#i like to think hornet is sort of fuzzy

[queruloustea]

Fricken, uhhhh….

I know most of your art is kinda dark and moody but can we pretty please get a big sister moment between Hornet and Ghost please and thank you 🙏❤️

she is fixing up her feral little sibling’s cloak :)

bonus (ghost was inspired):

[the-s1lly-corner]

Are you able to do a S/O of Eyeless Jack, Ticci Toby, and the Marble Hornets, with a extra appendage (Like a tail that they just use as a belt) or a prosthetic??

Various CRP characters w/ a reader who has a prosthetic tail!

by default, since i dont do romantic hcs for characters like toby, his part is going to be platonic! nothing against you, its just a personal boundary/rule for the admin!

admin note from after writing the post! i admit that i was a little stumped on this idea, as i mention in passing in hoodies part that i truly think that most of the characters would really feel one way or the other about the tail </3 i personally chalk that up to my brain deciding to dry for this prompt + not being used to write most the characters with my current perception of them apologies anon :(

Characters: Eyeless Jack, Hoodie, Masky, and (platonic) ticci toby

CWs; None!

Eyeless Jack;

true to my usual way of writing ej; he feels he doesnt really have any place to judge you since he literally has to eat human flesh in order to survive

he doesnt really ask many questions about it honestly

but if its one of those fuzzy fur tails he'll subconsciously run his fingers through the material

really thats about it

i wish i had more for his section but i really think he would not give a darn about your tail due to his general principle of not judging others... now if this were before he was EYELESS jack yeah he would kinda be a dick but hey, hes a dick to everyone

but thats another story for another day

Masky;

"you have a tail?" head tilt

i dont know what is with my brain today but i am DRY!!

anyways, another sort of

acknowledgement, before ultimately just minding his own business

he does think its interesting, though! he probably wont say it but he does think its at least a little bit cool, especially if its one of those mechanical tails that can move around with some controls

kinda swats it around if its one of the plain simple dimple strap on tails, though

again not much to be said here

i think at worst he might forcibly grab it to inspect without thinking to ask, but hell back right off if you snap back

Hoodie;

he thinks its pretty neat me thinks

kinda like toby in regard to being really indirectly interested (ie playing with it if you give him the go ahead, he likes the way the material feels on his hands)

(i wrote tobys part before everyone elses^)

yeah im not sure what to write with this scenario but i dont want to give you just nothing

i feel like most of the characters wouldnt really care/have seen weirder shit, like i think the only ones who may tease you are ben, jeff, lj, and maybe trender (trender not in the mean bullying way but like. hell get on you if the material is faulty or clashes with your aesthetic/style)

anyways back to hoodie

honestly i feel like between the four he'd snag your tail for himself every now and then/j

god can you imagine

he just really likes it

Toby;

"are you a furry??"

hes kinda half joking when he asks that since he doesnt really know why else you would wear a tail

regardless of if you are one or not hes not really going to care

i mean, hes seen weirder, probably..

he thinks its really cool! he asks if you made it yourself or if you made it yourself... subtly asks if you can make him one too, totally not modeled after a racoon tail to match his sleeves...

kinda plays with it if you let him; he lightly taps it in passing when you two walk past one another in the hallway

overall thinks its kinda cool tbh

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

Hello again! Now that I know who you write for, I'm back with a request! Can I please suggest Sanji x Reader (if that's okay) with the following summer theme prompt? I'm actually really curious to see your take on Sanji. 😳

“some asshole left their dog in the car in the blistering heat and we both noticed and are debating on what to do” au

Thank you so much for doing this! 🥰

Hi Luxi, and thanks for bringing me my first-ever askbox fic prompt! (the prompt list is here for anyone interested)

The idea for this fic sprung into my head soon as I read the prompt, so I hope you enjoy...

"Dog Days: A Sanji x Reader Fic"

You hadn't even made it halfway to the store when you noticed the dog. Not that it was hard to ignore; the poor mutt surveyed the entire parking lot from the window of a jacked-up pickup, and its baleful barks escaped the tiniest crack in the window. The day was hot enough that you were sweltering soon as you stepped outside; you couldn't imagine how bad it must be for a fuzzy dog, much less one trapped in a truck.

Soon as you heard the mutt, all plans derailed. You couldn't just leave it there, and who knew how long the owner might be gone? You racked your brain for a plan, but you had to think fast. The dog's whimpers were already getting weaker.

When you strode up to the car, someone else had the same idea. A tall blond strode up to the opposite side of the truck, eyes so narrowed they looked about to shoot lasers. The truck was large enough that it had running boards to reach the doors, but he hopped right up with a water bottle. The dog shuffled over at the sight of a human, and as the stranger dripped cool water through the crack in the windows, the dog eagerly lapped it up. Its tail still barely wagged, even that exertion too much in this heat.

"This dog can't stay in here," you said as you stared at the locks. The truck didn't have a keypad, thank goodness...and as a matter of fact, it had one of those manual locks on the inside, the sort you pulled up to unlock the car. Which would've been perfect if you weren't wearing sandals. "Hey. Weird question, but are you wearing shoes with laces right now?"

The blond looked at you through the truck window. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"I think I can get the truck open, but I'll need to borrow a shoelace."

You figured the guy would refuse, or at least ask questions as to why you needed his darn shoes. Instead, he hopped down from his side of the truck and ambled over to you. He was a handsome guy, now that you got a good look at him. Tasteful button-down shirt and slacks even in this weather, slick blond hair with bangs that covered half his face in a way that looked more mysterious than old-school emo...the curly eyebrow was a little odd, but in a quirky way. Made him more handsome, in an odd way. Especially when he put one foot up on the running board and unlaced his shoe, sliding the string out and handing it to you with a determined nod.

You formed a small lasso with the shoestring, then slid it into the crack in the window. All you had to do was lower it onto the lock, tighten the loop, and pull.

"You happen to be a master thief or something?" The blond asked, simultaneously curious and impressed.

"Nothing so fancy. I'm just real bad about leaving my keys in my car. Keep an eye out in case the owner comes back, okay?"

The stranger nodded and hopped back onto the running board to peer over the top of the truck. Meanwhile, the mutt inside crawled up to the front seat, curious at this new development. It thankfully seemed smart enough to recognize that it was being saved, and didn't bat at the string. Just a little more, and...there! You tightened the loop and pulled the lock up with a satisfying click.

Three things happened at once.

You pulled the door open.

The mutt leapt into your arms with such force, you fell off the running board.

And the car alarm blared with the fury of a thousand hornets.

You clutched the mutt tight to your chest and prepared to hit the pavement, but you instead fell into a pair of sturdy arms. The wind hit your face as you opened your eyes; the blond was bolting full-tilt through the parking lot with you and the dog in his grasp.

"Where's your car?" He shouted.

