#the one by mark forsyth

[sandsniffer]

e.

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

[markrosewater]

I decided to do a bit of data analysis on the list in today's article. According to it, Magic has had 229 different designers in its lifetime, of which 130 have only done so during one of the stages. On the other end of the scale, only 10 have worked as a designer for four or more stages (Doug Beyer, Erik Lauer, Ken Nagle, Mark Gottlieb and Mike Turian for four each, Aaron Forsythe and Bill Rose for five each, Richard Garfield for six, and you for all seven).

FYI.

Thanks for collect the data.

[adobe-outdesign]

Have you reviewed the Bruce, and particularly my favorite variety of the Bruce (the ULTRA ultra UC version)?

(I don't have any Pokemon review requests in my inbox right now but I do have a few Neopet requests, so I'll go ahead and do one of those.)

I might as well talk about the history of the Bruce first, because while I don't normally bother going over past iterations for these reviews everyone should know that the first incarnation of the Bruce was a 150 x 150 photograph of esteemed British entertainer Bruce Forsyth sloppily recolored and slapped onto a circle. I literally could not make this up if I tried.

While the Bruce isn't the only Neopet that started off as a human, it A) was the only one to start with a realistic photograph instead of a caricature, and B) is also the only one to retain some aspects of its human design: namely the signature bow(tie) and the name (plus penguins already look like they're wearing suits in a way).

Visually, today's modern Bruce is pretty cute. It's mostly just a standard penguin, but they've got very appealing faces and a sort of plush chubbiness to them that not a lot of Neopets sport. While pets wearing clothes by default isn't always my favorite thing, the bow does work well with everything else and still makes sense in-universe for anthro Bruces (side note: the irony of an anthro Bruce is not lost on me).

The body is broken up with distinct markings that are based off of emperor penguins—though ironically, they're based on emperor chicks, to the point where the Baby Bruce is just a slightly smaller version of the regular Bruce. The Bruce does extend the face markings down into an underbelly however, which looks very natural and helps to break up the torso.

Visually, nothing really changed about the Bruce with customization other than it standing up and gaining a fist. I think I like the converted version a bit more, as while the original pose was cute it was also harder to see aspects of the design (like the tail). The flipper anatomy and general lineart/details have also been greatly approved. Also, the bow became removable, which is a bonus.

Favorite Colours:

Island: A surprisingly nice take on the colour, the island Bruce has an usually dark brown palette, which pops nicely with the white markings and compliments the flowers and greenery nicely. The markings are well-placed with good thought as to how they interact with the body shape and the green eyes are pretty and draw the color through the design well. The floral accents can also be removed, which provides a pretty nice base colour as well.

Wraith: The wraith Bruce is quite a bit different than most takes on the colour. Wraith pets are usually flat with intricate body shapes—think like a tattoo. However, the wraith Bruce opts for a more solid body shape that uses subtle gradients and very carefully placed highlights to give it a sense of depth. The face and beak look really good here, and the way the white highlights on the edge of the body fade off into nothing is really cool. My only minor quibble is that I wish there was one thin line indicating the underbelly markings, as the torso looks a bit too solid here.

Toy: The toy Bruce is slightly redundant because the plushie Bruce is already a thing, but between the two, I do like the toy design a bit more. The flocked and fluffy look is super cute and works great for the pet, and I like the contrast between the hard flippers and beak and the rest of the body. The penguin-like monotone body color is offset by the red bow, which has a nice subtle plaid pattern to it. My only nitpick is that I would've just dropped the single head feather entirely, as it looks out of place and doesn't really make logical sense. Still, good stuff all around.

[bitter69uk]

“Born Susan Ballion in 1957, she was the product of post-war suburban life which, like many, she grew up to resent entirely … She was 14 when hospitalised with ulcerative colitis and it was while watching Top of the Pops on a children’s ward in 1972 that she saw David Bowie’s performance of “Starman” – a magical, rupturing event for many of her generation, and one that had a profound influence on her … Susan Ballion was one of the first to understand the radical possibilities offered by Bowie’s cut-up aesthetic, clearly and slowly began remaking herself as Siouxsie Sioux. Sioux’s image would become a violent but not haphazard mix of Charlotte Rampling in The Night Porter, the incarnation of David Bowie she had seen from her hospital bed, and Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra, and would draw upon the sharp lines of Kabuki masks and the leather and steel of S&M gear … Siouxsie’s “monstrous” look combined with her innovative musical vision had a profound impact on those around her …”

/ Excerpts from the catalogue to The Horror Show exhibit (2022/23) by Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard /

Light a black candle (or at least don a black T-shirt), grab the hair crimpers and can of Aqua Net - today marks a sacred occasion! Haughtily composed high priestess of punk, spooky voodoo doll frontwoman of the Banshees (and The Creatures), perennial eyeliner role model, perfecter of the death glare and Chislehurst’s finest, Siouxsie Sioux (née Susan Janet Ballion, 27 May 1957) turns 67! For generations of punks, goths, queers, malcontents and misfits, Siouxsie represents MOTHER! What a life-changing performer: it was seeing a black-and-white photo of Siouxsie in a magazine when I was in my early teens that planted the idea of moving to London. (I’m still unsure whether to be grateful to her or not!).

[scotianostra]

One of Scotland's' most iconic films, Local Hero was released on February 18th 1983.

In the days before mobile phones we used to use things called phone boxes when we were not at home, and the phone box in Local Hero has become as iconic as the film itself.

There aren’t many films that have a 100% Tomatometer , on the movie website Rotten Tomatoes, backed up by an impressive 87% audience score, it should be all you need to know when choosing a movie to watch, expecially if you haven’t seen it before. IMDb also rate it highly with 7.4 out of 10.

Bill Forsyth’s oil-refinery comedy isn’t billed as a weepy. It is, however, a love poem to Scotland, and that’s what brings the lump to my throat.

Quirky, wry, gentle are words most often used for this comedy on the movie database site, IMDb, the starting point for many of my posts about those Scots in the acting profession in my posts. They brief story line on the site does not hint at the emotional turbulence you might soon be experiencing. So maybe it’s just me being a big sissy. Wouldn’t be the first time I lost the plot. All it says is "An American oil company sends a man to Scotland to buy up an entire village where they want to build a refinery. But things don't go as expected." The film is so much more than this and it stands the test of time much better than other Forsyth films like Comfort & Joy and Gregory's Girl, well in my opinion anyway!

Crackpot Texan oil magnate Felix Happer (Burt Lancaster) gets the idea that a small Scottish fishing village would be a marvellous acquisition for his so-rich-it-makes-you-sick company, Knox Oil and Gas, so he sends an executive gopher named MacIntyre (because that sounds Scottish, yeah – played by Peter Riegert) to close the deal and get the pipeline pencilled in.

“Mac” is met by some local “dork” called Oldsen (a young Peter Capaldi), who attempts to steer him through a tartan microculture that includes a lawyer-cum-publican/hotelier (Denis Lawson) who tapdances while standing on a chair shouting “Stella” – the name of his ever-randy wife; there is a super-hard marine biologist played by Jenny Seagrove who, after delivering a short lecture on the North Atlantic drift, ends up helping Oldsen to find that pistol in his pocket; and then there is a scene in which a very whisky-sodden Mac calls Texas from a red phone box on the harbourside, a phone box that has featured in so many peoples snaps when visiting Pennan in Banffshire.

Other bits of business in the film involve a salty Russian seafarer and overflying warplanes. You can see how it got the comedy tag, and I haven’t even mentioned the thing with the rabbit. And you can see how Mac ends up smitten.

This is all top material from a very talented writer/director, with photography and music from Glasgow born Mark Knopfler matches the acting and direction perfectly. But on first viewing I found myself asking halfway through, “What is this film actually about?” After not very much thought, I came to the conclusion that it was not a How Things Never Go According to Plan story, but a love poem to Scotland and the Scots. A bit slushy, but never mind. It’s only a film.

The scene when Mac phones to describe the Northern Lights, to me is very special, but the scene that prompted the lump in my throat at the end of the movie is when, having failed in his mission to secure the Knox refinery deal and mutilate one of Planet Earth’s most beautiful locations, Mac returns to his frigid steel-and-glass Houston apartment. He stands at his kitchen counter wondering what to do next, the hushed march of oil capitalism buzzing gently outside. He pulls from his coat pocket a handful of pebbles and shells, smelling one of them poignantly remembering as he spreads them on the work surface.

As Knopflers music gently plays he goes to his balcony and looks out to the city......the scene fades to black, then reopens 4,500 miles away, where, on the harbour side of a small Scottish fishing village, we see the phone box, perhaps ringing and the credits begin as the horns of Going Home blast out.

Others in the film include Rikki Fulton, Alex Norton, Kenny Ireland, John Gordon Sinclair and of course Burt Lancaster.

