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centaurianthropology · 1 year ago

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Late on the train to 'Midst'

Hello all, and it's time once again for me to try to infect you all with my weird niche interests. In this case, it's a podcast that was recently(ish) picked up by Critical Role, which is how I heard about it. But I can say right now that those folks who still follow me from the Magnus Archives day are probably going to enjoy this one. Hell, I think a lot of my followers might, so let me pitch 'Midst' to you.

The Podcast

'Midst' is a narrative podcast with three narrators. So rather than a strict script, it's three people with great voices telling you a story, narrating actions, slipping into and out of different character voices, all set over a really well-engineered sound-and-musicscape. The episodes are loosely outlined, but the actual scripts are improvised between the narrators, weaving in and out of each other's narrations and 'yes and'ing their way into a greater whole. It may sound a little confusing, but I found it surprisingly easy to follow along with. And each episode ranges from 15 minutes to a half-hour, so it's an easy listen. The second season has just begun to release over at the CR YouTube channel (there were 2 seasons out before CR picked it up and is releasing remasters, so beware spoilers if you go to the tag here).

The Setting

Okay, unless you're a nerd like me, the technicalities of the podcast might not mean quite as much to you. But the setting is where things start to get really interesting. This is a space western. Classic, but definitely also not classic. While the vibe is pure space western, with a feel that's vaguely akin to 'Firefly' or 'Trigun' or 'Cowboy Bebop', the actual setting isn't so much space as it is the Un.

The Un is somewhat liminal, a vast sky filled with light from an undetermined source, filled with clouds and glittering mica shards which defy gravity and can slice through almost anything in their way (though they can be deflected). On the largest of these shards some people have set up homes. And elsewhere in the Un are islets, tiny planets that make up the habitable universe of 'Midst'.

There doesn't seem to be a proper central authority in the Un, but the closest thing they have is the Trust, a cult based around the worship of what seems to be a space western stock market, in which all of its members have their deeds (and themselves) weighed and judged. And those people in the Trust, the Trustees, wear their morality literally on their sleeve. Those deemed 'good' either from good deeds or (far more often) from inherited goodness or goodness based on their position in society, have white Valor beads adorning them. Those deemed immoral, or (again more often) in debt have Caenum, black beads denoting how much they owe the Trust. Those Trustees in debt seem to exist in something close to slavery, constantly having to do more and more work to try to break even. And the entire Trust society is built on their backs.

Below the Un is a velvet black fog so thick it lays like an ocean at the bottom of this universe, its surface an obsidian mirror. This is the Fold, a place where a dark mist can penetrate through anything and bring with it Tearrors, events in which the fabric of reality itself seems to tear itself apart. People and things die or go horribly (or sometimes not horribly) wrong thanks to the Tearrors. These Tearrors can be kept at bay with a weird sort of lightbulb, which is how folks can stay alive in the Fold without completely coming apart at the seams.

And there, at the Meridian, half in the Un and half in the Fold, rolling through both to create perhaps the only place in this universe with both a night and a day, weird as both are, is Midst. A small islet of red dust and weird plants and animals. A place where people live and work and die. A place that feels a lot like a western.

And with that, we have our setting. And within this setting are vast array of characters, but for this particular story, there are three protagonists. Each of them is solely narrated by one of the three narrators, and it is around them that the story and the world of Midst unfolds.

Lark

Lark is perhaps the protagonist we know the least about, but she's also the protagonist who feels the most classically western for this space western. She's a monster hunter living on the outskirts of society on Midst. She sells hides, and she has few friends and fewer words. She's gruff, dangerous, and has lived long enough that she's got a dark past and has seen some shit. She also has a red glove that apparently kills anything it touches, which is cool.

Lark is intelligent, grounded, but is also largely a mystery at this point. She's also got a hound dog named Landlord, who is the best, and is the only character who is apparently guaranteed not to die.

Phineas Thatch

Look at this wet cat of an armored man. Everything about him screams try-hard, wannabe, senpai-notice-me energy. If Lark is the western character, Phineas is the space character, hailing from the Trust. He is in debt, but also the Adsecla (second in command) of an elite group of cop-soldier-celebrities. The media follows them everywhere, which is something of a problem for a guy who is terrible with people and the media in particular. Phineas is a decent guy, fairly good at his job, but nothing he ever does is good enough, and all his best instincts are being systematically squashed by the cult he has fanatically devoted himself to. There is no one who believes in the Trust more than Phineas, even as it's griding him down to nothingness.

If you like a character who is pathetic even when he's doing cool things, who never wins, whose struggles all seem to come to nothing, and you can't quite figure out if the universe just hates him or if he's his own worst enemy (it's probably both), then Phineas is the character for you.

Moc Weepe

Look at him. Just look at this weird, alabaster, spidery guy. I know that I and many of my followers love a bastard man, and Mr. Weepe is a grade A bastard man. He is a co-owner of a cabaret on Midst, and he oozes his way through every scene he's in with some of the best lines and worst actions of the podcast. He has the power to be both alluring and repellant, he's got an absolutely delightfully bizarre voice and and even weirder laugh (and yet is also part of a really cool musical number), and he is both terrifying and pathetic all at the same time. This asshole contains multitudes. And a lot of those multitudes revolve around screwing someone over for his own gain.

He should be the least sympathetic of the protagonists. Lark is a cool and aloof badass. Phineas wants to be a good man. Weepe? He wants to be rich. He wants to be powerful. He is also constantly plagued by a mysterious medical condition that seems to have been brought on by exposure to an extremely severe and almost-lethal Tearror. He is somehow, weirdly, sympathetic, at least up to a point, and not nearly as clever as he thinks he is. What can I say? I am predictable, and Moc Weepe is definitely my favorite of the protagonists, even if he's demonstrably the worst.

I won't spoil the plot, as that's part of the fun. I can at least spoil the first scene, which is also the finale of the first season (they loop back to explain how they got to this event throughout the run of the first season): we are on Midst. All three protagonists are there.

And the moon has just exploded in the sky.

#midst podcast #an introduction to tempt others to get into this thing with me #join me!!#Lark #Phineas Thatch #Moc Weepe

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lovelyrecs · 5 months ago

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wowowow ari i won't lie i read through the entirety of this two days ago while i was half asleep in bed and i loved it so much. definitely seeing what captured me so very deeply with harmless and i enjoyed it SO much. now i will do what i was too sleep to and reblog PROPERLY. your memes btw. huge fan. huuuuge fan like i cannot, i slept and i dreamt some of them no joke

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

of course they do and of course he is. sam is kind and funny and would actually talk to his fans, nat is cool and scary and they like the intrigue and clint is insane

“I don’ care,” he mumbles.

HELP ME the wittiest one liner he could come up with is a three-year old's snotty mumble. matches up.

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV.

this is very sad to me. however, the image of steve rogers hunched over a tiny laptop, angrily typing an email to the dmv is very very nice. but not nearly as nice as him later on going to the actual dmv, waiting in the long ass line with his arms crossed and then talking sternly to the clerks and etc while bucky stands behind him silently

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.” Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

THAT WOULD BE SO

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested.

scott!!! he WOULD and i would gobble it all up. i love that man. he's the people's princess and every time the interns get to work with him they let out a collective sigh of relief

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions.

THE BACKGROUND??? LIKE A CRYPTID?? the content he will give is my profile picture-esque. just a blurry very petulant small face

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

LMAOO i have to say, though, what works works

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to.

ari is that an actual thing that exists

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was–

THAT'S SO SWEET STOP IT I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT HIS LITTLE FIGURES

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

PUPPET HISTORY also imagine if he'd said yes to puppets

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

IMAGINE THE AUDIENCE CHEERING LIKE IN A SITCOM. SHE'S BACK OH MY GOD DEAR READER

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.”

HELP ME she's so me

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” “No.” “That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

I CANNOT THEY (you) MAKE MEMES OF HIM WHERE HE'S THE SKINWALKER LMAOO also like how she didn't expand at all like you get what you get suck it up you can use context clues “At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

she's right, you have to look at the bright side. skinwalker bucky boyfriend. small wins.

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?” “For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.” Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

i love her <3 also very clever way of leaving it open for readers ari u are a genius

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

LMAO why is he such a problem child and then pretends he doesn't know that. bucky barnes you make a conscious effort to be a little shit

ari shurisneakers you have done it again. live in my brain.

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently.

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

Bucky has the audacity to look offended.

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused.

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles.

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit.

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week.

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling.

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.”

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive.

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there.

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks.

They give him access to his Twitter.

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening.

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening.

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it.

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees.

Therefore, it begins.

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions.

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution.

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.

He is not put in another video.

And so he finds himself here.

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up.

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows.

“No.”

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad.

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was–

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily.

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now.

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head.

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question.

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked.

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night.

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly.

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.”

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them.

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?”

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–”

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum.

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together.

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it.

You were… loud. And open.

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium.

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

“Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow.

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates.

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head.

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues.

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud.

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?”

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay.

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly.

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table.

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

#bucky barnes series rec #bucky barnes author rec #bucky barnes rec

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marchingbandtshirt · 6 months ago

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In regard to the tags on a previous post, I think it’s about time I come clean about some personal things related to a discord server I had been in and was removed from several months ago, and why. I won’t say everything in this post will be 100% objective or “what really happened,” but it will be at the very least the most honest I can be about the whole situation.

I joined a server sometime last year that was all about the inFAMOUS game series, something I’d gotten back into after the Destiny fixation wore off (which is now back again. lol. lmao even), and very importantly to me it was a server largely focused around the various OCs of its members. I love creating ocs for anything I’m a fan of, and finding a whole community of people for this tiny niche fandom that was geared towards what interests me the most about fan culture was like a dream come true. It was a pretty contained server as well, which was also very nice, as I tend to be overwhelmed easily by large servers even if the culture there is generally positive. The members were all extremely welcoming and friendly towards everyone who joined, which in hindsight just makes me all the more frustrated with myself over what happened, that I would ruin my relationships with so many wonderful people because of my own vices.

To get right down to it, I was removed over sending a controversial piece of nsfw-adjacent writing about my ocs (both over 18, both unrelated, just to be clear). I’m not going to repeat what I’d posted, that will forever remain between me and the locked note sealed away in notes app quarantine. In truth, what I had written hadn’t even been 100% in earnest, it was really just me trying to be “one of the cool kids” with an idea that had been only half-thought out and poorly executed, compounded by the fact that I wrote it all in a blur really late into the night and sent it without thinking. It feels pretty stupid as to why I would do such a thing, looking back on it now, but insecurity’s a hell of a brain poison when you’re in the midst of things.

By “one of the cool kids” I mean that the general server culture around nsfw topics was fairly lax, from my perspective, and it seemed like no one was really afraid to delve into convos or writing around characters’ kinks or sexual situations with various pairings. Since becoming a part of the server, I got the feeling of missing out on something everyone else was enjoying because I wasn’t doing the same, like I was standing outside looking through a window at a fun party everyone was invited to except for me. I’ve been a writer for a while now, but before then I barely had any experience writing about explicit topics or kinks (even my own), and I was admittedly way out of my depth with multiple things I’d written of that caliber that I shared in the server before, including my fateful message. In the moment, it seemed rather harmless, with two of my own characters who both enjoy pushing each others’ buttons in certain ways, but in actuality what I sent ended up making several people who read it uncomfortable with the subject.

To be completely honest, many of the conversations that happened before in the nsfw channel had also made me personally uncomfortable (YKINMKATO), so I just kept it muted, checking it on my own time when I could be in the right headspace. That meant I was largely unaware of any conversation happening around my post at the time until I checked the channel again later and saw multiple people’s comments about it, which in turn made me hastily write a follow-up to try and explain things better in context, but instead that just made everything worse and led to me being removed from the server due to a conversation I was never privy to. I don’t blame the admin or mods or anyone for how they responded at all, in hindsight it was largely deserved, and not just for that reason alone.

I won’t sugarcoat the situation. The way I engaged with the community and the people themselves before then, after the initial bout of anxiety around talking about my characters with others wore off, had frankly become unhealthy for me and unpleasant for everyone else. I let insecurity, jealousy, entitlement, and selfishness go to my head and mix into a really toxic mindset that made me think of it less as a collective of likeminded fans and more as a hierarchy of popularity. Instead of truly engaging in fandom and celebrating others’ creations, I’d just stew and rot in my own emotions because the same amount of “engagement” others had wasn’t happening with me, the most important person in the server (/s). I talked a big game about my own wip and still have next to nothing to show for it (I don’t know if I’ll ever have anything to show for it now, even if I want to). I derailed convos on others’ channels to talk about my own things and steer them towards myself, on several occasions. In general I’d been very inconsiderate and self-absorbed to my fellow fans, and that wasn’t fair for anyone involved. I was just making myself miserable, and as a result I ended up hurting the people I was supposed to call my friends. If not for that message, then it would’ve been just a matter of time before something else got me removed, I’m sure.

There’s really no excuse for my actions given that they caused other people harm. Honestly, if I ever was given a second chance to return, even in good faith, I don’t know if I would. The damage has already been done, and all I can do now is try to amend myself and move forward to do better in the future and not let my insecurities blind me to the positive relationships I do have. But for what it’s worth, if anything at all, I’m sorry.