"Left it home! I took the bus! Where's your car?"

"I walked!" His shoes slapped against the pavement, and you belatedly realized that the shoestring had been left behind in the chaos, still looped around the lock in the still-open door of the truck. Your imagination ran wild with cops somehow tracking down your prints from the shoestring and chasing you down for kidnapping a dog.

"Are we being chased?" You asked.

"Don't know! Not looking back. But if I ever see this dog's owner, I'm kicking his ass!" The blond took a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with a gaggle of college students. "I'm taking us to my work. There's food and A/C there for the dog, and we can figure out what we're doing from there."

You couldn't think of a better plan, and you wouldn't abandon the mutt at this rate, especially as it licked your face in appreciation. So you nodded and wondered where this bizarre day would take you next.

You'd heard of the Baratie, never had a chance to eat there. Not for lack of funds or interest; it just never came up. So imagine your surprise when you found yourself at the local favorite restaurant before opening, sitting next to a mutt happily lapping up water, the blond stranger humming nearby as he cooked up a meal in the kitchen. Because when he said "get the dog food", he didn't mean ordinary dog chow, but serving up the dog a homemade feast to make up for the ordeal it had just endured.

You had no idea what the dog's name was, or if it had one at all. It had no nametag, just a cheap metal choke-chain you'd swiftly removed. The dog seemed healthy enough, but there were patches in its fur and the scrapes of a rough life outdoors. You decided that, even on the off-chance that someone chased you down for dognapping, you'd refuse to give the mutt up. It deserved a far better home than the one it came from.

Still. "I can't believe I just stole a dog with a random stranger," you said aloud.

"Well then, let's fix that," the blond said as he wandered out with a pair of plates. "I'm Sanji, and here's lunch. Can't be strangers with a name and a meal together, huh?" He set one down in front of the dog, who happily immediately dug into a feast of meat, brown rice, and assorted canine-safe veggies. The other, he set on the table in front of you. You blinked; he'd asked you off-hand questions about your food preferences when you'd arrived, but you hadn't expected him to actually cook for you too.

"I...thank you. And nice to meet you, Sanji." You gave him your name, and his entire face brightened as if it were music to his ears. "Look, this is really sweet, but I don't have a huge amount of cash on hand."

"That's fine. This is on the house, for your heroism and quick-thinking." Sanji took the seat opposite you with a soft smile. "If you hadn't come along, I don't know what I would've done. My only plan was to break the window, but that might've hurt the dog."

You took a bite of your meal. A medley of flavor danced across your tongue. "You know, reasonable folks would've...I dunno, gone inside and had customer service call over the intercom. Or called the cops. Made it someone else's problem."

Sanji shrugged. "Maybe. Think I would've stuck around anyway, saw it through to the end. Had to know if the little guy was alright." There was a softness in Sanji's eye as he looked down at the dog, who chowed down on its meal as if it had never seen food in its life. It was a look of understanding, the sort that came with a history one didn't ask about lightly. Made you curious about this handsome stranger, one who'd drop all plans and leave behind his own shoelaces in order to help someone in need.

You said, "Thank goodness for the unreasonable people of the world, then. Speaking of which...what're we going to do with the dog? I could try to smuggle it into my apartment, but the owners don't allow pets, so I'd have to be careful."

Sanji's gaze flitted up to the ceiling. "My apartment's right over the restaurant. I can keep the dog here."

"Your landlord won't mind?"

"Not if he wants to keep his best chef around. Besides, he's a sucker for underdogs. If the old owner comes back for this little guy, Zeff will toss the guy out by his ears." Sanji winked and turned to the dog. "What do you say, huh? Wanna' stay here with me? Fresh food every day and no choke-chains." The mutt barked in approval, tail wagging at full speed.

Sanji turned to you again. "You're free to visit, if you'd like. I mean, I can't take the dog out during work hours...but like, on breaks, or before we open?"

You smiled at this handsome stranger, with his heart on his sleeve and a sparkle in his eyes. You realize that yes, you'd be more than happy to see him again. "I'd love that. Besides, I'm pretty sure I owe you a new pair of shoelaces..."

[fly-sky-high-bug-games]

*sneaks in here* may we have some... Trav lore/fun facts?

Holy crud, I get to talk about Trav! (I’m so sorry my neglected void child)

Okay so, Trav was a very peculiar baby. They were driven by the survival instinct their whole life and that’s basically what drove them out of the Abyss through some unusual narrow paths and such. BUT, before all this... this baby took a good sip of the void lake. Out of their fighting instinct they may have eaten a tendril or two as well... It affected their memories and threw the mind into a kind of mess but they were sturdier then most of their siblings because of it.

Outside, they encounter mostly wild critters, from Deepnest, to Fungal Wastes, to Fog Canyon, through the Gardens onto the Greenpath. Travs climb there took several years, it was gradual since they weren’t sure where they were going or where they’ll pop out or in what they’ll run into and who they gonna chew on or fight next... so they had time to grow from things they ate and fought against.

This growth was stunted by Hornet at some point. She fought, much more skilled, damaged Trav to quite a degree and the poor vessel escaped a near death by hiding away into Greenpath. They couldn’t hunt much, they couldn’t move quick to escape enemies nor could they search for Soul to heal. Think of it as Ghost sitting in a safe spot for couple of years with a single mask left. (basically me too scared to progress through the area since I can easily die BUT GOTTA LOOK FOR THE BENCH OR I’LL CRY)

They eventually started moving about and hide in just about every tiny place possible to avoid trouble and such, having slow movement and reactions while having absolutely no knowledge of social cues and alike. A lot of time they spent regaining energy by sitting motionless and staring into nothing like no thoughts, head empty... so their coat got mossy and kind of bioactive.

Eventually, they saw Pim and came out. Pim, being the sweet friendly sibling they are, encouraged Trav to come with them. Silva freaked out about them a lot then but Yonna understood quickly their mental state is still that of a toddler so they both started treating Trav with more patience. The group slowly started teaching them basic stuff, from hugs to words and their meanings but Trav stuck to Pim, as they understood body language the best.

Then they found some totems in the Gardens and one, good healing with Focus later, Trav was more or less themselves again. They turned swift and... battle friendly. Luckily, Pim made them hold back a bit stay close without falling into too much trouble. As the group met up with Rham, the big roach started helping Trav learn less nail and more physical moves for the fight, since Trav’s nail usage was more club like rather than blade like. Trav wanted to become stronger and loved to spar with a sturdy fighter like Rham.