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

Inside The Day of the Jackal, Eddie Redmayne and Lashana Lynch’s ambitious new hitman series

GQ speaks to the cast and crew behind Sky’s reimagination of the classic Frederick Forsyth assassin novel

By Jack King26 July 2024

1973’s The Day of the Jackal is one of those classic thrillers that dads pass down as a rite of passage. Failing that, you might’ve caught it on ITV 2 on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Edward Fox plays the titular Jackal, a killer for hire who is commissioned by the French militant far-right to assassinate president Charles de Gaulle in 1963. The film’s first act savours his scrupulous attention to detail: buying a bespoke rifle that can be broken down into innocent parts, and fake documents from a forger, for example, who he murders with his bare hands after an ill-judged extortion attempt. He’s a shapeshifting lone wolf — well, jackal — we learn little about, aside from how good he is at killing people.

Such a rich character whose mark is felt on no end of hitman movies (see David Fincher’s 2023 genre homage The Killer) is ripe for reinterpretation. Not that it went especially well last time: the last, loose attempt to contemporise The Day of the Jackal came in 1997, starring Bruce Willis and Richard Gere, and the critics called it a dud. But 27 years later, Sky & Peacock have armed up for their own present-day reimagination of the source material, thrusting the Jackal into our fraught world of political division and ever-present global danger. The script was written by Top Boy writer Ronan Bennett, and the series executive produced by Downton Abbey's Gareth Neame and Nigel Marchant, alongside its stars Eddie Redmayne and Lashana Lynch.

“We both loved the book, and we saw the film when we were kids — I’ve seen the film many times through my life, and always really respected it,” Neame, alongside Marchant, tells GQ. While they were at first cautious to tackle source material that carries with it such esteem, to expand the story across episodic TV seemed too good an opportunity to turn down. “It’s such an iconic, gripping story, that to revisit that in a contemporary context, with all the benefits of a multi-episodic show … we thought that would be really interesting to take this much-respected IP and develop it this way.”

Marchant concurs. “I think that [this] kind of title is in so many peoples’ consciousness … And then yeah, what’s the benefit of telling this with a bigger canvas?”

Marcell Piti/SKY/Carnival

The most obvious difference about this version is that it takes place in the modern world. “If we’d stayed in the past, why do it? You can’t better the film,” Neame says. But in classic The Day of the Jackal style, Redmayne’s hitman still rocks up to more European cities than a gap year interrailer.

And so we begin the series with the Jackal in Munich. Not that we immediately recognise him: he is decked out in wrinkly prosthetics, fake hair, and wears contacts and fake teeth, disguised as an elderly German janitor. This is his way past security and into the campaign headquarters of a divisive far-right demagogue, for the purposes of a mission that we daren’t spoil further. Once he has done what he needed to do — ruthlessly dispatching half the staff with a silenced pistol en route — he makes a daring escape by absailing from the roof, just as the police arrive. So, to illustrate the vibe: think Mission Impossible meets Daniel Craig’s Bond, if he went really rogue.

It’s not a one-to-one adaptation, but fans of the original text and film needn’t worry — there’s a distinct air of reverence for them both throughout, and this version broadly covers the same plot beats, though the story is expanded for TV. As for the Jackal himself, Redmayne’s performance both evokes Fox’s classic turn and feels of his own making. “[Fox’s] performance will always be in my mind, because I loved it so much as a kid,” Redmayne tells GQ. “But at the same time, I wanted the audience to be able to oscillate between this sociopathic coldness, and a human being who wants a life, and happiness.” He points to Natalie Humphries’ costume design as an explicit example of homage. “She spoke specifically about the kind of dandy, slight peacock-y quality of the [original] movie, and how we wanted to keep those elements,” Redmayne says.

“If you know the original [film], you get these Easter eggs through the show — even some of the lines are exact matches, and scenes were shot literally shot-for-shot from the original,” Marchant says. “So there are treats along the way if you know it, which felt important to us [with] our love of the original as well.”

Some time after that first job, the familiar story begins, after a mysterious would-be client on the dark web offers the Jackal retirement-grade money for the biggest hit of his career. (Given the contemporary setting, the target obviously isn’t Charles de Gaulle, but that’s as much as we’re allowed to reveal.) And throughout the series, in another noticable departure from the source material, we delve into the Jackal’s backstory and the whys and wherefores of his chosen career path. (Again, I’d love to say more, but there’s a red laser dot hovering over my chest and I value my life.) Redmayne was initially cautious about digging too far into the Jackal’s background — traditionally, the whole point is that you know nothing about him — but was won over by the script.

“Edward Fox’s performance is so brilliant because it’s two and a half hours of [an] extraordinarily charismatic enigma,” Redmayne says. “So my challenge, as a fan of that, was to go, Wait, I only want to take this on if I feel like there is a way that unpacking [the backstory] doesn’t feel glib.”

The chance to explore the Jackal’s past, Neame says, was always the point. “We knew right from the beginning that we wouldn’t make a 10 part television series where the main character is only ever a ghost,” he says. “So that’s where the whole idea of the private life, the personal life — the fact that he’s trying to juggle this extraordinary professional world with a normal lifestyle [came from].” Later on in the series, Neame notes, another character tells him what should’ve probably been blindingly obvious: in this line of work, a healthy worThe Day of the Jackal isn’t just about the titular contract killer, of course. Much of the story unfolds as a thrilling cat and mouse, as hot on the Jackal’s heels is the Sherlock to his murderous Moriarty, French detective Claude Lebel, played in 1973 by Michel Lonsdale. In this new adaptation, the character is reimagined as a wily MI6 agent, Lashana Lynch’s Bianca, whose counter-terrorism training and firearms expertise make her the Jackal’s ideal foil. (Despite the connection you might make to one of Lynch’s more recent roles, this grounded, bureaucratic vision of His Majesty’s secret service bears little resemblance to Bond.)k/life balance just isn’t sustainable.

“When you have a character that is in either a powerful position, or works for a powerful organisation, there is this danger that happens whereby women get boxed into one of two things: either the strong one, or the damsel in some way. Both of them are actually unfair,” Lynch says. “The Bianca that I read in the first three episodes was someone who had a strength that was born from vulnerability, had confusion [around] her own identity and her meaning to her work … There was so much within her world, and within her being, that felt like a real person.”

Bianca is seen as an irritating disruptor by the people she works for; early in the first episode, her boss scribbles a mid-meeting note calling her a pain in the arse. But her unrelenting drive and commitment soon gets results. “She pushes people’s boundaries. She is annoying. She does not stop. And her boundary pushing gets very dangerous,” Lynch continues. “But [she is] also really well intentioned. She has a good heart, she just doesn’t know how to use it. Which is exciting to play, and exciting to watch.”

Ultimately, the Jackal and Bianca have more in common than they might initially realise. “The entire premise of these two protagonists that are deeply flawed human beings, and yet also compelling human beings who are kind of mirroring each other, and yet on a one way path to collision, I found that interesting,” Redmayne says.

“You’re on side with both of these people, despite the horrendous choices they’re making.”

The Day of the Jackal will premiere on Sky and streaming service NOW in the UK (and Peacock in the US) on 7 November.

https://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/article/the-day-of-the-jackal-preview

[glitterblossom]

Note: We’re Arab, not Native American, so listen to their opinions on this before ours.

I wanted to have hope that Outlaws of Thunder Junction would be handled well, or even just not awfully. But the evidence is starting to rack up, folks, and it aint pretty:

At MagicCon, Blake Rasmussen (mtg’s Senior Communications Manager) said that, “everyone’s a newcomer to Thunder Junction.”

Also at that MagicCon panel, Aaron Forsythe (VP of Magic Design) called it an “unspoiled land.”

Mark Rosewater (mtg Head Designer) says that, “prior to omen paths [sic], it was uninhabited.”

Could this just be three white guys saying White Guy Things? Sure. Especially since they’ve all shown themselves in the past to be kinda uninformed on the particulars of their product’s storyline. But it’s not a great look.

The narrative that lands are uninhabited and ripe for plunder is inextricable from the American colonial genocide of indigenous nations (which has never stopped). This is especially the case in a setting based on the American West, rife with the trappings of the imperialist genre of American Westerns, and fraught with the colonialist propaganda of “frontier fantasy.” For this world, they’ve even created an ethnic group explicitly based on the Diné nation, per the official MTG Twitter account. Yet they still chose to center the set’s story around the genocidal selling point of “exploring uninhabited lands to find untold treasure and fortune.”

Yes, they’ve said they used cultural consultants. And, sure, that’s gone well-ish (though not without great flaws) for NEO and LCI. But whatever influence those consultants were allowed to have on OTJ, it was clearly not enough. Because holy shit, even the (otherwise amazing) side story, No Tells, says, “Thunder Junction’s a new plane, one that’s still beginning.” (Do NOT go hating on the author; I doubt he had control over that level of worldbuilding.)

All of this has shattered my hope in the set being respectful, or even not actively harmful. You can say, “wait and see,” and we will, but we’ve seen a lot already—and gang, it has not looked good.

