#such-a-random-rambler

[hebuiltfive]

Happy Halloween!

Trick or Treat!!

Happy Halloween!!

This is another WIP snippet from something that is taking me way longer to plan and write than I'd initially intended, featuring Lady Penelope.

------------------------------

He took another deep breath. “A week ago, three men from the Spirit Network went missing. They just vanished. Poof. Nobody could track them down. They essentially disappeared.”

“Men don’t simply disappear, Cellier. Something must have happened to them.

Cellier paused before he could reply. Of course the waiter had to choose that exact moment to appear. Penelope wasn’t even sure if she was hungry anymore. Cellier certainly hadn’t given her a reason to doubt that niggling fear of something being very wrong.

Once they had placed their orders, he answered. “You are right, Lady Penelope. Two days later, they returned to the safe house. And took out every agent in the building in under a minute.”

[randomx123]

Saraswati Puja Collage I made on Pinterest:

@zeherili-ankhein @jeahreading @no-idea-where-i-am-lost @wulfricnavy @igotadigbickandureadthatwrong @wonking-the-willy @chotabheemxkaliahatesex @akira-priye @mona-prithey @prettykittytanjiro @natures-marvel @lyrebirb @tum-naam-sochlo-merese-ni-hora @psychicluminarybouquet

[whatgaviiformes]

So lovely! I've read that second to last paragraph a number of times - the words are so beautiful and visceral. Stars and infinity and hands held. Just wonderful!

Happy MiniBang @jbarkerstargazer

I enjoyed scrolling though your blog for art, and a number caught my eye. I settled on this one because I don't think I've seen anything like it before, and loved the feeling of two people sitting side by side sharing a wonder. I couldn't find a reference to who this person was, so kept it vague and I hope it fits who you were drawing.

found in this post, for reference

The 2060’s are a decade of frontiers being brought to the forefront. Whether it’s in the depth of space, the deepness of the ocean, or the most remote mountain peaks, what was once a rare sight can be displayed on every holoprojector in every home in the world. Technological progress has pushed back the edge of exploration so it can be enjoyed by everyone, even if only the bravest – and luckiest – souls are actually leaving their footprints behind. 

There are, however, pockets of experiences left that are known by the very few. Some are not pleasant. Most are life-threatening. One of them John Tracy, and only John Tracy, sees on every trip to and from home: a unique commute even with the bustling traffic into orbit these days. 

Up is John’s favourite direction. Not just because he’s escaping the heavy shackles of unforgiving gravity or because he’s returning to the quiet he needs to focus and save lives. It’s this view.  

On most journey’s John spends the forty five or so minutes it takes for the space elevator to travel from island to station checking over system reports and pre-loading the holograms he needs into the control centre. Sometimes he puts that off, and lets himself enjoy the slow change from atmosphere to vacuum. The colours fade as pressure changes, and the curve of the planet emerges. There’s a precious few minutes when the Earth and the stars are in balance, before the glistening grains of sand painted on inky blackness creep across the whole sky.  

None of the other travelers into space have the time to see the gradual melting from Earth to Heavens, not at the breakneck pace they are catapulted though the atmosphere. This view is one reserved for John, and those special enough he invites to share it.  

“Do you want to see?” he asks her, one lazy afternoon, when the airwaves had been quiet and the pool had been inviting. Lunch in the sunshine had been followed by an afternoon of reading and napping. Now the breeze picks up as the sun begins to set, bringing with it the scent of cool sea and earth to accompany their conversation on the merits of unorthodox space travel. 

She’d been to Five before of course, but by the usual – quick, rocket-shaped – route. 

Her immediate smile is excited at the prospect and touched by the invitation to this most private view.  

He hustles her down to the elevator dock before anyone can interfere, leading her by the hand so fast she has to do a few little jogging steps to keep up. Intense focus on a goal tends to make him forget his long legs in a way she’s come to find endearing.  

The secondary seat is slightly more comfortable than most airplane seats -  even if it spends most of it’s life folded into the wall panels – though nothing in comparison to the bespoke fit of John’s chair, almost as form fitting as his suit. That primary seat shifts aside slightly to make room so they can sit together, the main viewing port on the opposite wall.  