Trav also stayed behind when Silva had her whole “I must save miners from Radiance” arc, making sure she was alright while others left for the coli. Funny enough, when Silva locked her memories, Yonna and others had gain her trust as “strangers” and ask her to go to sleep but Trav took the chance while Silva was out of the room and knocked her out physically, pissing everyone off but solving the issue in two seconds... (I still laugh at this moment to this day)

More or less, everything was fine while they were with a group for a good portion of the time, just sort of backing everyone up in a fight and clearing paths from small infected critters... until Trav fought Trail at the mines, lost and almost got killed while also failing to protect Pim who got kidnapped. They were like depressed puppy for a bit but thanks to their ability to sense other siblings close by, they managed to locate and save Pim from Zeeke’s clutches... and then Trail stayed with them.

Trail and Trav... had a terrible start to begin with. Trail’s guilt wasn’t helping her but Trav also got too nosy, picking on Trail and even would turn territorial of aggressive at her at times (which Pim would resolve because they can’t say no to Pim). They did started cooling off and getting a better understanding of each other though.

However, Trav is hitting something like “puberty” (not really but I guess it resembles it), starting to pick up growth even more now. They turned super energetic and kind of pushy so the group decided for Trav to go on with Mugo on his hunting business and let out some steam there while they head for the coli, basically splitting Trail and Trav for good measure.

Guess who’s currently crying about trying to keep the critters alive and unhurt while also not chasing them away from the traps! :D

Anyway, Trav is maturing, some of the void that they consumed started to “activate” but is basically surfacing out due to Trav being the healthiest AND, what’s important, more mentally focused and understanding since they’re getting a grip of patience and socilizing. (Primrose even warns the girls and Trav in Taka’s Drop arc not to let Trav consume more void)

So that void is going slowly to their external look, from how the mandibles work and how buff they look to the fuzzy void “beard” they’re sporting now!

[shimmershaewrites]

Waltzing's for Dreamers, Chapter 5 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Title:  Waltzing's for Dreamers

Rating:  I'm going to go with PG-13 again. 

Warnings:  Adult language.  Allusions to past abuse. 

Characters/Pairings:  Carol/Daryl, Andrea Harrison, Michonne, Lori Grimes, mentions of Carol/Ed, mentions of Sophia Peletier. 

  Waltzing’s for Dreamers

  How it all really began.  The next evening after the night before.  More simply, two days after they said their drunken ‘I do’s.’ 

      “All I’m saying,” Andrea says, holding up a hand to stave off Carol’s sputtering attempts at protest, “is that staying married to Mr. Arm Porn here—even if it’s only for a few months—might have its merits.” 

  “Mr. Arm Porn, Andrea?” Michonne smirks over the lip of her cocktail, not even bothering to hide her amusement in the least when her dark eyes flit over to Daryl, who’s remained largely silent since the initial round of formal introductions.  “Really?  I’m pretty sure he said his name was Daryl.”  She outright laughs, full and unashamed, when the man in question tucks his hands beneath his armpits, putting those impressive biceps of his on further display, and regards Andrea with a glint of humor in his cool blue eyes.  She watches as he gently nudges her frazzled friend with his elbow and gives her a tiny, half smile before gruffly muttering a statement that wins her over completely and melts more than a few of Lori’s reservations, she can tell. 

  “Can see why you might think of killin’ her.  Pretty free with her opinions, ain’t she?” 

  Carol bites her lip for a moment before smiling sheepishly at him.  “All of them are.” She gets a little lost in his eyes.  The crinkles at the corners of them that are revealed to her when that boyish smile of his widens just a fraction.  The mole at the corner of his mouth.  She’s fairly certain her lips have made love to that tiny imperfection, even if the details are fuzzy, and her skin still feels the phantom tingle of his scruff all over parts of her that have never been properly appreciated.  Memory or imagination, either way the realization makes her flush, and she rubs a restless hand over her nape.  Lifts her heavy curls from her neck and lets them fall loosely over her shoulder, averts her gaze and studies the napkin beneath her untouched drink.  She doesn’t look up again until she realizes Lori’s speaking.  She’s defending their sisterhood in the simplest of terms, voicing their common concern for each other, and any residual annoyance Carol feels melts away with her words. 

  “We want only the best for Carol because we love her.”       

  “Can respect that,” Daryl gruffly acknowledges. 

  Andrea lifts a cool, appraising brow at the comment.  “I’m sensing a but.” 

  “Because there is one,” he responds.  “Where was all that love and concern a couple nights ago?  Hmm?  You don’t know me from the serial killer living down the street.” 

  Lori frowns.  “What serial killer?” 

  “The hypothetical one,” Michonne explains. 

  “Are you a serial killer?” Andrea questions bluntly.  “Mr. Arm Porn,” she adds belatedly with a wry smirk.   

  “Andrea!” Carol hisses.      

  “He says we don’t know him,” Andrea shrugs nonchalantly.  “We don’t.  I’m just asking the questions any reasonably concerned and loving friend would.” 

  “No,” Michonne says.  “You’re blowing smoke up his ass.” 

  “I would have put it more politely,” Lori joins in, “but yeah.  You are.” 

  “More politely?” Andrea scoffs.  “Are you being for real?” 

  “They always like this?” Daryl mutters as Andrea and Lori lose themselves in an exchange of words of a more colorful nature and Michonne plays the part of long-suffering referee.

  Laughing softly, Carol doesn’t even try to sugarcoat it.  “Worse.” 

  “Your ex sounds like a real asshole.” 

  She sighs and her nails press crescents into her palms because talking about Ed, even the tiniest mention of him, makes her nerves rattle and her heart threaten to take flight.  Every time she thinks about what could have been, how much worse the physical abuse could have escalated past what the verbal already was had she not escaped when she had, she gets a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and Andrea bringing him up like they were discussing something as frivolous as the weather or what show the four of them were going to see their last night in Vegas before going home, well.  It’s stirred up a whole hornets’ nest of emotions Carol would really rather keep under wraps, but the ugly truth has already been let out of the gate so to speak.  “Asshole is too kind a word,” she finally murmurs. 

  “Asshole really is too kind of a word,” Lori agrees, abandoning her discussion with Andrea to stress to Daryl just how much of a dirtbag Ed Peletier really is. 

  “Add a mother,” Michonne interjects.

  “And a fucker,” Andrea scowls blackly. 

  “In front of it,” Lori picks up the thread effortlessly, “and it still would be too kind of a word.” 

  Daryl whistles through his teeth and picks up the drink he’d all but drained within five minutes of his arrival and subsequent unwilling inspection and interrogation, rattles the melting ice cubes left behind as he makes a visible effort to keep his reaction low-key. 

  Still, a muttered curse escapes him and his rough hand hovers hesitantly over hers then dwarfs it, works her fingers free of their fretful work and squeezes in gentle reassurance.  “If he manages to get custody of Sophia…”  Her voice quavers at the very thought and Michonne stretches her arm across the table to rest a soothing hand on her forearm, Lori and Andrea quick to follow her example.  “If he does…” 

  “He ain’t gonna.” 