[fefuckability]

The Shadows of Valentia (+ Cipher DLC characters) bracket qualifier! Starts Thursday, May 2nd at 3pm EST

Here's how it's going to work:

There are going to be eight qualifying polls (five for the men, three for the women)

Pick your most bangable favorite from each poll

Polls will run for one week (I'd prefer 3 days but alas Tumblr doesn't offer the option yet)

The top 32 male characters and the top 16 female characters will qualify for the men's and women's bracket

Polls:

Qualifier 1 (Alm, Gray, Tobin, Massena, Clive, Lima IV, Grieth)

Qualifier 2 (Luthier, Python, Zeke, Desaix, Forsyth, Mycen, Blake)

Qualifier 3 (Boey, Saber, Slayde, Valbar, Leon, Kamui, Conrad)

Qualifier 4 (Wolff, Atlas, Jesse, Deen, Halcyon, Nomah, Rudolf)

Qualifier 5 (Berkut, Gazelle, Jedah, Fernand, Randal, Lukas, Duma)

Qualifier 6 (Faye, Silque, Clair, Mathilda, Irma, Tatiana)

Qualifier 7 (Liprica, Celica, Mae, Palla, Catria, Nuibaba)

Qualifier 8 (Sonya, Rinea, Mila, Yuzu, Shade)

I am also adding a Google Form to submit characters for an enby bracket so Limstella, Kyza, Mark, and Bramimond don't get left out. These can be characters from any game as long as there is canon basis for them being nonbinary.

Extra notes under the cut

Characters who are excluded from voting:

Anyone who obviously both looks and acts like a literal child. Some characters are borderline so discretion may be used

Palette swaps or characters who are mostly the same portrait with only slight variation to hair, outfit, etc. (I consider Hestia and Marla to fall under this category)

Anyone who lacks either a portrait or a unique name

Characters who do not have a unique human form (e.g. Grima is technically part of this game, but only appears in dragon form)

Special Notes:

There are some characters who, for spoiler purposes, technically have two different names and/or portraits. For simplicity sake I just picked one portrait/name to use for them.

I know the cipher characters are technically original to Cipher, but they're functionally SoV units in this game. And I don't really know where else I'd put them.

I am not using the unofficial datamined ages. I just think it's going to lead to way too much splitting hairs.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE ELEMENTS OF ELOQUENCE by Mark Forsyth.

I haven't dual-wielded fiction and nonfiction simultaneously, recently, and I want to take some Writerly Vibes into revisions, so! Here's one book of the three I recently acquired by this guy, because it looks like Fun With English, and I'm always here for that.

[rannadylin]

Getting to know you meme

Both @dragonologist-phd and @serenbach86 tagged me for this, and fortuitously we have a snow day today so I'm gonna sit down and actually do it! :-D

Three ships: Fenris/Hawke, Daeran/Knight Commander, and for one that doesn't involve an OC, Faramir/Eowyn!

Last song: Ummmmm I don't listen to playlists, like, hardly ever so I can't say what the last thing I intentionally listened to was. But for some reason I woke up with "Rock Around the Block" earworming? I don't know where in the world that came from. My childhood, evidently.

Currently reading: The Elements of Eloquence by Mark Forsyth (because I saw it recommended in a Tumblr post not too long ago! I think I reblogged that post but can I find it now? not with Tumblr's search function I cannot) Delightfully witty, and useful for writers too! Also I just really like rhetorical devices because they come up in Latin 3/4 as we get into actual Latin literature and I think they're cool.

Last film: So, after how many years? I finally got around to watching parts 2 and 3 of the Hobbit movies over my Christmas break. :-D I liked them more than I thought I would! I had been disappointed with how much the 1st one changed from the books and kind of lost interest at the time they were coming out so I never saw the 2nd and 3rd in theaters. It turns out in my old age I am becoming more tolerant toward movie adaptations and liked them better now than I probably would have if I did see them at the time of release.

Currently craving: Hmmmm this is definitely soup weather. I should probably make a soup. It is also a snow day so I should not go out looking for soup ingredients at the moment, though.

I'll tag @sayonaramidnight @queen-scribbles @adraveins @risualto @sweetearthandnorthernsky @captainofthefallen @storyknitter if you want to do this!

[thistleandthorn-rpg]

Name: Forsythe Pendleton “Jughead” Jones III Designation: Switch but Jughead will say he’s a Dom Age: 26 Birthdate: November 26th 1996 Faceclaim: Cole Sprouse Orientation: Pansexual Kinks: He’s fairly open-minded but refuses to touch anything in the anti-kinks Anti-Kinks: Scat, watersports, age play

Key Points: 

Intelligence

Untrusting

Problem with authority, or at least those that demand respect without earning it

Doesn’t let anyone get too close

BIO 

Forsythe Jones, or Jughead as he’ll introduce himself was born into the Jones family to, more or less, a single father. Yes, he had a mother, he knew his mother, but Jughead stopped considering the women who gave birth to him or his sister as anything more than an egg donor by the time he reached doubled digits. At this point, as far as Jug is concerned, the only family he has is his father and his sister.

Growing up, even with an absent mother that only seemed to wander in when she wanted something, Jughead remained decently level-headed, all things concerned. Most likely thanks to the fact he’d escape into books or his writing and his sister, because even though they were only minutes apart they still seemed to settle into their roles with her as the big sister protector and him as the baby of the family and at the end of the day he could trust her to take care of him if he needed her. Which might also explain why there is nobody Jughead trusts more. They might not always see eye-to-eye, but Jug won’t hesitate to protect her regardless of the consequences and he knows that she would do the same for him.

Jughead has mixed feelings about his label as a Switch and is very much determined to keep it to himself as he can. He’ll never admit it out loud but he knows it’s fitting for him and a part of him is aware he could fit into both a Dominant or submissive role if he wanted to. He’s blunt, confident, forward, and determined and he’s aware those are very much traits that scream submissive. At the same time, he also likes to be praised and he takes pride in making people proud of him– especially his father and his sister, and that could definitely lean him in the direction of a submissive.

Unfortunately, after watching his mother come and go and essentially use his father, and Jughead has seen submissives get taken advantage over, he refuses to acknowledge that side of himself. As far as he’s concerned it doesn’t exist and he’ll never submit to anyone, and if he had his way nobody would be aware of his true mark.

He spent some time traveling, wanting to see the world, and even focus on his writing as he dabbled here and there when he found someone that caught his attention, but he’s found himself missing JB and their father and decided that since their birthday was coming up he would surprise her by joining her at Stonewall Prep. There’s also the fact Jug is also aware that as much as he ignores his real mark, the day he turns thirty it won’t matter if he’s been acting as a Dominant or not, he’ll still legally be a Switch and end up at the auction.

BIO QUESTIONS:

What are your feelings about the mark you have received?  - My mark is what it is.  It allows me to decide what I want to do and when I want to do it.

How do your feelings on the system compare to your parents’ feelings on it? - The system exists and we all have to deal with it. I feel there’s potential for it to do good but that also means it has potential to become an absolute shit show.

Where do you see yourself after you graduate?   - That’s a great question. I’d hope I would still be writing, maybe even working on a book or having one published.  I’d also hope not to be too far from JB and the old man, but I’m not able to see the future so I guess we’ll find out.

How do you feel about authority? - I mean it exists and has some benefits. If you’re asking me if I respect authority then that’s something completely different. I respect those that earn it and deserve it and right now the only people who qualify for that are my sister and my father.  I don’t care if you’re a Dominant, Switch, submissive or even a slave.  You want my respect? Earn it and don’t be an asshole for no reason. If you bite me, I do bite back.

[markrosewater]

Hi Mark, it's my birthday this week! I'm wondering if you have any trivia about Fifth Dawn or the Sunburst mechanic. It was one of the last sets I played before drifting away from Magic for many years, but I still have fond memories of trying to make a five-color Sunburst deck work back then. Thanks!

Sunburst was the brainchild of Aaron Forsythe. He was on the Fifth Dawn team as a reporter to be able to write about the experience. He was so good, we hired him into R&D. He also designed scry in the same team.

Happy Birthday!

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: A Bad Things Happen Bingo card. Various prompts are marked with a half-brain (prompt requested but not filled) or full-brain (prompt requested and finished) symbol, while the “Who Did This to You?” prompt specifically is marked with a full brain symbol. /end ID]

OKAY! It’s been a while, but here’s my third fic for my @badthingshappenbingo​ challenge!

I am currently NO LONGER OPEN FOR REQUESTS. I have enough to work on to get a bingo! I MAY decide to reopen prompts later if I want to keep going after finishing these fics, but for now, requests are closed!

This request comes from @i-am-but-a-beta-fish​! I spun it a bit different from the original prompt but I hope you enjoy! Thanks to @jaywings​ and @of-science-and-stars​ for beta-reading!

Also a quick note--this fic takes place in the same ‘verse as most of my other fics. You don’t need to have read those to understand this, though (just know that Loboto’s hanging around the Motherlobe for reasons).

