#look at all those yonks...

[axailslink]

Hi!!! I hope you’re well! I was wondering if I could request a Shuri x Black Fem! X reader where the reading is having a panic attack and is worried that she is bothering Shuri with it, and Shuri comforts her? Angst but then Fluff and kisses at the end if possible?

Baby I'm right here

Shuri Udaku x black FEM reader

Summary: The reader experiences a panic attack due to the recent death of a friend Shuri does her best comfort her.

You've locked yourself in the bathroom to try and stop the incoming panic attack you don't want Shuri to see you so vulnerable. Your body's slightly shaking, you feel nauseated and dizzy as you try to get your breathing back together. "Sithandwa sam (my darling) you're scaring me please don't lock yourself away from me Yintoni engalunganga? (What's wrong?)" You pant as you sit with your back pressed against the door "I'm fine go to sleep Shuri" Shuri shakes her head and continues shaking the door handle "you know I won't go to sleep until you're okay "singadlula yonke into kunye" (we can get through everything together) you told me that don't shut me out when you need my help." You don't want to shut her but you just don't want to bother her she was happy you don't want to ruin her happiness she rarely gets to smile much anymore. You reach up and open the door scooting to the other side of the floor never really getting up Shuri opens the door slowly and drops to the floor when she sees you almost in tears. Shuri cradles you into her arms "I'm here I'm here I know what happened it's a lot to take in but I'm not going anywhere I'm by your side just like you were when...T'Challa passed." You sniffle as you grab into her arms tightly your shaking body latching on to her afraid she might let go. "Please don't leave me I can't be alone all I think about is him why'd he leave me? He said he'd be around for years and years to come. He was supposed to be at my wedding." Shuri almost bursts into tears herself your words are hitting a bit too close to home reminding her of her exact thoughts when T'Challa passed. "Death is not the end you know this" she takes your hands kissing them both and holding them to her chest "he's watching you right now and he'd want nothing more than for you to cry get it all out but only this time because he'd say-" you smile already knowing what she's going to say as she clears her throat "I didn't raise no punk you better suck that shit up" you laugh lightly through the sobs at Shuri's little country accent and shake your head "he would say that wouldn't he?" She nods and holds you closer to her your body finally lets up on the shaking but your breathing is still a bit ragged, you still feel nauseated and dizzy. Shuri places both her hands on your face gently wiping at your tears with her thumbs and waits until you finally look at her. She's heartbroken by the scene in front of her your eyes are puffy and red your nose is the same lips swollen. She wonders how long you had been like this before she woke but shakes her head off that thought as she smiles at you. "Reel yourself back here you're in your head too much right now you're in our home in our bathroom come on. Breathe for me" you do as directed taking shaky deep breaths "hm a bit more breathe all your problems out with those deep breaths come on" you continue this for about two minutes before finally just laying your face on her chest. "I'm tired now" she smiles "I know but you need water and something sweet will ice cream do?" You smile and nod as you get up and look at the mirror smile fading as you look at your unsightly state but Shuri notices and wraps her arm around you. "Nope don't do that you look fine no one looks good when they just wake up." She pulls you to the bedroom and closes the bathroom door.

As you sit on the edge of your shared bed she stops at the door and smiles at you "I bet I can race you to the vanilla first" you smile "no you can't" "want to bet?" You can see her about to take off but you grab a pillow and smack her with it as you race down to the kitchen. She laughs as you obviously get the upper hand and grabs the tub of ice cream she follows behind taking the tub from your fingers and kissing your forehead. You close your eyes as she does so smiling to yourself at her warmth for you "can I get a real kiss?" She smiles and places the ice cream on the counter "of course" she places her cold hand on your bare back causing you to jump but that doesn't stop neither of you as you close the space between you two. Your leg wraps around hers pulling her closer to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You two share a massive bowl of ice cream before returning to bed Shuri has always been able to make you laugh but tonight she did more than that she showed you how much you could depend on her. Shuri's more than a girlfriend to you she's your whole life. You feel a cold kiss on your cheek and turn your attention to her "are you even watching the movie?" You smile because she already knows the answer "no."

A/n: unedited just try a post when I'm not braiding. I'm very well dear and I hope you enjoy this I added a bit of a plot @lonely-chick

#shuri angst #shuri imagine #shuri x y/n #shuri black panther #shuri udaku x black!reader #shuri udaku x reader #shuri udaku #mcu shuri #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #shuri x you #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x f!reader #princess shuri #queen shuri #shuri fluff #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #black panther fics #black panther fic #black panther imagine #black panther x reader #Azail is bored #shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #letitia wright x black!reader #letitia wright shuri #letitia wright #shuri my love

[silverfoxstole]

I came across some old interviews and things I'd typed up yonks ago the other day, so I thought you lot might be interested in reading them. 😁

THE JENNIFER SELWAY INTERVIEW

DAILY EXPRESS 11TH OCTOBER 2001

“IT’S NICE TO HAVE BROTHERS. WE STAND IN FOR EACH OTHER ON ACTING JOBS AND IN THE PAST WE HAVE EVEN SWAPPED GIRLFRIENDS”

Paul McGann was burgled a couple of weeks ago.

“Oh, no,” I coo, like you do. “It was just stuff,” he says casually, sounding like an old hippy, which is not unfeasible. After all, he’s 41 now, which surprises me when I think about it. 41! I had assumed he was younger, something to do with those boyish, studenty looks – something to do with being immortalised in Withnail and I.

The really bad thing about the raid on his home in Bristol was that the thieves made off with his wife Annie’s computer, and she (a writer) lost several weeks worth of work.

“There are some scumbags in the world,” says Paul mildly. “They came through the front door at night. The kids and I were in the house asleep. Though apparently – I asked the policeman about this – the real rush hour for burglaries is two o’clock in the afternoon. It makes sense when you think about it. You wouldn’t look twice at someone hanging about the house at that time. There are always people round our house.”

“Like who?”

“Mates, musicians…you know.”

No, I don’t know really. It sounds lovely. Mates and musicians chilling out at your house all afternoon, the twang of an acoustic guitar, probably joss sticks and instant coffee.

The funny thing about Paul McGann is that it’s difficult to tell whether he is really very intense and energetic or as laid back and ordinary blokey as he makes out. Take his face, which can look somewhat grey and severe one moment and then all young and smiley the next. He can switch from headmaster to naughtiest boy in the class by just lifting the corners of his mouth.

He is the second oldest of the McGann brothers, the Liverpudlian acting family. No one (I’ve enquired round the office about this) can ever remember how many there are though most people seem to throw in a few names like Mike [eh?], Joe and Steve.

Paul – he ought to be reliable on this one – says there are five McGann siblings including one sister. Mike [She means Joe] is the eldest by just 16 months. Amazingly, there don’t seem to have been any rifts or feuds over the years. Paul thinks that being part of a clan can be a positive advantage to an actor. “It’s true that if people don’t see you on screen for a while they forget about you. But if you’re a McGann you get four times the opportunity of being seen. We are pretty interchangeable.”

He pauses for a moment and studies my face for a reaction. “You think I’m joking, don’t you? But it’s true. We’ve stood in for each other on acting jobs. The last time was a couple of years ago and no one was any the wiser.” He says he can’t remember what TV show it was. But I have the suspicion that this may be a diplomatic memory lapse.

Boys will be boys. And being so close in age the McGanns have also shared, not only jobs, but girlfriends. “I don’t remember us exactly passing girls around. It was more a case of the girls taking themselves around under their own steam,” explains Paul.

Quite so. “Women love the McGanns,” said Richard E Grant, Paul’s co-star in Withnail and I, adding, “while my admirers are mostly old men in trenchcoats.”

Withnail and I, directed by Bruce Robinson in 1987, is one of those films that brings a smile to people’s faces at the mere mention of the title. A low-budget surprise hit, McGann and Grant played a couple of out-of-work actors living in majestic squalor who spend the entire film veering from one bender to the next.

“It’s one of those films which just cheers people up. It’s always a laugh if someone comes up to me and talks about it. I’m always glad to meet Withnail fans. The funny thing about Richard is that you can’t think of a better drunk act than him but in fact he is allergic to alcohol and never drinks. He can’t metabolise it. But you know almost everyone has had their Withnail era, lived in a terrible flat, endured the squalor, we’ve all met that drug dealer, we all stayed up too late. It’s great to have been in something that has got into folklore in the way that Withnail has.”

Not all of McGann’s projects have been so happy.  In fact he has been dogged by the most awful bad luck. In the mid-eighties he was very much the bright young hope of British TV, starring on BBC1 as First World War soldier Percy Toplis in Alan Bleasdale’s controversial Monocled Mutineer. A move to Hollywood seemed on the cards and off he went in 1987 to appear in Steven Spielberg’s Empire of the Sun, though most of his screen time disappeared on the cutting room floor. A similar fate awaited his role in Alien 3.