  “If he does, though,” Carol swallows hard over the knot of emotion that’s made its unannounced visit in the well of her throat.  She feels foolish, allowing this stranger such a naked glimpse of the demons that plague her, but something deep inside her recognizes his understanding for what it is:  firsthand experience with the darkest parts of so-called love.  “You don’t know me.  You have no stake in what happens to me or my little girl.  Why are you even entertaining Andrea’s ridiculous idea?  Why are you offering…” 

  “To help you?”  Daryl finishes. 

  “Why are you offering to help me?” 

  “Maybe I ain’t got nothin’ better to do.” 

  “Maybe you’re more than a piece of arm candy is more like it,” Michonne smiles. 

  “Maybe,” Lori muses. 

  “Arm Porn.  Not candy,” Andrea makes the distinction with a feigned sigh.  “Believe it or not, there’s a difference.” 

  He withdraws his hand and curls his fingers back around his glass, holds on to it like it’s some sort of tether to a fast-fading reality as he clears his throat and addresses the woman that had planted the very first seed without looking up from its murky contents.  “These merits.  Tell me more about ‘em.”

  Andrea all too eagerly complies.  “Well, the court system operates under this antiquated notion that…” 

  Her reasonable mind won’t admit it for many years yet, but that moment?  Is the moment Carol’s heart started the slow slide into love for one Daryl Dixon. 

[doomedandstoned]

THE GREAT BIG SLOMATICS INTERVIEW

~By Svempa Alveving~ Photos by Gerry Dollso (studio) and Paul Verhagen (live)

Would ya believe that in all these years, we've never had a chance to do a one-on-one with Slomatics? With the Belfast band making a key appearance in the States this year at Psycho Las Vegas, we figured it was high time to change that. Guitarist David Majury was kind enough to oblige our questions. (Billy)

To start, we'd love to hear your telling of the Slomatics origin story.

The band has been together for 13 years now, which is sort of hard to believe. We formed out of the ashes of a previous band called The Naut in 2004, which all three of us had played in. The bassist of that band became our original drummer, but Marty replaced him in 2012 so it feels like things went full circle. We’ve all done a lot of other bands. Marty and I played in a garage band called The Favourites and a stoner band called Cosmonaut, and Marty played in a whole range of stuff for years from old school hardcore to psych collectives. Chris and I have played in various bands together for around 17 years now.

As for Slomatics, we formed, released two albums, some splits, and seven inches, and toured Ireland and the UK, all being pretty low-key DIY. We then recorded our split with Conan and the previous drummer quit, both of which led us to move things on pretty quickly. With Marty in the band, all restrictions of the previous line-up were removed and in the last five years we’ve released three albums, a seven inch, a digital EP, a soundtrack song, and have studio time booked for our next release. We’ve started travelling a lot more, even though we don’t tour, and have played Desertfest and Roadburn in the last year or so.

What's at the core of your musical inspiration?

I think that inspiration is often confused with music people enjoy. For example, I listen to PJ Harvey a lot, but I’m never going to really try and write music to sound like her. For us, it’s been more a case of having a certain sound we gravitate towards, but without a specific reference point. I mean, we’re not claiming to be any sort of genre-defying thing, we play heavy, fuzzy rock music, so of course we take something from Sabbath and the Melvins, but I wouldn’t say those bands influence us specifically.

I get most of my inspiration from bands we play with, so seeing Bismuth recently made me think about layers in our sound, or Wild Rocket made me thing about their use of effects, and then I’ll try to interpret those experiences our own way. One band does really stand out though. In our early days, we played a few shows with a band called Like a Kind of Matador who were from Leeds, England. They had such an unusual approach to song structure and guitar playing/tones, which really stuck with me. They’d no bassist, either, which appealed to me, too, and helped me realize that it’s only convention which dictates a band’s line-up. We don’t sound anything like them, but just seeing a band do things their own way with no thought for how they’d be perceived certainly made us want to do the same.

If we were to take peek at your playlist these days, what would we be listening to?

I’ll give you the last five records I’ve bought:

Part Chimp – 'IV' (2017). Their last record was maybe eight years ago and they’d been on hiatus for years, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, but this really is their best album yet. Monstrously heavy and sounding completely epic, they out-heavy just about anyone else making guitar music today. Incredible band.

Soundcarriers – 'Entropicalia' (2014). A friend turned me on to this record, and it’s definitely not a doom album. It combines '60s French pop like Serge Gainsbourg with a sort of Can-esque drumming and weirdness, like the soundtrack to some lost arthouse movie.

Hornets – 'Witch Hunt' (2017). Raging hardcore from Belfast! These guys embody what I think of as hardcore, rather than the sort of awful metalcore stuff that passes itself off as hardcore these days. They’ve a real doomy edge, too, which adds a really creepy feel to their sound, and are one of those bands who can make negativity and anger somehow sound uplifting. We’ve played a lot of shows with them and they’re so intense live. Great band.

Documenta – 'Drone Pop #1' (2015). I’m flying the flag for local music here. These guys have been around for a while, but I only really heard them last year and this record has barely left my turntable since. I’ve no idea how to categorize this record. It’s really cinematic, with just amazing textures and guitar sounds, beautifully produced and really moving.

Holly Hunt – 'The Wait/Bowling Green' (2017). This is the most recent 12” from this two-piece. I was a fan of their first album and through nerdy guitar stuff online I hooked up with them, leading to us releasing a split 7" a couple of years back. They’re absolutely amazing, again, hard to categorize, but if you’ve any interest at all in heavy guitar sounds then this will appeal to you. Their sound, a bit like Part Chimp, is almost overwhelmingly huge.

Let's switch gears now and talk about your own discography. How do you feel about your output to date and do you see a progression, musically?

I suppose I feel proud of it all, just because I know how difficult it is for bands at our level to create any kind of longevity. There’s no monetary reward and for the first few years it’s generally playing to small crowds. I think a lot of great bands just fizzle out, which is always a shame. My friend has a theory that in every town of a certain size there will be at least one amazing band, but that they won’t ever really be heard outside of that town or their own basement. I’ve certainly seen those bands here in Belfast and it’s easy to see why some things don’t last. I feel good that Chris and I kept going, kept being excited about playing music together, and maintained a reasonable prolific output, which in a way is just a reflection of our friendship.

Each record represents where we were at that time, really, so although the early stuff -- and all the stuff with the previous line-up, to be honest -- feels like a different band, I’m still reminded of how much we enjoyed things at the time. That being said, once Marty joined the band it felt like we’d really opened the door to being able to do all the stuff we’d always wanted to, and the records we’ve done with this line-up are something I feel really proud of.