[ID: A Psychonauts fanfic banner on a black-to-gray gradient background. On the left in white text it says “Prompt #3: Who Did This to You?” On the right are two animated figments overlapping each other: a gray-blue broken chunk of a stone wall, and a red blood splatter in front of it, the blood appearing to besplattered on the side and on the “floor” in front of the chunk. /end ID]

Prompt: Who Did This to You? Characters: Razputin Aquato and Linda the Hideous Hulking Lungfish of Lake Oblongata (and also Mr. Pokeylope, Sheegor, Ford Cruller, Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, Caligosto Loboto, Otto Mentallis, and (briefly) Hollis Forsythe.) Warnings: Blood, injury, (SPOILERS: broken bones, implied animal abuse, amputation)

---~~~---

It started with a scream from Sasha's lab.

Raz, who had been on his way to check in on Loboto's progress for that day, took an abrupt turn toward the agent wing instead, barreling into the lab on his lev ball. Apparently Milla had had the same idea, as she was there as well, both she and Sasha hovering over a very distressed Sheegor. Papers were scattered across the floor around where the lab assistant stood, and she was covering her face in her oversized gloves, sobbing uncontrollably into them.

"Miss Delucca, please calm down and tell us what's going on," Sasha demanded.

"It will be all right, Penelope," Milla said, crouching closer to her and placing a comforting hand on her back. "Please tell us what's wrong, darling."

"What's going on?" Raz asked, dismissing his lev ball as he approached the group. Is Sheegor okay? he added to Sasha.

She just started screaming, Sasha replied with a concerned frown. We've yet to determine the cause.

Putting a hand to his chin, Raz pondered what might cause Sheegor to act like this when a thought struck him. "Sheegor, is it Mr. Pokeylope?"

Sheegor lifted her head, giving a tiny nod before she broke out into another wail, burying her face into her hands once more.

"What’s wrong?" Raz edged in closer next to her. "Is he hurt?"

"It's—it's not him," Sheegor finally gasped, pulling her hands away. "H-he's scared, but he's... it's...!" And once again she broke down into sobs.

"Scared?" Raz's brows knit in consternation. "I don't think I've ever seen him get scared. He's the one who took down Loboto the first time!"

Sasha and Milla exchanged glances. "It must be serious, then," Milla said, and Sasha nodded.

"Is there something dangerous at the camp?"

"I—I—I think there w-was..." Sheegor replied.

"A security breach," Sasha said, and he and Milla immediately began marching out of the lab. "We'll see to this immediately."

Raz nearly turned to follow them when a soft voice stopped them all in their tracks:

"No."

Turning around, he saw Sheegor staring directly at him. Though tear stains marred her face, her eyes were clear. Without warning, she lunged forward, grabbing Raz's hands.

"She wants you."

With a terrible yank, they were gone.

—~~~---

Raz gasped, stumbling in the sudden cold and darkness. The wind whipped at his trench coat, and cold water crashed against the sand, illuminated by the moonlight above. Whipping his head around, he spotted Sheegor next to him, and just past where the stood was the ruins of Thorney Towers.

He had barely a moment to register just where he was when a burning psychic blast struck him square in the chest, knocking him off his feet. "Oof!" he grunted, crashing backwards into the sand. "What the—"

Seeing another psi-blast aimed straight for him, he rolled to the side, while Sheegor gasped in horror.

"Hang on, Sheegor, I'll take care of—"

"MR. POKEYLOPE!" she shrieked, charging further down the shoreline.

Jumping to his feet and keeping a hand against his chest, Raz followed her to find the turtle in question standing by the water, feet braced against the sand and eyes shut tight. The only indication that he was aware of his surroundings was the green psychic energy that formed in front of his forehead, preparing to shape into yet another psi-blast. Before it could manifest, Sheegor scooped him up into her arms, and he gave a start.

"B-baby...?" he stammered, finally opening his eyes.

"Mr. Pokeylope, it's me!" Sheegor cried, tears stinging at her eyes. "We came as soon as we could!"

It was hard to read an animal's face to begin with, let alone a tiny snapping turtle's face in the moonlight, but Raz swore he could sense a faint smile from Mr. Pokeylope. "W-what took you so long, honey?"

"Okay, this is very touching, but seriously, what are we doing here?" Raz demanded, stomping up to the turtle. Sheegor pulled him away protectively. "You said there was danger. What's going on?"

Mr. Pokeylope drew his head back, his normally-smooth voice shaky and thick. "I-it's Linda."

The words Sheegor had said before teleporting Raz struck him, and he charged past Sheegor further down the shoreline. "Where is she?! Linda, where are—"

Raz darted around a huge chunk of rubble, possibly a former wall of the old asylum, and skidded to a halt.

Lying halfway on water and halfway on land was an enormous, lumpy mass, heaving in shallow gasps. A shiny trail of dark liquid in the sand led up to it, and it took a few moments for the shock of the sight to give way to horror as Raz realized just what that trail was.

"...Linda?" he gasped, his legs feeling numb as he willed himself closer to her.

The mass turned slightly, and a gleaming yellow eye, half-open, stared back at Raz. Come closer, Razputin, she said, her lungs heaving all the while.

Raz stepped around to face her from the front, and his stomach twisted at the sight of an enormous chunk of debris immediately next to the mutant lungfish, pressing against her head and pinning her right arm. With a horrified gasp, Raz put one hand on his temple and stretched his other hand outward, manifesting a TK hand that grasped the chunk of rock. It was heavy, which was to be expected, and he clenched his teeth, eyes narrow and hand trembling as he finally lifted the rock off of Linda's arm.

Linda's whole body gave a jerk, her eyes bulging before shutting tightly, and a low moan emanated from deep within her. Thank you, she gasped, though even her mental voice was strained.

Meanwhile, Raz tossed the debris into the water and away from the fish. "How are you feeling now?"

I am in pain.

The simple statement hit him hard in the gut, and he wrapped his arms around himself.

A high-pitched gasp made him turn his head, and he saw Sheegor covering her mouth, glancing between him and Linda and looking like she might burst into tears all over again. Feeling something nudge his foot, he looked down to see Mr. Pokeylope staring up at him pleadingly.

"Can you help?"

Raz faced Linda again, looking her over: two nasty-looking gashes marred her side closer to the beach, probably the cause of the blood trails, while her right arm... He had to move slightly into the water to see it, but when he did, he immediately looked away, nausea surging through him. Though her limbs had never looked natural, even in the moonlight he could see that her arm was bent at multiple very unnatural angles.

Turning back to Pokeylope, he shook his head and put his hands on the sides of his helmet. "I-I can't do anything about this but..." He thought of sending for Compton—he was good with animals, but how well could he handle the stress of this situation? But then if not Compton, then who…

A thought struck him, but he hesitated; getting him involved in something like this could end badly, and Raz had grown a bit more hesitant to speak to him as of late. Could there be someone else…?

As he thought it over, the ground trembled beneath him as a deep moan rumbled within Linda’s throat. Mr. Pokeylope nudged his foot again, his eyes darting between him and the dark blood on the shore.

Raz steeled himself, and he looked at Sheegor. "Ford Cruller," he said. "Can you bring Agent Cruller here?"

Sheegor perked up and gave a serious nod. The beach seemed to flash around her as though illuminated by distant lightning, and without another word she disappeared.

While Sheegor left, Raz took another moment to look Linda over, and then inspected parts of the beach again. He spotted the two chunks of cement that had caused the gashes on her head, thanks to the dark stains upon them. "You guys probably shouldn't be hanging around this place," he remarked. "It doesn't really seem all that safe."

Mr. Pokeylope stomped one of his feet into the shallow water with an indignant splash. "This wasn't an accident."

A bolt ran up Raz's spine. "It... wasn't?"

Before the turtle could answer, there was another flash, and suddenly Sheegor and a very bewildered Ford Cruller were standing on the beach, the former grasping the latter's arms. Ford, while in his Psychonaut uniform, was also wearing a pair of slippers, indicating that he hadn't exactly been on-duty when Sheegor had summoned him. He blinked once, twice, looked at the ruins before them, then shot an accusing glare at Sheegor.

"What in sam hill am I doin' out here?!" he cried, yanking his arms away and looking about ready to smack her. "I already came out here with Lucy, and I wasn't plannin' on goin' on a retreat with some other woman!"

"I'm sorry, Ford," Raz said, stepping toward him, and Ford snapped his head in his direction, his bushy brows raised. "I couldn't think of who else to ask for help. And we really, really need it right now..."

When Raz looked back at Linda, Ford followed his gaze, and Raz could feel the anger that radiated from his old mentor slowly fade.

"...I see," he said, arms falling to his sides. "Been a hot minute since I've had ranger duty—or camp nurse duty, for that matter—but I'll see if I can't sort this out. Let's see what I still have in the cabin." With that, he popped out of existence in a rush of green psychic energy and a brief scattering of sand. Raz and Sheegor watched the spot he'd stood in, occasionally looking back at Linda every so often to see how she was doing; her eyes were still shut, and her breathing still shaky.