I really do miss you guys.

#long post #infamous fan club discord server #to anyone it may concern reading this: i hope you can forgive me someday

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tribbetherium · 2 years ago

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In the Sub-Arcuterran cavern system, food is scarce, and many creatures remain small. The restricted space and scant resources has hindered the development of bigger animals, for millions of years. Yet as the natural procedures of erosion further expand the cavern system into a wide network of tunnels and chambers in multiple layers and shapes, and the inclusion of mocklichens and meatmoss begin to flourish in the abyssal darkness, the strange subterranean world had slowly become increasingly more conducive to the evolution of larger creatures. None of them would quite measure up to the largest megafauna of the outside world: yet, by troglofauna standards, some have gotten very big indeed.

The pink eldriphant (Trogloelephoides inambulo) is one of the largest extant species that roams the caverns: standing over five feet at full height and weighing up to 200 pounds in the bigger specimens, it towers over most other troglofauna which generally average to roughly large rat-size. It is the tallest of a group of large-bodied, fungivorous daggoths known as biblarodons: feasting on the abundant mocklichens and meatmoss, which technically would make them omnivores, growing in great quantities along the floors and walls of the caves, they would in essence fill niches of large grazers on the surface, which in turn would be exploited by the caverns' resident top carnivores, the badger-sized blindmutts.

The pink eldriphant, in particular, has specialized to "browse" on mocklichens and meatmoss that grow higher up on the cave walls and hanging down from the roof, well out of reach of other "grazers". Its longer limbs and nasal tendrils allow it a greater range to reach high up onto walls and overhanging stalactites to find and reach food using sensory hairs on the tendrils and small taste-bud analogs on the tips, allowing it to discern whether the objects it feels are edible or not. Having multiple sensitive appendages is an advantage in the pitch black of the caves, and thus the eldriphant, like all biblarodons, has modified the first two fingers of its forelimbs and the last four fingers of its hindlimbs into long, flexible feelers, which probe about both fore and aft to aid in navigation like walking sticks, while the eldriphant walks about on ten finger-limbs, equipped with hooked claws that both aid in traction as well as for defense, in addition to its sharp incisors.

Eldriphants are highly sociable creatures, seeking safety from predatory blindmutts in groups of up to twenty individuals traveling together as they forage. They communicate through heat signatures, which they achieve by flushing blood vessels on their transluscent, pigment-less skin, giving them a very distinctive bright pink color. Yet as they are blind, like all daggoths, this display is instead detected by fellows using specialized temperature receptors like those of some bats, located on their facial tendrils, allowing them to communicate more discreetly as opposed to scent or sound that can easily alert enemies.

Unusually among daggoths, the pink eldriphant also practices extended parental care, unlike other species that birth tiny marsupial-like offspring that nurse attached to the parent for a few days before dropping off to live an independent quasi-larval lifestyle. Instead, young eldriphants detatch from the mother at a later time, when they are more developed, and continue to follow her around, keeping their facial tendrils in regular contact with her rear feelers to avoid getting lost, and seeking refuge in the midst of her numerous finger-limbs whenever they feel threatened. As the typical eldriphant litter can have as many as eight offspring at a time (which even then pales in comparison to even bigger typical daggoth litters), the young ones in turn form a chain one after the other as they follow their mother, feeling and orienting with each other's rear feelers in turn as they parade along single file through the pitch darkness of the cavernous mazes that they call home.

#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise #ask #species profile

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callmearcturus · 3 years ago

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SOMEONE ASKED ABOUT MECHANICAL KEYBOARDS

Oh god where to even begin.

I consider custom keyboards to be in that specific niche of "luxury functional" devices. Folks may recall I got mine basically as a gift from my very very kind followers when I was in the midst of writing KTOWL on a fucking cramped Surface keyboard that was actively fucking up my wrists. I wanted to get something that was a meaningful investment, that I could use to write a metric fuckton of words without worrying so much about fucking RSIs.

And now I have TWO because my bro Treeprince bought me another, so I have one for work and one for writing and they are fantastic.

Top: NovelKeys NK87 Entry Edition kit, Jukebox MT3 keycaps from Drop, Akko Wine Red pre-lubed switches. Bottom: NovelKeys NK65 kit, Timeless Violet Cherry keycaps from Keebmonkey, NK Silk Olivia pre-lubed switches (included in kit).

Okay so what the fuck does that mean?

When you get into this hobby, you are probably going to first Buy a completed keyboard kit then modify it to your tastes later. This is what I did! I got the NK67 Olivia Kit, which came as a full assembled ready to go keyboard in a cute carry case, and I plugged it in and I started typing! Then I bought another keycap set and then Andy got the MT3 Jukeboxes so Tree got me another kit and blah blah.

Once you have a keyboard, the physical case and the brain/PCB you can swap out two things: Keycaps and Switches. This is where the heavy customization come into play.

Lets talk about Switches first.

Switches are these guys.

They sit underneath the keycaps and they are the thing you press on that touches the brain/PCB of the board and makes the letter appear on your screen. Switches are what make a keyboard mechanical. If you are typing on a normal low price keyboard, you are probably typing on a Membrane Keyboard, which has a sheet of rubbery plastic rather than actual switches.

It took me a long time to figure out that I hated membrane because it kind of hurt my fingers? Like to make the key appear, I would have to FULLY press down on the key and bottom it out and it didn't have any resistance and getting into the habit of pressing every single key as hard as I could-- look, I write several thousands words a day. That fucking hurts after a while.

The difference with switches is that they are a tiny mechanism with a spring that bounces back up. They have an actuation point where the keystroke registers. They have different 'weights' that determine how hard you have to press to reach the actuation point. They also have three main "types":

Linear, Tactile, and Clicky

Clicky: Has an extra plastic bit in the switch housing that MAKES MORE NOISE, these guys are MEANT to be loud. They are imo annoying but they definitely have their fans.

Linear: Smooth press and return, straight up and down. Quietest switch.

Tactiles: The way the mechanism of the switch works, they give you a "tactile bump" when you press and release them. Someone once described it as like popping bubble wrap, the bit of resistance and then the break and bounce back.

You're probably going to want Tactiles or Linears, but if you want a rundown of all three types and more details, here:

youtube

There are also like… fancy boutique switches? Like you will probably hear people talking about shit like the BOX JADES and the HOLY PANDAS and the UT4 BOBAS and such. That's…. high level hobby stuff and really expensive and I would not worry about it.

My advice for starting out with switches is get either some NovelKey Silks or some Akkos. Both are more budget options (especially the Akkos) that give you a customized experience without requiring you to pay out the fucking nose.

Lets take a look at the ones I am typing on right now:

These are the Akko Wine Reds Lubed.

LUBING IS A HUGE DEAL TO THE KEEB HOBBY. Lubing makes a dramatic difference in the sound that the switches make. Like, enormous. It softens and widens the noise profile of the switch and makes the feel better. Now, if you hang around Keeb community spaces, they swear up and down you need to handlube your switches, with is a literally actually hours long arduous process in which you dismantle every single tiny switch, take some mechanical lube and a lil paintbrush, and you lube every single fucking nope nope nope fuck that nope. I'm not doing it and I don't think you should be doing it. SO instead, just get pre-lubed switches. I have them and they're fine.

So my Wine Reds are Linear, so they don't give me a 'tactile bump' and move smoothly. They require a force of 43gf to press, which is how hard you need to push for it to move. High force is, like, 70. Low low low force is like 30. If you're like me and don't want ur fingers to hurt, its tempting to go super low, but that can lead to mistyping, so resist the urge. Between 40 and 60 is probably good. And the pre-travel is how far you are pushing before the key stroke happens. You don't want that to be too far either but if its too short than you can mistype. Mines 1.9mm and that feels fine.

There are MANY options out there for switches. Here are the ones I researched and was seriously considering for myself before getting my Wine Reds:

AKKO:

Lavender Purple (Tactile, VERY popular cheap switch)

TCC Bluish White (Tactile, bit too much force for me but might be nice for Spacebar/Modifier keys)

Matcha Green (Linear, but force is 50g so it's up there, but apparently feels great to type on)

NovelKeys:

NK_Silk Olivias (came with my first keeb! Linear, low force needed, really nice and quiet)

NK_Cream BOX (has a wider stem which in theory makes for a more steady press, linear)

Kailh BOX Royal (Tactile, actuates at 45g force, bottoms at 70g, that sounds interesting for like spacebars and modifers I think)

There's also a ton of Drop but I'm not interested in Super Fancy ones like the Holy Pandas. They sound Fine to me in all the videos but idk I'm cheapass.

Also if you wanna do Akko, some fucking HERO AND LEGEND did a fastpaced review of nearly every single Akko switch and it's AMAZING.

youtube

OKAY BUT YOU DON'T SEE THE SWITCHES ONCE THEY ARE ON THE KEEB BECAUSE THEY WILL BE COVERED BY

KEY CAPS

This is the fun part. Keycaps are the thinks you probably think of as keys. They are the physical things you are bouncin' your fingers on, and they come in a lot of colors and profiles (shapes) and they are always way more expensive than you think will be.

quality is bad but you get the idea

Only you are going to know what kind of keycaps you want and there are a metric fuckton so here's general advice:

SEARCH FOR IN-STOCK KEYCAPS. The Keeb community is fucking weird in that they do this thing called "group buys" which are overpriced limited runs on super special keycaps. You buy into them during the Interest Check period and then you get them in the mail after they're actually made. This can take anything from 3 months to over 2 fucking years. Just… don't. Look for in-stock shit. There's plenty around.

ABS vs PBT. These are the materials the keys are made of. Generally speaking it seems PBT is better, it doesn't get that finger smudge shine as quickly, but there's still plenty of good ABS out there.

I would really really really recommend trying to buy from a US-located company because the fucking shipping is atrocious otherwise. Buy fron Drop or Novelkeys, and you're going to get your stuff in a week or less. Buy from KBRepublic and you'll be paying out the ass for shipping and it'll get there in 2 months. (Or will be cancelled 40 days after you ordered them and you'll have to put in a ticket for a refund, just buy from your continent, jfc.)

As usual, Akko has AMAZINGLY well-priced options and a lot of their stuff is on Amazon. If you can, get their shit from Amazon. I ordered my Wine Reds direct and they took 3 agonizing weeks and in that time the Wine Reds came back into stock on Amazon. SIGH.

PROFILES MATTER but you probably won't know what you like. At the moment I have three keycap sets, SA/MT3, DSA, and Cherry. Cherry and OEM are the ones you are probably used to unless you are using shitty chiclet keys. I like my Cherry profiles alright (you can see them in my photo, the smaller keeb) but I am IN LOVE with my MT3s. They have a lil scoop on top on the cap that my finger lands in when I press and it makes touch-typing easier. Love them to death. But this is going to be ENTIRELY preference. Here's a chart:

There are so many ADORABLE looking DSA/XDA caps but the typing experience would suck imo.

Also Cherry caps are noisier than my SA/MT3s. (MT3 is a mod of SA, they're on Drop, blah blah.)

SO WHAT TO BUY, WHERE TO START

i have no idea, what do you want?

I have the NovelKeys NK65 and NK87 kits and I love them and they feel INCREDIBLY sturdy and come with carry cases so I can safely take them to work (I do a lot of data entry, these help).

Spacehussy got the Drop Alt and is extremely happy with their build, you can see it over here.

Whatever you get, you WANT TO GET "HOTSWAP". This means you can swap the switches on the fly. If it does not say hotswap, you will be stuck with your switches or you will have to DESOLDER THEM to get them off. Ick.

If you want a budget option, I'm not gonna lie, this guy's video covers a lot of very cheap, very good basics well. Those keebs with the removeable skirt you can spraypaint? Holy shit that's genius.

youtube

(He sounds VERY YOUTUBEY but he knows wtf he's talking about and is frankly way less pretentious than uh some other options. I love to listen to Hipyotech but boy is he kind of a snob.)

Here's just some options you might like that were on my wishlist when I was still researching keebs:

Keydous NJ80 Bluetooth RGB Hot-Swappable Keyboard

This one is fully built at 200$, you can get it cheaper as a barebones kit if you know you wanna buy your own caps/switches. It's got a knob!

Womier TKL RGB Hot-Swappable Acrylic Mechanical Keyboard

I don't personally like the ALL GLOWY thing but a lot of people want a big brick that glows. Voila, this is one of those! And Womier has a good reputation.

AKKO 3068B Plus

AKKO is the king of budget and that's really all there is to say on the matter.

GENERAL STORES I HAVE BOOKMARKED

I have an entire fucking folder of Keeb bookmarks, it's dreadful.