Safety checks completed and harnesses secured, Five lifts them into the evening sky.  

Ever been so focused that no other part of the world can intrude into your bubble? That’s how it is for them this first time: the earth rising below, the atmosphere whispering goodbye and the sky wrapping them in stars. Just the two of them, hand in hand, and a glimpse of infinity. 

That’s how it is the first time, and many times after that.  

[shivadh]

Portrait of a Royal

(Warning behind the cut for a full-length image of the new Jonathan Yeo portrait of Charles III, which is real startling if you aren't expecting it.)

"Having met Charles Windsor," Gregory said over breakfast that morning, "I can assure you, he really is exactly the kind of man who wouldn't notice an elaborate and expensive roasting."

They had a rule about reading smartphones at breakfast -- using a tablet was fine if they were talking business, and phones were permitted for scheduling or settling arguments about the lyrics to songs or movie trivia, but overall they tried to keep the devices face-down. On that particular morning absolutely nobody was following the rule, because Jes had walked into the dining room with Michaelis, propped their tablet against a juice carafe in the middle of the table, and said, "I want everyone's opinion on what the actual living fuck is going on here."

Gerald had almost choked on his coffee. Alanna, feeding Sera, had looked up at the tablet, showing a portrait of King Charles III of England done in raw-meat pinks and muddy browns, and missed Sera's face entirely with a spoonful of mashed banana. Joan's eyes went huge as Eddie went into peals of laughter, which the twins promptly imitated, slapping their hands on the trays of their high chairs.

Gregory had carefully set down his silverware and rested his elbows on the table, propping his nose on his clasped hands to try and maintain a poker face.

"It's satire, right?" Ger had asked, looking from Jes to Gregory to Alanna. "I actually liked art history at school, and that's a painting someone did in protest, isn't it?"

"This is the official royally commissioned portrait of Charles the third," Michaelis had said, helping himself to breakfast at the sideboard and settling in between Joan and Jes. "But yes, it is also satire."

"They paid for that?" Eddie asked, gesturing at the painting. "They paid for it. And voluntarily put it on display."

"So the press releases say," Jes said. "I'm taking soundings because we are absolutely dedicating at least one episode of The Echo to it. I might have to start an entirely new podcast about contemporary art just so I can do a deep dive."

"Satire," Gerald repeated, staring at the painting.

"Not explicitly according to the artist, but his description of it is…very dry," Michaelis said. Jes held up their phone and read from it.

"The vivid color of the glazes in the background echo the uniform’s bright red tunic, not only resonating with the royal heritage found in many historical portraits but also injecting a dynamic, contemporary jolt into the genre with its uniformly powerful hue…" they stopped to snicker.

"Oh that's good," Alanna said approvingly. "Calling raw-flesh red the royal heritage is a very nice touch."

"The butterfly approaching King Charles's shoulder in the portrait adds a layer of narrative depth, symbolizing both his known advocacy for environmental causes and his personal transformation."

"It's a lie," Joan said. The adults looked at her.

"What's a lie, hon?" Gregory asked.

"I mean -- " Joan frowned at the painting. "He says he's painting the king's portrait but he's actually painting his feelings about the king, right? And being paid to paint a portrait implies you're supposed to be on the subject's side. But he's definitely not. So it's kind of like a lie. Of a painting. That's cool," she added, thoughtfully. "He roasted the king and the king didn't even notice? That's so cool!"

"Having met Charles Windsor," Gregory said, "I can assure you, he really is exactly the kind of man who wouldn't notice an elaborate and expensive roasting."

"That's sort of what satire is," Gerald added. "It's saying one thing but meaning another in a way that's really obvious to almost everyone."

"Ooh," Joan replied, digesting this. "I've had European history," she continued. "Other royal families aren't like ours."

"Well, some," Michaelis said. "Most, perhaps. Because we elect our royalty, even if we do tend to…elect in families. If you're king one day, it'll be because Gregory trained you and the people think you'd be best at the job. If you were the kind of person he is," he added, nodding to the portrait, "You probably wouldn't get elected."

