the once-over his apartment he’d gotten in recent habit of, seeing if anything had been seized by the collectors while he was gone, before depositing Tama on a cat tree where Mike was sitting. He hummed a melody that was quickly taking shape, his hands barely keeping up as he grabbed a scrap of paper, scrawling notes as fast as his hands would let him. 

*******************

Reiji looked up at Ranmaru in disbelief. Ranmaru scowled back. 

“If you don’t want it,” he growled, reaching for the box he’d put in front of Reiji. “I’ll fucking take it back.” 

“No! No no no, Ranran, I’m so grateful!” Reiji exclaimed, scrambling to slide it out of Ranmaru’s reach. 

“Humph! If I didn’t know of your peasant tastes,” Camus started from across the table. “I’d just tell you you’re better off skipping this slop.” 

“Oi!” Ranmaru pointed a spoon threateningly at Camus. “You don’t have to eat, asshole! You still owe me for ruining my bananas, and as far as I’m concerned this just means you owe me another meal!” 

“You think your pauper’s tongue deserves the fineries I’d select, I see,” Camus said challengingly, tilting his head and crossing his legs. Ranmaru was a hair trigger away from just throwing the box with Camus’s portion right at him. Maybe it’d ruin that stupid suit and he’d learn to shut up. 

“He-heeeey, Ranran, everything smells super good….I’m so excited to dig right in, but are those sauces I see?” Reiji interrupted. Ranmaru clenched his fist around the spoon as he turned his glower towards him.

He slammed the spoon down in front of Reiji. “Which sauce do you want, the spicy chili one or ketchup,” he managed through gritted teeth. 

“O- ohhh, wow! So gourmet! We have options!” Reiji cheered, in that singsongy way he did when he was trying to smooth over disasters. “Ranran, I knew you could cook, but I never knew you were so talented! I wonder what’s in ---” Ranmaru was losing his patience, and he grabbed the bottle of homemade chili sauce, hovering it above Reiji’s portion. The bottle sputtered as the air escaped, and Ranmaru’s grip threatened to explode the whole thing right then and there. “ -- I’ll have just a little bit of the spicy one, haha…” 

Ranmaru held his gaze a moment more before he focused back on the food, squeezing a reasonable amount onto Reiji’s portion. He opened the box with Camus’s, already dressed with a mountain of sweet chili sauce, stabbed the spoon into it, and slid it over. 

“Is this omurice?” Ai asked. Ranmaru handed him his own box.

“Is the rice in the omelet?” he grunted. “It’s just a stuffed omelet you eat with rice.” 

“Mm-mm! So good! I’ve never had spices quite like these! Is this a secret specialty dish you’ve been hoarding to yourself?” 

Ranmaru, at this point, just wanted to sit down and eat. “No,” he grumbled, hoping they’d get the picture. 

“I can’t recognize this preparation against any recipe I know of. Did you make it up yourself?” 

“It’s one from a friend, alright? She sent me a bunch of chilis and herbs and I had to make something to use them all up. If you don’t like it, then you don’t have to eat it. Stop asking questions and let me eat!” 

They ate quietly for a while, much to Ranmaru’s relief. Camus, of all people, was the one to end the silence. 

“Kurosaki,” he said, taking an odd tone for a conversation with Ranmaru. “....You will share the recipe for this sauce immediately,” he said, an odd hush to his voice. 

“And what if I don’t,” Ranmaru sneered back, feeling just a little smug. “You gonna pass out from a sugar crash and finally give me some peace?” 

Before Camus finished his reply, Ranmaru took a bottle from his bag and tossed it at Camus, who disappointingly kept his composure through the surprise. “Maybe you’ll learn to eat some meat, now that you’ve got a way to slather it in sugar.” 

The rest of Quartet Night all stopped again in surprise, the same way they did when Ranmaru said he’d made them all lunch for today. Their eyes burned on Ranmaru as he went back to his meal, and he tried very, very hard to not let it bother him. 

“...Ranran, you’ve been acting different lately. Did you--” 

“No,” he growled. “Whatever you think it is, no.” 

****************************** 

M: oh dang M: wow dude M: i really don’t know what to say 

Ranmaru stared at his phone in the dark, waiting as feedback from the other side of the world came in. 