We practice in a lock-up in an industrial estate here in Belfast. It’s certainly not glamorous or "pro" in any way, and yet there are three great looking records that folk around the world have thought enough of to spend money on. Holding a copy of one of those records in my hands is a very satisfying thing, I’ll not deny it, and I’m sure anyone who releases a record feels the same way. That really blows my mind and it’s a great feeling.

As for progression, that’s the aim. I suppose it’s up to the listener to decide if we’ve achieved it or not. We’ve never deliberately tried to reinvent ourselves, but it felt like we took a leap forward once Marty joined and that each release since has been closer to the sounds in our heads. On the last record, I think we were fairly happy that it sounded like we’d hoped it would and that the songs has the light and shade we’d aimed for. It's maybe the record where we felt we’d included all the things we’d tried out on the previous two, but hopefully in a more fully realized way.

What's the Slomatics approach to writing and recording new material?

It’s different every time, really. I think we all have a sort of unspoken role in the band, and we try to work together to our strengths. I write most of the riffs, which are the initial ideas. Often, I sit at home with my iPhone recording wee 20 second segments and building up a load of ideas. Most come to nothing, of course, and probably 70% of them are just me messing about with delay pedals or weird noises. I’ll bring them to the practice room and if the others think there’s something worth working on, then we’ll jam it out and think about dynamics.

Marty often interprets my ideas completely differently to how I envisaged them, which is always a cool moment as the song takes on a more collaborative form. A lot of the last record was written that way. Chris is always a good sounding board for what makes the studio. He’ll always try moving riffs about before dismissing anything, so he’s a great barometer to have. And unlike me, he’s a really technically proficient player, so he’ll have ideas about where chords and things fit in. It really is different every time, though. The last record was basically written by me and Marty, but of the three new songs we’ll record in November, one is fully collaborative with all three of us writing riffs, one is all Marty, and the third is all me. It just depends who has ideas at a given time.

Recording has changed a little through time. We used a great studio called Start Together here in Belfast for 'A Hocht' (2012) and 'Estron' (2014), but then switched to Skyhammer for the Holly Hunt split (2014) and 'Future Echo Returns' (2016). This was mainly as we’re now on Black Bow Records, but also because the studio is so amazing. Chris Fielding from Conan is the engineer at Skyhammer and he has such an amazing ear for heavy sounds. We loved the production he’d done on the Throne and Conan records, so it was a very easy decision to go to his studio. It’s stress free, as Chris is really easy to be around, and we trust his mixing completely. There are very few tweaks ever done. We’ll record the next record in November there, too.

What's most important when writing a new song: the lyrical concept or those musical ideas you referred to?

It always starts with the music. If the riff isn’t there, then there’s no skeleton to hang the song on. We usually write all the music first and then Marty goes away and writes all the lyrics and melody, although recently he’s started writing sections as we go along. He really does spend a lot of time and effort with the lyrics and it’s not like they’re an afterthought. We’ll often change the structure to create space for where the lyrics will fit, even before they’re written.

Do you plan on booking some shows outside Ireland?

Actually, we play more shows outside of Ireland than we do at home these days. We don’t tour due to work and family commitments, so most of our shows will involve flying into somewhere, playing a show or two, and then flying home. It’s frustrating in some ways, as we end up turning down shows that we know would be amazing, but we all accept that it’s just how it is. It’s not that we don’t love playing Ireland, either, but for a band like ours playing a couple of shows a year is enough, as Belfast is pretty small and folk would get tired of us if we played every weekend. I think I might get tired of it, too! In the last year, we’ve played England a few times, Scotland, the Hostsabbat Fest in Norway, and of course Roadburn, and we’ll be in Las Vegas in August before returning to England in September. We’d love to play away more often, though. There are places like Germany and Sweden we’d love to play. Hopefully in 2018!

You are playing Psycho Las Vegas this August. I believe Billy Goate recommended you to the organizer, who asked for his top picks. How will you prepare for that event? What other bands are you hoping to get to see?

Yeah we are! It's a bit of a mind-blower, to be honest. We couldn't believe it when we were asked. I replied to the organizers that we live in Ireland and don't tour, but they were super cool and keen to have us over. Our mates in Conan and Tombstones have played it before, so we knew a bit about the fest. It's like a who's who of the heavy-alternative scene. It should be a real blast, seems like a really well organized set up with an insane lineup.

As for getting prepared, the main thing was sorting out equipment, which is all organized now. Beyond that, it's literally turn up and play! We'll probably do something special with Jon from Conan, too.

As for who I'm excited about seeing, all the usual suspects like Sleep, Neurosis, The Melvins, and Corrosion of Conformity. I'm sure they'll be amazing, as always, but I'm really stoked about seeing stuff I've not seen before, like the Brian Jonestown Massacre and a band from Sweden called Domkraft, who I really love. There's so much: obviously Conan, but the likes of Chelsea Wolfe, Psychic TV, Wizard Rifle, and Murder City Devils will be on my list, too. Hopefully I'll see as much as possible.

Tell me more about the local scene in Ireland.

Honestly, that’s a whole separate interview in itself. Ireland has always had an amazing history of local music, but I’d say that right now things are better than ever. There’s a pile of doomy stuff going on, with some really great bands like Nomadic Rituals and 7.5 Tonnes of Beard putting out cool music, but the most interesting stuff tends to be at the edges of different scenes. Bands like Maw, Hornets, Documenta, The Bonnevilles, Los Reyes, Junk Drawer, Bosco Ramos, New Pagans, Gnarkats, Hiva Oa, Beauty Sleep, Venus Sleeps, Wild Rocket, Horse, No Spill Blood, Robocobra Quartet -- honestly the list is so long.

There are a couple of really great venues like Voodoo and the Black Box, too, run by cool supportive people and with excellent PAs and crew. The scene is generally well supported; we’ve not played to an empty room for years now. There’re some great promoters bringing bigger names through town and putting local bands on bills, which is great, and we’ve a world class studio here, as I mentioned, called Start Together.

For a few years, I noticed that all the best local bands were older folk who’d been around for years, but in the last couple of years there’s been a real run of young bands playing really exciting new music, which is amazing to see, even if it does make me feel old! I suppose my only criticism would be that there could be more crossover between scenes and in the arts, in general, but then that’s true of most towns.

Any cool bands overall that I should check out?

My top three:

Maw. A two-piece who blend ultra-heavy riffs with amazing melodies that somehow remind me of Pavement and the Melvins simultaneously. They use a weird set-up of hand built amps and pedals, too, so my inner geek finds them very satisfying.

RoboCobra Quartet. Again, nearly impossible to put in any specific genre. They sound a bit like if Henry Rollins or maybe Steve Albini did a jazz record. Heavy as anything, but with saxophone and no fuzz boxes.

Documenta. I know I’ve already mentioned this record, but it’s really worth a listen, if you’re a fan of cinematic, hazy textured guitar stuff. In particular, their album Drone Pop #1. Not heavy at all, but with some really creepy interludes. It has that ability to transport me away when I listen to it. It’s just a masterpiece.