It was only a moment before Ford popped back onto the beach, now carrying multiple first-aid kits and, bizarrely, wearing a nurse's cap. Noting their stares, he shot the others a look. "What? If I'm gonna act as a nurse again, I gotta look the part."

"So long as you do something!" Sheegor cried, and Ford rolled his eyes.

"Was thinkin' of just hangin' out back at the lodge," he muttered, striding up to Linda and frowning. "Can you hear me, Lumpy?"

It is Linda. She opened one eye a fraction to give him a look.

"Right. Just gonna be lookin' this over." As he opened one of the first aid kits, Ford hovered up into the air until he was level with the top of Linda's head. "If you're good, you'll get a psi-pop when I'm done."

Wonderful. With a deep sigh, Linda shut her eye again.

At first Raz watched Ford get to work, but when he started cleaning the wound, Raz winced and crouched down closer to Linda's face. "Don't worry, Ford's gonna take care of you." I hope, he added in a silent, guarded thought.

"He'd better!" Mr. Pokeylope snapped. It was strange to see him so aggravated, especially when he'd been calm and silent on the night Loboto had tried to make soup out of him.

"Shhh, Mr. Pokeylope." Sheegor scooped him up, even as he continued to glare at Ford. "Let him work! These people are nice. Not like the doctor."

Any other time Raz might've pointed out that Loboto was starting to do better now, but this was neither the time nor the audience for it. Thankfully Linda took them off the subject: I... I am grateful for your help, Razputin.

"Yeah, and not for the help of the old man actually cleanin' your wounds," Ford muttered, and Linda let out a tired rumble in response.

"This... really wasn't an accident?" Raz asked, dreading the answer. Up above, Ford stopped muttering, one of his eyes briefly skewing toward them.

Slowly her eyes opened to slits, both of them trained on Raz. No.

Flinching, Raz sat back on the beach, a sickness stirring in his stomach before it began to burn, the heat making his way to his face and his hands, which clenched at his side. He stood up, looking her in the eye.

"Who did this to you?"

"A trespasser!" Mr. Pokeylope cried, squirming in Sheegor's grip. "A low-down fool—!"

"Trespasser?" Ford finally turned his full attention to the people standing below. "Who? How?"

Linda drew in a deep breath and let it out in a groan. A young human... older than Razputin, yet not fully grown... He came here from the other side of Lake Oblongata, on a boat...

"A... teenager?" Raz said, brow furrowing, while Ford hummed in thought.

He tried to make it to the camp, but stopped first at the ruins... there, Sam and I intercepted him.

"We wouldn't let 'im pass," Mr. Pokeylope said as Sheegor patted his shell.

We did not wish to hurt him... only for him to leave. But... Linda paused, drawing in another deep, hissing breath.

Mr. Pokeylope was hissing as well, his eyes narrow. "He attacked us."

Sheegor let out a soft gasp, hugging the turtle.

He attacked me, Linda said, looking at Mr. Pokeylope for a moment. He did not see you.

"He... he made the debris fall on you?" Raz frowned up at the ruins. "How did he—?"

He was psychic, like you and I.

"So that's it," Ford said, perking up. "It was one of them dang hooligans! They think just 'cause they came here as a kid, they can just stroll on up to the campgrounds to cause mischief or relive nostalgia. Hmph!" With a grunt, he went back to his work, now cleaning the other wound on Linda's head. "Only the counselors are allowed to do that."

"So it was... a former camper," Raz said, then shook his head. "They came here and did... this to you?!"

"Told you, I like this guy, baby," Mr. Pokeylope muttered to Sheegor with a grin.

Razputin. Linda opened her eyes a fraction wider, focusing on Raz and bathing him in the yellow glow. Did you not do the same to me, when we first met?

Raz gave a start as the memories of the air bubble and the fight in Shaky Claim came rushing back. Meanwhile, a series of short snaps erupted behind him as Mr. Pokeylope abruptly changed his tune, chomping his beak in Raz's direction. He looked back at the turtle, then at the lungfish, holding up his hands and giving them apologetic looks. "I—I'm sorry, Linda, I shouldn't have—"

I was under the control of Kochamara at the time. I do not fault you for defending yourself.

"Yeah, but this guy wasn't defending himself!" Raz cried, gesturing out toward the blood-splattered chunks of debris. "You weren't gonna hurt him!"

No. But I do not fault him for defending himself, either.

"What—?!" Sheegor cried, nearly dropping Pokeylope. "B-but he—!"

Meanwhile the anger drained from the turtle, who looked at Linda with shock and sadness. "Linda...?"

"What do you mean you don't fault him?" Raz demanded, stomping his foot into the sand. "He tried to kill you!"

It is dark here, and I am a frightening sight. Slowly Linda shut her eyes. He is not to blame for acting in fear.

"But... but he shouldn't have been trespassing!" Raz held his hands out imploringly. "You can blame him for that, right?"

"Maybe," Ford spoke up, glancing over his shoulder, "but you ain't one to talk about that, mister circus runaway."

"Huh? But—oh." Wrapping his arms around himself, Raz looked away. "Yeah, but... I... I wasn't trying to cause trouble, at least. But he—!"

It is done, Razputin. There is no need for anger now.

"Well you're free to think that, honey," Mr. Pokeylope said, squirming until Sheegor finally set him down. He marched up to where the lungfish lay, his movements short and furious. "But if I see 'im I'm gonna bite 'im a new—"

Without opening her eyes, Linda raised up her good arm and flattened him into the sand with her fin.

Pokeylope grumbled, but relaxed, nuzzling into her hand. "I'm sorry, Linda," he sighed. "This got me all worked up."

Raz couldn't deny that he felt much the same; in spite of Linda's words, he still shook with emotion. "But it's... it's not fair."

"Yeah?" Ford eyed him. "When's life ever been that way?"

"Huh?" Raz looked up at him in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"I..." Sheegor stepped forward, tugging at one of her gloves. "I think Agent Cruller means that things really aren't fair, most of the time." She wandered up to where Mr. Pokeylope sat beneath Linda's fin, and crouched near them, putting her own hand over Linda's. "But that's... that's why we should care about others. For when it's not fair." Hesitantly she glanced back up at Ford. "Right?"

Ford shrugged. "More or less. Somethin' around that, anyway."

"Oh, yay!" Sheegor clapped her gloved hands together before placing one back on Linda's fin again.

Raz looked around at the others before heaving a shaky sigh. "I think I get it," he said, sitting beside Linda's good fin as well and placing his hand on it. He rubbed the slimy appendage, trying not to wince at the slime that got on his glove. "But... I hope you'll be okay, Linda."

Finally she opened her eyes, giving him a look full of a warmth that he wouldn't have thought her capable of. ...And I as well, Razputin.

After exchanging a worried look with Sheegor, Raz turned his gaze upward. "How's it looking, Ford?"

"Well she's got more lumps than Otto puts in his tea," Ford grunted. "Makes the stitching harder than it should be. But she should be all right once that's done."

The tension dropped so quickly from Raz' shoulders that he nearly fell over backwards. "That's a relief!" he cried, only to pause. "...Wait, what about her arm?"

Ford paused in his work. "Arm?" Frowning, he hovered over Linda's head to peek over at her other side. "Now you're telling me she's also got a—ohhh."

As quickly as the relief had come, it vanished, leaving a chill in Raz's chest. Shakily he rose to his feet, walking over to Linda's other side. Ford was standing in the shallow water, staring at her mangled arm. "There... there was another rock that had crushed it," Raz explained, keeping his gaze on Ford and fighting to avoid looking at the arm again. "I got it off her, but..."

After taking a few moments to walk around the limb and shine a flashlight on it, Ford reached down to try grabbing it. When Linda let out a deep, pained grunt, he straightened his back, shaking his head. "I'm a jack-of-all-trades, but this one's a bit beyond my abilities."

"No!" Raz cried. His stomach dropped and tears stung at his eyes as he ran up to Ford and grabbed his sleeve."Please, Ford, you've gotta do something, you can't leave her like this!"

"Why do I gotta do everything?" Ford snapped, yanking his hand away.

Before Raz could get over his shock, the sound of sand rapidly being slapped at with tiny feet preceded Mr. Pokeylope charging out from under Linda's fin and up to Ford, chomping on one of his soggy slippers. "Thath' why!" the turtle grunted, beak firmly latched onto the fluffy rabbit head.

"Hey!" Ford kicked off the slipper, sending Mr. Pokeylope flying.

With a horrified shriek, Sheegor caught the turtle, then shot Ford a glare to rival the ones she gave Loboto. "Don't you dare be mean to Mr. Pokeylope and Linda, you, you—"

"Would y'all stop and listen?" Stomping a soggy sock into the shallow water, Ford gave each of them a look. "If you want her to get better, we gotta move her."

"Wait—move her?" Raz looked quickly between Linda and Ford. It took a moment for the gears to click into place. "Y-you mean... take her back to the Motherlobe?"