M: you fucking nailed it. I don’t know how you did it, like a week ago this wasn’t anything. M: now it’s a whole new side of you i don’t think your discography’s shown off yet  M: the fans are gonna go apeshit 

The rest of the song came to him in the kind of exciting, passionate fervor where his hands couldn’t keep up with the ideas. The melody followed the bassline very naturally, peppered in by flashes of lyrics that slowly built and reorganized themselves. And from there, more instrumentation became evident. What he had now was just enough to make the soul of the song clear, finished late tonight in the studio. 

Already his head was filled with what more he could add, but they blended into blur of ideas he was too tired to separate. 

M: can I confess something? I mean, i don’t know why I’m asking, you’re probably already asleep  M: what you have here already made me cry a little bit  M: i don’t know what you did, but you made a ballad that works so well. It really feels personal and so full of the soul everyone loves you for, but there’s something really sad and kind in there that makes my heart squeeze.  M: and that’s even in the lyrics! (what i can understand of them, anyway haha) but you know how saccharine I find ballad lyrics most of the time!!!   M: then again, it is you. I don’t think there’s anything you could ever make that would feel disingenuous lmao  M: is it too late to ask if i can illustrate this album too....would Ai and the agency let me do that…. M: i can draw something that’s soft and rock as shit!!!!  M: anyways M: you’re probably dead asleep but just know this: good work, dude.  M: it really felt like you were saying something very heartfelt, even in this rough cut, and i think how personal that voice is is gonna make everyone feel such a feeling.  M: it sure made me feel one!

He locked his phone, tearing himself away from the slow stream of messages coming in. He laid on his back, phone facedown in the blanket, as he stared up into the dark swallowing the room back up again. Every part of his body felt like it was on fire, burning to get back into the studio. 

The lyrics weren’t complete yet. He wasn’t the poetic type, so it’s not as if he’d let himself overthink his words and lose their heart in too many revisions, but there were still blanks. The phrase that’d pull it all together, the words that summarized the message of the song, they still weren’t there, but he could feel himself getting closer. 

It was about paying an unspoken debt, and it was about shame, but above all, it was about pride. In himself, for letting himself reach this point, and in someone else. That was the sort of connection he could sing himself to tears with, whether on the stage, the studio, or the clean, edited album, and for that, he was proud. 

[page-of-tales]

HFY Story: Faith in Humanity

Listen, I’ve accidentally deleted this thing twice now. First by not saving manually, and then by overwriting the file accidentally. I’m hoping this counts as my third draft and so I’ve edited it less thoroughly than usual.

Word count: 2040

---

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Bureau of Alien Contact is a large Ergotoid government agency tasked with protecting the Ergotoid people from the influence of alien cultures. Each new alien species encountered resulted in a new department and new challenges for this agency. Sometimes the threats would be active, such as the subtle hypnosis imagery utilized in the entertainment distributed by the Boral aliens. Or the false claims by the Knorr in their advertisements for Ergotoid miracle “cures.” Other times the threats would be from within, and prove to be far more challenging. Inevitably after contact with a new alien race was made, a cult of personality would form. Admiring if not outright worshipping an alien race, idealizing them to godhood status. These cults would have to be crushed physically and ideologically as they posed a risk to national security.

Senior Agent Barann was well versed in dismantling these deviant worships. Having organized the misinformation campaign to break the illusion presented by the Pladis and their “utopian” society. As well as heading the military campaign to “kill” an Immortal, shattering the supernatural allure the mysterious figures held over the Ergotoid citizens. He had been commended for his effective solutions. Promoted to head his own department for a new alien species. Set for life it seemed. However now his position was now in contention.

Barann had not expected the subject of his department, humans, to generate much attention. They were at a glance an uninteresting species. The usual freakish alien appearance with no close match to any Ergotoid mythical imagery. No supernatural abilities or “magic” technology. Territory far enough away to limit physical influence to just their diplomats. Early assessments had graded humanity a low priority for the BAC, Bureau of Alien Contact. Whoever had made those assessments should have been fired. It had recently come to light that a human sourced series of viral videos was being passed around on the net. Like most such viral instances the videos were not distributed by any accountable source, but continually shared and transmitted by individuals.