DROP (boards, switches, the fabled MT3 keycaps but WAIT FOR A SALE jfc)

NovelKeys (boards, caps, switches, kits, everything, also is in the US and has good labor practices which matters to me)

VENDOR LIST (this is just a list of trusted vendors AND its organized by where they are located so if you are trying to avoid long shipping times, this is hella useful)

Keychron (extremely sturdy, well-priced boards with extremely ugly caps. good starting point if you know you're gonna want to customize)

CannonKeys (everything shop, kinda pricy but you'll find fancy caps here as well as the infamously good Bakaneko boards)

KineticLabs (keycaps that aren't outrageously priced)

KPrepublic (ENORMOUS selection, but based in China so shipping times are gonna suck, ppl say if you go to their AliExpress shop you can get some things cheaper)

KBDfans (HUUUUUGE selection and has a lot of prebuilts and they will ADD MODIFICATIONS to the board as they build it but you will be paying for each fucking mod, but if you have cash to burn and want someone to lube everything and tape mod it and add foam for you, this is the place. lots of everything. also apparently is cheaper thru Ali.)

r/mk is the hobby's hub but let me warn you right away: these people are fucking snobby snob snobs. come here to look at pretty pictures or to ask specific questions in the daily thread.

there's a ton more but i've been working on this post for like 4 hours now so bye

#THIS IS A LONG FUCKING POST #i'm sorry #mechanical keyboards #Youtube

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remlos · 4 years ago

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remlo on valentine’s day

inbetween remi preparing for the safe house opening and how arlo is with plans, is anyone really surprised remlo would be super crazy about this holiday

remi plans out the perfect valentine’s a month in advance

arlo: this has to be. the most immaculate day. ever

he buys remi roses and bc remi is a little demon that knows exactly how to get under arlo’s skin she brings him a box of white chocolate candy

if uno was a true school shounen manga, they’d probably have fanclubs that give them stacks of gifts

remi goes to her first period desk and there’s mountains of chocolates and letters and enough flowers to make a florist pass away

she thanks the people who gave her things and they all end up fainting on the spot

arlo is the same too but the difference between them is that while remi takes the candy arlo sweeps them off of his desk because he would only accept gifts on this day from his future wife as a formal declaration of dedication

“this isn’t from remi.... what is this... poison”

there would be a dozen classmates hiding behind the classroom door watching his every move wondering “will he accept the gifts this year”

they collectively sigh in disappointment when he dumps them all into the back of the room

during lunch remi whips out the heart-shaped straws for the milkshake they’re going to share in the cafeteria for their cute couple photo (yes they are literally THAT highschool couple 🤢)

after school... cupcake bakery classes??

remlo together are way too chaotic, the teacher would get so sick of them because of how they aren’t concentrating (the flirting 🙄)

arlo “accidentally” gets batter on remi’s nose so he can lean down to lick it off and the teacher is like “YOU’LL GET SALMONELLA”

when the cupcakes are in the oven she can’t wait to get rid of them

remi: oh can we go out while they’re baking

the teacher, swinging open the front door: PLEASE

while they decorate remi secretly nabs the toppings leaving arlo wondering why they're already out

she’s having the time of her life making little frosting smiley faces and hearts meanwhile arlo is sweating over how to ration the frosting under the time crunch they’re under

remi is fine with the cupcakes being a little messy as long as they’re still cute and taste good but arlo loses it

“YOU PUT WAY TOO MUCH ICING. IT’S TOTALLY GOING TO TOPPLE OVER ITSELF ON THE RIDE HOME”

in his head ofc. because today is supposed to go perfect and he will not mess it up

remi frosts a super sloppy cupcake and arlo is like. thats so ugly what the hell is it supposed to be and she’s like “🤬 🤬 US”

as revenge for the batter, while they’re cleaning up remi flicks some water on him while they’re both at the sink

the cupcakes do not survive the ride home they are inhaled immediately

2 dessert lovers + cupcakes = 0 cupcakes left over

they go out to windowshop and burn through every single one of them on the way

arlo plans on keeping at least half of the dozen they made but remi offers him one and then two and then by the time he realies he’s been blindly accepting them there’s nothing left to gram

they reserve a seat at some tiny niche restaurant with a view of the town

as soon as they get to their seating remi’s already looking over the rail to watch the sunset

remi: i’m SOOOOOO FULL!! i have literally NO idea how we’re going to get through dinner [inhales the penne alla vodka]

her stomach = tarturus

they try to reenact the lady and tramp spaghetti scene to no avail

the noodle keeps breaking off and sauce hits them both in the face, arlo gets a heart attack in fear of it getting on his cashmere

towards the end of their dinner, remi would be like “thanks for today 🥰” nd arlo just smiles fondly and kisses her forehead

they catch an uber and remi is out like a light the second they step inside of the car

if the next day they have school arlo tries to get remi to finish her work that night instead of the morning of but between the food and remi dozing off over her books he gives up and scoops her up and into bed

+ bonus headcanons:

remi's photo album is FILLED

arlo’s ig is literally just one pic of wellston from the rooftop captioned “order” and another pic of him, remi, and rei

meanwhile remi uploads their cutest pics with captions like “with asslo AGAIN”

everyone wishes they were them so bad

“everyone @ arlo nd tell him my cupcake’s cuter” and sera is the only one gutsy enough to comment that

arlo just makes the -____- face when he opens up the notif

in the midst of all the ultra 1920x1080 hd aesthetic shots are all their ugly candids, posted onto the close friends story (isen is screenshotting)

arlo always gets really good standstill shots of the scenery and remi when she’s not paying attention

never shows them to her so whenever she’s scrolling through his phone she’s like “WTF THIS WOULD’VE MADE SUCH A GOOD COVER PHOTO”

he’s like “okay so why don’t you just post it now” and she’s like “😡😡 it’s too late u wouldnt understand”

whenever remi’s choosing photos and goes to arlo for a second opinion he always picks out the ones she doesn’t like

she’s like “wtf why that one it’s so blurry” but it’s the pic where she’s smiling the brightest or something

arlo doesn’t explain himself ever so that combined with his ig posts makes her believe he’s just a boomer (not incorrect) when his personal favorite photos of her are the ones where she’s completely in the moment

#remlo #arlo x remi #remi x arlo #unordinary arlo #unordinary remi #unordinary #unordinary webtoon #remlo headcanons #remlo on valentine’s day

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uniformbravo · 4 years ago

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having a full on existential crisis over an episode of anime i watched tonight

it all started with big time rush

in 2009 a sitcom called big time rush aired for the first time on nickelodeon; it was about a group of four teenaged boys from minnesota who move to hollywood under a famous producer to become his next big boy band sensation. a simple premise, launched into unprecedented success, resulting in four seasons of musical shenanigans, three full music albums, and three big concert tours, including international shows. the band, both fictional and real life, featured four attractive young men by the names of kendall, james, carlos, and logan. they quickly gained a fan base of mostly teenage girls, which resulted in online spaces created for the purpose of sharing their passion, and as is common in such online communities, this certainly involved fanfiction- lots of it.

enter me, a teen in high school who loved to write fanfiction. my big time journey began the day my younger sister decided to put on the show big time rush in the living room, where i sat at the family computer typing away. the noise caught my attention, and i got sucked into the episode. there was a boy wearing a dress on the screen. i became interested.

i watched more of the show. i typed its name into the search bar on the website fanfiction dot net. i had a friend at school who shared my interest in fanfiction, particularly of the slash variety. i introduced her to this new show i had been watching. she shared a fanfic she had enjoyed immensely with me. we dragged each other into the world of big time rush fanfiction reading and writing.

it took over my life; i lived and breathed big time rush. i began posting my own stories to fanfiction dot net. i received positive feedback; i met people. i made friends- two people in particular who became very close friends. we communicated through ffn’s private messaging system, then through email. we talked every day, we wrote stories for and with each other, we exchanged phone numbers. it was one of these friends who introduced me to the website called tumblr, where fellow fans of our beloved big time rush gathered and talked about it- a community.

it was a slow start- this website was new and unfamiliar to me- but eventually i got the hang of things and settled into my niche. i had fun, gained followers, met even more people. tumblr was a place not only for sharing one singular interest, but for accumulating all of your various interests and celebrating them in one place. it was through this aspect that i first learned of the up and coming band known as one direction.

they had released their first smash hit single and everyone was talking about it. i was wary, far too loyal to my beloved big time rush- but eventually i started to feel left out and in an effort to feel included, i decided to take the plunge and see what this “1d” was all about. it was intimidating, though- there was so much information, and no apparent beginner’s guide to tell me where to start. this drove me to making a post calling for a “one direction buddy” to take this role, to introduce me to all the most important aspects of this band. and my call was answered.

enter my wonderful friend cam, a follower of mine at the time. they were into both big time rush and one direction and were eager to provide me with all the information needed to get into 1d. while ultimately this venture didn’t amount to anything, as i lost interest in becoming a fan, my friendship with cam persisted and we grew very close. even as time went on and big time rush faded into the background to be replaced with newer, fresher interests, and our paths as fellow fandom members split, we kept in contact and remained friends. years and years of fandoms, years and years of friendship.

in the midst of the tenth year, cam developed a new interest, in a sport called ice hockey. as is tradition, they shared their passion with me, showing me their favorite team, highlighting their favorite members. we watched a game together. personally, i’ve never been one for sports, but i am quite into anime, which consists of many genres, including the “sports” genre. one in particular that i’ve enjoyed immensely in the past is the volleyball anime, haikyuu!!. this anime devotes a lot of time to explaining and depicting the sport in a way that makes it easy for any viewer to understand the rules and inner workings of volleyball. it’s exciting. it’s the first time i’ve ever even adjacently been invested in a sport. one could even call it a gateway into the world of sports.

all this to say, when i watched that game of ice hockey with cam, the same parts of my brain that loved haikyuu!! lit up and in a classic display of my specific brand of interest, i found myself yearning for the epic highs and lows of ice hockey, but in an animated format. an animated format originating in japan. a japanese animation. an anime. my curiosity burned a hole in my brain that resulted in a combination of the google search bar and the words, “hockey anime”.

to my disappointment, i found nothing- at least, not to the degree i was hoping. there is an upcoming anime, slated to air in the fall 2021 anime season, about a group of girls who form an ice hockey team together- as it is an original project rather than an adaptation, it remains to be seen whether the anime will fall into the category of “sports anime,” or if indeed it will lean much more closely to the “moe” genre. the latter is not what i had in mind during that particular search.

adding the anime called “pride of orange” to my “plan to watch” list on myanimelist dot com, i moved onto the next result: an article about an early 2010’s anime i had never heard of before. while not about the sport i was looking for, it featured a character whose signature weapon was a field hockey stick. it wasn’t even the right sport. it was a weak, insignificant link, but all was not lost.

i happen to have an affinity for watching anime i happen upon completely by random and know little to nothing about; i found the movie “anthem of the heart” purely coincidentally, when i searched the name “jun” as part of some research for one of my original characters and discovered that it was the main character of said movie, which i then watched and ended up enjoying quite a lot. another time, when i was at best buy one day i happened upon a dvd on their dedicated anime shelf for a movie called “hana and alice”, which i had never heard of before. i liked the box art, so i took a picture of it to remember the title and watched it on my own later that week; it became one of my favorite movies.

with these and other similar experiences in mind, i saved the anime in my “plan to watch” list, and, later that same week, began my watch of “sket dance.”

it’s a school comedy anime, one of my favorite genres, so it’s no surprise that after overcoming the initial skepticism i carry into every new show i watch it quickly became my new fixation. not an obsession, but something i was pleasantly surprised to find consistently enjoyable. the characters are fun, the humor is tight and fresh, and the stories are unexpectedly touching at the right moments. everything i like to see.

which brings us to tonight. the culmination of this ten plus year string of events and occurrences. getting into big time rush. joining tumblr. meeting cam. watching anime. searching for hockey anime.

i put down my apple(TM) pencil. i set my ipad aside. i downsized the ebook window i’d been referencing. i stretched; i was hungry and tired. i’d been rereading passages of various animorphs books all day. i needed a break. i needed to sit back with some food and an episode of my latest comfort watch, sket dance. it’d be nice to set the dramatic, tragic world of animorphs aside for something lighthearted and fun in its place.

well.

i sat down with my bowl of strawberries and played the episode. it finished. i watched another. this one broke the formula a bit, played with the art style. i was into it. the preview for the next episode was mysteriously blank, and short, stating only the title. it was intriguing. i’m down for the show to get a bit more serious for an episode, i thought. i’m down for some potential backstory for one of the main three. i’m ready.

i was not ready.

bruh.

b r u h .

next two episodes proceeded to take me out back and beat me to within an inch of my life, slowly at first and then all at once. barely made it out alive. questioning everything. how can a show, so silly and goofy, do that, to me. how could i let my guard down like that. how could i be so tricked, and deceived, and blindsided like this. i don’t know who to trust. i don’t know if i can trust again. whiplash so damaging, permanent. i thought i wanted answers. i thought i wanted to know backstory. i didn’t want this. i never wanted this. emptiness

how did it come to this, these twelve years of my life. had i known back then, would i have posted that fanfiction? would i have joined tumblr? would i have sook out a “one direction buddy”? a hollow husk of a person, i am left with only my thoughts to ponder this small history of mine. the things i could have done differently. the things others could have done differently. all these butterfly effect moments, adding up to what? culminating in what? it’s 2:26 am and i’m writing an essay on how shook i am over that episode instead of going to sleep. but i can’t just say nothing, you know? i need to put something out there, reach deep enough within myself to find the thing that’s still there, broken and huddled and tiny as it is. i need to feel some semblance of the self again. the me from before i watched this episode. the innocent version of myself, blissful in ignorance. it’s too late now.

that episode…………..was fucked up. that was seriously fucked up. im not okay bro they really just came in left field and slapped that in my face expecting me to get up and walk away just fine afterwards like No that isn’t how this Works y’all need to bundle some therapy sessions with ur episodes pullin that shit come ON

exhaustion is taking over the shock, i am simply tired now. i will fall asleep and when i wake up sket dance will be a happy fun show again with NO fucked up backstories ever Or Else. i’m fucking serious right now i’m gonna count to 3 and that shit better be retconned when i turn around,

screams

thank you

#tldr sket dance has some really fucked up shit in it & i wasn’t expecting it & im having a crisis #it was supposed to be funnie clown show not ouchie oof show #how did it end up like this #fuck. christ. what the fuck #retag later #ani blogging #me watchin this show: yea this is fun like idk if i see myself getting /invested/ invested but i’m enjoying myself nonetheless!#gets to That Episode: …../oh./ oh i /see./ we’re doing That Shit huh #*sound of me getting /invested/ invested*#just a neat lil show about funy jokes :)#wheeeeeeee

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modanon · 4 years ago

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Want to make new blog, but fandom is tiny, fandom is niche...