If you were headlining a festival and you have the opportunity to choose the bands, who would you choose?

In reality, I’d stick loads of local bands on there, but I think I’ve banged on about that enough, so I’ll go international with this one:

Pink Floyd. The 'Live at Pompeii' (1972) era. When we started the band, both Chris and I were really obsessed with that DVD, so in the dream world we’d transport them through time and put the festival in an Italian amphitheater.

Part Chimp. To this day they’re still the loudest band I’ve ever seen and I think they’d set the standard for colossal riffs at any festival.

Mudhoney. Being of a certain age, I was a big fan of early '90s fuzz rock. I saw Mudhoney last year and they were even better than when I saw them in '92, so they’d get a spot in my festival line-up, for sure.

Brothers of the Sonic Cloth. Because it’s Tad Doyle, no other reason required!

Monoliths. They’re a three-piece with folk from Ommadon and Bismuth, both insanely heavy bands, and the marriage of the two is just as good as I’d hoped, with huge, looping, meditative riffs. I’d like something to trance out to at the fest, so these guys would do that nicely. Plus, they use about 100 amps live, so the stage would look really cool between all that and Floyd’s gong.

Conan: Yes, they’re old mates of ours so hanging out would enhance my festival experience, but also because they’re just so good. Their wall of Green amps never ceases to impress, either.

I’m old, so I’ll keep this festival line-up to a one-day affair, as I’d be too wrecked for a second day. Between Monoliths, Part Chimp, Conan, and Brothers of the Sonic Cloth, my eardrums would need a rest, so I’ll go for John Carpenter. I think his stuff is really amazing, and if he played the ‘Lost Themes’ (2015) material I’d be able to relax nicely, maybe in one of those collapsible camping chairs with the drink holder. I can’t imagine much better.

Last of all, I've always been curious about the meaning of songs like "Estronomicon," "In The Grip of Fausto," and "Into The Eternal" off of the latest album, 'Future Echo Returns' (2016).

We get asked about the meanings of specific songs quite a bit and I always feel like I’m ducking the question a little when I answer. The reason is that we don’t like to spell the songs out for the listener. We’d prefer people take their own meaning or interpretation of the song. I know that sounds pretentious, but when I listen to music I like to be transported somewhere by it and that experience may be the same for everyone else or perhaps it’s totally different. I like to believe that the latter is the case and that what might be transcendental for one person could be really superficial for another -- both are fine.

The aim of our music is to be whatever people want to take from it. All that being said, yes, there is a narrative to the album, which follows on from and concludes the story of the previous two records. We’d always intended these to be a trilogy with a beginning and an end. This album hopefully feels like a conclusion. We tried to sequence the songs to create a sense of being on a journey with a certain pace and feel. We do have a clear story to the record, but as I said, it’s up to you to decide what that might be. We try to leave song titles and lyrics open to interpretation. Hopefully some folk pick up on that, but at the same time if anyone just wants to stick on a record and crack open a beer hopefully it works on that level, too. Maybe the next record will be more straightforward and we’ll have a song called "Viking Skulls," which is actually about the skulls of Vikings -- you never know.

Follow The Band Get Their Music

[ya-boi-hawkeye]

Our Timely Rescue

a LOADed With Sin oneshot, set ambiguously in the future featuring the shenanigans of Nox Organa and his brother Martin Cazador

“They are… really persistent, aren’t they?” Nox grumbled as he sat in the pilot’s seat of the small cruiser, reaching up to flip several switches. “You’re strapped in right?”

“Yes, Nox, I’m strapped in.” Martin nodded patiently. “It’s one of the Knights, it makes sense that they’d be persistent.”

“Kriffin’ dickstick is what they are.” He moved to compensate thrust, switching the cruiser’s kinetic shielding to cover their ass. “Can’t enjoy a nice leisurely ride after a nice, leisurely peace mission.”

“Dickstick?” Martin repeated in amusement, reaching out to place his hands on the cockpit panel when the cruiser shuddered with another shot.

Nox bit his lip in concentration as he switched the yolk to activate the plasma cannon. “I got that one from Uncle Poe, who I think got it from Aunt Nia. I mean, mom and dad know some good swears, but they stick to their usual repertoire. If you want something creative—oh shove a cactus up your biznork.”

“Does this sort of thing happen often to you, Nox?” Martin asked, head tilting to the side. “And since when does a civilian starship cruiser have an illegally modified AR-Pulse Cannon?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He focused on the target assist, lower lip pinned between his teeth in concentration. “You’re seeing things Martin.”

“That wasn’t even a good blind joke, you can do better.” Martin scolded. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you can cripple their ship with the Force.” Which he wouldn’t be surprised if his brother could do that, but otherwise— “Kriff!”

A loud alarm blared after another particularly strong blast shook them; if it weren’t for the restraining harnesses, they both would have been tossed out of their seats. Panic started gripping at his chest as he brought up the diagnostic report, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat.

“Nox?” Martin asked in concern. “What happened?”

The shields were reduced to 31%, they could take maybe—maybe—one more hit before completely dropping, leaving the engines vulnerable. And if they lost their engines it wouldn’t take long for the Knight to vape them. A bad situation to be in all around, especially since whoever the fuck that Knight was, they were a decently passable pilot.

They had to do something, had to escape somehow.

“Nox.” Martin repeated, more insistently this time. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer, thoughts running a lightyear per minute as he balanced out the power loads in the cruiser to try and boost their shields.

“I’m about to turn off artificial gravity and other non-essential systems. If you feel the urge to throw up, please swallow it.” Nox answered as he thumbed the knobs on the system controls.

Almost immediately afterwards the ship let out a low whine as the gravity disappeared, sending them floating up a few centimeters before being held in place by the harnesses.

“This isn’t reassuring.” Martin frowned.

“Hey, you remember that last swoop-race Marcell was in? Where he hit that speed strip and used it to throw him around those obstacles? Shaved off like, three seconds from his time?” Nox offered conversationally, cutting the security overrides on the steering.

“I remember mom and dad yelling that it could have gotten him killed.” Martin answered reluctantly.

Nox nodded, a slight smile on his face. “Yeah… you know who taught him that?”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah.” With a grunt he slammed the yolk down hard on the ship, sending them into a sharp nosedive.

Just in time as he could see the glowing red cannon fire arc overhead, barely skating across the shields—29% now. The ship shuddered and shook, the controls fighting him every step of the way as Nox threw them into a sharp spiral before pulling back up. The sudden shift in direction brought the yolk rocketing up, hitting him hard in the center of the chest and knocking the wind out of him. His loud wheeze barely masked the sound of Martin’s groans, and out of the corner of his eye he could see his brother pressing a hand to his mouth.