Any alien product that reached that level of appeal was immediately appraised for threat analysis. Prior instances of the human cultural artifact known as memes had been brought up before and consequently been dismissed as non threats. These videos were different, despite having no obvious call to action, it was spurring sentiment in favor of the humans across Ergotoid space. Barann had viewed the first video in question several hundred times by now. Despite his seniority status he found that examining the materials under examination to be far more useful than second hand reporting.

The video was formatted as an amateur edit of various clips. With an opening text disclaimer asserting the imagery was not for juveniles.

The first clip has footage drawn from a camera outside the hull of a ship. Text in the corner notes the time and place. The ship is labelled as the Vivian. Barann had heard of this incident, rewriting it to feature Ergotoids had been one of his tasks before his promotion. The Vivian had been a colony vessel, some 10,000 individuals aboard belonging to the Kellarian Constituency. While on route to a potential colony site the Vivian had become crippled by a microstorm in a remote system. The punctured hull and spinning fragments could be seen as the camera panned slowly about. No engines, no shields, just waiting in space for the microstorm to rotate around the star and finish them off. The quietness of the video is unsettling. The camera’s slow movements almost seeming regretful of the loss about to happen.

Then a blink of light in the distance, distinct from the flashing metal and debris. The camera pans over and zooms in search. In the distance a large freighter can be seen moving in slowly. The human freighter, the Pale Air. The silence of the footage is supplemented by a tense music cue as the freighter moves in slowly. Stopping just beyond the edge of the microstorm.

Whatever discussion was taking place ended. The Pale Air’s engines flicker to life and the Pale Air closes in on the crippled vessel. The Pale Air’s shields flash as microstorm debris disintegrates on impact, sections begin to fizzle under the continued bombardment. As the freighter continues to approach it becomes apparent the humans are moving too fast to safely dock. A minute later something large impacts beside the camera. As the camera stops shaking the image resolves to show the Pale Air impacted against the Vivian’s hull. It’s engine roar to life. The vibrations from the engines transmitting to the Vivian and rattling the camera. Text scrolls past the screen as the camera slowly loses fidelity. The Pale Air had slowly pushed the wounded colony ship out of danger away from the microstorm, saving the lives of thousands of Kellarians. The screen fades to black as the music plays into the background.     

The second clip starts with news footage. As footage of a bustling multi-species hub is shown the news ticker describes what is happening. A disease called the Jinkor plague, is ravaging some alien system. Somehow human blood is being used as treatment. The camera moves to an alien reporter who begins to speak, behind them are rows of humans sitting in chairs. Red liquid being drawn from their arms.   

The video cuts to a vertical aspect ratio. A human pointing the camera at themselves. It opens it’s mouth to show teeth, in a predatory manner. It shouts in an alien tongue over a noisy background, “Doing my part, hashtag Give Blood.” and points the camera at it’s arm. Inserted into its arm is a needle drawing blood into a machine. The human raises the camera to show the people sitting behind them who wave a hand at the camera, “These people are also doing their part!” The camera spins around to show the rows of humans giving blood before the video cuts again.

This time it’s a newsreel montage. Footage of red liquid being injected into aliens. Long lines of the same aliens. Crowds cheering, more blood donations. The a blank page with statistics scrolling upwards. Number of donations, quantity of blood, lives saved. The montage ends with a picture of a juvenile alien hugging the leg of a human before fading to black.

The image pans from a cloudy yellow sky to a tree. On the upper branches a purple creature can be seen. Its cries faintly caught by the recorder. The viewer pans down to an alien in distress. Pointing and calling for someone to help its pet. From out of frame a human steps forward. Grasping a lower branch it examines the tree. Then the human pulls themselves up. With surprising agility the human climbs the tree until it is just below the purple creature. An arm stretches out, fingers stretching to reach the creature which shys away. The human jumps, shaking the tree. The human jumps again, and a branch snaps.

The recorder swings wildly, blurred frames of the human falling through the branches. There is a scream, and then the recorder rushes over to the human laying on the ground. The human uncurls an arm and the purple pet springs from its grasp and runs to its owner. The human then slowly rises to its feet. The recording stops as the human hobbles away.

An audio waveform bounces on the screen as an alien voice speaks.