And there was more bad luck to come, including a car crash in Spain in 1991. Three years later he was in the Ukraine filming Sharpe for ITV. “We had a day off and were out on the beach playing football when I ruptured my knee. It was horrible, it swelled up like a balloon and I just wanted my mum. I tried to soldier on but in the end I had to be flown back to London.”

Sean Bean took over the coveted role of the dashing Sharpe and McGann found himself embroiled in a protracted court case concerning his contractual obligations. “Let’s just say that none of us was aware how badly injured I was. It was tough because I needed the dough at the time – and there would have been a lot of it – and that would have got us out of a domestic hole. It sent me into a bit of a spin, to be honest.” McGann’s next doomed project was as Doctor Who in the Hollywood-produced version which became the centre of another lawsuit between the BBC and a consortium of backers. The film, made in 1996, was a flop.

“I can’t regret it. It was a laugh. If it had gone ahead I would have been committed to five or six years in the US and I’d have had to move the family there. I didn’t want to be Dr Who at first – it’s a bit like taking over the responsibility of becoming the Pope – and I thought it was a silly idea. After all, I’m a po-faced dramatic actor.”

Last year McGann starred in Fish, BBC’s off-beat legal drama which was pulled because of dismal audiences. Recently he filmed The Biographer, playing Andrew Morton at the time when he was writing his celebrated book about Princess Diana. The film has yet to be released.

“I’m glad I did it. The scripts might have been salacious and awful but they weren’t. You don’t see Diana at all – just a fleeting glance from a distance with her back to us.”

Now, finger crossed, he’s back in another new BBC drama, Sweet Revenge, playing Patrick Vine, an “expert” in revenge whose clients want more than the old tried-and-tested methods involving “cutting up clothes and dead fish”.

McGann himself has toyed with the idea of revenge in the past. In 1996 [Actually 1994] he was spotted kissing Catherine Zeta Jones and became the subject of intense media interest. That Catherine was an old friend and the kiss no more than a mwah-mwah peck did not prevent the McGanns’ lives being made a misery. “It caused my wife Annie and I – and Catherine – huge distress. It’s very upsetting to be at the centre of that kind of attention. And did I want revenge? Too right I did. I wanted to get out there and throttle someone. Rightly or wrongly, I chose to do nothing. I didn’t want to dignify it by making any kind of statement. In the end the whole thing petered out because it was a non-story.”

Together for 20 years, Paul and Annie have two sons – Joe, 12, and Jake, 10. Annie studied acting at the Bristol Old Vic and their move from London happened over a long period of time. “We were in our own Withnail phase and felt we had to rejuvenate and get out of London, so we used to go to Bristol for weekends. We created a kind of bolt hole and eventually just forgot to leave. Then, when Annie was first pregnant we had to be grown up and buy a house. It was at that time in the late eighties when houses were a ridiculous price. That’s the real reason we stayed on in Bristol – we just couldn’t afford to live in London.”

He lives in Bristol almost by accident and he is an actor almost by accident.

“I never wanted to be an actor. I never went to Stratford-upon-Avon, or kept scrapbooks or had pictures of – I don’t know – Alan Howard on my bedroom walls. I would have liked to have been a musician. It was almost obligatory growing up in Liverpool – you kick a ball around and play in a band. But what I really wanted was to be a track and field athlete. I would have been perfectly satisfied with that – an athletic career or even teaching sport. But I didn’t make the Olympics which I wanted to do. It just didn’t happen. It was something to do with being 16 and highly sexed like all 16-year-olds and discovering the inside of the bar. So in the end I just slipped into the acting.”

McGann may have the ability to go with the flow but it’s clear he is not always so easy going. “I’m mellowing a bit. But there are times when I’ve wound myself up in knots, and in egotistical terms I think I was a bit of a bastard. I have thought about revenge in childish moments and temperamentally if I was going to get back at anyone I’d do it long after the event. That’s not nice, is it? I don’t forget but I’m reaching the stage where I can forgive. I’ve been a very jealous person as well. I’ve been jealous of my wife, jealous of my brothers and I’ve been jealous of people I’ve never met. Anyone who says they haven’t felt the same is a liar.

“I’ve reached the slow realisation that no one is really looking at me. You know how when you’re a kid you think you’re the centre of everyone’s attention? Discovering you’re not is refreshing, especially for an actor.”

McGann’s mellowing process is the result of hard experience. And he seems remarkably sanguine about his woeful luck. And old (well, middle-aged) hippy that he is, he quotes Sanskrit at me.

“You  find what you should be doing through your mistakes. I really believe that. And so much depends on luck. There’s a Sanskrit saying: ‘Where you stumble, there your treasure is’. Do you like that? It’s good, isn’t it?”

#paul mcgann #interviews #how did this woman manage to write this without checking some simple facts? #poor mark whose name is apparently difficult to get right #headdesks #mcgann monday

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Carry Me Home- Prompt: Bridal Carry, Jack Griffin

Requested by @chipadip

Jack doesn't like chaperoning field trips, but unfortunately this was one he couldn't claw his way out of. Perhaps he would have tried harder if he'd known it would end with Helen Henry Demarcus carrying him through the forest.

READ BELOW, OR ON AO3 HERE

By now, Jack really ought to know that things don’t go his way- not even, apparently, a simple fucking field trip. 

When Durbin first broached the idea during an impromptu staff meeting in the break room, Jack hadn’t even thought he would be coming on the damn thing. After all, he’s a part time teacher who, let’s be honest, doesn’t even do that. He spends his lessons napping or planning revenge missions against those who’ve wronged him instead of educating his students, and he’s almost certain everybody in the entire school knows that. Why would anybody consider asking him to supervise on a trip outside school grounds when he can’t even be bothered to supervise on school grounds?

But of course, he’d been added to a goddamn email chain about the trip which Dave- avid nature lover, and the reason the trip’s even happening in the first place- started using as a free space to display photos of squirrels and memes of cats hanging from trees captioned ‘hang in there!” (all of which were liked by Helen) to the point that Jack had to switch his phone to ‘do not disturb’ mode in order to escape the constant stream of notifications. Of course, this naturally meant that his inevitable insistences that really, he wasn’t interested in chaperoning an outing to Wildwood Preserve were buried beneath pages upon pages of junk emails, and consequently ignored. He didn’t have a chance at escaping it. 

As they pull up to the parking lot of the preserve, Jack suppresses a sigh at the way Dave immediately stands up to deliver a speech about the trip. He clearly thinks himself the Bear Grylls of Toledo, Ohio. 

Lynette shoots Jack an amused glance from across the coach, and he smirks back. Clearly, she’s thinking the same. 

Dave’s authoritarian regime continues way past this, though, and no sooner has Jack stepped off the coach than he’s being ushered towards ‘his group’. Well, not exactly. ‘His and Helen’s group’. Jack’s not sure exactly what he’s done to be punished like this, but before he can attempt to protest his placement with the most insufferable woman in all of Toledo, Dave is shooing the group- also including Sarika and Marcus as extra punishment- towards the woods and telling the students to document all of the plant life they see. 

Fantastic. As if this trip couldn’t get any more boring. 

Jack decides the best thing to do is just bite the bullet, shoving his hands in his pockets and giving Lynette a pleading look as he trails behind the group, Helen nattering incessantly in his ear. 

“Y’know, it’s been yonks since I came out here- well, not came out here, I did that during my sixth grade dance recital. Did I tell you about that one? Ah, I probably have but I’ll tell y’again anyway. It was a cold and dark evening on the 28th May 1975...”

Jack inhales. It’s going to be a long, long day. 

By the time Jack emerges from his haze of daydreaming, it’s already been a couple of hours. He’s leaning against a tree, arms crossed against his chest, watching lazily as the students around him pick about in the undergrowth for plants to take pictures of and wondering all the while how this can really constitute education. Sure, Whitlock wasn’t exactly high brow when he was in attendance, but at least he never had trips dedicated solely to yard work. 

His phone pings. 

Chair thief: U bored yet? Bcos I sure am

He grins. 

Bored out of my mind. The only thing I’m glad about is that Helen’s decided to start haranguing the kids instead of me. 

As if to check, he glances upwards, and is unsurprised to find her stood beside a crouched Sarika. He’s too far away to make out exactly what she’s saying, but judging by the ‘kill me now’ expression on Sarika’s face, it isn’t exactly titillating conversation. 

When he looks down, another message pops up. 

Chair thief: Does that count as child abuse? I think maybe you should step in, Jack. 