They popped back up behind the Knight, just in time to see the ship explode in a shower of blue sparks.

“Wait—“ Nox grunted as the viewport was bathed in a much softer glow, the ship blaring a warning that they were caught in a tractor pull.

“Somebody else caught us.” Martin pointed out, somewhat needlessly. “Do you know who?”

“I have no idea. We’re not—” Gray eyes narrowed on the star chart, plotting out their location even as he brought up the communicator. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

He practically ripped himself free, trying to peer out of the viewport. “Did you happen to—”

“If you’re about to ask if I saw the ship that rescued us, I will pinch you.” Martin warned. “Will you tell me what’s going on? Your thoughts are all agitated and fuzzy like a kicked hornet’s nest.”

Gravity restored itself as they settled in the hull of the larger ship, a moment’s levity before the communicator pinged.

“Your Grace, if you would please disembark your ship we have a full diagnostic crew ready to assist in repairs.”

“Why did they just call you Your Grace?” Martin asked as he stood, reaching for his staff.

Nox ignored him, a soft litany of fuck fuck fuck shit fuck filling the space as he considered hiding behind one of the electrical panels. He couldn’t believe that he’d accidentally brought them near Noulios, close enough to attract the planet’s attention. Not only the planet’s attention but—

External override, lowering the docking ramp.

“No! Martin use the Force, bring the door back up. Or turn me invisible. Or just set me on fire and fling me into the sun.” He pleaded.

“And harm royalty? I think not.” Martin smiled pleasantly, patting his arm. “Come, brother, I think introductions are in order.”

There was a full complement of guards lined up on either side of the ramp, and they all snapped into a sharp salute as Nox and Martin appeared, the latter walking with much more confidence. Nox, for his part, looked like he wanted nothing more than to disappear—which was entirely accurate. Waiting for them was a man with a shock of blonde hair and sharp green eyes, one hand on his hip and the other casually resting on the blaster at his side.

“Emperor Acheron.” Martin greeted with a bow. “My name is Martin Cazador, of the Jedi Order. You have my thanks for your timely rescue. I assume you know my brother, Nox?”

“Nox Organa, you have a lot of nerve.” The Emperor growled. “Disappearing the day after our wedding.”

“Nox!” Martin gasped, though he knew that his brother was absolutely enjoying this. “The day after your wedding? Did mother not teach you any manners?”

“I am not afraid to hit a Jedi.” He grimaced at that, shoulders hunching as he reached up to adjust his glasses. “Hello, Rhys. You, uh, you look good.”

[njawaidofficial]

This New Film Is Resurrecting Ted Kennedy’s Darkest Scandal

https://styleveryday.com/2018/04/07/this-new-film-is-resurrecting-ted-kennedys-darkest-scandal/

This New Film Is Resurrecting Ted Kennedy’s Darkest Scandal

Andria Blackman and Jason Clarke in Chappaquiddick.

Claire Folger

On the night of July 18, 1969, Sen. Ted Kennedy — the last surviving son of the powerful Kennedy political dynasty — drove his car off of a small, wooden bridge on Chappaquiddick, a sandy speck of an island off the coast of Massachusetts. He somehow escaped, but even though his 28-year-old passenger, Mary Jo Kopechne, was still trapped in the partially submerged car, Kennedy did not report the accident for another 10 hours. Kopechne died, sparking a media frenzy, and the incident effectively ended Kennedy’s hopes of ever ascending to the presidency. For a time, the word “Chappaquiddick” rivaled “Watergate” as a metaphor for catastrophic political scandal.

Kennedy’s career, however, not only didn’t end — it thrived for 40 more years until his death in 2009. “There was no other senator in my lifetime that achieved more than him,” said director John Curran (Tracks, The Painted Veil), whose new film Chappaquiddick, opening today, re-creates the events surrounding the scandal. Curran was 9 years old when Kennedy and Kopechne’s faces shared the front pages with the Apollo 11 moon landing, and his family and the Kopechnes lived in neighboring towns in New Jersey. But as it was for so many others, the incident ultimately faded for Curran into a fuzzy footnote in Kennedy’s storied career as one of the country’s most successful and respected senators.

“As an admirer of Ted Kennedy, I recognize that [Chappaquiddick] was a blind spot that I didn’t really think about,” said Curran. “I conveniently dismissed it.”

Then in 2015, Curran read a screenplay about the event by rookie writers Taylor Allen and Andrew Logan that made the year’s Black List, the annual survey of the best unproduced screenplays in Hollywood. The filmmaker realized just how little he actually knew about even the basic details of the incident. “I was surprised,” he said. “I would never have put it on the same weekend as the moon landing, for instance.” (Indeed, putting the first person on the moon may have been the only event that could have possibly distracted the American public’s attention from the Chappaquiddick scandal.)

The real Sen. Edward M. Kennedy, as he leaves the Dukes County Courthouse in Edgartown, Massachusetts, on July 25, 1969, after pleading guilty to leaving the scene of a fatal auto accident on Chappaquiddick Island.

Ted Dully/The Boston Globe via Getty Images

More to the point, Curran recognized just how central Chappaquiddick really was to Kennedy’s life, and how vital to understanding the impact he had on the American political landscape.

“However it’s been managed over the years, ultimately history’s going to own Ted Kennedy’s legacy, and I’d like to be a part of at least being honest about this chapter that really defines him,” he said.

Curran said that the production declined to approach the Kennedy family about the film, with the expectation that no one would comment directly anyway. “We got some contact through people that represented them to voice their displeasure in it,” he said. “But there was no dark conspiracy about trying to shut down the film or anything like that.” (When reached by BuzzFeed News, a spokesperson for the Edward M. Kennedy Institute declined to comment.)

And although Kennedy’s cousin and aide Joe Gargan (Ed Helms) ends up becoming the moral center of the film, Curran and Helms also decided against reaching out to him. “I didn’t see the value in kicking that hornet’s nest,” Curran said. (Gargan died in 2017.)

“There’s no way you’re going to come up with a version of it that absolves Ted of responsibility.”

That could be because the film takes an unsparing look at both Kennedy (played by Mudbound‘s Jason Clarke) and the political machine that rallies around him at the behest of his father, Joe (Bruce Dern), leveraging the power of the Kennedy family legacy to obfuscate the truth and protect his political future. At nearly every moment, just about everyone makes the politically expedient choice rather than the obvious moral one, starting with Kennedy’s maddening decision to huddle with Gargan and a friend, US Attorney Paul Markham (Jim Gaffigan), instead of immediately calling the police and reporting the incident. The film makes it devastatingly clear that Kopechne (Kate Mara) likely did not drown, and died instead of suffocation after breathing all the usable air left trapped in the car. Had authorities been alerted much earlier, there was a chance she could have survived the crash.