“Distress, distress, this is Hilti Mining Station JV-33, we’ve had a mass casualty explosion event. We require immediate evacuation. Repeat, we have had an explosion. Fires uncontained. We require evacuation. Distress, distress…”

Colors splash onto the screen, a light blinds the camera, then the camera faces at cold metal plating. The angle moving awkwardly before settling into place. “Helmet cams online.” The camera turns, a human in full hard suit makes a hand gesture at the camera. More human voices crackle through a radio.

“The Hilti are cut off from their hangars and escape pods. Fire remains out of control and fuel is leaking into the vicinity. Check your fire suppression tanks.”

The camera moves as the human looks around the small room. A small group of humans wearing hard suits surround them. Various tools and devices at hand.

“30 seconds, get ready!”

The POV camera turns to withdraw a large tube from a locker. The human moves to stand with others alongside a wall. The human crouches down, one hand reaching out to grasp a handle.

“Opening door in 3, 2, 1. NOW!”

One of the wall slides away opening the room to space beyond. Across the distance is a facility floating in space. The lower half clearly damaged with gaping holes exposing the interior to the vacuum of space. Parts of the station glow red and white as internal temperatures rise from uncontrolled fires.

The human kneels down, the large tube protruding into the camera view. After a moment a rocket is fired. Behind the rocket trails a line. Unraveling as it travels, the rocket embeds itself onto the station. Moments later two more lines attach to the station The lines are attached to the ceiling of the room, bridging the gap between the ship and the station. Then the humans attach ascending devices to traverse across the line. The only movement being the humans on the line, and a tendril of orange liquid fuel twirling in space. As the humans are in transit one of them yells out.

“Holy shit! Lookout!”

In the silence of space the facility plating down below seemed to suddenly disintegrate. There was only time for brief incoherent yelling before the expanding metal shards reached them. The camera jerked violently, humans ahead curling up to make themselves smaller targets. Within seconds the shrapnel passes by.

“Roll call!”

“I’ve got a breach!”

The camera turns to look at one of the humans behind them. They have a hand to their leg.

“Return to the ship, everyone else keep moving!”

The video cuts to the humans hanging off the side of the facility. Sparks from torches blinding the camera as they cut through the wall. The panel is launched outwards as the internal atmosphere vents into space.

The video again cuts as the humans make their way through the darkened station corridors. Smoke obscuring their visor lights.. The humans regularly calling out for survivors. Open flame doused with a chemical foam. A hand with 4 fingers reaches out to them.

The video cuts again to the humans traversing the lines back to their ship. The room now filled with aliens laying against the wall. The human turns to cut the line from the roof as the wall slides back into place. The video cuts out and ends.

Barann shifted to a meditative stance. The appeal of the video was obvious. Dramatic depictions of heroic deeds was bound to inspire admiration. The usage of true stories only enhanced that effect. But its effect was becoming much more far reaching. Net searches related to humans had increased several thousand fold. Uncontrolled media outlets also began presenting stories of humans. Interest in humans was statistically on the rise, a positive image working to subvert the BAC’s work.

It seemed obvious that something insidious was going on. Something the BAC had missed. The analysts had combed the video for hidden signals or subversive techniques, finding neither. Attempts to find the procedure had been unsuccessful. Barann suspected it to be a group of individuals human who made the video as part of an amateurish hobby. Which would make it difficult to stem the further production of videos. Hoping to find a clue in the next viral video Barann uploaded the next file, Faith in Humanity #2.

[handyguypros1]

Best Portable Charcoal Grills HandyGuyPros

Nothing beats a charcoal grill for searing a steak. That’s because charcoal reaches higher temperatures than gas. That makes this type of grill excellent for cooking cuts of beef and lamb where you want the outside crisp and the inside pink.

Top Portable Charcoal Grills for Camping & Tailgating

Many footballs fans love charcoal grills for tailgating. Others prefer them for camping or RVs. Therefore we reviewed the best portable charcoal grills that you can bring to the next event.

Weber 121020 Go-Anywhere Charcoal Grill

Weber makes some of the best grills around. Their Go-Anywhere is a top seller because it’s well-designed, compact, and portable. It only weighs 14 pounds. But it has 160 square inches of grilling surface. That’s plenty for six hamburgers or two medium steaks at a time.