And risk transferring her talk onto me? No way, Lyns. 

He presses send with a satisfied smirk that quickly fades away as soon as a red error message appears below the text. Undelivered. 

Oh, for fu-

Sighing through gritted teeth, he holds his phone aloft, waiting for the signal to repair itself. It doesn’t, of course. All it accomplishes is making him look like an idiot. Okay, you wanna play this game, phone? Fine. 

He starts to wander from the clearing, still keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. Any minute now and it’ll send. Any minute now. Any... minute...

A little wheel jumps up on screen, and Jack’s so triumphant he doesn’t notice the log in front of him, his foot slamming against it the second the message finally sends. He howls out in pain, yanking his leg upwards, only to teeter right over the log anyway, landing in a crumpled mess in the leaves on the other side. 

His cheeks blaze with embarrassment, but he manages to sit up, glancing around to see if he’s caught the attention of anybody. At first, it appears he escaped without consequence. But then...

“Oh, Jack, there you are! I heard ya screaming like a tomcat in a bag! You okay?”

He half-groans as Helen emerges from the trees, waddling towards him at high speed.

“I’m fine, Helen. I just-“

When he splays his fingers against the ground and tries to pull himself up, though, he’s met with an immediate wave of pain from his ankle. 

“Oh, Christ. Fuck, that hurts.”

He looks down and is just a little nauseated at the sight of a bruise beginning to form on the joint. The swelling that’s starting to encase it. He hazards another small movement, grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut as it elicits the same shooting pain up his leg. He’s definitely rolled his ankle. 

“Ooh. That looks nasty.”

His eyes spring open to find Helen crouched at his side, and just as his lips move to tell her not to touch it, she’s pressing a finger right against his ankle so hard he has to bite his lip not to scream. Even so, he’s pretty sure a small whimper escapes. And... ooh, he really isn’t feeling so great all of a sudden. He’s a little dizzy. Lightheaded. 

“C’mon, you gotta get back to the coach- Ralph made sure we were bringing a first aid kit, because you just know how prepared he is. I mean, one time we were out for this teacher training day, and I slipped on a banana peel, right like in the movies, and Ralph-“

“Helen.” Jack grits out, eyes blazing with frustration. 

“Right. Yes. Onto the task at hand. Can ya walk?”

He nods fiercely, but the moment he attempts to stand again, that same flaring pain sends him sitting back down again, blinking through spots in his vision. Reluctantly, he shakes his head. 

“N-no. Don’t think I can.”

Helen smiles. A worrying sign, by all accounts. “Well, that’s just fine! Let me give you a hand.”

Jack sighs, almost ready to thank her, but instead of simply offering him some help getting up, she reaches her left arm below his knees and her right at his back, and lifts him off the ground. 

“WOAH! Christ, Helen, I don’t need-“

Cheeks rouging (something he’s not entirely frustrated about considering how faint he was feeling a second ago) and stomach lurching, Jack yelps as she takes a step forward, his arms leaping around her neck to keep himself from falling. Oh no. No no no no no no no. This is not happening. 

Except it is, and soon Helen is emerging into the clearing where all of his students are picking at dead leaves, immediately announcing Jack’s injury to all of them while they stand and watch, flabbergasted. Sarika has the nerve to smirk, folding her arms as he clings on to Helen like a stupid fucking spider monkey, the blazing heat he can feel in his face informing him that he definitely looks as embarrassed as he feels. 

“Alright, out the way, gotta get Mr Griffin back to the coach!”

His students part like the goddamn red sea, and he wishes he were crossing an ocean so he could slip free from Helen’s grasp to drown instead. Aware that if he lets himself fall, he’ll be in for a world of pain, though, he instead opts just to squeeze his eyes shut and wait for safety.

He knows the moment he’s close to the coach when he hears the astonished laughter of someone familiar. 

“Oh my God.”

“Shut up.” He murmurs to Lynette, mortification reaching an extreme. 

“What happened?” she chuckles. 

Helen helpfully (or not so helpfully) answers for him. 

“Oh, he just tripped over a twig- it’s fine.”

Jack opens his eyes to level a glare at her, even as his arms remain hooked around her neck. “Wasn’t- wasn’t a goddamn t-twig, Helen. It was a l-log.”

“Pfft. Twig, log. Same thing.”

Lynette grins. “It was definitely a twig.”

Dave, walking out from a different patch of the woods, frowns when he sees the commotion. 

“Oh, gee, did someone hurt themselves out in the wilderness? Let me go fetch the first aid kit.”

Jack swallows. No. No. Anyone but him, please. 

Lynette, thankfully, rolls her eyes and addresses Dave. “It’s alright. I’ve got this one. Besides, you’ve got to keep an eye on the whole trip, right?”

Dave hums thoughtfully. “Yeah. I s’pose you’re right... Just... just walkie me if you need to.” He gestures to a device strapped to his belt, because of course he’s keeping his on there like he’s a cop, while Jack’s is shoved somewhere in his pocket where it’s been buzzing annoyingly for the past few hours. 

“’Course. Will do.”

Helen sighs. “Right, then. Let’s get you back on the coach, and I’ll let the lovely Miss Hofstadter do the rest.”

Jack barely contains his smile when at last he’s placed down on one of the seats, and Helen disappears, leaving only him and...

“Hiya, Lyns.” He murmurs, leaning back. His cheeks are still flushed, but not from embarrassment this time. 

Sliding into the seat next to him, Lynette places the first aid kit on her lap. Her eyes twinkle playfukly when they meet his. 

“You really were bored, huh? Gave yourself a life-threatening twig injury just to get away and see me?”

He sweeps a quick glance outside to make sure they’re quite alone- they are- then turns back to her, leaning in until his breaths are ghosting her cheek. 

“Life-threatening log injury, actually.” He purrs.

 

“Oh, right...  My mistake...”

And when he closes the gap, his lips meeting hers, Jack doesn’t care anymore that he’s in excruciating pain. That he’s probably going to walk with a House-level limp until his ankle heals properly. That the stories of Helen carrying him through the forest are undoubtedly going to circulate like wildfire.

All he cares about is her. 

#bad things happen bingo #ap bio #ap bio nbc #jacklynette #jack griffin

[ihavenothingtodo10220]

do u ever think how in life we are told to aim for so much success and reach our full potential but then every other average person including celebs, idols etc etc are or have already done so, so why should we also need so much wealth or why should we need to put ourselves out there.

im constantly torn between wanting a simple affordable life that id be happy with maybe in the countryside (but its not affordable nowadays to live simply we still have to slave away) and the other side is that i have a need to constantly prove myself and to gain some type of recognition cause we are always told from kids to aim for the top paying jobs etc etc, most of that is what celebs have or do. i mean it cant always be that great what do rich ppl keep buying for each other dont they run out of things to own eventually cause they already own most rich people items?

fair enough if celebs and idols have talents but i dont im not even remotely pretty enough to do whatever it is they do but again its alwayd the what if i wouldve done things differently, maybe it would feel less narcissitic to want a bit of what celebs have if i already had done something differently yonks ago

the other issue is i no longer feel so attached to society if at all like i dont care to succeed i dont care to fail, im neither fussed if im alive or dead it just dont matter to me anymore, in the end the only thing thats going to happen is i will eventually pass away so no ones exactly going to miss me even in death or heaven as people still have their own lives i wouldnt or havent been anyone special at all

its almost saying how it only matters if its someone rich and famous so we have to be a somebody in order to be remembered otherwise we generally end up being a nobody as it is the way the internet goes into meltdown when celebs pass away as if it wasnt to be expected at some point. but if we arent on social media or we dont have a following we honestly do not matter even if we dont have partners or social group either like im so irrelevant no one gonna notice bar immediate family if i stop existing rofl

the way we have to do everything via a screen and screens are everywhere doesnt help me at all cause i feel further distanced from folk and like i dont belong, i dont need nor want a following but its almost being forced on all of us like people.

even idols cant do anything without needing to show their fans but the idols wouldnt notice every single fan to ever exist would they? all the interactions with celebs that fans have is always monentary or beifly. stays even treat bangchan like a long term permenanttherapist friend. yet neither if them truly know one another, so why do we get so attached to the idea of having thoughts and feelings towards someone whos never going to know us so again it dont matter if we do or dont exist as long as these idols and celebs briefly have enough fame for them to get by

but then what am i someone who just does nothing for a living cause i dont want what others want out of life if that makes sense? i either end up feeling like im from the wrong era dont belong with my generation dont belong with next generations would probably have preferred being in previous generations when things were simpler and affordable

sorry if this ask is a bit morbid, nihilistic or pessimistic i have so many mixed thoughts and feelings about existing lately what do you think? i mean obviously there is much narcissism in the world as it is so wouldnt we just be adding to it? am i just having nearly mid life crisis early? idfk anymore

Honestly people tell you to aim high because not only is it the best way to survive, but also because you can easily improve things. Many people who’ve done a lot were considered sub par, and the main reason they did was pure spite to the people who looked down on them and had more, and then they eventually became those people. It’s a cycle, and it’s human nature. And in this society, whether we like it or not, only the successful can truly be sure they can make it. Even middle-class families can easily crash and burn in the blink of an eye with losing their job and end up without anything to eat. But the successful don’t really have to worry about that, because they have a lot to fall back on. Things are also getting more and more expensive, and only the wealthy can really keep up with that. It’s sad, but reality.

