The Kelly/Palmer/Linda ideas are continuing (I have to decide canon or au and where in the timeline)- here's a cleaned up snippet I hurt Pater with a while ago.
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"Do you think she's still mad about the whole AWOL thing?"
Kelly and the rest of Blue Team watch War Games as Commander Palmer kills a hunter with her hands after her knife embeds in the writhing flesh of the gestalt.
Kelly looks, for lack of a better term, dreamy as she watches the Commander work. Maybe dreamy is not a word one uses to describe a Spartan II, but there's something akin to a smile tugging at her lips and her bright eyes are focused with a burning mischief that only spells disaster for those in the blast radius.
Fred looks nauseous and John is a wall. Fred often looks concerned when Kelly gets a certain type of idea in her head because he'd been the leader of Blue Team in John's absence and was usually left to deal with the brunt of the fallout. John became a wall whenever he didn't know how to respond and didn't have a clever line to say.
Linda, however, approaches her sister with her head titled and expression blank. "You should ask her."
"Oh we're encouraging this?" Fred asks, voice raising an octave only perceptible to his teammates.
"Kelly." John says and she turns. "You two have the same sense of humor."
She grins. "Oh?"
"Making digs at me." John looks back to the scene in War Games and Commander Palmer is using grenades to flip a warthog onto the incoming wave of fresh opponents. "You two should have fun."
Kelly's grin broadens into a real smile. Even Linda huffs air out her nose.
Blue Team watches her jog towards the exit as the simulation ends.
Bonus: Alternative Universe where everyone ends up in the new universe together, but no one knows it. Not until someone makes a comment about their old world, then everyone points at everyone else.
Figure print test. Definitely need to fix a few things. Some supports were just too light and therefore fail printed. Also because of the instability and weight there is a rip between layers. And i feel like the file is still underexposed. I.e. eyebrows and necklace are barely there. Also had antialiasing at 1. maybe that is also a reason why there’s details just gone.
I guess i will start anew. The figure could be bigger imo. And i already do have a larger file prepared. Meaning I have to resupport everything anyway.
Chuck vs the Third Dimension 3D Promo aired 2/1/2009 During the Superbowl.
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I saw them hiding in the yellow field, crouching low
in the vanished dark. I followed them pretending
they were me because they were. I wanted to explain
myself to myself in an understandable way. I gave
shape to my fears and made excuses. I varied my
velocities, watched myselves sleep. Something's not
right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it--
living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life
is a sheet of black glass. If I fell through the floor
I would keep falling. The enormity of my desire
disgusts me. I kissed my mouth, it was no longer
a mouth. I threw a spear at my head, I didn't have
a head. Fox. At the throat of. The territory is more
complex that I supposed. What does a body of
knowledge look like? A body, any body. Look away
but I'm still there. Birds flying but I'm still there,
lurk there. Not just one of me but multitudes in
the hayfield. Want someone to chase you? Run.
Take a body, dump it, drive. Take a body, maybe
your own, and dump it gently. All your dead,
unfinished selves and dump them gently. Take only
what you need. The machine of the world--if you
don't grab on, you begin to tremble. And if you do
grab on, then everything trembles. I spent my lamp
and cleft my head. Deep-wounded mind, I wasn't
doing anything with it anyway. And the birds looking
for a place to land. I would like to say something
about grace, and the brown corduroy thrift store coat
I bought for eight-fifty when you told me my
paintings were empty. Never finish a war without
starting another. I've seen your true face: the back
of your head. If you were walking away, keep walking.
“Birds Hover the Trampled Field” by Richard Siken (from War of the Foxes)