This is a durable charcoal grill made to last for a lot of cookouts. Its steel body has a rust-resistant porcelain enamel coating. Then, both the cooking grate and the pivoting legs are made of nickel-plated steel. The handle of the lid stays cool while you’re cooking. And there are adjustable dampers to control air flow.

Char-Griller 2-2424 Table Top Charcoal Grill and Side Fire Box

The Char-Griller resembles a tabletop smoker with its barrel-shaped format. In fact, you can do Texas-style smoking with it as well as grilling meats and vegetables.

The thick steel construction and cast iron grates bring it up to almost 40 pounds. But it has handy features like adjustable dampers, a stay-cool handle, and a ash pan that’s easy to dump. Plus, it offers 250 square inches of grilling space.

Lodge L410 Pre-Seasoned Sportsman’s Charcoal Grill, Black

Lodge’s Sportsman’s grill looks like an antique stove with its sturdy cast-iron body. It’s a hibachi grill with no lid. But it has two cooking heights and 155 square inches of cooking space. There is a draft door to regulate the heat and another door to access coals. Moreover, the grate is pre-seasoned and ready to use out of the box.

Since the Lodge is so heavy, it might be best for RVs. It’s small enough to store easily but too weighty for backpacking.

Mr. Flame Son of Hibachi Portable Vintage Cast Iron Charcoal Grill

The Son of Hibachi charcoal grill from Mr. Flame has a throwback to the 80s design. Or rather, it is actually a vintage grill from the 1980s. But it’s also possible to purchase the 21st-century model instead.

What’s the advantage of owning a classic grill like this one? First, it’s hot and ready to cook in ten minutes. Also, it converts into a self-cleaning oven or a self-extinguishing barbecue. It also preserves unused charcoal for use at a later time.

The grill provides 170 square inches for cooking. Plus, the cast iron grates and carbon steel body are made to last for years of service.

Marsh Allen 30052AMZ Kay Home Product’s Cast Iron Hibachi Charcoal GrillThe Hibachi style of charcoal grill is a perennial favorite. But Marsh Allen tweaked the original form factor to help you grill more effectively. They curved the edges of the grids to keep hot dogs from rolling away. Additionally, there are three cooking heights and adjustable air vents to help you manage the heat. The grill weighs just 18 pounds and offers 157 square inches for cooking.Marsh Allen 717HH-1 Folding Charcoal Grill

Marsh Allen also makes this charcoal grill with folding legs. It stands about two feet high. There are three cooking heights and 210 square inches of room for grilling. Moreover, it weighs less than 5 pounds.

Weber 10020 Smokey Joe 14-Inch Portable Grill

Weber’s Smokey Joe is round, not rectangular like their Go-Anywhere grill. It’s durable enough to come with a 10-year warranty. And it has a 14.5-inch cooking grate with room for three steaks at once.

The ten-pound total weight includes the lid with a stay-cool handle. Plus, the metal bowl and lid have a rust-resistant enameled coating.

Weber 1211001 Jumbo Joe 18-Inch Portable Grill

The Jumbo Joe features room for four steaks at a time on its 18.35-inch diameter cooking grill. Like its smaller brother, the Smokey Joe, the Jumbo comes with a durable body that resists rust. Also, the lid has a heat-shielded handle and a lock to keep it closed for transport.

BEAU JARDIN Portable Charcoal Grill for Outdoor Grilling

While this charcoal grill isn’t as compact as some, it comes with wheels to simplify transporting it. There is an ash catcher directly below the bowl as well as a shelf to hold items. Then, the 18-inch diameter grate cooks four steaks at once, so no one has to wait for their dinner. And the grill comes with a 100% satisfaction guarantee.

Weber 441001 Original Kettle 18-Inch Charcoal Grill

The Weber Original Kettle may be the inspiration behind the design of the Beau Jardin Grill above. But the Weber model comes with a 10-year warranty. It has 240 square inches of space for cooking on its 18.5-inch diameter grate. Moreover, like other Weber grills, it’s made to last.

The bowl and lid are enamel-coated to resist rust. Additionally, the handle is shielded to stay cool while you cook. When it’s time to clean up, just dump the ash catcher and wheel away the grill.