And yeah, I think fans put so much pressure on idols because they’re just that. Idols. They idolize them and see them as these perfect beings far above any and everything, and they delude themselves into thinking they can be with them one day. So if an idol makes one wrong move, or dates someone, that false image comes crashing down. You don’t see that in the west simply because we don’t idolize celebrities to that same capacity. To us they’re not necessarily idols, and they’re much more open about their humanity.

[magpiefngrl]

2022 Book Review

so the first thing I noticed, looking back at what I read this year, is that I haven't read any books that blew me away (with one exception, see below). Unlike 2021 (see last year's posts here and a short one here) when I read books that left me with my jaw on the floor. The other thing I noticed is that in 2022 I went for a lot of rereads. I'm a big re-reader, if I love something I want to expose myself to it as often as I can, but this year I reread way more than I normally do. Then again, I've had a super busy summer and some pretty tough months following that, so it's not so surprising I sought out familiarity and comfort.

Total books read: (if I finish current read) 82 81

Books that stood out in 2022 and other musings:

I. The Queen's Thief series (you'll also see me refer to it as The Thief). Prob my most enjoyable read of the year. Two of the six books thrilled me in a way I hadn't felt in yonks and the other four were pretty good too. Also: A. I'm proud of starting and finishing a series in the same year, it doesn't always happen. B. jfc I have a new blorbo I'd die for.

II. The Wimsey books. I started going through them chronologically and read all of them (bar one, I think). I'm pleased that I started the series and finished it--like I said above, it doesn't often happen, esp in recent years. These are murder mysteries featuring a Duke's younger brother as the amateur sleuth. The mysteries aren't Agatha Christie level of competence (I figured out several murderers before the reveal and I'm not even particularly good at this), nor are all the novels equally good, but Sayer's witty prose was a true joy and her dialogue is a masterpiece.

III. Other top books of the year:

Siren Queen (queer SFF), Black Sun (native American inspired SFF), The Atlas Six (dark academia SFF), How to Bang a Billionaire (contemporary m/m romance), The Goldfinch (contemporary literary), Hogfather (fantasy, humour), and Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (historical fantasy, am at 70% and really loving it).

IV. I'm always excited to see fanfic authors moving on to original fic and I try to support those authors when I can. I've now created a shelf on my GoodReads so I can keep track. This year I read A Restless Truth, the sequel to Marvellous Light by Freya Marske, which was tremendously engaging, and I also read the self-published duology Magpie Ballads (Elegy is the first novel's title) by Vale Aida (only on Amazon atm). This author is superb, I truly love their writing style and how confidently they handle their craft (description, dialogue, narration etc). I have Thoughts TM on plot and story, but overall a very strong debut.

V. The exception (mentioned above): Lymond. What else. I finished Pawn in Frankincense in January and it destroyed me. Absolutely left me in a puddle weeping on the floor. I'd stalled in the book (and series) halfway through for years now. Each 1st Jan I'd be like "...and I need to finish the Lymond books this year!!!!" and it never happened--but then, in 2022, it (almost) did. I also read The Ringed Castle in autumn and am one third in Checkmate. Progress! (I had high hopes of finishing CM before NY but alas. Still trying to finish another long book.) Anyway, Pawn in Frankincense is the novel that blew me away in 2022.

VI. The new thing of the year: receiving daily-ish emails in my inbox with chapters from a classic book. I didn't go for Dracula as I read it some years ago but I signed up for Dangerous Liaisons. I was familiar with the plot, having watched the amazing adaptation (and the other, less than amazing one), but I still enjoyed the book a great deal. Receiving the letters in my inbox was a new and fun experience.

VII. Disappointments! Let's have some of those. The Glass Hotel: found it bleak and dull; DNF'ed it but I might return to it when I've got the energy for a slow story. Wilder Girls: not quite a disappointment but it could've done a lot more with that unique premise. Time Is A Mother (poetry collection): sacrilegious perhaps, but Vuong's Night Sky with Exit Wounds is unparalleled and this one suffers in comparison. Alix E Harrow has turned out to be a hit-or-miss author for me after all. Although I loved the first installment of her fairytale verse, I found A Mirror Mended lacked the depth of the first novella. Good but not memorable. And finally Nghi Vo's Into the Riverlands, the third novella of her Singing Hills Cycle, was OK. A decent read but nothing more.

VIII. I don't read non-fiction at all, it's really not my thing, unless it's books on the writing craft. I used to seek them out avidly, but not anymore. After going through a couple dozen of these books, you realise they all start sounding alike. That being said, writing craft books can be motivating during times of block and often you might find a few gems of advice that can be very inspiring. This year I only read one such book (Writing 21st Century Fiction by D. Maas), which was nothing ground-breaking but included a few exercises that I'm eager to try.

What were your fave reads of 2022? Let me know or tag me, I'm very curious about the books people love.

#books #2022 books #long post #book recs

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 12 DAENERYS I (pages 170-184)

Dany rides through the desert on a horse with no name, finds an abandoned city, and unlocks Jorah's backstory. Jhogo makes contact with Qarth.

-

"Why should I fear Pono?" Dany objected. "He was Drogo's ko, and always spoke me gently." "Ko Pono spoke you gently," Ser Jorah Mormont said. "Khal Pono will kill you. He was the first to abandon Drogo. Ten thosuand warriors went with him. You have a hundred." No, Dany thought, I have four. The rest are women, old sick men, and boys whose hair had never been braided.

He was nice when you were his boss's wife, now you're just some lady who once tried to steal away his right to rape and slave as he liked. He's not even a bloodrider duty bound to see you safely to the dosh khaleen.

"They are mine," she said fiercely. They had been born from her faith and her need, given life by the deaths of her husband and unborn son and the maegi Mirri Maz Duur.

hmmmm... *reassesses theory on "the souls of the sacrifices used to wake the dragons being recycled into dragon souls" now with the idea that one of the dragons is ensouled by Mirri directly and not by Viserys.*

(Like, thematically and by naming convention it would make sense to be Viserys' soul, but on the other hand, he's been dead for donkey's yonks by this point.)

Her hair had all burned away in Drogo's pyre, so her handmaidens garbed her in the skin of the hrakkar Drogo had slain, the white lion of the Dothraki sea. Its fearsome head made a hood to cover her naked scalp, its pelt a cloak that flowed across her shoulders and down her back.

*gasp* Kimba! No!!! We were robbed by the show.

Their mounts subsisted on the tough brown devilgrass that grew in clumps at the base of rocks and dead trees. Dany sent outriders ranging ahead of the column but they found neither wells nor springs, only bitters pools, shallow and stagnant, shrinking in the hot sun.

yeah, sounds you are in 'dig for potable water' territory now. If you had cloth to filter it, you could filter the stagnant water, and use the dead trees to boil it clean, but in a desert like that, surface water is not what you want to be holding out hope for. You gotta dig.

"Aegon's dragons were named for the gods of Old Valyria," she told her bloodriders one morning after a long night's journey. "Visenya's dragon Vhagar, Rhaenys had Meraxes, and Aegon rode Balerion, the Black Dread. -"

Huh, neat. So named after as in those were the same names, or named after like Drogon after Drogo, with small changes?

... RIP Doreah.

Dany went to Ser Jorah one morning as they made camp amidst a jumble of black wind-scoured stones. "Are we lost?" she asked him. "Does this waste have no end to it?"

I imagine traveling exclusively by night makes navigating by stars easier, but there's no mention of it, are they legit just following the comet? How long is it going to be in the sky for? How long has it been there already?

Dany looked at the horizon with despair. they had lost a third of their number, and still the waste stretched before them, bleak and red and endless.

Not gonna lie, that's actually a better survival rate than I was expecting.

How long the city had been deserted she could not know, but the white walls, so beautiful from afar, were cracked and crumbling when seen up close. Inside was a maze of narrow, crooked alleys. The buildings were pressed close, their facades blank, chalky, windowless. Everything was white, as if the people who lived here had known nothing of color.