"I sure wouldn't want a portrait like that done of me if I did," Joan said.

"That reminds me, we really do need to have portraits done," Gregory said to Eddie.

"Well, I say hire this guy," Eddie replied, gesturing at the painting. "At least you know you'll get an honest opinion."

"Doubt he needs the work, given he managed to get paid to insult a king to his face," Jes said. "Maybe that's the angle -- he basically ran a con on the royal family."

"Is it a con if they pay you for something and you give it to them?" Gerald asked.

"To be clear, that was con-parenthesis-admiring-close-parenthesis," Jes replied.

"I should never have told them I have a Tumblr," Ger said to Alanna.

"Don't look at me, I warned you," she replied.

"His other work is very good," Gregory said, scrolling images on his own phone. "I wonder if we can afford him. Love to see what he'd do with you, Eddie."

"I don't mind. Whatever he does, can't be worse than the haters who didn't like my TV show," Eddie replied serenely.

"Am I going to meet the Windsors, ever?" Joan asked Gregory.

"Oh, sooner or later, probably."

"We used to have to go to the birthdays sometimes," Alanna said. "Gregory and Gerald and me. We used to immediately go find Mia and then spend the parties running around with her, causing mischief."

"That's Queen Amelia of Genovia," Michaelis told Joan.

"I should call her, she's going to love this," Gregory said absently.

"I owe her money, I think," Gerald added. "Don't play poker with Genovians," he told Serafina, who burbled.

Eddie, who had apparently already thought of someone to call, had his phone to his ear. "Hey, Gee," he said, to whoever answered. Gregory looked at him curiously. "Yeah, it's Ed. Oh, don't give me shit, I married for love. Have you seen the new Yeo painting? I know! Yeah, I thought you might. Can I get his number? Oh, great. And do you know what his rates are? Well, yeah, and I want to be top of the waiting list. Okay. Huh, that's…affordable."

The entire table was silent. Eddie grinned at them.

"Oh, would you? You are the best, my man. Yeah, absolutely. Hey, next time you're in Europe, book a few days here, huh? Okay. Okay -- yeah, here it comes -- ciao, darling!" he said, and hung up.

"Who do you know who can quote you Jonathan Yeo's fees?" Jes asked.

"Gordon Ramsay," Eddie said casually. "He had a portrait done. I don't know what the royal budget is but his going rate, at least pre-Windsor, is not going to dip my bank account uncontrollably."

"You married for love?" Gregory prompted.

"Oh yeah, he likes to make fun of me for marrying into royalty, he calls me King Golddigger. I think you'll like him, I'll introduce you."

"What if you have Mr. Yeo do a portrait and it ends up like that, though?" Joan asked, gesturing at the painting. Jes picked up the tablet and blanked it, setting it aside.

"Then I will have deserved it, don't you think?" Gregory asked. "We should never try to pretend to a face that's better than the one we actually have. One reason art is so important is that it reminds us of that. That's why we spend so much government money on the arts. Now, finish your eggs, we are definitely going to have to have some conversations about that painting with several of the MPs, it's going to be a rowdy morning."

I think this is more or less extracanonical, but I couldn't get out of my head the idea of the Shivadh royals reacting to Yeo's portrait of Charles III. I don't think he's actually done one of Gordon Ramsay, but I think Ramsay's the kind of guy who would enjoy his work, for sure. Yeo's statement about the portrait is here; it's well worth clicking around his site, his other work is equally fantastic. I can only imagine what he'd do with a portrait of Gregory or Eddie (or Michaelis).

[bluboi-ocs]

Guys!!

I made this side blog! I'll be posting about my OCs here every once in a while (Drawings, ideas, etc.)

@mi-stress-of-chaos @dharagalaxias @zeherili-ankhein @tum-naam-sochlo-merese-ni-hora @igotadigbickandureadthatwrong @wulfricnavy @mona-prithey @akira-priye

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Occasionally I get my nails done and today was one of those times. I give the tech my hand and they pause to gush over how well maintained my cuticles and nail beds are. They literally called over other nail techs not doing anything to "look at how nice and clean these are, oh my gosh!"