Canway Camping Stove, Wood Stove/Backpacking Stove

Canway’s Camping Stove isn’t precisely a charcoal grill. It also burns wood. It’s ultra-portable because it folds compactly and weighs less than 6 pounds.

The aluminum alloy body resists rust and damage. Moreover, the ventilated design encourages rapid startup and even cooking. Additionally, it comes with a 2-year warranty.

Pinty Portable Folding Charcoal Grill

Pinty’s Portable Grill weighs less than 10 pounds and its legs fold up to save space. It has 250 square inches of cook space plus seven air vents to keep coals hot. But the silicone handles stay cool to the touch when you need to lift the lid.

Fire Sense Notebook Charcoal Grill

The Notebook grill from Fire Sense stands 13 inches tall, then folds down to a 1-inch height. It offers 228 square inches of grilling space. And the charcoal rack and grate fold inside the body for quick cleanup. Overall, it weighs less than 8 pounds.

Tips for cooking on a charcoal grill

Now that you’ve chosen the perfect portable grill for the next tailgate party or campout, let’s go over how to use it. Here are some tips for getting the most out of cooking with charcoal.

Keep food from sticking to the grill

If you oil the grill grates and pre-heat them, your food won’t glom onto them and get stuck there. This is different from seasoning a grill. All you need to do is brush or rub cooking oil onto the grates, then wait a few minutes as the grill heats.

How to light a charcoal grill

There are two methods for lighting charcoal. The first one is easier, but it may cause your food to have an oily taste. It involves using Matchlight charcoal that’s impregnated with fuel or else squirting lighter fluid onto regular charcoal. Once you touch the briquets with a match, just wait until they turn gray and ashy.

The second method is to use a chimney made for lighting charcoal. Once you fill it with briquets, you’ll stuff newspaper in the bottom. Then light the paper and wait for the flames to work on the charcoal. Once the briquets are gray, you can move them to grill.

Manage the cooking temperature

While some folks are masters of cooking on a grill, most of us just want our food to turn out safe to eat and not too burned. The trick to managing heat on a charcoal grill is to increase or decrease the air flow. If you want to sear a steak, you’ll need to open the vents wide to make the charcoal burn hot.

You can also add more coals on top of the lit ones to raise the temperature. You’ll just have to wait until the news ones turn gray before they are hot enough.

Otherwise, to keep from burning your green peppers and onions, close the dampers part way to slow down the air flow.  If you have a lid and it’s closed, don’t shut the vents all the way or the fire will extinguish.

How to tell when the coals are hot enough

Besides the visual cue from the color of the briquets, you can check the temperature with a thermometer. If you don’t have a thermometer, try this hack.

If you can hold your hand five inches above the grate for two to four seconds, the charcoal is ready to grill meat. It’s about 450 to 550 F. Otherwise if it’s too hot to keep your hand there for two seconds, it’s too soon to cook.

If you can maintain your hand in position for five to six seconds, the temperature is probably around 350 to 450 degrees F. But if you’re just enjoying the warmth for up to ten seconds, you’re working with 250 to 350 F.

The secret to grilling without burning

The best way to keep your food from overcooking is to create a two-zone fire. We know this can be challenging on a small portable grill, especially if everyone wants their food right now. But if you’re grilling chicken, seafood, or pork chops, it’s useful.

Simply keep the hot coals on one side with the other side of the grill empty. You’ll have a space to cook slowly over indirect heat. And you’ll be able to manage flare-ups when the grease from the food causes a mini-inferno to appear.

How to smoke food with a charcoal grill

It’s straightforward to give your meat that delicious smoked flavor if you add certain types of wood soaked in water to the hot briquets. The smoke that arises will season your meal as it cooks. For example, hickory is a tasty choice, as is maple.

Close the grill lid and partly close the dampers. Then let the meat cook at 225 to 250 F for as long as it takes. Check smoker recipes for the most flavorsome ideas and ideal cooking times.

Conclusion

The next time you go camping or tailgating, you’ll be ready with your new portable charcoal grill. Whether you want one that folds, a Hibachi, or a kettle with wheels, there’s something for every preference.