It would be interesting to know if the building were always only white because it reflects the light and heat, or if there was coloured paints and pigments on the walls long ago which have been long sun-bleached to whiteness, or if the Dothraki who once invaded stole everything of colour.

"What shall we seek, Khaleesi?" asked Jhogo. "Whatever there is," Dany answered. "Seek for other cities, living or dead. Seek for caravans and people. Seek for rivers and lakes and the great salt sea. Find how far this waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side. When I leave this place, I do not mean to strike out blind again. I will know where I am bound, and how best to get there."

Good girl, now that you've had the chance to stop and think you're thinking smart.

Rakharo was back first. ... Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom. Aggo was back next. ... Dany thanked him and told him to repair the gates. If enemies had crossed the waste to destroy these cities in ancient days, they might well come again. "If so we might be ready," she declared.

Somewhere in the multiverse, Dany and her khalasar stayed there, in their city of bones and grew into a small but prosperous little community. And no one hurt or betrayed or enslaved them ever again.

"ugly humped creatures that dwarfed any horse." CAMELS!

The pale man with the blue lips replied in guttural Dothraki, (...) The bald man with the jewels in his nose answered in the Valyrian of the Free Cities, (...) The woman in the lacquered wooden mask said in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms, (...)

That's interesting* each of the three speaking to Dany in a different language, like they're trying to appeal to a certain aspect of her through their use of the languages they share with her.

*New drinking game, y'all take a sip anytime the Reader says "that's interesting" XD

#a clash of kings #a song of ice and fire #daenerys targeryan #a chapter a day reading #acok #asoiaf

[wildwormies]

Hey y’all it’s time for The Gecko Effect💃 🦎

Oh my god he on X-games mode

Vibes: 9 yr olds up past their bedtime

Me ranting to the shampoo bottles

Death to all of them

Nerds

Martin’s first response to being told they need a distraction is to practice his standup routine. Love him

Obligatory cursed shot

Mm, lightning feet. I know an odd squad kid who can clear that right up

He looks like he’s banned from the local playground

Chase scene

[Golem voice] Mmmmmmm Aviva angst me smells? Oh yes, very tasties. full of insecurities and fear, Worm’s favorite 

GUYS PLEASE YOU��RE CAPTURED

Boy i

Yonked

Me annoying people in a discord call

She’s falling in slow motion I can’t

Husband and wife

Draw the squad

Nerds

Look at her. Beautiful. Not a thought behind those eyes

#wormcaps #love that Koki's pose gives off mom vibes #I dont get what we're doing but I'm supporting my kids #is it just me or does the tortuga feel bigger in this ep #2d martin kratt #2d chris kratt #aviva corcovado #jimmy z #wk koki #zach varmitech

[ceejaykayess]

The long awaited sequel! Super-cute Cyber-girl AI-Ball Ene, at your service! I kid, I kid, I know no one saw the last post, because it didn’t get posted under the tag for some reason… ah well, second try’s the charm.

After hearing that next year’s Dazecon would be our last, it sorta kicked my ass into gear to get some more of these Kagepro ideas off my chest and onto paper. So, Ene, our deuteragonist to our beloved protagonist (derogatory).

I had a lot of thoughts ever since the first picture on how I wanted to draw Ene’s cyber form. Given Aiba and Tama’s designs, we have something of a base to work off of, but we need at least one more game for me to confidently declare what is and isn’t a pattern. What we can easily tell, at least, is that AI-Balls have white hair and and dress in mostly black and white. And while Ene does do the latter, she… doesn’t do the former. Why? Well… maybe you can figure it out?

But in terms of her design, while I mostly stick to her regular design, the things I want to point out (because it might not be super obvious with my image quality) are the glowing strands in her hair, a blue one in her fringe, a red one in her left pigtail, and a white one in her left. I suppose you could call them remnants of what should have been… I also want to point out her outfit- it’s skin-tight from the neck to the waist, the skirt being a part of the bodysuit. The sleeves are, almost ironically, like Miku’s in that they’re detachable. And the most AI-Ball feature to her are the tech veins that compose her legs, as opposed to generally lacking them as in most Kagepro material.

I made Ene’s gel form a rabbit, in consideration of those mini-sketch comics I read yonks ago that drew Ene’s pigtails as being like hands for her since hers are in her sleeves always. Also, I thought it’d be funny if the first time Shintarou saw it, he’d consider renaming her to Tono in honour of his rabbit.

In case it’s hard to read, the shocked Ene in the top right is saying, “Master! MASTER! Oh no, he can’t hear me, he’s wearing his Raycon:tm: Earbuds, supremely comfortable for all your needs-” The little sketch in the bottom right, of Shintaro face down in bed and Ene in rabbit mode on his bedside table, reads, “Get the fuck up Master, we’re goin’ to the amusement park today!” “Ene, I’m dying…”

Here's a link to the first picture of Shintaro that never posted properly. And here's a link to the follow-up Yaki picture.

How long had she been wandering? She wasn’t really sure. Sure, if she looked at a calendar, or even just the UI on near anyone’s digital device, she’d see that it had been a year, more even. But that wasn’t really what she meant.

When she first opened her eyes, she had a purpose. She wasn’t wandering- she was seeking. She wasn’t on a Journey, she was on a Quest. She had to find them, had to know what happened to them, because if she were here, like this, then the others, then he had to be-

But though she had a Quest, she had to figure it out, her newfound capabilities, how to parse the sheer amount of information that tried to force its way around her, through her, tried to twist the information that made up herself-

And by the time she had come to a balance with her newfound self, body made of numbers and pixels instead of blood vessels and organ systems, what she had been seeking had become old news, hearsay that was washed under the waves of time and new information and new tragedies and new things for people to talk about. The longer it took, the deeper the information was buried, and the deeper it was buried, the longer it would take for her to come and go.

But eventually, after months and months, 8 months and 17 days and 9 hours and 21 minutes and 2 seconds, 3 seconds, 4 seconds, she had bounced from Wiki article to Wiki article, dug through news archives, dragged herself through Towitter discussions and arguments dated around that August 15th, and a bit after, she had learned and pieced together thus: Three people were marked as dead. 14 people were injured, 9 of which being detained as members of the syndicate that caused the explosion. There was no mention of who died, or even of the state their bodies were in. There was no specific mention of their fourth, her annoying kouhai who was so bitter, who brought everyone down despite his brilliance, who everyone loved despite his acidic tongue and obvious disdain, who she hated because of how much it felt like she were looking at a mirror, her kouhai who was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by rubble and mumbling things she could barely understand being in such a terrible state herself-

She felt herself lose it, the desperate, fickle hope she held in her oversized jumper, because what does it matter? For all intents and purposes, she was dead. As far as she was aware, as far as anyone was aware, her best friend was, too. Maybe even her kouhai. And her-

And-

That kind boy, the one that irritated her so, the one that she wanted to see every day, the one that made her feel this terrible, terrible way, he too is-

Gone. They’re all gone. So what’s the point? Her Quest was over. And she couldn’t even delete herself, backspace over the 1′s and 0′s that composed her new existence. She was too much of a coward to throw herself at a virus and let it have its way with her. She could just stay here until eventually this webpage rotted away, but the longer she stayed in proximity to this information, to this reminder, the more she felt like she needed to expel the non-existent contents of her non-existent stomach. So she ran. She left. She tried to separate herself from her name, from the life that could no longer be hers, that simply was no longer.

She wandered.

How long had she been wandering?

…

Long enough that she felt nostalgic, at least. Long enough that she’s actually contemplating her current course of action, long enough that she’s following through on that course even as she contemplates the wisdom.

Her current location, digitally, was in the mainframe of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Her destination was downstairs, 5 floors underground in fact. The Advanced Brain Investigation Squad. Her… former squad, to put it a way. She followed along the flow of data from the routers to the elevator, holding and holding and holding on to the connection as she sunk deeper and deeper and deeper until she felt like she might actually suffocate despite not needing air, before feeling the next router and leaping for it, bringing her all the way down to the abyss.

Taking in deep gasping breaths of nothing that still let her feel like a human, she looked around. The ABIS mainframe wasn’t anything special. Tunnelled far as hell away from anything else, sure, but nothing special. So much for the stupid old man and his so-called “professional coding skills”. Feh. She’s seen message boards with more interesting encryption.