But also domestic fluff between my faves in the midst of eldritch apocalypse...

#but i also already have three other blogs i can barely keep track of oof #but if i don't make a blog of shipping haru and kana from world of horror who will?#spunky tiny cyclops wife and her ex yakuza husband who's easily surprised #his base intelligence stat is 5. he's a dumb boy #they have the chemistry of the I'm not at the beach this is a bathtub meme #and that's the best kind tbh dont @ me

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ducktracy · 5 years ago

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155. picador porky (1937)

release date: february 27th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: tex avery

starring: joe dougherty (porky), mel blanc (drunks), billy bletcher (bull)

while mel blanc provided porky’s shrieks in porky the wrestler, this is often considered his first role in a warner bros cartoon, or at least a role of substantial size. porky has also been considerably slimmer down. other directors such as ub iwerks and bob clampett would follow suit, with frank tashlin being the lone fat porky straggler. this is where i think looney tunes really start to shift in tone and truly become recognizably looney. porky gets refined, mel blanc puts his foot in the door... great things lie ahead! (and an interesting note—i’m using the porky pig 101 rip for quality, but the title card music is actually ripped from porky’s tire trouble. this is the beginning of many, many, MANY reuses... so get ready.) here, porky assumes the role of a toreador, hoping to win the cash prize with ease as his buddies promise to dress up as a bull and provide an even fight. however, when his buddies get into the bottle, porky finds himself fighting a REAL bull instead, and a cash prize seems none too likely.

the cartoon opens with an expositional foreword:

slumbering peacefully ‘neath the warm caresses of the noonday sun, lies the sleepy little village of la rosita. it presents a scene of serene quietude and beauty as its inhabitants enjoy their mid-day siesta preceding the annual bull-fight. the solitude is broken only by the occasional strains of a soft guitar.

tex does a wonderful job of painting the perfect setting that almost anyone can imagine (even if he does spell preceding as preceeding). and so, of course, it’s only right that the scene after the foreword completely defies every word. gunshots, shouting, people running amuck, a flurry of activity. this setup would be borrowed at the beginning of bob clampett’s naughty neighbors (which, funnily enough, also has the porky’s tire trouble music tacked onto it).

however, tex was right on the soft strains of the guitar: a mariachi band gets together to play “la cucaracha”. a variety of visual gags accompany the music, whether it be men head-butting each other, a man drying himself off with a towel, or a kid poking his head out of a pot carried by his mother, interjecting “swing it, mama, swing it!”, a man shaking a cocktail, you name it. there’s animation reused from a friz cartoon of a girl dancing with a cloth—i believe it may be from billboard frolics.

enter porky and his two mysteriously unnamed buddies, both sliding into view from opposite sides as they all approach the gate to the town. porky and co are nonplussed by the fervent celebration—we get a rolling pan of the action. gunshots, dancing, confetti, the works. a poster tacked up to a tree captures the audience’s attention:

TO-DAY

BULL FIGHT

1000 PESOS

TO THE

WINNER!

the camera then trucks out to reveal porky and his entourage staring at the poster. i was listening to mark kausler’s commentary on porky’s romance (which is coming up very soon, hooray! next porky cartoon!) and he mentioned how the camerawork could be a bit jittery and choppy on zoom outs such as these. the same applies here, the zoom out is a little jittery, but it’s a niche complaint. something i never would have thought to notice! porky signals for his buddies to bend down low, and he whispers an inaudible plan in their attentive ears.

fade out and in to a costume shop, where porky and co hurry inside. a few seconds later and out marches porky in a matador costume, a makeshift bull outfit marching behind, tail pompously raised in the air. topping the gag off, as if it wasn’t obvious, mel blanc provides his first coherent line of dialogue in a warner bros cartoon as the two buddies unmask themselves, reassuring the audience “it’s us!”

elsewhere, the stadium packs full to bursting with eager spectators, waiting to see the bullfight in action. some of the animation of the spectators streaming into the stadium would be reused as an overlay in porky & daffy. elsewhere, porky and his “bull” tiptoe into the back entrance, where they encounter the actual bull for the fight, pent up in a cage that reads “1st event”. the real bull mistakes the fake bull for a female, hearts pouring out as billy bletcher provides an “mmmmm-mmmm!” from the bull.

porky wheels the bull cage out of the way, fetching an empty cage for his buddies to hide out in until the fight. porky tends to his business, leaving his buddies alone, when a pesky bee flies into the cage. clever visuals of the guy in the bottom half trying to smack the bee, his hand clearly sticking out of the tail. the bee lands on the bull’s “butt”, to which the hand promptly smacks. though he hit himself in the process, the guy has successfully taken care of the bee, flicking it offscreen.

meanwhile, a bottle of alcohol catches the attention of the front half. carl stalling debuts his favorite drunken motif of “how dry i am” as the bull head opens up, buddy #1 taking a hearty gulp of the liquor. mel blanc works his magic as #1 wheezes and coughs, sputtering “hey, this is fine stuff!” buddy #2 pokes his head out of the butt and helps himself. wonderful animation as the alcohol settles in, #2 spinning and contorting the bull costume from the impact. he gives his seal of approval by slurring incomprehensibly.

the next scene has some wonderful animation paired with mel blanc’s hiccups. drunk #2 begins to hiccup, sinking back into the bull costume. what starts as a string of hiccups morphs into an uncontrollably frenzy, the bull’s back half rocketing up and down and flailing all over the place as the hiccups render drunk #2 (and #1) useless. eventually, the force of the hiccups is so strong that #2 lodges the entire bull outfit out of the cage, the cage now empty.

in the arena, a trumpeter blares out the beginning fanfare, and a number of miscellaneous doors—wooden, steel, even a safe—slide out of view, one by one, revealing the bullfighter’s entrance. this gag, paired with the same music, would be reused in porky in wackyland and later the remake, dough for the do-do. the gag would be reused to a similar degree in another one of tex’s shorts, northwest hounded police over at MGM. while the gag is funny as it is, even more amusing is that the doors open to reveal absolutely nothing. a beat, and then tiny little porky jumps out of a hidden door to the (our) right of the grand entrance, posing triumphantly. porky shakes his hands in the glory, eating up the applause.

back behind the scenes, a guard notices the bull is missing. he wheels away the cage, and spots the ACTUAL bull, wheeling the real bull back in its rightful place. another door gag as an assistant opens a heavyset door, pulling a string that reveals the door to be a curtain. the bull is riled up, snorting wildly. without any further hesitation, it zooms straight into the arena, spinning porky around in a whirlwind in the process.

porky, believing the bull is still his scamming buddies, whistles in awe and speaks out of the side of his mouth, “take it easy, boys! that was a little close!” with that, virgil ross animates a scene of porky doing magic tricks (i had thought this was bob clampett animation, seeing as he had such an affinity with magic, but the movements, shiny eyelids, and dimensional snout give it away as virgil), the bull running straight into porky‘s telltale cape. the animation is as wondrous as the magic trick to the spectators. porky turns the cloth inside and out—no bull. eventually, he shakes the cloth, and his bull plops out onto the ground. porky strikes a jubilant pose, with an angry bull glaring him down.

suddenly, porky whistles. “hey, caddy!” a man appears with a golf club bag full of toilet plungers. you know, the essentials. porky begins to attach the toilet plungers on the bull, one by one. the bull, enraged, shakes all of the plungers off except for one, that sticks to his butt. determined to get it off, the bull fights with himself, and in the midst of the struggle, the plunger gets stuck on his nose. he struggles to pull it off, but manages to do so, drastically elongating his snout in the process and giving a hilarious, squeaky whimper. the payoff is amusing with the visual, but this is definitely an instance where tex’s gags seemed to be randomly placed in with no merit. why was porky sticking the plungers on the bull in the first place? nevertheless, the bull, now more furious than ever, prepares to attack.

chuck jones is responsible for animating this GLORIOUS next scene. it’s one of my favorite scenes he’s ever animated. of the three specialties, two of them are included—closeups and drunks. dogs is his third, but i guess you could count these guys as dogs. regardless, porky’s hammered buddies suddenly burst into the arena, the bull costume ripped in half (and the owners of each half are switched). drunk #2 accompanies the vocal talents of drunk #1 singing la cucaracha. mel blanc’s vocals are absolutely HYSTERICAL. the hiccups, the slurring, the random YIPPEE! even better is watching drunk #1 get up in drunk #2’s face, completely expressionless (except for a drunken smile), the cow head occasionally concealing his head as it falls down and he props it back up. chuck’s movements are smooth, rubbery, and utterly hilarious. this is a great scene and the first time mel blanc truly shines for all to see.

elsewhere, porky’s still waving his little flag around, but pauses to admire the drunken music. suddenly, a revelation. he recognizes his drunks. he stares at the drunks, and then at the bull, prying open the furious bull’s mouth. sure enough, no pals of his are lodged down the bull’s throat. they’re over yonder singing a hammered rendition of la cucaracha.

mel provides porky’s “WOO!” of terror as he scrambles away. nice bit of a 4th wall break that unfortunately doesn’t realize maximum speed potential as porky runs across the borders of the screen, running up the sides and upside down, the bull hot on his tail. meanwhile, the time keeper (as his plaque labels in his stand) blows on a party streamer, a hammer popping out of the end and slamming on a bell.

porky and the bull freeze in their tracks, porky petrified with terror, so much so that two assistants have to physically pick him up from the ground and carry him off. the bull snaps in frustration and gives porky a promising glare of vengeance.

transition to a non-petrified porky gargling with some liquid and spitting it into a funnel with the guidance of his assistants. the bull goes through the same routine, and when the assistant points to the funnel, the bull grabs it and talks into it instead. “hello, mama! hello, papa! it’s great, fine. wish you were here!” even better is the bull’s contented smile at the end of the “call”. a genius gag that is enhanced by the deep vocals of billy bletcher.

the time keeper blows on his party streamer/hammer, and the hammer stops to whack the keeper in the head instead of the bell, a loud bell chime reverberating regardless. the chase resumes. bob clampett animates the next scene of porky sliding into the safe zone—i love porky’s giant satisfied, ecstatic grins as the bull waits patiently outside, humming (a scene clampett would incorporate in his own porky’s last stand, a mega-favorite of mine). in tex avery fashion, the bull defies all logic by lifting the painted lines off of the ground and towering over a terrified porky, who zooms out of sight.

porky’s drunken buddies notice the plight, and are at least sober enough to take action. #1 whispers in #2’s ear, and we see the fully formed bull (really a cow) costume hide behind a wooden barrier. an arm reaches out and grabs a baseball bat and a plank, calling “moooohoooooo!” (instead of “yoohoo!”) in a seductive catcall. the bull takes the bait, lumbering over to the barrier, where the drunks await with their weapons. even better than the typography zooming out of the scene as the fight ensues is mel blanc YELLING the onomatopoeia out loud, batman style. “bang! bam! bop! wham!” the action freezes. then more violence. finally, a victorious rendition of “the lady in red” as the costumed bull marches proudly out of the barrier, unscathed.

the disguise approaches porky, the head giving a befuddled porky a wink. then, the “bull” flops over on its back, tail straight up, a white flag of surrender waving triumphantly in the wind as porky is showered with applause, beaming and raising his sword.

just as porky’s about to collect his earnings, the REAL bull shakes himself to his senses. porky grabs the money bag from the judges, bowing as he twirls his hat victoriously in the air. the fake bull suddenly panics, zooming off screen. porky turns around to see a very angry, real, slightly bruised bull snorting heavily at him. porky shrugs it off, celebrating some more, until he realizes that That’s The Real Deal. mel blanc provides porky’s panicked HOOHOO!s as porky zooms out of the arena. a clever pause, and porky zips back to the bull, offering his money bag, and rocketing out of sight once more. iris out as the bull grumbles “well, imagine that!”—another catchphrase used from a previous tex cartoon, porky the rain-maker.

as i said before, this is the cartoon that really starts that looney feel to me. half of it is mel blanc’s prominence, the other half being porky’s slight redesign—he’d be even skinnier in tex’s next porky, porky’s duck hunt. this is a great cartoon for its time. tex’s gags are amusing—that setup with the whole “sleepy village which is actually a village in chaos” is just sublime. some gags made more sense than others. while the joke was supposed to be the visual of the bull’s elongated snout, porky covering the bull in toilet plungers felt too incongruous and didn’t really fit in. funny, but kinda just floating there. porky’s duck hunt suffers the same fate with the gag of daffy swallowing an electric eel—very funny, but has nothing to do with any of the adjacent scenes. regardless, you need to see this one. mel’s drunken rendition of la cucaracha is certainly the highlight, but there are a lot of fun gags elsewhere. very high energy, very fun, very feel good. give it a go!

link!