Source : https://handyguypros.com/best-portable-charcoal-grills/

[kyodaikino]

Just re-watched Colossal - Overall I'd still say it's a pretty decent movie, but a couple of weaknesses did jump out at me A lot of the characters' backstories are just tossed out briefly in the dialogue, leaving character traits that drive the story feeling under-established, especially Oscar's jealousy of Gloria. The dialogue that sets it up serves its purpose well, but we don't really see it aside from large outbursts that seem to come from nowhere. We hear Oscar's anecdote about the short story contest, but not only do we not see any of the events he's referencing, but it's also dropped in so casually that it's easy not to realize that it's setting up his main motivation as an antagonist: that he's jealous of Gloria seemingly being more talented and having a more interesting life than him. In the flashback that's scattered throughout the film (fun fact: the "deleted scene"? The only extra on the home video release? It's just that flashback put back together into one scene), if you look, you'll see Oscar carrying a much shoddier and smaller diorama than Gloria's, which I guess was why he destroyed hers, but that jealousy isn't really shown - he just starts stomping on it. An insert that pans across the two dioramas to invite comparison and a close-up on Oscar would've made the whole thing so much clearer - hell, you could even make that one shot. Maybe not doing that was an attempt at restraint or subtlety, but it really only makes Oscar's actions seem totally inexplicable. (Of course, it doesn't really help matters that even in slow motion and with no dialogue, it doesn't look like either of those kids can act, but the film's casually telling instead of showing and failure to adequately establish character motivations are a far greater sin than not getting Oscar-worthy performances out of child actors. The overall effect reminds me of Oscar's constant "Don't you remember?" nonsense, acting like Gloria should remember agreements they made while she was drunk - the movie expects us to remember exposition that it did precious little to communicate clearly.) There are other little things that aren't really established well either. When Oscar brings up Garth's cocaine habit, he makes some remark about him going to the bathroom a lot. Thing is, I can't remember Garth ever going to the bathroom before that. Maybe it happened once, but for a decent setup and payoff you need at least one reminder in the middle. Without at least two instances of or references to something before the payoff, you don't really have a pattern. It feels like Vigalondo needed something for Oscar to be a dick about in that scene, wrote it in, and then forgot to insert the setup and reminder(s) earlier on in subsequent drafts of the script, leaving us with Oscar referencing a habit of Garth's that hasn't been established beforehand. (In fact, the only person I remember going to the bathroom at any point is Joel, because that's when Gloria pops in to ask for his address.) Also, as @jimpluff has pointed out more than once, the firework scene is fucking terrible. It's got the deliberate and repetitive style of a Quentin Tarantino monologue, but it's not as well-written, it's delivered by an actor who's completely wrong for that kind of material, it (again) comes from nowhere, and it's complete overkill - the purpose served by that scene could easily have been fulfilled with something a lot less ridiculous. It also doesn't mesh with the rest of the script at all; in fact, in a sense, most of the movie suffers from not being deliberate and repetitive enough. On top of that, the digital flames added to the aftermath look awful - not only do they seem to suddenly appear between shots without having been lit, but most of them are some combination of not being scaled properly, being pasted in diagonally so the flames don't lick straight up, or seemingly being stock clips where the fire actually sometimes reaches out of the frame resulting in flames that seem to terminate in a perfectly straight line in midair. Also, the score is really generic. It's so forgettable that I probably wouldn't have noticed except that at some points I could swear I'd heard a given cue in that Marvel Symphonic Universe video essay. All that said, I still appreciate the film. A lot of what I've complained about is things that aren't in the film that should have been; most of what is actually there is executed at least competently. It's far from a masterpiece, but it's not something I'd discourage anyone from watching. On top of that, it's got an interesting concept and it's a fairly original take on a genre that's really susceptible to formulaic filmmaking - the Godzilla series has gotten into more than one serious rut and Jordan Vogt-Roberts initially turned down the offer to do Kong: Skull Island because he imagined most people's reaction to another King Kong movie would just be "Why?" Kaiju movies sometimes seem like they've been done to death, and the sheer novelty of the approach Colossal takes to the genre goes a long way in my estimation, even if it's not executed as evenly as other recent kaiju films.

[notyourdamngod]

nobody » citizen

pops in here helloooOOOo holy carp i am an entire month late bc i never realized but... rank up!! you know what else needs to rank up my activity on viole