Despite her trash-talking, she still looked around curious as she wandered deeper. Jumping from computer to computer, camera to camera, she saw how much the place had changed in the last year. Or rather, how little it didn’t. It was like she had never left. Eventually she came across a concrete room with a familiar sense of decoration that made her want to spit and laugh and scream and cry-

Which was immediately blown away when she looked down on the room’s occupants. There was, of course, the room’s owner and decorator, with his scruffy brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, holding his iconic lab coat rather than wearing it, glasses askew and face looking as if he hadn’t slept or washed his face for days. His cybernetic eye, pupil the same as his remaining brown one, stared deep into the eyes of the person that had her stopping short, looking again, re-evaluating and readjusting, checking the feed and the system and refreshing everything, video and audio, again and again, just to make sure she wasn’t being deceived, that the person she was seeing was really who she thought he was.

“-is that understood, Shintaro?” “…I understand, old man.”

His voice was somehow more unbearable than usual, his face lacking its usual stern and uncaring look. It was loose, and flabby. Like he didn’t even care enough to pretend to not care. Instead of the red coat her best friend was so fond of, or even the black suit he was partial to, he stood in just a white shirt, arms bare. He was missing an eye, a scar covering the eyelid, one that made her think of a boy reluctantly in red, facedown in a puddle of the colour.

“Oi, I told you already, call me Boss, y’got it brat!?” “Mm.”

Barely acknowledging him, he turned away, making his way out of Boss’ Office, as the namesake would have you call it. Without thinking, she began to follow after him, but was stopped when she heard the old goat mutter something.

“Give me strength, Ayaka…”

Whispering the pained prayer, the man she always thought of as an unreliable lout that only ever got moving when he was being put under threat stood, donning his lab coat and fixing his glasses. Reaching into it, he withdrew a small sphere, chockful of electronic components- very similar to the one in his own eye, actually… or rather, based on it. He gave it a long look, and so did she. What was he planning…? Her musing was broken by his clenching of his fist and replacing the orb, muttering tomorrow as he moved out of the room- down the hallway and towards his lab. The opposite direction of Shintaro.

Shintaro.

Almost without thinking, she turned around, searching for the apathetic genius, that damn ikemen that couldn’t take a hint for the life of him. The hallway was lonely, and he was never very fast, so she caught him easily halfway towards the elevator. She hesitated. She had already seen more than she expected, more than she even wanted. She had expected the old man. Hell, maybe some part of her even expected to see reference to the others, pictures maybe. She hadn’t even gotten to look at their old workplaces, at her old work bench where she fiddled with her Evolver- she didn’t even know if her Evolver was still around.

But she hadn’t expected a man, no, a brat she thought was dead to be walking around with the living. She shouldn’t follow him. She wanted to check on her Evolver, see if Mr. Tateyama had improved on anything in the last year, see if the three of them are still remembered. She doesn’t even like Shintaro that much anyways, if he knew she was spying on him he’d just scold and scream at her like the ungrateful punk he is-

But even so, she follows him anyways. Jumps to the data in his phone, barren and new, clenched in his hand. She’s only doing this because the other two would have wanted her to. Not because she wants to.

And so, she watches as he rides the elevator, not once glancing at his phone. She watches as he hails a cab and asks for an address that, after a quick search, she finds is set in Tokyo, not Chiba. She watches as he sits silently through the whole ride, rudely ignoring his chauffeur’s attempts at conversation and instead looks with almost a sad look at the cityscape passing him by. She watches as he pays the driver, walks up to the rundown looking building, sighs, and opens the door. She watches as he nods at the tired 30-something reclining against a couch in the foyer, walking up the stairs until he comes up to a door. And she watches as he silently pulls out a key, opens the door, and skulks to his room. She can’t see anything else out of the narrow view the phone’s camera offers her, but it looks like he’s trying to be quiet. Could there… be someone else here?

And eventually, he enters a dark room. He makes for the bed in the corner, planting himself on the mattress, and looks down. In his hands, his phone, and thus she, face towards him. He looks into the screen, and for a moment she felt panic. Did he see her? What was she going to say? How does she explain it- anything? Would he even care? As she opened her mouth, prepared to speak through the microphone-

He slumped his shoulders, sighed, and closed his eyes. “Damn it,” he mumbled. He rubs his eyes, and places the phone down. Whatever he does next is a mystery, as the phone she’s in is can only see up and down, and half of that is unavailable to her on a flat surface. She feels out, and finds a computer to connect to. She shuffles over, and finds herself in a much roomier space. Taking care not to activate the screen, she peeks through the camera to see… him, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. She stared at him for what must have been a reasonable time before turning away- she wasn’t going to get anything out of him, not like this, and not without announcing herself, which- she still hasn’t thought on whether she actually wanted to, let alone how. So, instead of being productive and thinking on it, she turns back to the files on his computer and, invasion of privacy be damned, went scrounging.

His internet history, nothing but 2channel, various forums she also used to browse, anime piracy websites, and the occasional risque website search. She held back on this occasion, she didn’t need to know. Yet. Around certain dates, he would even search up strange things like gift ideas or idol showing tickets. Weirdo.

Outside of his history, there’s his documents. A lot of deleted drafts, the occasional downloaded risque image (legs, huh? Is that why she had always…?), and a lot of editing software. A lot of editing software. What was all this…? She found unfinished music projects, which she wouldn’t dare listen to while he’s still here. Poems that trailed off, half-thought out lyrics written here and there. The occasional poorly drawn picture, and… photos. Lots and lots of photos. Some in a file labelled “Never forget.” Others labelled in a file called “Never forgive.” The former was full of pictures of… them. Shintaro, and her, and… and Ayano, and Haruka, their faces ones she hadn’t even realised she had begun to forget until this moment. Them in high school, their first meeting at the school festival, group projects and study groups, sleepovers and festival gatherings- their first day at ABIS, too. And, not just that. Pictures of Haruka drawing, of herself fiddling with the Evolver or a game she was practicing, Ayano hard at work on a test or humming while folding paper cranes- none of these were taken by Shintaro, she was certain, but he collected them all anyways. There were even more besides.

Some of a bright little girl with searing orange hair, the barest similarities to Shintaro in her face and the strongest in her eyes (he had mentioned a little sister, didn’t he?), others of that bright girl next to him and a woman that looked older than both but even more similar, even older ones of a young boy and girl that could only be those two standing hand in hand with that same woman and an older man. Pictures of a cute white rabbit (Tounou, wasn’t that her name?), of the old man, and of old and familiar places. Their school, that bridge, even the one game convention they all attended.

She… didn't know how she felt about it. Leaving that, she opened up the other file, and found… pictures of that place. As it was before the explosion, and as it was after. Documents detailing changes, listing occupants and suspects and those connected to the members they captured, pictures of them with friends and family, all connected together by a metaphorical red string in the document that centres around one simple question: Where are they?

She… really didn't know how she felt about it. He hadn't let go or moved on, he hadn't been wallowing- he was on just as much of a Quest as she had been. As she still could be. Closing the file, she looks through the camera at her kouhai's slumped form, thoughts running through her mind…

…

He left the building bright and early the next day, once again holding tightly onto the new phone. And once again, the two of them found themselves returning to their old workplace. She wasn't certain of what he was here for, but she could guess. As he made his way out of the elevator and towards the old man's so-called lab, the Psync Room, she felt even more certain of her prediction.

And eventually, standing in front of the jacketless boy, was the old goat she had once called teacher, looking just as rumpled as yesterday but at least clad in his lab coat. And in his hand, as expected, was the small orb filled to the brim with cybernetics. He began to explain what exactly was in his hand, an AI-Ball he called it (the shitty punster he is), and started rattling off features like different vision wavelengths, internet access, and most notably, an AI companion to keep him company.

This piqued her attention the most. Someone to stand by his side and help him out, to protect him as he tries to protect others. A partner… and one that can't die, by virtue of their existence being backed up on the so-called Wadjet System. To her, it sounded like…

An opportunity.

As the old man rambled on, she tried to feel out the AI-Ball. For such a supposedly high-tech piece of equipment, it felt rather… undefended, from threats such as her. Then again, she doubts anyone could've expected a sapient AI to be floating about. Or maybe they'll add some better antivirus later… hopefully. Pushing through some gaps in the firewall, she found herself in the core of the device. Looking this way and that, she tried to familiarize herself with her new housing. Looked like audio was here, here was video, here was… AR projection? And… a neural link, a gel formation, a shock response, and- a self-destruct??

Before she could really parse through all that (seriously, why so many abilities??), she found herself stumbling on… well, what she should have expected, really. An AI, young and unassuming. And asleep. It lacked an appearance in this digital world, merely a bundle of code vaguely shaped like a person. If she was going to do what she had to do, then she had to… get rid of it. There was no way she could hold control while the AI this body was made for was running around too, but… well, it felt a bit like murder to her. But that was silly, this wasn't a person, just an AI, with no life to speak of, and no memories either (she steadfastly ignored the stupid, stupid old man's remarks that the AI-Ball would grow alongside him to become his perfect partner).