“It is a damning portrait because there’s no other way to tell it,” said Curran. “There’s no way you’re going to come up with a version of it that absolves Ted of responsibility.”

The filmmakers were also acutely aware from the start that a major feature film showcasing the worst moments of one of the foremost liberal leaders of the last 40 years could be wielded as a right-wing partisan weapon.

“Of course it will be,” said Curran. “There will be glee from right-leaning people who didn’t like Teddy Kennedy. But that doesn’t discount that it happened. … I would hope that the film is stronger than that, and it is seen as a more nuanced portrait.” The film does explore how the reputations of Kennedy’s late brothers John (a president) and Bobby (a senator and nearly a president) were a crushing burden for Ted at the time, especially just a year after Bobby’s assassination. (Kopechne had worked as a secretary on Bobby’s 1968 presidential campaign.) But it also portrays a Democratic establishment that was so deeply invested in Ted Kennedy’s political career that the fixers brought in to save it are furious with Kennedy for not being smarter about saving himself at the expense of the truth.

Director John Curran (center) on the set of Chappaquiddick.

Claire Folger

And it’s that depiction of how a powerful, national politician and his allies scramble to hold onto political power in the wake of a self-evidently ruinous personal failure that Curran believes is especially relevant for our currently fraught political climate. The film was shot in the fall of 2016, largely in and around Chappaquiddick Island, and the similarities between the heated political divisions of the late 1960s and the bitter rancor kicked up in the final months of the 2016 presidential campaign — including a national candidate winning the White House despite bragging on tape about sexually assaulting women — were impossible to miss.

“There’s that primal thing that, whether you’re left-leaning or right-leaning, you have this sort of in-built allegiance to your team,” he said. “Times when I felt conflicted about this story and Ted, I had to remind myself that I’m screaming for the other side of the aisle to look just as hard at their own candidate.”

He paused. “I don’t know if it will work that way, but how else can you approach this stuff?”

Despite the cynicism inherent in Chappaquiddick — the idea that a powerful enough politician can literally walk away from an accident that ultimately killed a young woman — making the film also left Curran with a slightly less bleak outlook on our current political moment.

“If this accident happened now, Teddy would not have a second chapter,” he said. “It would be over.”

[measured-words]

Dreamwidth Update: Meh

This is one of those entries i am probably going to have to force myself to post rather than just delete. But I haven't posted anything in 5 days, as I've been away. I did write some paper journal entries on...less than half...of those days. Ugh. I had good intentions, I just didn't have a lot of time to myself, and not a lot of emotional energy. The service was nice - an informal drop-in sort of thing for people to come see the family and such. I think it was a lot more work for them emotionally, especially Cat's mother and grandfather, than they probably needed. Just a lot of people to talk to and so on. I saw a few people I hadn't seen or talked to in years, and met some more relatives and co-workers. There were pictures up, and some figurines we'd brought from his house, and a slide show of pictures. Afterwards, a bunch of us went to the Diplomat, which is a 24hour Chinese-Canadian restaurant where we used to make many a late night foray. They did some renovations to the place since we used to be there all the time, but it was the same as the last time we went as a group which was about 2011. the food was pretty much the same, though they have really changed their soup portions and now they are huuuuge. This restaurant is responsible for my disappointment that sweet and sour chicken doesn't come as battered chicken balls everywhere. They also have some pretty good cakes and cheesecakes, though they didn't have the one that Pretentia wanted. It was really really nice to see her, and to be there for her. She and Cat were closer than siblings in a lot of ways, and I know she is totally devastated. She is also closer to the family, and has been helping Cat's mother with a lot of things. I did go up to his place a few times with her, and we checked in on the kitties (so fat.... so so so fat), changed their litter, fed them, petted them. We did some nominal tidying to start (some had already been done), but I ran a load of dishes through the dish washer, and such. I compiled some notes from IRC friends who has messaged him there before he fell offline (;_;) for his mother, and took down some information about some other servers where he may have spent time so I can let people there know as well. I think all the major place have been contacted though. His mother has basically given us (his friends/online friends) leave to deal with his computer/online things as we see fit, but unfortunately it isn't all that simple, as there is money and authority involved, and as the executor of his estate, there will be things she has to handle at least initially. Things like pics accounts set to automatically renew, and his websites and all of that :/ I made sure to upload some of his one page sites into the wayback machine, and will probably let them go. But the wiki we have used for our games for the past ten years is in his name, and that needs to get sorted out. I also tried to copy the dice rolling script that he wrote and that we used for a lot of out online games..... but I can't get it to work :( I really want to have that available still, as something that he made for us. Anyway. I flew back to Ontario on Monday night, into Hamilton, then drove an hour and a half to London, and then left again for Windsor, where I am now. I'd told Nary I would come spend a few days with her when I got back, since she couldn't come to the memorial, so here I am. I wish I had brought my dog though. I miss her fuzzy face - someone else's dog s not *quite* the same, even if they are a very nice giant fluffball, as Argo is. I also feel guilty because I had originally told my sister that I would go with her when she went to get her tattoo today (and then leave early to get the kids after school), but there was some miscommunication about the fact that I was going *and* I had completely forgotten that it was this week (despite remembering last week? I don't know, my brain has been a mess). And I don't know, I'm just feelign very stressed out. I had a lot of stressy dreams last night, mostly Larp-contexted. I think probably because I realized that I am missing an event this weekend that I had hoped to get to, as it seemed like a nice casual opportunity to rp, and the single day events are generally easier for me to get to, so meh. But it was a lot of things like.... my tent was covered in giant angry bees/hornets that were also dying, so I couldn't get into it and then I had to be careful, I'd forgotten all my gear, or had gear for the wrong character, or I tried to borrow stuff from my sister without asking and she was cranky with me (deservedly). I don't remember them super clearly, because I kept waking up in the middle of the night (or partly waking), and then trying to go back to sleep, so it is more like a string of snippets I only half remember than anything coherent. The tent was exactly my tent from my last summer at the buttermilk excavation, when I borrowed Brad's tent, set in the same copse of trees and covered with a tarp sunshade in the same way. The bees/hornets were the length of my palm. I could probably describe some of the larp clothes I had and didn't have. One of the characters I had was entirely a dream fabrication, and they wore this cool leather dress/bodysuit sort of thing that was so unique I couldn't wear it for my real character (Zia). I don't remember anything else about them. I have things I should be doing, and things I could be doing, and I'm not doing anything. On the one hand it is nice to have some alone time, on the other hand, I am missing having my own space today. It is grey and blah out and I basically feel the same way. I feel like I'm living in other people's lives without actually living my own, and I feel frustrated and tired and stuck. But I also want to be left alone, and not have to talk to anyone unless I want to. Meh. I'm going to do some knitting and see if I feel any better after that. comments Comment? http://ift.tt/2jfKjm1