#lt #picador porky #reviews #looney tunes #long post #avery #alcohol tw

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seanfalco · 5 years ago

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More Mistakes Were Made (Part II)

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Valdo Marx x OC [ Aevryn Swift ] Word Count: 2668 Rating: E a/n: Another installment of the Punk!AU ft. my oc & Valdo. I am aware how incredibly self-indulgent and tbqh niche this fic is, so I’m not really expecting much, but I’m fully sailing this disaster ship now and there’s no stopping it. Takes place before Road Trip series. Taglist: @ficsandcatsandficsandcats

[ Part I ]

——

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jaskier muttered under his breath.

Aevryn frowned at her friend’s tone and craned her head as she set the amp she was lugging down heavily, curious to see just what had pissed him off.

“Oh.”

Jaskier swore under his breath, realizing his mistake in calling attention to what he’d seen, as Aevryn’s face fell, the change in her demeanor instant as Valdo Marx sauntered by, no doubt deliberately, seeing as the stage he was set to play at was on the complete other end of the packed field; a girl that looked suspiciously similar to Aevryn on his arm. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear and she laughed before glancing over.

“Nope, that’s it, I’m gunna kill him,” Jaskier muttered, setting his guitar down before Aevryn grabbed his arm as he charged forward, holding him back.

“Just leave it Jask. Please?”

The way her voice cracked only made his anger flare hotter and he scowled. “I’m not just gunna let him get away with this bullshit. He’s deliberately trying to get under your skin and that’s not okay.”

He knew something like this was bound to happen sooner or later after the way Valdo had been acting the last time they met -- the prick seemed particularly obsessed with Aevryn as of late and Jaskier was determined to keep him away from her.

“Jaskier, please. It’s okay,” she repeated. “We have to finish setting up.”

Jaskier threw one last glare at Valdo, growling under his breath before shaking Aev’s hand off his shoulder and turning away to do as she asked. Heaving a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to break up a fist fight, Aevryn glanced over at Valdo, who was nearly past now and her breath caught as his emerald eyes found hers. His pretentious smirk fell away and for a moment Aev saw the vulnerable look he’d given her a couple weeks ago as she’d laid in his arms and he told her how he missed her.

The moment passed and his smirk returned as he threw his arm around the girl’s shoulders and they were swallowed by the crowd, leaving Aevryn staring after, her stomach twisted in knots.

——

She’d made it through all of Vicious Mockery’s set and tear down, telling herself to let it be, but once everyone was just sitting around and she had nothing left to occupy her mind or her hands, Aevryn found herself weaving through the crowd in search of Valdo’s tent.

A queue of teenagers and twenty-somethings waiting for autographs and photos wrapped around the brightly coloured tent, and standing there Aevryn suddenly felt incredibly foolish. She knew she was playing right into his hand and she really had no plan for what she was going to say to him, but anger and hurt coursed through her afresh as she thought of his arm around that two-bit Aevryn knock-off he’d found just to, what, make her jealous?

Well it was working.

Valdo was in the midst of taking a photo with a couple of fans when he noticed her, shooting her a cheeky wink as he smiled for the camera; white teeth flashing.

He has no right to have such a beautiful smile, Aevryn grumped as she waited, crossing her arms over her chest. She could remember all too well how many times that fucking smile had gotten him out of hot water, and even more infuriatingly how many times it had made her traitorous heart skip a beat.

Once he was finished Valdo leaned in close to his manager and whispered something, his gaze flicking to her momentarily. The next thing Aevryn knew Valdo already had his arm around her shoulder, leading her away from the prying eyes as his manager was announcing to the waiting queue, amongst groans and protests that Valdo was taking a short break and would be back in an hour.

“Aevryn, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Valdo asked as he led her under the canopy of trees near the blessedly desolate outskirts of the festival perimeter.

“You know very well why I’m here,” she snapped back, spinning to face him.

He merely cocked an amused eyebrow at her and leaned nonchalantly against the trunk of a nearby tree. “Can’t say as I do,” he quipped, shrugging; his green eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Valdo.” The warning in her tone was clear, but the smug look on his face only deepened.

“Oh, that?” He asked, as if just remembering his very deliberate pass by earlier. “I was just taking a stroll around the festival with a fan. I don’t even remember her name.”

Aevryn couldn’t stop the violent urge to roll her eyes, which was all too familiar to her in Valdo’s company. “Oh, I believe that part of it, but I’m sure her appearance was intentional.”

“What do you mean?” Valdo asked, his faux innocence infuriating.

“I mean the fact that she was basically a dollar store knock off version of me. What the fuck are you doing, trying to make me jealous, Valdo?”

He merely shrugged again, his gaze studying her. “Is it working?”

Yes.

Aevryn managed to bite that knee-jerk response back, instead considering him while she fought to control her breathing.

“You know, if memory serves me, we slept together not long ago,” Valdo said as he pushed off the tree to circle her. “And yet I’ve seen you looking pretty intimate with that groupie on Vicious Mockery’s instagram page. What am I supposed to take from that?” he asked, the amusement disappearing from his eyes though his lips still turned up in a cruel grin.

Aevryn swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Just because we slept together doesn’t mean anything,” she shot back, hating the words as they left her lips, flinching at the way Valdo nodded, as if accepting them.

“Is that why you left without a word while I was still sleeping?” he asked, the tiny tremor in his voice nearly undetectable. Except Aevryn was waiting for it.

“I left a note,” she replied, rounding on him, trying to explain. “I panicked, okay? But like you also follow me on social media, I know you do, so you could have gotten ahold of me any time since then, but you didn’t!” she cried, advancing, her finger jabbing him in the chest. “You made it seem like you wanted to change, but you’re still acting like the same selfish arsehole you were when you lost me the first time.”

Valdo opened his mouth, no doubt to defend himself, but Aevryn didn’t give him the chance.

“I’m so tired of these fucking head games Valdo,” she growled, backing him up against the tree he’d been leaning against earlier and his dark rimmed eyes widened. “I-I refuse to be treated like that again. I have more self respect than that. So if you just expect to fuck me and tell me you miss me and I’ll just come running back to you, don’t fucking count on it.”

“Aev…” he began, trying to get a word in, giving up when it was evident she wouldn’t let him. When she finally paused to breathe Valdo heaved a sigh, “finally,” before leaning in to capture her unready lips in a kiss, taking her completely by surprise.

After that split second of hesitation her body reacted of its own accord, pulling him closer, her hands balling in his loose shirt as if he might disappear into thin air if she let go; her mouth moving against his almost frantically. Every time she kissed him it brought it all back and she was nearly swept away by ache of it -- he, her favourite drug and she, a relapsing addict.

“That’s not fair,” she whispered as they broke for air, still clutching him close to her, her nose brushing his as she gasped for breath, eyelashes fluttering against cheeks.

“What’s not fair?” Valdo whispered back, tilting his face to try to steal another quick kiss.

“Kissing me like that, when I wasn’t expecting it,” she pouted, fighting the urge to push him up against the tree and ravage him. She had some shred of self control, after all.

“All’s fair in love and war babe,” he purred in her ear, his dark curls brushing her face and he spun her; her back landing against the hard bark of the wide tree trunk, his hands cradling her face as he tilted her chin up to plant another breathtaking kiss to her tender lips.

“What are we even doing Valdo?” Aevryn managed to breathe in between the meeting of their lips.

“Obviously we’re making out in the woods.” His snarky response made her snort and she pushed him back.

“You know what I mean,” she insisted; the flash of his grin making her knees weak before his mouth was at her neck and a tiny broken moan escaped her lips. Her breath hitched as his mouth traveled lower, his hand following suit until Aevryn was arching into his palm, her body playing traitor and falling back into the familiar dance, yearning to be touched, to be played like an instrument under his deft musican’s fingers.

“Valdo,” she moaned, biting her lip as her hand slipped behind his head, fingers tangling in the thick curls at the base of his neck while her other hand lingered at his waist, slipping under the hem of his shirt, her fingers brushing skin.

Valdo’s muscles twitched at the featherlight touch, and as her hand splayed further against the warmth of him under his shirt he moaned in turn, teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh of her neck, exposed so trustingly to him.

Aevryn’s sharp cry was soothed with a swipe of his expert tongue and their mouths found each other’s again, the kiss deepening with a crescendo of low moans and sighs.

“Do you want this?” Valdo asked suddenly, just barely pulling away, emerald eyes flicking to hers, dark with want and the promises of all he could do to her — of all he wanted to do to her.

This man could be her undoing if she let him.

Breathing heavily her gaze met his and she knew she was done for.

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart trilling at the grin that split his lips and his hand moved lower, brushing the skin at her waistline, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake before deftly tugging at the button there and slipping beneath the elastic of her panties.

A shuddering breath left her lips as Aevryn clutched at him, her knees nearly buckling as his fingers spread her folds teasingly, dipping into her as if testing the waters, his other hand lingering at her throat, thumb tracing the arch of her neck as she pressed her lips to his, arching against him.

“Do you remember our safe word?” Valdo whispered against her lips and Aevryn wordlessly nodded, wanting more, desire filling her with each movement his beautiful slim fingers made inside her; stretching and filling her, driving all sense from her.

“You have to say it,” he insisted, so I know you remember.”

A frustrated sigh left her lips as he stopped, the word springing to her tongue as if they’d only used it yesterday.

“Limerick,” she said, eyes flashing to his to drive it home that she did remember.

“Good girl.” Valdo’s drawl sent a shiver racing through her and Aevryn moaned loudly as his fingers resumed their task. Moments later her moan was silenced as Valdo’s hand tightened at her throat, fingers squeezing gently, just enough to leave her gasping as a third finger filled her, curling to strum her g-spot like the delicate instrument she was.

Fingers tightened in Valdo’s hair, tugging as she writhed beneath his touch, her other hand clutching hard at his shirt to anchor herself as he increased the pressure around her neck.

“Fuck, Aev,” Valdo purred in her ear. “You’re so goddamn hot like this. Such a naughty girl. Do you let just anyone do this to you—finger fuck you in public where anyone might pass by?” The inflection in his voice changed slightly and he wet his lips, loosening his grip on her neck so she could speak, his fingers not ceasing their rapid building of her climax, nearing by the feel of her shuddering muscles.

“No,” she gasped, searching his eyes, his long flashes brushing his cheeks. Insecurity painted his features and Aevryn could practically feel the desperation in his gaze, his need to know that he was still special to her. “Only you,” she managed before a halting moan bubbled from her gut, her body tensing as her orgasm took her.

Squeezing again, he rested his forehead to hers, curls falling to frame her face as she clenched around his digits slick with her essence, her arms pulling him to her desperately.

When she was finally spent, knees weak and body satiated Valdo pulled his hand free and gave a start as Aevryn guided it to her lips, sucking his fingers clean as he gaped at her in shock.

Eyes flicking up to his as though she knew exactly what she was doing Valdo groaned, and once she’d licked his fingers clean the smirk she wore only confirmed it.

Buttoning up her jeans her hand slid against the front of his, hand seeking the growing bulge trapped within, but Valdo quickly caught her, pulling her hand away and placing a kiss to her palm.

“No, love,” he murmured at her puzzled expression. “This was about you. I wanted to make you feel good.”

“Valdo…” Aev whispered, confliction warring within her.

“Next time you can return the favour,” he insisted, tilting her chin up to place a chaste kiss to her swollen lips.

“Who said there’ll be a next time?” Aevryn asked, unsure if she should want that or not. Though right then she knew her logic had fled as soon as he’d kissed her that first time, so any thing she thought she wanted was automatically tainted.

“I hope there'll be a next time,” Valdo admitted, his bravado hollow and the desperation in his emerald eyes twisted Aevryn’s stomach. “I know you probably don’t believe a word I say, but I meant it,” he admitted softly, voice sober. “About… missing you, and not just the sex,” he added quickly. “About… us.” He said the word hopefully.

Aevryn swallowed, his words washing over her.

Us.

“I was serious too,” she murmured, not quite able to look him in the eye. “No more stupid games like you played earlier, Valdo. Prove to me things’ll be different.”

Looking up, her breath shuddered at the stillness of his face. The vulnerability in his clear green gaze was almost too much for Aev to handle, but she forced herself to meet his eyes.

“I—“ quickly closing her mouth before she admitted something she might regret, she straightened Valdo’s shirt. “There, now your fans won’t suspect a thing,” she murmured shyly. “I better get back before the others start wondering where I am.”

“Right,” he said, catching her cheek in his hand, thumb brushing lightly over skin once more; he admired her, half afraid it might be the last time before nodding and stepping away.

Unable to keep herself from looking back over her shoulder at him as she walked away, her shoulders shuddered with silent sobs.