I swear I was so ridiculously proud in that moment I had to keep myself from fucking preening over the nail techs being in awe of how well I take care of my nails.

[gumnut-logic]

There is more!

spin spin spin, Stab wound + desert for poor John

Okies, I did as bid, but I dunno how good it is ::hugs you:: John’s expression above is usually related to how he feels each time I try to write him :D I hope you enjoy it anyway :D

Spin the wheel and send me a character and a prompt.

-o-o-o-

The thing about Mars is that it is deceptive.

It looks just enough like Earth that you could imagine it was home. One of those deserts in Australia or Arizona or up a mountain beyond the tree line. Hell, it was cold enough…except the treeline was 211 million kilometres away.

John tripped and fell again, his fist automatically clenching that bit tighter over the tape on his uniform. The knife had cut through electronics and he now had some nasty burns, mostly from the cold, but the sparks had been both a blessing and a curse.

A curse due to the short circuit that had also managed to take out his comms along with his gravity support. Eos had been loud in his ear before she had been cut off.

The one advantage was that the warmth had kept his wound protected for that split second before he could slam his hand over the breach and save himself from dying.

Being thrown from a moving vehicle after that had not been fun.

Who knew scientists could be so precious regarding their discoveries?

Alan had to know something was wrong. He had no doubt Eos was yelling at him at this very moment. Three would be here any moment.

Maybe he should just sit down and wait.

He stopped walking.

But no. In space you had yourself. You made things happen. And while Mars was a planet, he was technically still in space and be damned if he was going to sit on his ass and not do his best to save himself.

Scott would have frowned at him at this point, no doubt. Sometimes doing nothing was the best thing to do.

But John knew where the colony was and he was going to walk in that direction.

He could meet Three on the way.

And besides, he was angry. He needed to walk it off and calm himself down before he aggravated himself into bleeding to death.

Perhaps it was a sign of exactly how far gone he already was because that train of thought made more sense than he suspected it should.

He was bleeding. He should stay still.

He couldn’t.

So, he was walking.

So much for being the sensible Tracy.

Virgil was going to be unhappy.

He didn’t like an unhappy Virgil. It was almost as bad as an unhappy Gordon. Unhappy Gordon was just sacrilege.

Gordon had to be happy.

Unless he was being a brat, in which case, he deserved everything he got.

John sighed and sat down abruptly.

Who was he kidding?

He needed to stay still. Virgil’s eyebrows were going to eat him alive otherwise.

But Virgil wasn’t here.

John closed his eyes. He wasn’t thinking straight and that was not a good thing. If there was one thing he could rely on, it was his brain. If that wasn’t working, he was royally screwed.

C’mon, Alan, come save me again.

His little brother had made a career of doing just that. You would think John would be the one saving Alan, after all, he was the more experienced astronaut.

But no.

It was always Alan saving John.

And it was always some other person, some external agency, that wanted to put an end to John’s quiet life.

And people wondered why he didn’t like to leave his space station.

Okay, there was Eos, but that had been a misunderstanding. This was a blatant murder attempt and really, he felt he should be angrier.

If he had the energy.

And that was something he was losing.

He had enough brain function to know he was bleeding, definitely into his suit, probably internally as well. Knives were ultimately unforgiving in that department.

The scientists probably thought he was dead. How the hell they were planning to explain a Tracy death was beyond him. Scott wouldn’t take a flimsy answer. Hell, Alan was onsite…

Alan was at the colony.

Was Alan in danger?

The thought startled him. What if this was a colony conspiracy? What if they thought Tracy Industries was attempting to take them over, steal their discoveries and their thunder?

But Uncle Lee was here. Uncle Lee would never stand for that.

But then Uncle Lee had nearly died here one time before. Virgil and Alan had saved him that time. What if this call out was a trap? What if this was the opportunity to kill off two Tracys and a Taylor in one accident?

“Eos, I need a probability…”

But, of course, she didn’t answer. He was alone. In the desert on Mars.

Dying.