I am in no condition to swim, Linda protested, eyeing Ford.

"Good thing that ain't what I'm askin' you to do." Heading back onto the dry land, Ford approached Sheegor and, without looking away, yanked his missing slipper away from Mr. Pokeylope and slid it back onto his foot. "You. Gonna need your help with this."

"M-me?" Sheegor stammered. "What do I have to do?"

Ford fixed her with a hard gaze. "You gotta think real hard, because if we screw this up, things are gonna get real messy."

Swallowing, Sheegor hugged Mr. Pokeylope close to herself. She looked to Raz, then Linda, then down at Mr. Pokeylope, who nodded to her. "...Okay. What do I have to think about?"

"Tell me," Ford went on. "What part of the Motherlobe do you know best?"

Raz had already guessed what she would answer before her face lit up.

—-~~~---

There was a brief, ear-splitting shriek; several surprised shouts; a frantic snapping; a deep, guttural croak; and a shockingly loud thud-SPLAT as everyone abruptly found themselves in the middle of Sasha's lab. Raz was clinging to Ford's leg for dear life, Mr. Pokeylope was snapping his beak and scrambling his legs as he tried to stay atop Sheegor's hump, and Sheegor and Ford stood with their hands on either side of Linda, who now lay in the middle of the floor, dripping slime, mud, and lake water.

Sasha, Milla, and Hollis, who had apparently been in the middle of a heated discussion, all stared at them. A cigarette fell from Sasha's lips, the color draining from his face.

Silence hung over the room.

Ford put a gentle hand on Raz's shoulder, and he gave a start, letting go and stepping back. With a casual hum of approval, Ford nodded to the other agents in the room. "Well, that's that. I'll leave you to it," he said, and strode toward the exit, his bunny slippers slapping wetly against the pristine floor and leaving mud tracks behind. "I'm goin' to bed."

All eyes were on Ford, but he said nothing more, and the door slid shut behind him. Everyone's gazes turned to Linda, and then, slowly, to Raz.

"...Agent Aquato," Hollis said, with a practiced, slow calmness that held back a burning exasperation and anger. "What is the meaning of this?"

Raz held up a finger. "Right. So... I can explain."

—-~~~---

"To start, move your left arm, please," Otto said, glancing up from his clipboard.

A low grumble filled the lab as Linda raised her left arm. After a moment, she subtly scratched at the large stitches that now adorned her head—as subtly as a giant mutant lungfish could do so, anyway.

"Uh-uh, Linda, the nurses said not to touch those," Raz said, crossing his arms.

...You are correct, Razputin, Linda said, drawing her fin away.

Linda still sat in the middle of the lab, which had been scrubbed as clean as it could while housing a giant, mucus-covered fish. Otto stood directly before her, while Raz sat off to the side on the exam table to watch, his feet kicking over the edge. Sheegor sat beside him, holding Mr. Pokeylope in her lap, who watched eagerly. Sasha was nowhere to be found, having decided for a "change of scenery" by switching spaces with Agent Mentallis during Linda's recovery.

The lab wasn't the most ideal place for it, but moving the giant lungfish wasn't an easy task, and with her multiple injuries it was ruled that it would be best for her to stay here for the time being. It had been a long few weeks as some of the healers at the Motherlobe treated Linda's wounds and performed some alarmingly necessary surgeries, while Sheegor and Mr. Pokeylope brought her food and water every day. All the while, Otto had been taking measurements and preparing a new invention, which they were now, finally, testing out.

"Very good!" Otto said, smiling as he checked something on his clipboard. "You can lower that now."

With another low grumble, Linda lowered her arm, resting it on the floor.

"Good job, baby," Mr. Pokeylope said, cocking his head. "You're a natural."

Waving the turtle off, Linda let out a low chuckle.

"Now... can you raise your right arm?"

Linda hesitated.

"Take your time."

Linda's gaze turned to Raz, who gave her an encouraging nod. Shutting her eyes, she concentrated... and with a series of mechanical whirs, her prosthetic limb raised up from where it had been resting at her side. The leather strap that attached it to her tugged gently at her body, while the shiny gray casing reflected the multicolored lights of the nearby consoles as it moved upward.

"It worked!" Raz cheered, jumping up from his seat, and Sheegor let out a high pitched woo! next to him, holding Mr. Pokeylope up in the air.

"Wonderful!" Otto cheered, grinning as he stepped closer to the limb. "Fantastic work!"

It feels... strange...

"Oh, that's perfectly normal! It's not exactly made of the same stuff as your old limb, after all." Reaching out, Otto knocked his bony knuckles against the casing. "It's metal—stainless, of course—with some rubber between your fingers there. Try wiggling them!"

Opening her right eye, Linda stared at her right hand, where a transparent rubber was stretched over the metal claws, forming a fin. After taking a moment, she twitched each finger once before slowly wiggling them, watching the clear material stretch between the digits.

"Good. And how about the other fin?"

Like her left arm, her right bore a smaller fin on one side of it, this one equipped with rubber webbing as well. With a bit of concentration, she managed to flex it.

"Excellent! You're well on your way to mastering your new limb."

Linda flexed her fin and claws a few more times before lowering her arm, sighing. It is... very different, she admitted. But... Her eyes gleamed. Perhaps I can... explore the waters outside soon.

"Don't go too fast," Raz said, walking over to her right side to look the limb over. "You'll still want some practice with that."

She turned to him, and he could hear the amused smile in her voice. I do not think I shall drown, Razputin.

"Uhhh... yeah, good point." Raz scratched the back of his neck. "It really does look like you'll get the hang of this soon, though."

"Absolutely," Otto agreed, patting the side of the mechanical limb. "With practice, it'll perform better than your old one!"

With a quiet rumble, Linda jerked her prosthetic limb away. She held her right fin with her left, staring down at it and feeling the artificial webbing.

Frowning, Raz rubbed his chin, then perked up. "Oh! Hey, Agent Mentallis, I know you wanted to just keep things simple today, but... since there really shouldn't be too much danger, how about we take things for a test drive?"

Linda looked up, and Otto gave a hum. "I like the idea, though I haven't alerted Ford yet. Not to mention, is our dear lab assistant up to the task—?"

"Woah!" Mr. Pokeylope scrambled his limbs to stay on the examination table as Sheegor abruptly disappeared. He looked around, then let out a chuckle. "There's your answer."

A few moments later, Sheegor re-appeared in a flash of light, holding Ford in front of her, as though she'd just grabbed him from behind. This time he was wearing an old suit, and appeared to have been in the process of straightening a bowtie when he'd been snagged. He stood still, eyes wide.

"Ah, good to see you, Ford," Otto said with a raised brow. "I hope we didn't interrupt anything important."

Ford shot a glare at Otto. "I got a date with Lucy tonight!"

"Good, so it wasn't anything too dire."

Raz covered his face to hide his laughter.

Before Ford could protest, Otto went on, "We're moving ahead with... well, moving our subject. Would you mind...?"

Looking back at Linda, Ford heaved a sigh. "All right. But does that other young lady got the spot figured out?"

"Sure do!" Sheegor, who was still holding Ford, chimed in. "I can show you!"

"Now wait—"

The two disappeared with another flash of light.

Otto chuckled. "He is going to be ranting about this tonight."

With another flash, the two returned, Ford looking even more frazzled than before. "All right!" he cried, waving Sheegor off. "All right! Let's get this over with." As Sheegor stepped away, he pointed a finger in her face. "And never do this to me again, you hear?"

"Okay!" Sheegor nodded cheerfully.

"Do... we have to teleport with you?" Raz asked as Sheegor and Ford went to either side of Linda.

"Nope! You can meet us outside," Sheegor said. She pressed her gloves against Linda's right side, while Ford pressed his hands against her left.

"Got it. C'mon, guys!" With that, Raz hurried toward the Otto B.O.N., TKing Mr. Pokeylope into his messenger bag as he did so, and Otto followed directly behind. Moments later, they emerged out in front of the Motherlobe. "Where'd they go...?" Raz squinted in the evening sun, gazing out over the flooded quarry.

"Oh, Sheegor and I picked out a real nice place," Mr. Pokeylope said, popping out of Raz's messenger bag, his front feet hanging over the side. He pointed the toe of one of his boots out over the quarry. "Should be right over..."

"EEK!"

"AAAGH!"

Thud-SPLAT.

"...there."

On the tiny nearby island, a few startled goats fled from the two people and the giant lungfish that had abruptly appeared where they'd been grazing. Sheegor quickly recovered, and while Ford looked somewhat shaken, he stepped back, patted Linda on the side, then shook the slime off his hands. "All right, enough of that," Ford snapped. "If you wanna move Miss Lumpy again here, find someone else skilled in teleportation."

Raz, meanwhile, hurried over to the island. “Thanks, Ford.”

"Don't mention it," Ford shot back. "If you do, I'm teleporting you straight into the lake." With that, he disappeared.

You humans are very kind, Linda remarked. ...If abrasive.