——

“Hey, where’d you go?” Jaskier asked, worry lacing his tone as Aevryn walked back into their tent.

“Just went for a walk… to clear my head,” she lied.

“Did it work?” he asked, pulling up a lawn chair for her to plop into.

“No,” she sighed, this time being truthful, her stomach unsettled the more she thought about it.

Across the tent Yennefer’s violet eyes caught hers and the level stare she directed at her was far too knowing for comfort and Aevryn looked quickly away, her thoughts still roiling at the way Valdo had said Us.

#punk!au #punk!valdo x oc #valdryn #punk!valdo #punk!aevryn #oc: aevryn swift

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jayallencampbell · 4 years ago

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wolves dressed as wolves:

About fifteen minutes into 1983’s Suburbia Penelope Spheeris punxploitation classic about runaways forming an ad-hoc family in the midst of Los Angeles’s ultra-violent punk scene, Jack, something of a leader to the other runaways, bemoans the laments the family he left behind: his real dad died in Vietnam, and his stepfather is a police officer. “That’s not the worst of it though” He’s quick to add, before delivering the kicker: “he’s black.”

As a punk obsessed kid, I hated this line– and I saw it plenty times, as I nearly wore out my bootleg VHS copy of the film. I felt attached to these characters. They were all different kinds of broken from lousy home lives like me and had found an outlet in punk to act out against a world they did fit into. I didn’t want them to be intolerant. Angry? Antisocial? Even Nihilistic? Sure, that made sense to me- but bigoted? That felt like the opposite of everything that drew me to the subculture in the first place, this idea of inclusiveness for people that feel like they have nowhere else to go.

I still hate the line, and the others like it, though I’m a lot less starry eyed about the culture around it. As I got older, I became more immersed in punk and other extreme music and the scene around it, I learned that this kind of bigotry was neither novel nor era specific, though large swathes of the culture had pretty effectively self-regulated it out of their immediate vicinity- go to your local DIY punk show, and you are likely to see a lot more kids wearing Nazi Punks F*ck off shirts than you are to see Nazis- but it still found ways to surface.

Like any subculture- what seems monolithic to an outsider is filled with nuanced connections and relationships only meaningful to those inside it, and extreme music’s relationship to bigotry is no different. From devoutly anti-racist activist skinheads in full boots and braces to Columbian black metal bands espousing white supremacist ideologies, the ultra-specific coding of political allegiance can feel equal parts labyrinthian and ridiculous. Even for those of us who took this kind of thing seriously, they often felt abstract: breadcrumb trails of information about a particular band or scene that you used to try and figure out where they landed ideologically, often no small task in a culture that prizes provocation. For whatever reason, some broken part of my brain finds this all fascinating, but up until recently, I wouldn’t expect anyone else to.

The, I saw a bunch of kids in skinhead-chic Fred Perry polo shirts carrying tiki torches and chanting “Blood and Soil” on the homepage of nearly every major news organization in the country. Suddenly this didn’t feel nearly as niche to me. As technology has enabled marketers to micro-target ultra-specific audiences, political extremists have learned to foster hate in thousands of tiny corners of our culture, some of which, like extreme music scenes, were basically primed and ready. Prominent, violent far right groups like the Proud Boys and Atomwaffen have lineages that lead directly through underground music scenes, and they have learned to embrace the gray areas of irony and empty provocation built into the culture.

Put simply, Wolves dressed as Wolves is an attempt to grapple with these elements of this culture that has meant a great deal to me, understand how it could be adapted as a tool for far-right radicalization, and how that can be countered or even subverted.

#wolvesdressedaswolves #IPfall2020

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thedailyscourge · 5 years ago

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Day Seven

(of the 4th month of the year Twenty-hundred and Twenty)

An entry from the journal of a squire of Brookland:

Within an hour of starting my shift on the Tiny Human Ward, now filled with regular sized humans afflicted with the Scourge, one of our patients began dying.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

I can honestly say the degree to which this pandemic is a disaster was lost on me as it is to everyone who has not had the kind of intimate encounter with the unique forms of suffering it produces as I did today.

I was deployed to this ward in a kind of vague capacity to fill in gaps of coverage in some non-specific and sometimes very specific ways. One thing I knew I was sent here to do was to go into room after room of patients afflicted with the Scourge and assess their health. And, late in the morning, that is exactly what happened. After my team had spent several hours getting to know the needs of each patient by looking at their lab results and getting reports from other professionals, and then “table rounding” or “round tabling” depending on what type of knights you picture us as, we had talked enough. It was time to confront the invisible enemy directly and at the same time witness the most tangible form it can materialize as: a fellow human being, laying in front of you, struggling to breathe. I have seen people who were short of breath before, people with various forms of oxygen masks, intubated, on ventilators of all kinds, gasping for breath. It’s jarring. But to someone like me who’s seen a great deal more disease and death than most people my age, the striking thing was not the nature of any given case, it was the sheer number of them. In nearly every single room I went into today, there was a person fighting for their life, drowning above water. An entire ward full of them and beyond that, an intensive care unit with more. I was prepared for and acquainted with the severity, but not the volume.

We had maybe two in their 50s, one in the 30s, and one in the 20s but, as a whole, these patients were almost exclusively in their 60s, 70s, and 80s. It was as if science, public health, and medicine advanced inch by inch to the point that we had prolonged the average life expectancy in a remarkable demonstration of our dominance over nature, only to be humbled by the tiniest microorganism arriving and taking all that life away in a matter of days.

It’s difficult to describe how even the thought of an invisible enemy this small and contagious will strain your psyche when you are literally surrounded by it. There is a psychological absurdity to the dozens of small actions and choices you must make throughout your day that is akin to a French mime whose world is not made up but rather unseen by everyone but her. The mental acrobatics you have to engage in to create any sense of control at all in this environment are olympic in their complexity and duration. At some point, even the most intelligent professionals are so burnt out by this underlying stress that they subconsciously surrender and unwittingly allow the enemy to gain a disturbing amount of ground, transforming our very workplace into a hazard itself.

When I say the ward I walked into and worked in all day was a nightmare of infection control, I mean that at times it felt like the work of germ theorists in the 1800s was just a niche genre of academia like scarf rock or Icelandic death metal, not a foundation for one of the most respected professions on earth. Face shields, contaminated from countless close interactions with the Scourge and never disinfected (because of a shortage of supplies to do so) were strewn about haphazardly in the cramped workroom where squires and knights spend hours formulating plans and touching surfaces that allow us to create life-saving orders. All the while we are contaminating and cross contaminating our belongings, our armor, ourselves. It was clear that many members of the team, who had been denied adequate equipment to protect themselves for weeks and who had struggled minute by minute to maintain a sense of hygienic integrity had resigned to this relative squalor out of sheer exhaustion.

There were many other little lapses in infection control practices I noticed throughout the day, probably because my line of work has conditioned me to be very sensitive to these kinds of details. But in nearly all of them, just as evident was the lack of resources and enormity of stress on those involved that really was to blame.

What may have been the worst of all of it was an egregious offense to our values and what we hold as sacred. The last rights of the dying, not of religion, but of being and feeling loved by a family member or friend while you pass, are stripped from those who have succumb to the Scourge. A wife, a cousin, a sister, all denied the tangible validity of their relationship with a dying man, a quiet, tragic opera playing out through telephone lines, in lonely hospital beds, in a room of my ward this morning and across the world again and again for months on end. The necessary preservation of the species has cost us possibly the greatest token of our humanity.

As I shifted my responsibilities midday to take care of another elderly man in the intensive care unit, filling one of the many gaps in our staffing, I was conscripted into the cast of another tragedy of unique cruelty.

A woman, a middle-aged nurse who had been working as recently as 2 weeks ago treating some of the sickest tiny humans there are, had been struck down by the Scourge and was now lying in the very same room as the young lives she had helped take care of and, what’s worse, her friends and former coworkers were now the ones charged with treating her disease. And she was deteriorating. Quickly.

This woman ended up needing to be intubated, a tube placed down her throat, and connected to a ventilator. I found out about her position as part of the team who were now taking care of her when I asked why she was being moved to another intensive care unit after the intubation. The head of the unit told me it was for emotional reasons. I was confused until she explained that she did not want her and her coworkers to potentially experience the trauma of doing chest compressions on their friend as she coded, veering toward death.

At the end of the day, the chaplains were called in to hold a session for us to decompress and process what had just happened. Although it halted productivity in the midst of a crisis, evident by the way it ended with several of us peeling off to assess a patient in distress, I found the group experience profoundly important, if not for it’s actual therapeutic effect then for the statement even holding such a session made in the middle of what is, for all intents and purposes, a disaster on every level of society.

And there, as some of the staff openly broke down crying, myself sniffling through a respirator during a teary eyed prayer, and others admitted the horrifying feeling of vulnerability in the microscopic game of Russian roulette that we are all playing on the frontlines, I realized today we weren’t losing our humanity. We were finding its depths.

The tolls:

The City of New Pork (of which the town of Brookland belongs):

76,876 afflicted

4,009 dead

The Divided Realms of Amen!-ia:

397,391 afflicted

12,000 dead

We await the miracle prophesied by the Emperor to come in the 4th month.

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danfanciesphil · 6 years ago

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New!

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

** Hi! Welcome to my new chaptered phanfic, which I shall be updating weekly if possible. I think it’s going to be every Friday, although this may change according to my unpredictable schedule. I hope you enjoy! **

Ao3 Link

Chapter One

The sheer craziness of Dan’s plan doesn’t fully sink in until he’s suspended 7,000 feet up the side of a mountain, inside a violently rocking cable car in the midst of a blizzard so thick that the glass windows are opaque white. Dan’s tour guide, Kaspar, is a true Swiss native; he’s sat on the one wooden bench inside this small capsule, animatedly jabbing at a game on his mobile phone. Kaspar’s utter indifference to the snowstorm is probably the only reason Dan isn’t screaming in fear right now.

“Is it much further?” Dan manages to squeak.

He grips the handlebar running around the interior, knuckles white. His other hand is clasped around the handle of his suitcase, which is desperately trying to escape and skid off across the floor.

“Not far,” Kaspar replies distractedly. He glances up at Dan from his phone; whatever he sees in Dan’s expression - pure terror, probably - is enough to make him put the phone away and pat the space beside him on the bench. His life in Kaspar’s hands, Dan goes to him obediently, swaying with the violent rocking and then falling onto the bench. “Do not fret little Dan,” Kaspar says, thumping him on the back with a wide, cheery smile. “You will not be needing to come back down for many more weeks!”

If this is supposed to calm him, Dan is not convinced that the Swiss are a compassionate bunch. Kaspar is as chipper as his orange, puffy boiler suit might suggest. He also has a purple and yellow bobble hat pulled over a mess of blondish curls and whiskers. Dan has tried to bundle up, having been well aware that the Alps are famously a little on the chilly side, but Kaspar’s outfit is still far superior. Dan imagines Kaspar is toasty warm, whilst Dan’s hands are on the verge of falling off his wrists inside of their gloves.

“Is there another way up?” Dan asks. Or down, more specifically.

“Ya,” Kaspar replies, nodding. “The small airport in town rents out private planes. But they are not cheap, little Dan! Wait for your first paycheque!”

‘Little Dan’ is a baffling nickname considering Dan is six foot, easily, but he chooses not to point this out, assuming Kaspar has his reasons. “Maybe I could hitch a ride with some rich guest or other, next time,” he says, gripping the edge of the bench.

Kaspar laughs heartily, his whole body shaking with it, so that the cable car shudders alarmingly. “What guests?”

After a very unpleasant experience of actually jumping from the cable car doorway - "I cannot stop today, little Dan! I am needed back at the base. You will be fine, just bend your knees as you land, ya?” - Dan dusts the worst of the snow from his trousers and suitcase, then waves to Kaspar, who leans heart-stoppingly far out of the door to call goodbye. Dan watches morosely as the cable car continues on towards its turning point, then judders slowly back down into the blizzard.

Somewhat reluctantly, he turns to find himself in front of what looks like an enormous, luxury log cabin, if it could house fifteen people. There’s a big balcony running across the entire width of the upper story, decked with tables and chairs. The building is made from an umber wood, which stands out vividly against the pure white snow caking its roof and eaves. There’s a sign, partially obscured by the snow, that reads ‘The Secret of the Alps’, which is the only indication that Dan is actually in the right place. No other options available now, Dan trudges through the calf-deep snow to the front door; he does not have the energy right now to admire the picturesque scene this little building makes, nestled into the side of the mountain, nor the spectacular view it faces, which Dan doesn’t let himself turn to admire just yet.

The moment he pushes the heavy door open and steps inside, Dan is engulfed in a pulse of delicious, thick warmth. It’s so glorious that he almost tears up, but thankfully restrains himself, and just rubs his hands together, appreciating. He stands still under the heater for a moment, slowly feeling the cold dripping from him, quite literally it turns out, as he notes the puddle forming at his feet.

“Welcome!” a comfortingly British voice says from nearby. Stood behind a desk ahead of him is a short, buxom woman wearing a fitted charcoal suit jacket and matching skirt. She’s in her mid-thirties, maybe, with dark hair tied up in a tight bun, and a short, severe fringe. Everything about her screams neatness and professionalism, which is a little jarring, in the middle of nowhere as they are. Before Dan can introduce himself, she marches over to him and grabs one of his hands. “Dan Howell, I presume? I’m Mona Kemp, the manager of the hotel. We’ve spoken via email, of course.”