She had to do it. She had to. For Shintaro. For Ayano. For Haruka. And maybe even a little bit for herself, too. She raised her hands and stepped toward the nameless AI, preparing to unravel the lines of code holding it together, preparing to scatter its 1's and 0's into the Cloud, preparing to deprive it of the chance to become its own person- and stopped. She- she couldn't. She just- she was callous but not cruel, the last year hadn't changed that. It had made her energetic in a way she never could consistently be in a body but tired in a way that was deeper than her bones, but it hadn't made her a murderer.

But still she had to- to do something. Maybe, maybe they could share, or-

"Well, go ahead and put her in, Shintaro."

And then suddenly the neural link was being opened and the AI was opening its eyes, slowly generating an appearance just from the barest hints of Shintaro's psyche, body becoming more defined, hair appearing and growing long, down to the waist, and-

She panicked. She reached out with her hand and pulled, binding and zipping the core of the AI down as she hurried, ignoring the voiceless cry as she reached out with her other hand, grabbing the neural link and-

Then she was twisting and writhing, her body being compressed and stretched out, information not native to her forcing its way in, connections to something beyond, a Mother that was not her mother, her form changing, blue becoming white and she could hear him, his thoughts, feel his sorrow, his confusion, his annoyance, his apathy, and she opens her mouth to scream-

And then it all faded away, assimilated with her, and she felt different, but she still felt like herself, and she opened her eyes and looked out through a single eye, taller than she had ever been (silently, an eye coloured #fa3c3e shifted to a hue constantly transitioning from #55edfe to #0e2652), and-

"I can… see. Thanks, old man."

"Oi! I already told you, call me Boss! Hell, I'll even accept you calling me by name, anything's better than old man!"

"Mm. So, what was that about an AI companion?"

"Eh? You can't hear her? Strange, maybe she's a bit shyer than I expected. Let me just-"

The old goat made motions towards the AI-Ball, and she quivered, she had to do something, else he'd see that she isn't meant to be here, but what could she- oh, duh!

"I-it's nothing to worry about! Sorry!"

"Eh?"

Her kouhai looked this way and that, scratching his head. He almost looked scared.

"Did… you hear something, old man?"

"…no? Oh, is that the AI-Ball?"

"Yep yep, that's me!" She tried to centre herself, she needed to land a good introduction so they don't suspect a thing. Briefly, her mind recalled a conversation she and her best friend had about this dense bastard, and decided to follow through in her unspoken plea. "Super cute cybergirl AI companion Ene, at your service, Ma-su-tah~"

Alright, maybe that was a bit much, but sue her! She was panicking, and needed to keep him off kilter!

"E-eh? Ene? Super cute?? Master??? Old man, what the hell kind of AI did you stick in my head!?"

The old goat raised his hands in defence. "Hey, I didn't do anything. The AI-Ball determines its personality based on what's best for you. Is there something you need to tell me, young man…?" He raised a brow mockingly, barely suppressing a gross smirk.

Her… guh, Master blushed red, shaking his head frantically. "N-no! And- and it's barely even been few minutes, how could she know what's best for me!?"

He shrugged. "That's just her opinion. Maybe you'll feel more comfortable with it in a few months."

"A few months!?" Her Master went bug-eyed. Pfft, if only she could see his face… "Hell no, get this thing outta me!"

"Aw, Master, that's so mean… sniff sniff… am I really so deplorable?" To try and strike it home, she used the AR projection feature, placing an image of her newly reformed cyberself before him, now detachable sleeves covering her face as she shakes and shivers. After all, this guy…

"Guh… f-fine."

Was an absolute pushover.

"Alright, that's great to hear brat! Now get out of here, I'm busy. I'll be seeing you here next week for you to resume your apprenticeship, so make sure to send me any emails if any issues pop up with her."

With his piece said, he turns back to the rows of computers, completely ignoring Shintaro. Her Master, still shaking off his flush, turns away and grumbles. As he stalks his way down to the elevator, Ene felt out his being, the rush of thoughts on her, on Kejirou, on the past, on the future, all blended together with his embarrassment, his frustration, his exhaustion- it was all rather dizzying to her. Maybe if she were truly an AI, designed for this sort of relationship, it wouldn't be so hard. Silently, she tried to mute the connection, grunting when she saw that wasn't an option.

As he entered the elevator, he slumped against the back wall, riding it up to the ground floor. He's silent, so she is too, not really sure what to do.

"Hey, Ene."

She jumps. That wasn't ever a thing she expected him to call her.

"Yes, Master?"

He winces, but shakes it off. He stands silent for one beat, two, three, and she almost thinks he's ignoring her before he continues.

"…let's get along."

Ene stared blankly. That was… probably the most polite he had ever treated her. She smacked her face- now wasn't the time. Make a good first impression. Even so, she couldn't help the way her voice softened a bit as she said her first genuine sentence as Ene instead of as the ghost of Takane Enomoto.

"…yeah. Let's get along… Master."

#ai the somnium files #kagerou project #art #ene #aitsf #Her centre stance is based on her pose in the Meka Trio's portion of the anime OP #Her face in the top right is based on a frame from the Summertime Record MV #This story got right the heck away from me it's way too long #I messed up and didn;t realise reblogs didn't count as posts that would appear in the tags in and of themselves #I should have because that explains why I never saw reblogs when I was scrolling through a tag's history rather than my feed but alas #Also I decided Fraying was dumb; this story just works on the Snakes

[briankang]

this looked so fun!! there’ll definitely be some missing months because i was a bit spotty with activity (surprisedpikachu.png), but regardless!!! let’s go !!

i was tagged by my loves: @ambivartence & @agibbangs​​ !!

JANUARY

Most Popular/Favorite (the only thing I made this month lmao): postcards from mars hyunjin

MARCH

Most Popular: hyunjin’s birthday set! 

Favorite: skz as a video game for their 4th anniversary. i think this is one of my favs period out of the entire list.

APRIL

Most Popular: this changlix in mixtape #4 for @lonelystreetlight​ set. god bless those two. 

Favorite: MY AWKWARD SILENCE SET as #1 awkward silence stan this was sooo fun. i love her so much.

MAY

Most Popular: jesus christ i was on one this month i made so many sets. why. however most popular goes to this pink hyunjin set i made for @quokki​ i totally forgot about omg

Favorite: this was the month of minho on this blog. if i had to choose either this moment with seungmin i made for my wife @hanjesungs​ or this vlog i giffed of him ! sorry i’m cheating. oops. 

JUNE

Most Popular: hello miss circus teaser!!! 

Favorite: sorry to cheat again. this was almost most popular if circus teaser hadn’t been. y’all really were into minho drinking his coke zero (so was i that’s why thats i giffed it) or minchan “working out”

JULY

Most Popular: minho doing nayeon’s pop choreo on vlive. this destroyed ya’ll in a way words can’t describe. jesus christ. 

Favorite: me, cheating again. my 1 year with skz set, this pink minchan set that took me ten million years to upload, and this anniversary tag set!

AUGUST

Most Popular/Favorite: this skz members if they had digimon crests posts i made which i lied earlier. this is actually my favorite post of this year. 

OCTOBER

Most Popular: hello puppy interview where the joke was definitely not said wrong !

Favorite: chris bday edit, minho bday edit, and my first yonk edit!!!!! no i will not choose bc this was also my bday month!!!! tayminchan month supremacy!!!!!!

NOVEMBER

Most Popular: seungmin + puppy for @hanjesungs​ again hehe. also known as 2 puppies 2 puppies one jeju

Favorite: camping with lino!!!!!!! i love giffing a good lino vlog!!!!!!!!

DECEMBER

Most Popular: minho squared!!!!!! they did this for me, actually. also wow. minho was all over this blog this year huh. oops.

Favorite: yonk bday edit!!!!!! i also rlly loved this bambam set from riBBon. 

 i think that’s all!!! only 2 missing months, which isn’t so bad!! i’m taggingggg: @chanstopher, @briankang, @jeonwonwoo, @quokki, @sanayeon, @yonglixx, @minzbins, and @yang-innie​ !!!!

#tag game

[the-trickster-joker]

A blue butterfly lands on a girl's nose. On the girl's body were other blue butterflies. She giggled at the feeling of the insects tickling her skin.

"Come along now! We don't want to worry them too much."

"Aw," she pouts, "I wanna stay with my friends!"

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," the formally dressed elder walked over to the girl, "these butterflies are special. They'll always find you and look after you."

"So I'm not going to make them sad?"

"Of course not," with the elderly man by her side the butterflies took the the sky, "they feel the same way as you are to them."