"Well, that's Ford for you," Otto said with a chuckle as he stood at the edge of the Motherlobe’s platform.

"And now you're outside!" Sheegor exclaimed as she pulled Mr. Pokeylope out of Raz's bag and hugged him. "Isn't it nice?"

With a quiet rumble, Linda reached out with her left fin to touch the surface of the water, and shut her eyes. It is not Lake Oblongata... but I am glad to be near the water once more.

"Would you like to take a swim, then?" Otto asked.

With a start, Linda pulled her arm away, and looked over at her prosthetic fin, turning it this way and that.

"I did test that in the water, and it won't rust. It'll propel you just like your old arm did, hypothetically. Why not try it out?"

Linda took a few steps closer to the water, then hesitated, glancing over at Raz. He patted her side. "You'll be okay, Linda. You said you can't drown, right?"

That is not what I fear, but... you are right. Shutting her eyes, Linda stepped into the water, dipping just beneath the surface.

Raz, Sheegor, and Otto all watched eagerly, while Mr. Pokeylope urged Sheegor to set him down. He marched over to the surface of the water, looking down into it and tilting his head. "You doin' all right there, baby?"

After a few moments, Linda emerged again, grasping one of the large rocks on the island with her good fin. It is... quite different...

"Have you had any trouble moving?" Otto asked. "If there's anything wrong, I can take it back to the lab or to my workshop to fix it."

No... I believe it will merely take... getting used to.

"Ah. That's how it is, or so I'm told."

"You've just gotta practice," Raz said. He sat cross-legged at the water's edge, and placed a hand to his temple in concentration. A hand rose up out of the water, giving Linda a thumbs-up before descending again. "I've been doing that with my hydrokinesis, too. It took me a while to get the hang of it."

I see... Linda looked down at the water, then over at her mechanical fin, rumbling softly in thought.

"If you're up for it, let's see some more!" Otto said, waving Linda toward the water. "Go on and give it another go."

Linda said nothing, but after a moment complied, dipping back into the water. Mr. Pokeylope joined her this time, diving in and swimming alongside her.

Raz watched them from the shore, moving to lay on his stomach and rest his chin on his arms. It was a bit difficult to see them with the water distortion, but her swimming looked a lot jerkier than he remembered. Granted, he remembered watching her swim several months ago, and he'd been more focused on not dying at the time. "Well, she's... definitely swimming in there."

"Yep! Mr. Pokeylope looks like he's having fun, too." Sheegor stared down into the water, smiling fondly, only to give a start. "Oh—! Mr. Mentallis, since Linda's out of the lab now, does that mean—?"

Otto perked up. "Ah, yes! I should be able to swap with Sasha to get my workshop back. I'm sure he'll be happy to have his old lab back again."

"Oh no! I'll need to go clean that up!" Sheegor wrung her hands, looking anxiously between Otto and the water. "T-tell Mr. Pokeylope I'll just be back inside!" With that, Sheegor disappeared in a flash of light.

Frowning, Raz looked back at Otto. "Is it okay to switch places again, though? What if this needs more work?"

"I can easily do any necessary adjustments back at my workshop! The trouble was just moving Linda out of Sasha's lab. As that problem has passed, there should be no issue with resuming our usual stations."

"So..." Raz looked back down at the water. "Are you sure this is gonna work?"

"No, not especially," Otto replied with a shrug. "But that's why we're testing it. Already though it's been doing quite well."

"What's been doing quite well?" a new voice piped up from a short distance off.

Raz jumped up from where he'd been sitting to find Loboto storming out from the Motherlobe. "Loboto! I didn't think you'd be coming out here—"

"There you are! I've been looking for you!" Loboto cried as he approached, only to balk before coming closer to Otto. "Well, not you, but I've been looking for my son!"

"Daughter," Raz corrected, deadpan. "And she's not really your daughter."

"Oh, phtttbbt." Loboto waved a claw, sticking out his tongue. "She's my kid and I'll call her what I want! But the problem is, she's not anywhere! Or... not in the lab, anyway."

"How do you know that?" Otto asked with a raised brow. "Weren't you strictly forbidden from the lab for the time being?"

"No."

Raz winced, looking between Loboto and the water. "I'm pretty sure you were—"

"Nope, not anymore!" Loboto strode closer to the edge of the platform, still keeping his distance from Otto.

"Oh? Did someone give you permission to go there?"

"Yes." Frowning (as much as he could frown), Loboto put his hands on his hips. "I did!"

"I... didn't think that was how that worked," Raz remarked.

"It does when you have kids!"

"But you don't—"

"Where is she, anyway? You'd think a lungfish that large would be easy to spot."

As if on cue, Linda broke through the surface of the water, holding her prosthesis in her left fin. It is still a strange feeling, she remarked, but perhaps I will— She looked up, locking eyes with Loboto. Oh.

Loboto's loupes twitched this way and that as he took in Linda's appearance before he gave a gasp of horror. "Linda!" he cried. "What happened?!" Stumbling forward, he fell off the platform and crashed headfirst into the water, only to scramble back up onto the island that Raz occupied. Linda and Mr. Pokeylope both glared at him from the water.

"It's okay, Cali," Raz said hurriedly, holding up his hands. "She's fine! Otto and Sheegor and I have been keeping an eye on her and she's doing okay, now."

This didn't stop Loboto from stepping as close to the water's edge as he dared, staring at Linda's prosthetic limb before looking down at his own. "I see," he murmured before his face brightened. "She's becoming just like her old man!"

A number of bubbles appeared around Linda's partially-submerged face as her eyes narrowed further. Without a word, she spun around and dipped into the lake, only for her tail to surface and slap down against the water, creating a wave that struck Loboto directly, knocking him off his feet with an undignified squawk.

"Teenagers," Loboto coughed, pushing himself up on his arms, while Raz hurried up to his side.

"Sorry, Cali," Raz whispered as he helped Loboto to his feet. "Now's not... really a good time."

"It's fine, it's fine, she'll come around," he muttered, brushing some of the water off himself. Sighing, he made his way back toward the Motherlobe. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find Morris so I can borrow his blow-drier again..."

As Loboto left, Raz looked back into the water. It was harder to see Linda as the sky grew darker, but at the moment, he got the impression that she didn't want to be found.

—~~~---

When Linda failed to surface again some time afterward, Otto decided they'd done enough testing for the day anyway, and retired to his workshop to inform Sasha that they'd be switching back. Raz waited a bit longer before heading back to the Questionable Area to where his family was stationed. Even after dinner, though, he couldn't help but wonder about how Linda was doing, and so later that night he found himself hopping through the nearest Otto B.O.N. and out in front of the Motherlobe.

He did not see Linda's lumpy silhouette against the quarry, but he did spot something else distinctly out of place: a long, tube-like object sitting on the shore of the nearby island. Actually, no, it seemed to be two tubes jointed in the middle, with a long strap, and... fins...

Heart jumping into his throat, Raz charged out toward the island, landing on it roughly and kneeling down to get a closer look. It was absolutely Linda's prosthetic limb, though now it bore a few scratches in the metal. His mind raced, trying to conjure up what on earth could have caused that. Was it piranhas? Were there piranhas in the quarry? He hadn't seen them before, but then, he'd never swum in the quarry before, or... anywhere, ever. What if piranhas had chewed on Linda's arm? What if they'd attacked her? What if she was a prey animal to predators in this environment? What if they'd eaten her?! What if her arm was all there was left, and they'd spit it up onto shore, and, and—?!

Razputin.

Raz gave a start, realizing only when he scrubbed at his face that he'd been crying. Looking around, he spotted Linda sitting on one of the nearby logs, her eyes glowing at him from the darkness, her tail wrapped around her side and dangling into the water. He wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, whether he'd just failed to notice her or if she'd only just surfaced, but he dismissed his earlier panicked thoughts and leaped over to the log.

"Linda! I'm glad you're..." He trailed off when he realized she was now staring out at nothing. At her side he could see the scars from where her arm had once been, and looked back at the prosthetic limb sitting across from them. "...Did it fall off?" he asked. "I can help you put it back on, and we can tell Otto tomorrow so he can—"

No.

Frowning, Raz waited for her to continue. When she remained silent, he heaved a sigh, sitting next to her. Now that he was a bit closer, he could hear the tiny snores of Mr. Pokeylope sleeping at her side.

As they sat, Linda raised up her hand near the stitches on her head. Raz thought she might scratch at them, but instead she simply felt around them with the smooth side of one of her claws. It took him a moment to realize that they weren't the scars from her injury, but from where the metal plate on her head had been removed.

"Does it still hurt?"

...Yes. Linda's eyes closed. In many ways.

Raz wrapped his arms around himself, biting his lip in thought as mulled something over. He took a breath. “You forgave me, and that guy that hurt you,” he said slowly. “But not—?”

You and he acted out of self-defense. Linda opened her eyes again, their yellow glow reflecting against the dark water below. He acted out of self-interest, and malice.

Well, he couldn’t argue with that, but… He kicked his feet as they dangled over the edge. "He's different now, you know."