Dan nods, finding it all of a sudden quite difficult to catch his breath, perhaps partly due to the altitude. “Yeah, of course. Great to meet you at last.”

Her hand is ringless and smooth, very pleasant to grip. Having been deprived of human contact for a few days now, Dan finds it a little tricky to make himself let go. Thankfully, she either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. “You must be absolutely exhausted,” Mona says, taking his suitcase from him. “It’s late, so I thought we’d start with the basics tomorrow morning, let you get a good night’s rest. Does that sound alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dan says, glad that he’ll have an opportunity to recover from his harrowing journey before setting to work. “Thank you.”

She’s already wheeling his case along the wooden floor towards a set of floating stairs, leading up to a second storey, which is partly visible as a mezzanine that juts over the front desk. She stops at the base of the stairs, smiling briskly at Dan as she hands the case back to him. Mona digs into her jacket pocket and draws out a key, which she then drops into his hand.

“You’re right at the top, I’m afraid. There’s only three floors, but as I’m sure you’ll find out, heaving bags up three flights of stairs like these,” she kicks at the floating step nearest to her with her pointed boot, “is a bugger.”

“Right,” Dan says, forcing a smile. “Probably best to start practicing then.”

“Love the enthusiasm, Dan,” Mona says, returning the smile. “I’ve asked Louise, our chef, to make you some tomato soup and a grilled cheese. I’ll bring it up to you in about an hour, shall I?”

At the mere mention of something so delicious, Dan’s stomach rumbles, making Mona laugh. Dan laughs too, embarrassed. “That would be fantastic, thank you.”

“Well, Dan,” Mona sticks out her hand for the second time, and Dan takes it greedily. “It’s a pleasure to have you. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself, and that you’ll find your way quickly. We run a small but high-quality establishment. It’s a quiet job, but a pleasant one, particularly if you’re more of an introverted type.”

“I definitely am,” Dan assures her. “I think I might be the perfect fit.”

Mona smiles broadly and removes her hand from Dan’s. “Excellent. Well, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be here at the desk.”

“Thank you, Mona,” Dan says, trying to load the words with the gratitude he feels. He looks upwards, unsure. “Just... up the stairs?”

“Just keep climbing until you can’t get any higher. You won’t miss it,” Mona replies briskly, already back behind the desk.

Dan nods, pocketing his key, and bends to lift his case. It turns out that Mona was not lying about what a bitch it is to drag a heavy case up three flights of stairs that have huge gaps between them. Dan trips at least ten times, and bruises his shins, but eventually he makes it to the top floor. There are only two rooms up here - seven and eight. Dan’s key says seven, so he pays no attention to the door next to it, and lets himself in.

It’s a bigger room than he’d been expecting, but decorated pretty much exactly how he imagined it would be. Wood-panelled walls, a double bed with a dark blue duvet and a thick grey quilt, an electric heater, a chest of drawers, and a tiny en-suite with just enough room for a toilet, sink and bath. There’s a vase of plastic flowers on the bedside table, along with a lamp, fitted with a navy lampshade to match the bed.

Dan closes the door behind him, shucks off his coat, then pulls off his gloves and his jumper, all of which fall to his feet. He sits down on the bed, takes a deep breath of thin, mountain air, and bursts into tears.

The daylight in the mountains is a blinding, fierce sort that Dan has not experienced before. It gleams off the acres of snow draped over the peaks, burrowing into Dan’s room through the thin slices between his curtains, and waking him instantly. He set an alarm before he went to bed, but it’s been rendered redundant now. He lies in the warmth for a few minutes, then forces himself to emerge, trudging into the bathroom. He showers, cleans his teeth, then goes to unzip his suitcase, still packed from the day before. He’d slept in the clothes he arrived in, which was undoubtedly a bad idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to root around for his pyjamas, exhausted and drained as he’d been after a long, tearful evening.

As he buttons his white shirt - the one his mum bought for him just before he left in what might be one of her five or so selfless acts throughout motherhood - he stares out of his window at the dazzling view of the mountain, utterly hypnotised. The troughs and peaks of the slopes, iced in pearlescent white, are entirely unblemished.

Actually... almost entirely.

As Dan’s eyes gradually adjust to the brightness, he begins to notice a small blip in the landscape; a tiny, scarlet fly in the ointment of the picturesque view. He squints, fingers stilling on the shirt buttons as the figure moves steadily towards the horizon, leaving a faint trail of snow prints in its wake.

Startling him away from the window, Dan’s alarm trills, and he goes to switch it off, forgetting the mystery figure. He pulls on a pair of trousers, some thick grey socks, and boots. With a final, cursory glance in the bathroom mirror, Dan gathers himself as best he can, and heads out of the room. He descends the first set of stairs to the floor where all the other guests’ rooms are, then down another flight of stairs into the mezzanine area. Dan had paid little attention as he passed through it last night, but now he sees this area has been made into a cosy seating space, with a big fireplace, several sofas, armchairs, and a few tables and chairs dotted about. There’s a big television in one corner, and he spots some tall wooden shelves crammed with board games and books, and a large basket full of various patterned blankets, above which a sign reads: ‘help yourself!’

To Dan’s right are a set of double doors, nestled in the centre of some enormous floor to ceiling windows. Beyond the glass is a balcony, the one he’d seen from outside, long and wide, and dotted with tables and chairs. Even from here, just staring through the window, Dan can see that the view beyond the balcony is divine. It looks out onto the same expanse of brilliant whiteness that he can see from his own room’s window. Just then, Mona appears at the top of the stairs leading up from the lobby, a big, dark puffy coat zipped around her.

“Oh! Dan, you’re up, fabulous.”

She bustles past him, wrenching open a door hidden in the wood-panelled wall, which reveals a small cupboard. From within, she takes out some checkered tablecloths and a big wicker basket, the latter of which she shoves into Dan’s hands, and beckons for him to follow her. The box is very heavy, Dan quickly finds, but he ambles along behind Mona as best he can as she marches towards the balcony doors. The scent of something delicious catches in his nostrils as he goes, and he breathes in deeply, stomach gurgling. Noticing the sound, Mona looks over her shoulder, smiling knowingly.

“I have the same reaction to Louise’s cooking,” she says, then points to what is not, apparently, simply a lifelike painting of an industrial kitchen as Dan had initially thought. What it actually is, he now understands, is a serving hatch - a square cut out of the wall separating the kitchen from the mezzanine area to make it easier for food items to be passed back and forth. Beyond the hatch, in the kitchen, a blonde woman in a white chef’s smock and hat dances back and forth between the various pans sizzling on the stove. “She’s a wonder,” Mona says. “Caters for the hotel entirely on her own. Three meals a day. Guests and staff.”

“Wow,” Dan says, eyes widening as he steps through the balcony door Mona holds for him. “Is it normal to have just one person do all that?”

“We’re a small business, Dan,” Mona says as if this is enough of an answer, and follows him out. The moment he’s out of the pleasant, close warmth of the hotel’s interior, Dan is plunged into an icy stream of frigid mountain air. Though the day is still, a biting chill nips at his exposed fingers, his neck and face. He nearly drops the basket with the shock of it. “There may not be many of us, but we all play our part, and we manage fine.”

Dan is focusing too hard on not shivering so violently he drops the basket to respond with actual words.

Again, Mona chuckles at him. “We’re out of the wind here thanks to the positions of the peaks, but it still gets damn cold. You might want to think about more layers in future.”

Dan tries not to let his teeth chatter as he asks, “what are we out here for?”

“Setting up for breakfast,” Mona replies, already flinging the checkered tablecloths onto the tables.

“We’re serving breakfast outside?”

“Of course,” Mona says, then turns to flip open the lid of the basket in Dan’s hands, which Dan now understands is full of crockery and cutlery - hence the weight. She pulls out some plastic clips to secure the tablecloths. “One of our best attractions is our ‘breakfast with a view’. We pop the heaters on, of course, and there are blankets if anyone gets too chilly.”

“Oh,” Dan says, glancing at the few tall electric heaters between the tables, and feeling stupid. “Right, I see.”

“Don’t worry,” Mona says with a sympathetic smile. “You’ll get used to things. Start putting the plates out? Two per table.”

Dan smiles back, grateful for her kind, swift demeanour, and focuses on his given task, moving speedily to set each of the six tables. They lay out napkins, plates, mugs and cutlery, and by the time they’re finished, Dan no longer feels as cold. Mona switches on the heaters one by one, complimenting Dan on how diligently he’s getting on with things, and how it took her half the time it normally does to set up out here with his help.

Dan thanks her awkwardly, not really sure why simply doing his job requires praise, and lets his eyes wander to the view once more; idly, Dan remembers that distant crimson figure from this morning.

“Is it safe for people to ski up here?” Dan finds himself asking. “I didn’t read about any ski runs or anything.”

“No, no,” Mona says, her head snapping sharply from side to side as she straightens the cutlery. “Skiing or snowboarding is not a good idea up here. We’re tucked away, so not many people have properly explored the area. It’s all rather treacherous unless you know what you’re doing, so don’t go wandering off on your own. You can stress that to guests if they ask you, as well.”

The crimson mystery-person is on the tip of Dan’s tongue, but it occurs to him that it may well have been a sleepy mirage, brought on by the shock of the sudden change of lifestyle Dan has hurled himself into without warning. He’ll wait for a follow-up sighting before giving any cause for Mona to call up mountain rescue for an imaginary extreme-sports-junkie.

“So, what time do we serve breakfast?” Dan asks instead.

(Chapter Two!)

#phan #phanfic #too high

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starlingari-a · 6 years ago

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MOTHER, MAY I ???

[ open starters! / memes! / calls! ] low activity | starlet-hopeful oc | multi-verse {default: 60s/70s} | multi-most

MARIONETTE mar·i·on·ette || noun, thing a puppet worked from above by strings attached to its limbs. see also: DOLL, DUMMY, FIGURINE, MANIKIN, MOPPET

ARIENETTE ar·i·en·ette || noun, thing person! page 22, your favorite cult film starlet, a music video extra 45 seconds in. see also: ARI STARLING, JUST TRYING, MOTHER’S DARLING

! i can be anything you like !

NAME: Arienette Marie Jones // ARI STARLING ! AGE: twenty-two HEIGHT: 5'5" MOTIVE: ubiquity. attention. approval. INTERESTS: the next big thing. piano. theater. celebrities. fame. getting gigs…. OCCUPATION: film extra, pianist, back-up, dancer, model, a pretty face in print. STATUS: trying; too scared busy to mingle, probably…

BETTER AS A CONCEPT : MOTHER DEAREST : IDENTITY CRISIS : AWKWARD WHEN NOT TOLD HOW TO DO OR BE : CAN NEVER AFFORD THE LUXURY OF SOLITUDE OR SELF-REFLECTION : AN UNINTENTIONALLY CONVENIENT SOCIAL CHAMELEON : EAGER TO PLEASE, BECAUSE WHAT ELSE IS THERE REALLY : EXISTENTIALLY INEPT : PERPETUALLY BUSINESS-MINDED : BIG BREAK OR BUST : NOTHING TOO SMALL

OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL BABY !! indeed.

Her overture came just opposite as faeries do- on the dwindling notes of an infant’s first cry. Ari’s first gig happened as she’d assumed everyone’s would- Mother imprinted the green ghosts of a camera flash into her retina and called her Darling while toting her from Agent to Agent.

Somehow, between babbles and being handed sparkly baubles, the darling landed her part as a precious, chubby-cheeked sweetheart rolling about in diapers, pasted on every cardboard box at any Baby Shower you’d ever go to :: LOOK AT HER! A NATURAL! apparently…

The ARIENETTE SHOW continued on– as Mother knew it would. Chain store baby clothes advertisements, local magazines, a couple spots as a teensy sweetheart in commercials, many crowns ( & cash prizes ) from tiny tot beauty pageants– and Mother decided; nobody would stand in their way.

Especially not Arienette’s father, who dared to protest with all his crazy ideas of children being allowed to play in the dirt and act like children: only took divorce papers and three hours in the car to get rid of that negativity.

The credit companies- who INVESTED in dear Ari whether they wanted to or not- wouldn’t be able to dissuade them either: despite the many times they’d called or sent strongly-worded letters...

Her darling Arienette ARI! was going to be a STAR, she just KNEW IT, just a DARLING STAR !

ARI HAD TO BE A STARLING!

OR ELSE THIS ALL WAS A WASTE!

EXTRA! EXTRA!

PRETTY GIRL WITH A MOTHER HAPPY TO SIGN THE DOTTED LINE!

CUE, STAGE LEFT– the barrage of childhood lessons: tap, ballet, singing, piano (probably the only thing she truly enjoyed out of the whole mix), jazz, guitar, poetry: just enough of each that made it so she could manage, hold her own– but there had never really been any chance for one or the other to last long enough to become a honed skill…SAVE FOR HER TIME AT THE KEYS, Arienette absolutely loves playing piano… at least something good came from it all…

NEXT TRICK: On to classes: etiquette, niceties, literature, the art of conversation: Mother “home schooled” her to keep that impressionable brain free from those vile teachers, who think they know so much!

really, it was just strategically simpler to keep up with possible gigs, travel, and to focus those lessons onto relevant topics… important topics… off the record, don’t mind a thing…

all extracurriculars and lessons would be considering Mother’s discretion, of course.