He needed to find his brother. He needed to keep him safe.

He needed to move.

So, he took a step.

Another.

One foot after the other.

-o-o-o-

[soy-soi-si]

I can fix him🥺

Bitch you just did him more damage LOOK AT HIM.

HE HAS BRAIN DAMAGE NOW!

Alternatively.

Bitch, fix yourself first and maybe you can get up and grab the repair kit. Little miss Diy guru, little miss Fix it Felix, Little miss doc McStuffins, Little miss handy Mandy.

How about we repair our little hardhat and reflective vest of boundaries and mental health and acknowledge while addressing what cracked and broke it in the first place make it stronger more resilient. Before we charge into the construction zone.

[personinthepalace]

Hey!

I was hoping I could get the links for the comedy about a bank robbery and play that goes wrong bootlegs from you. I've really been wanting to watch them.

Thanks! :)

Sure! I’ll message them to you shortly :)

[shivadh]

Well, in some ways this was a bit prescient. In any case tucking this away here to consider a future Shivadh novel playing with these themes...

Oh my God.

[randomx123]

Tumblr's summary of the Bhagavat Gita

[outlying-hyppocrate]

the tagful rambler (affectionate)

-cassie

that i am, yes {:

[shivadh]

@dignitywhatdignity said regarding this post:

I have it in my head that everyone *knows* Prince Edward ben Gregory and nomadic food writer Zack Rambler are the same guy, but no one says so.

Even better --

So, the Rambler surname is pretty unique and Eddie's brand is strong enough that it's still pretty well known in the 2040s. If Zach wants to go incognito he's going to have to pick another surname.

He could go with Johnson, that's Tully's birth surname, but Zach Johnson isn't that marketable. Nobody knows Ceece's birth surname, she won't tell. So he could go to his other father's side -- Miranda was a Daskaz before she was crowned, but Zach Daskaz looks like some kind of attempt at a palindrome. Michaelis never had a proper surname, Ben Jason is more like an honorific and wouldn't be passed down. But King Jason was just a guy before he was elected. And his surname is perfect -- interesting but not super weird, and a nice way to honor Zach's grandfather.

Zach Michaelis, award-winning travel and food influencer for his innovative web series See You On The Road, will be releasing his first book this fall. Part travel memoir and part cookbook, "King of the Road" details his food-driven ramblings from rural Wales to the seaports of New Zealand, meeting chefs and surfers, artists, fellow vagabonds, royalty, and con men along the way.

[randomx123]

This makes me think...

Were prayers in ancient times more likely to be answered, since Humanity (or any other creature till now, I suppose...) didn't know sin?

a little homunculus

my fursonas are communicatinggggg

posted a month ago on my Patreon and Ko-fi, original text post by @camilla-obscura with one of the replies to it by @zack-the-robot can be found here 💗

✅ you are welcome to: crop the images for banners/pfps (with credit); create voice overs w/o AI

❌ you may not: repost to other platforms w/o permission; create voice overs with AI; create NFTs

get early access to new comics: patreon, ko-fi || get your fursona assigned by me || browse older Tumblr Comics

[freyapoststhings]

stupid things I've said today:

-Set the british loose.

-there's cheezits in the uno bag?!!!?

-where is my pan of green beans???

-why am I friends with someone who should be studied in a global project

-WHERES MY CLIPPY(talking about a claw clip)

-people don't care if it's before 8 am on a Tuesday. They will try to beat each other over the head for looking at someone.

-i once ate a bag of Fritos that expired three years ago. Try me.

-i tried to eat some yogurt this morning but it was banana flavored.

This is just since about 7 in the morning.

[soy-soi-si]

Something I've realized is that I've had a lot of male friends that were more comfortable with me than girl friends. Like we connected like we were siblings, then I realize half the time that's not normal for my girl friends.

Then I was told by one of my friends that he thought I was just a lesbian. The men in my life almost every last one has thought I was into women. I mean they aren't wrong but I like guys too. They literally told me this after I talked about hot men.

I'm bisexual, just extremely demiromanic.

I guess talking about hot women a little too much has sealed my fate.