Yet I remain unchanged.

Though she did not move her mouth, her words were biting.

Raz winced. "I'm sorry, Linda—"

You have nothing to apologize for, Razputin. But his change in behavior does not change my circumstances. And I do not wish to be reminded of my connection to him.

Realization dawned on him as he looked back out at the island and remembered what Loboto had said earlier. "Ohhhh." His eyebrows raised, then furrowed in thought, and something struck him. "Y'know, I get it. When someone does something that... changes you, it doesn't really stop hurting even when they change."

Linda hummed in quiet agreement.

"But you don't have to stop doing things that... can help you."

Her humming stopped, and the yellow reflections in the water shifted to the side as she glanced away.

Raz put his hands on his knees, gripping them. "Ford... he did something that changed me, and my entire family. But... he also taught me a lot, like telekinesis." Straightening his back, he turned to face Linda. "That stuff reminds me of him, but... without that, I wouldn't have been able to help you."

The quarry was silent save for the ever-present crickets and the lapping of water. Linda drew in a breath and released it in an enormous sigh. ...Perhaps you are right, Razputin. Her tail swished in the water, the waves distorting her reflection. I do not wish to be like him... but I do not wish to sabotage myself, either.

Raz thought of bringing up the fact that perhaps Loboto could make things up for Linda, but held himself back; there would be time for that another day. They all had enough to deal with as it was.

"You'll get it figured out," he said instead. After a moment, he reached out and placed a hand on Linda's side, careful to avoid the scars.

...You are a true friend, Razputin.

With an embarrassed laugh, Raz shook his head. "I'm just doing what a Psychonaut would do."

Linda let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. That too.

[bitter69uk]

“Born Susan Ballion in 1957, she was the product of post-war suburban life which, like many, she grew up to resent entirely … She was 14 when hospitalised with ulcerative colitis and it was while watching Top of the Pops on a children’s ward in 1972 that she saw David Bowie’s performance of “Starman” – a magical, rupturing event for many of her generation, and one that had a profound influence on her … Susan Ballion was one of the first to understand the radical possibilities offered by Bowie’s cut-up aesthetic, clearly and slowly began remaking herself as Siouxsie Sioux. Sioux’s image would become a violent but not haphazard mix of Charlotte Rampling in The Night Porter, the incarnation of David Bowie she had seen from her hospital bed, and Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra, and would draw upon the sharp lines of Kabuki masks and the leather and steel of S&M gear … Siouxsie’s “monstrous” look combined with her innovative musical vision had a profound impact on those around her …” 

/ Excerpts from the catalogue to The Horror Show! exhibit (2022/23) by Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard / 

Light a black candle (or at least don a black T-shirt), grab the hair crimpers and can of Aqua Net - today marks a sacred occasion! Haughtily composed high priestess of punk, spooky voodoo doll frontwoman of the Banshees (and The Creatures), perennial eyeliner role model, perfector of the death glare and Chislehurst’s finest, Siouxsie Sioux (née Susan Janet Ballion, 27 May 1957) turns 66! For generations of punks, goths, queers and misfits, Siouxsie is the real Queen of England! What a life-changing performer: it was seeing a black-and-white photo of Siouxsie in a magazine when I was in my early teens that planted the idea of moving to London. (I’m still unsure whether to be grateful to her or not!). I last saw her perform at the Meltdown festival in June 2013 – so ten years ago next month! Isn’t it gratifying to see Siouxsie’s recent reemergence as a mature artist, still fiercely glamorous and charismatic? For the record, my favourite Siouxsie and The Banshees song will always be “Arabian Knights.” Pictured: portrait of Siouxsie by Pierre et Gilles for the front cover of The Creatures’ 1999 album Anima Animus.

[scotianostra]

One of Scotland’s’ most iconic films, Local Hero was released on February 18th 1983.

In the days before mobile phones we used to use things called phone boxes when we were not at home, and the phone box  in Local Hero has become as iconic as the film itself.

There aren’t many films that have a 100%  Tomatometer , on the movie website Rotten Tomatoes, backed up by an impressive 87% audience score, it should be all you need to know when choosing a movie to watch, expecially if you haven’t seen it before. IMDb also rate it highly with 7.4 out of 10.

Bill Forsyth’s oil-refinery comedy isn’t billed as a weepy. It is, however, a love poem to Scotland, and that’s what brings the lump to my throat.

Quirky, wry, gentle are words most often used for this comedy on the movie database site, IMDb, the starting point for many of my posts about those Scots in the acting profession in my posts. They brief story line on the site does not hint at the emotional turbulence you might soon be experiencing. So maybe it’s just me being a big sissy. Wouldn’t be the first time I lost the plot. All it says is “An American oil company sends a man to Scotland to buy up an entire village where they want to build a refinery. But things don’t go as expected.” The film is so much more than this and it stands the test of time much better than other Forsyth films like Comfort & Joy and Gregory’s Girl, well in my opinion anyway!

Crackpot Texan oil magnate Felix Happer (Burt Lancaster) gets the idea that a small Scottish fishing village would be a marvellous acquisition for his so-rich-it-makes-you-sick company, Knox Oil and Gas, so he sends an executive gopher named MacIntyre (because that sounds Scottish, yeah – played by Peter Riegert) to close the deal and get the pipeline pencilled in.

“Mac” is met by some local “dork” called Oldsen (a young Peter Capaldi), who attempts to steer him through a tartan microculture that includes a lawyer-cum-publican/hotelier (Denis Lawson) who tapdances while standing on a chair shouting “Stella” – the name of his ever-randy wife; there is a super-hard marine biologist played by Jenny Seagrove who, after delivering a short lecture on the North Atlantic drift, ends up helping Oldsen to find that pistol in his pocket; and then there is a scene in which a very whisky-sodden Mac calls Texas from a red phone box on the harbourside, a phone box that has featured in so many peoples snaps when visiting Pennan in Banffshire.

Other bits of business in the film involve a salty Russian seafarer and overflying warplanes. You can see how it got the comedy tag, and I haven’t even mentioned the thing with the rabbit. And you can see how Mac ends up smitten.

This is all top material from a very talented writer/director, with photography and music from Glasgow born Mark Knopfler matches the acting and direction perfectly. But on first viewing I found myself asking halfway through, “What is this film actually about?” After not very much thought, I came to the conclusion that it was not a How Things Never Go According to Plan story, but a love poem to Scotland and the Scots. A bit slushy, but never mind. It’s only a film.

The scene when Mac phones to describe the Northern Lights, to me is very special, but the scene that prompted the lump in my throat at the end of the movie is when, having failed in his mission to secure the Knox refinery deal and mutilate one of Planet Earth’s most beautiful locations, Mac returns to his frigid steel-and-glass Houston apartment. He stands at his kitchen counter wondering what to do next, the hushed march of oil capitalism buzzing gently outside. He pulls from his coat pocket a handful of pebbles and shells, smelling one of them poignantly remembering as he spreads them on the work surface.

As Knopflers music gently plays he goes to his balcony and looks out to the city……the scene fades to black, then reopens 4,500 miles away, where, on the harbour side of a small Scottish fishing village, we see the phone box, perhaps ringing and the credits begin as the horns of Going Home blast out. Others in the film include Rikki Fulton, Alex Norton, Kenny Ireland, John Gordon Sinclair and of course Burt Lancaster.

[lovecharged]

i’m getting through my drafts and queuing them up so they don’t drown the dash, however -- if you’d like a starter from one of my newer test muses. like this and i’ll write you a starter (or two).

ramses youssef   |   rami malek.

forty two. cis man. he / him. bisexual. chef + restaurateur. connection: kwan's business partner.

anuj basak   |   dev patel

thirty three. cis man. he / him. bisexual. con artist (heavenly seven) +  art forger.

gareth forsyth   |   archie renaux.

twenty five. cis man. he / him. bisexual. gang member. nolan's crew.

kwan choi   |   gong yoo.

forty three. cis man. he / him. bisexual. chef + restaurateur. ramses business partner.

ambrose fairburne   |   omari hardwick.

forty nine. cis man. he / him. bisexual. former hockey player turned coach + youth club leader.

ricardo 'ricky' fontana   |   michael cimino.

twenty three. cis man. he / him. bisexual. college student, barista + freelance artist.

lysander 'xander' godfrey   |   jacob anderson.

thirty two. cis man. he / him. gay. socialite + events manager. harry and otto's older brother.

dara keevan   |   mark mckenna.

twenty even. cis man. he / him. bisexual. tattoo artist.

persephone lancaster    |   olivia cooke & rachel weisz.

twenty nine - forty nine. cis woman. she / her. bicurious. gardener.

carina lowe    |   laura harrier.

thirty. cis woman. she / her. bisexual. florist.

lorena morais   |   giovana cordeiro.

twenty six. cis woman. she / her. bisexual. winemaker.

gabriel rochester   |   thomas weatherall.

twenty two. cis man. he / him. bisexual. college student + writer.