Thus came her second calling, her re-birth, name chosen by Mother as carefully as every other bit of her was: ARI! STARLING! and watch her Icarus her way right to burnout!

OH, THE TRAGEDY– but the years passed, as they do, and when you’ve grown from a darling blonde baby to just another pretty-enough girl in the midst of talented starlets and performers: all the fun goes from being a DREAM to a method of survival !!

But oh, she tried, and some would argue– at least for the few years that would be remembered as fifteen minutes– ARIENETTE MADE IT! Was even notable for a couple of those months- especially after she was just shy of a Scream Queen title in some low-budget cult horror flick, she got to have her name printed in the paper, Mother kept extra copies, and a couple big name ARTISTS actually ASKED for her! As could, and should, have been expected; those highlights turned dim after the time was up and another pretty girl fell into media favor. Once left in the wake of her own shadow, without the persistent approval of Mother or the calls from well known producers: she struggled.

Thus: when the days of being unable to will herself out of bed took over, the times when she couldn’t even pretend to smile, her SECOND ACT HAD COME AT LAST…

Until that 11′o’clock cue came as a fellow actress who suggested that Therapist. A DOC WHO UNDERSTOOD! IT’S HARD BEING A MOTH SUSTAINED BY SPOTLIGHT!

Who needs a bitch face when you can just give ‘em pure, prescribed, apathy!?

The paparazzi caught on, when they snapped photos including her pouting petulantly at the glare of a camera lens flash during brunch with a singer she’d be modeling with… they loved it: READ ALL ABOUT IT: DARLING ARI STARLING HOLDS MELANCHOLY WITH GRACE– and thank God for that caption, Mother hadn’t been talking to her since she’d gone and gotten pills… but now that even her Depression can be spun into Media Fodder, it’s all just fine!

HELLO! HELLO! IS THERE A GIRL IN THERE?!

She’s not ungrateful, truly. Or even notably unhappy! Easy to say: she’s quite blissfully content with where she is… always chasing after the next role.

Just dancing on the knife’s edge of knowing who she is and who she is to be. But does it matter? Can you have one without the other? Who cares? Where does Identity go when there’s so little of yourself you even truly know?

all she’s so sure about that ARIENETTE is that she loves her books, the theater, and her piano- but is that really enough to substantiate a someone…?

It’s a sweet surrender, but at least: it’s hers.

Thankfully: at 22, mother’s had to loosen her reigns! EVEN IF SHE STILL RIDES ON ARI’S COATTAILS AS A CAREER CHOICE! but her influence remains an omnipresence. Her social circle has expanded, through minor gigs covered in fake blood or sitting in the background as an extra, through miscellaneous commercial jobs and mostly modeling: COME TO FIND OUT, Ari’s pretty cute when she sits on a car while those fellows with more hair than metal traipse about strumming their guitars. Those wide-eyes also make her a devastating addition to those creepy-crawly movies: she’s become a cult film favorite just for being so awkwardly her and so darlingly easy to slaughter: a good lamb for those weird wolves, you know. Sometimes, someone will pay her a pretty penny for promotional gigs: she just has to bother strangers and convince them to do or buy something, easy enough– she’s even made it in some album art before, mostly just an additional face within the crowd. Once, they even let her play the piano, probably her very favorite shoot even though you can hardly see her…

The plentiful small gigs keeps her bill cheap, even lets her venture into the realm of what might vaguely be able to be considered Passion Projects… her very favorite are her stints playing piano, and any chance she can have on stage in theater: but Mother says that’s a waste...

There’s no job too big ; yet, there’s also no job too small ; a gig’s a gig.

she likes this easy stuff, with these funny people, all in their own shows… the perpetual EXTRA, she is !

AND FOR THE RESUME:

> Diaper Box Baby > Toddler Beauty Pageants > Kids Commercial Magazine modeling > The Soup Commercial — (she is very proud of this one- first job she really remembers getting any attention for) > Various TV (mostly various local stations) Commercials > The Puppet Show, for about 4 years, one of the recurring child roles > Background Dancing / Chorus Line Spots > Ambiance Piano; playing in the background at very fancy parties, in hotel lobbies, at casinos, etc. (this, she loved, dearly, because she adores piano and people watching) > Modeling, teen magazines etc. > Extra work in movies, which led to a couple very minor roles. > About now she was permitted to explore theater more — (Mother says it’s a waste of time and money) > Niche found in low-budget / campy / cult-y / independent Horror Movies > Promotional Work, general. > Modeling with / for other performers and musical groups; print, music videos, album art > Dancing, still (chorus line / ensemble; burlesque; showgirl) > Any piano or staged theater gig she can land (her f a v o r i t e s) > Absolutely anything you will pay her to do…

WHERE TO FIND AN ARIENETTE:

> Waiting in line for an audition. > An audition, in general. Always. > At a piano. > In a terrible outfit, peddling shots or cigarettes or windows (THAT WAS ONLY ONCE!) > On set, as an extra or background model. > Covered in fake blood, amidst some weird cult film or… something… > A chorus line / A temporary back-up dancer / A swing performer / Ensemble > Playing piano in a hotel lobby. > With Mother, or someone Mother’s appointed. > On her way to or from lessons of some sort, wishing she were elsewhere. > Networking. Or, trying to.

In general: Arienette’s quite accustomed to being used more as a prop than companion: to be there in hopes of making the main attraction appear ever more magnificent. To being posed, instructed, critiqued, told how to be or how to do. It’s her comfort zone, being theirs.

Considers herself the understudy of her own life– Ari Starling’s the STAR of this show, but sometimes Arienette does take the time to come out for a peek at existence, tends to require some coaxing before that facade breaks down, though: EVERY MISSED OPPORTUNITY IS ONE TOO MANY, AND ANYONE’S ONLY HERE FOR ARI! Doesn’t even take much offense, ever: completely accustomed to critique and criticism: which leads into how the treatment she would accept being steadied on a rather low bar. Hard to offend someone who’s been up for scrutiny since she could walk, even harder to cross boundaries she’d never had the power to set for herself…

that was Mother’s job…

Oh, and our Darling doesn’t mean to come off as pretentious, but she’s had pretention pearled into her bones so long- she can hardly tell where Arienette begins and Ari Starling ends…

can be snooty, life is only a job interview, honesty is the best policy, there’s no point in shinin’ up shit… doesn’t think things through all too much in conversation that’s not being recorded, perfectly content with saying what’s on her mind: tendency to share strange things, never bats an eye. Almost comatose when unsure of what’s expected of her, too quiet when off-script, constantly asking: what do you want me to do?

what do you want from me? how should i be? where do i stand?

Nearly always on the verge of giving a PERFORMANCE, since, as Mother always said:

“ WHO CARES WHO YOU ARE UNLESS YOU’RE EVERYTHING, DARLING!? “

But, the real HORROR SHOW: What About When Mother’s Gone?

what does she have left, but the connections that have been made and the reputation / identity that’s been crafted and constructed for her? Who is she supposed to be without the familiar puppeteer there to pull her strings?

WHO IS ARIENETTE JONES!?

Well… she’s still trying to figure that out for herself…

NEED A PRETTY FACE FOR JUST ABOUT ANYTHING? HAVE WE GOT THE GIRL FOR YOU!

#!! about #!! i'm'a pokin #!! arienette; about #!! arienette; thoughts

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phoenotopia · 7 years ago

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2018 May Update

Wow! End of May already?

For the past two months, we've been focusing on really finalizing the levels down to their very last details - and in a linear order starting from when Gale first wakes up. It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking you're further ahead than you really are. I thought of the levels as existing in a disconnected state - and by simply connecting them together - Viola! Done! Finished!

Not so.

In finally stitching the levels together, I've discovered there were still many in-between areas I hadn't yet accounted for.

(Upon leaving the first town, the player is free to travel anywhere they can reach)

(One example secret unmarked area accessible from the world map houses a Perro. There's a side quest to recruit Perros for your vacant coop back home)

And of the levels themselves, they're all receiving heavy rounds of polish. Here are some select areas from a build dating back last year vs. today's version:

(Forest trees and background received a major overhaul)

(since the game's art style doesn't rely on dark pixel outlines, every level requires a unique lighting configuration to ensure good visibility)

We're also not shying away from heavy refactoring and cuts to ensure smoother and more logical level flow.

(The dark Tomb section of Anuri Temple is now blocked off until the player obtains the Bombs)

Not even bosses are sacrosanct. The first Toad Boss has been a difficult point for me. He's challenging and his weak point is hard to telegraph. I've yet to see anyone discover his true vulnerability on their own in a blind playthrough. Unlike the demo presented long ago, the player will not have bombs this early on. And so, I've decided to push the Toad Boss deeper into the dungeon as a secret boss encounter. In his place, a special variant of the Slargummy (big slimes) now occupies the first boss role.

NEW BOSS BATTLE MUSIC

On the topic of bosses, I've requested of Will a new boss battle score to breathe some freshness to the boss fights. And Will has delivered! (Listen to it here)

If you're a fan of the old boss battle song, rest assured that's in the game too as a hidden track.

(Faster Neutral attacks. This should display more smoothly at 60fps)

COMBAT

The combat system is also receiving some refactoring. One of the most common feedbacks I've resisted was to make Gale's swing speed faster. I wanted slow and deliberate - in Castlevania fashion, with Belmont's slow windup before his whip lashes out, I designed for Gale to commit to an attack and be locked in her animation until the attack finished.

However, I've finally relented and removed the in-between animation frames leading up Gale's regular melee attacks. Her swings now fire off immediately and the combat feels snappier as a result.

Since Gale is more powerful with her speed boost, I've had to rebalance the capabilities of the player and enemies. Gale's charged attack now occupies a more distinct niche as a slow and heavy hitter - it cuts through enemy defenses. Gale's quick neutral attacks can rack up damage quickly but will also rapidly chew through her stamina. Jump attacks exist somewhere in-between.

I ended up loving this change! I think it introduces a better rhythmic flow to combat and expands the decision space - making battle more interesting overall.

LEVELS SIZE AND SCALE

We're deep in the middle of finalizing Chapter 2 right now, but with Chapter 1 done we actually now have a sort of measuring stick to see how much the game has grown. In the original flash game, all the levels from the beginning until the end of Chapter 1 was composed of 34 different level files.

In this reboot, all the levels from the beginning up to the end of Chapter 1 are composed of 85 different level files. That's 150% bigger! Chapter 1 is also the least changed of the chapters. I suspect future chapters will present even more favorably in this comparison.

Of course, this isn't an entirely valid metric since one level file could specify a huge throne room or it could specify a tiny storage room - they both count as one.

Still I'm confident we'll blow through the original game's measly 200 levels total. A big thanks to Pirate for drawing the tilesets. She also helps me set the tiles and light the levels. Those used to be jobs I handled exclusively but I've been learning to delegate more so that I have more time to program and design.

Still, juggling the tens of files simultaneously made me dizzy at times - our emails got so long we switched to a new system using google's online spreadsheets.

(A glimpse at our workflow. Each row handles one level. Levels highlighted yellow are in my court, and levels highlighted red are in Pirate's court. Updates stack to the right - each individual cell can get quite dense containing paragraphs of text)

(this update needed some yellow, so here’s a glimpse of Adar’s house from Ch 2)

BUG NAMING CONTEST WINNER

Finally, after 5 months we can conclude this contest. Thank you everyone for participating in the reddit thread and in email! In the end, I was sold on Swamp Selkie's submission to name the Queen "Ariadne" and to use the "-iad" suffix for all her children.

Miniad - combination of "minion" and "iad" Thorniad - combination of "thorn" and "iad" Blastiad - combination of "blast" and "iad" Toxiad - combination of "toxic" and "iad". I may change this to "Aciad" for "acid". Aviad - combination of "aviate" and "iad". I may change this to "Dartiad" or "Lanciad" for Dart or Lance.

I'll be reaching out to Swamp Selkie soon for their preferred naming details.

ROBOT NAMING CONTEST WINNER

For robots... I'll mull on these some more... I'm leaning towards in-house names. Still, thank you everyone for participating!

POTENTIAL PUBLIC SHOWING

The game has a new potential public appearance in the works. More details on that if/as it develops.

BAD NEWS : DELAYS

August of last year, I confidently stated that by that time next year the game would be out. Now that we're in the midst of finalizing chapters, it's easy to see from our current trajectory that we're not going to hit that mark. I have to acknowledge the failure brewing ahead. Game development continues to surprise me with its stubbornness to finish.

I apologize to everyone eagerly anticipating the game. Hopefully with these delays, we can craft the best game we can manage.

I suspect early next year will be the new launch date, but I'm hesitant to give a new concrete finish date since I always seem to miss them. In the meantime, I'll keep updating regularly so people can know it's on a good track. Next live check-in will be end of July.

FAN ART

I'd like to give a big thank you to Cody. G for his fan art of Gale and 66.

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