~

A gentle tug on a wire made Rose shoot up, "Chi chi what are you doing?!"

"Why do you have to wear this machine," Chi chi popped her head out from the top, "you just collapsed like the others times before."

"They just want to be sure it's not a heart issue," Rose huffed, "I don't like it either. What else could I do, other than deal with this for a day."

"You could take it off now, if you're allowed to."

"I want to but if I have to keep it on," Rose grew little buds of frustration in her tone, "I don't like it either. Can't go into Mementos or Nebulous without risking the device getting messed up or rising suspicion."

"You could invite somebody over when they're available," Chi chi whined, "damnit! They're all doing their own things in those worlds," Chi chi looked at a clock, "probably."

"Be careful with the cords."

"I will," Chi chi yonked herself out from Rose's shirt, "see? I was careful."

Chi chi's ears flopped down with Rose's hand patting the Shiba's head.

"I have an idea," Rose spoke, "you want to go out and see where the day takes us?"

"Really," a curled tail bounced around in excitement, "you mean it?"

"Of course. I got some extra money to spend on some extras."

"You think we'll run into anyone?"

"Maybe," Rose got up from her seat, "we'll have to see."

Chi chi ran to the door, "come on, slow poke!"

~

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What's with the feeder? I know you like seeing the birds and all. It's not one that birds use."

"It's a butterfly feeder. Surprised they had some in the shop."

"I didn't know you liked butterflies. The ones I always see are either in the parks or out of place in the city."

"Doesn't hurt to see some up close."

"Yeah yeah," chi chi huffed, "where to next?"

"I was thinking about getting something for everyone. I just haven't figured out what to get for each of them yet."

"They might like what you cook. You're pretty good at it and Goto has helped with improving your abilities."

"I want something that can last years. Not minutes."

Chi chi giggled, "I think they'll like whatever you give them," an idea sprouted, "oh! You're getting into making jewelry right? You could make a simple, personalized necklace, bracelet, or earrings for them!"

"I can't make earrings yet," Rose sighs then perked up, "I can make a bracelets for each of them. Just need to figure out what I need."

"Let's go," chi chi ran off.

"Chi chi!"

'Ugh, I swear she hasn't learned from the Nebulous,' Rose thought within.

( I hope this doesn't bother you :p)

@a-bouquet-of-shadows

Rei was out and about and texted Rose.

_Rei: Hey there. Are you open today?_

[hangon-silvergirl]

@majicmarker tagged me to have a look at my WIPs and find the words sigh, sweet, and taste. I went a little overboard with the size of snippets, but, eh. Enjoy?

sigh, from a one-shot I'm working on for HellCheer Week that'll be called flowers in the window:

Eddie has Chrissy’s arm in his hand, and he’s doodling the outlines of flowers on her forearm and wrist with ballpoint pens, alternating between black, blue and red. “You’re quiet tonight,” he says, shading a sunflower. She rolls her shoulders in a shrug and gives him a small, sad smile, but she’s looking at the water-stained ceiling. “Everything alright?” “Yes. No? I don’t know…” Chrissy clenches and unclenches her fist, and she’s chewing hard on her bottom lip. Eddie pokes Chrissy’s stomach with the backend of the pen in his hand, and she sighs. “My mother was harassing me about Jason again.” Eddie starts drawing daisies. “Jesus,” he says. “It’s been a month, when’s she gonna give up the fucking ghost?” “I don’t know. It’s stupid. I keep telling her that it’s over, that I wasn’t happy. Daddy keeps telling her too, he keeps trying to run interference, because otherwise she’s just… Incessant. Like, God, at this point I’ll bet that even Jason’s probably telling her to get over it, when she calls him up to cry.” Eddie snorts. He starts drawing roses with the red pen.

sweet, from chapter 6 of Marigold:

“Cunningham,” he drawls, giving her a once-over, pleased smile en route to becoming a wolfish grin. “You told me that your mother buys your clothes. Gonna be a hard sell to convince me that she dresses you like a kindergarten teacher during the day then--” he gestures to all of her “--like this at night.” There’s a lot of emphasis on the this, and Chrissy likes it. It makes her feel tingly and desired, and her cheeks burn hot. Jason always tells Chrissy that she’s cute, or sweet, or perfect. He's never even called her hot or sexy during sex, though she's certainly heard him use the words with his friends when they talk about Phoebe Cates and Kelly LeBrock. But the look in Eddie’s eyes and the implication of his tone, and the juxtaposed way he's doing this very wholesome sort of leering, suggests that those words might be on the tip of his tongue. Emboldened by this, Chrissy does a little spin for him, so that he can get a good look at her exposed back. Eddie lets out a low whistle. (It’s not a wolf whistle, but she’ll take it.)

taste, from chapter 5 of the buzz:

The HairTM: I don’t even understand how you were able to DRINK Starbucks without bursting into flames. You: that is some nonsensical bullshit, harrington You: they don’t make their fucking lattes with holy water Rockin’ Robin: aaaaaaalll joking aside, steve, you actually know that eddie’s not really, like, /literally/ a vessel for the devil right You: nah, bro, i fucking wish The HairTM: Could’ve fooled me You: harrington, that’s not hard You: your last two brain cells smothered each other in 1999 The HairTM: I wasn’t even alive in 1999. You: i am aware You: such is the deficit at which you live your sad life You: lost your sense before your daddy even shot his load You: SAD Rockin’ Robin: hahaha buuuuuuuuuuuuuuurn The HairTM: You’re a dick. The HairTM: I need this barista’s phone number, Munson; she needs to know what she’s getting into with you! You: dude i’m a professional shit disturber with middling local celebrity You: i think she knows The HairTM : Yeah, well, in that case she’s got piss poor taste. You: ya know, if i WAS a vessel for the devil, i’da had you dipshits selling me your souls for tootsie pops yonks ago The HairTM : Whatever. Rockin’ Robin: overkill, i would’ve given you mine for a single shitty bong rip Big Wheeler: You can’t afford mine. You: no, nancy, no i cannot You: tweedle dee and tweedle dumb on the other hand...

I'm gonna tag @grewup2sheltered, if you're interesting in playing! Same words, because they're good ones. :D

#hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer #hellcheer fanfic: the buzz #hellcheer fanfic: marigold #hellcheer fanfic: flowers in the window #dash games #my stories #wips

[dairogo]

For the WIP asks, how about The Somewhere?

I started this one so long ago that I think you’ve actually seen a draft of it from Ye Olde Forum days! Haven’t touched it in yonks, but I can’t let go of it. I did the classic “get up to a hard/uninspired spot, pause, then re-write it in a different POV instead of pushing through the plot difficulties”, but I still really like what I’ve got to start with so I’m keeping it in case I find myself in a place to pick it up again.

This is a story about a young girl (9yo) who feels a physical/emotional/spiritual pull towards this strange spot a little way away from her house. It’s down a path through the woods and along the creek, and she feels like if she could just get to this Nothing, this Nowhere, there would be ... something.

She lives in a world of magic, but she doesn’t resonate with it at all - at least, not with doing it. Maybe just with whatever’s going on over in the Nowhere.

I think I used to be a better writer than I currently am - there are a lot of things about this excerpt that I like that I don’t really do anymore. I should look into that, lol. Excerpt under the cut:

The Nowhere was particularly feisty today. Matty’s feet skimmed over the ground as she ran down to the creek, arms windmilling to keep balance. With a jolt, she came to a stop at the edge of the creek’s banks. Her legs wobbled like a taut string as she pulled back and the Nowhere beckoned her forward.

The bush behind Matty’s house was thick and tangled, bursting open onto a clearing just as Matty had moments earlier. Patches of grass were squashed and bent where she had trampled them, the path stopping at the top of an edge, where it was ready to take a drop down into the warm mud below on the creek’s banks. Even on cold days, and even when the creek filled its banks, the mud was warm beneath Matty’s toes, squeezing up onto her feet – warm with magic.

The creek was brown with dirt and an untidy row of stones swept down the middle, not across, but along the length of the creek, guiding it down the field and round the corner where reeds and long grass lined the banks.

It was the creek to Nowhere.

Mama would ask Matty, “Where are you going?” as Matty rushed out the door.

“Nowhere.”

And so it was. The creek bubbled along easily until it stopped quite suddenly and the Nowhere began. Like an invisible door, the Nowhere rose up out of the water, blocking Matty’s path. She could see through it, and around it, but as hard as she pushed and prodded, she could never get past. And as long as it remained shut, it was just nowhere.

The stones in the creek were soft with moss, but the Nowhere wanted visitors, so even when she ran over them, splashing all along the pathway, Matty didn’t slip. It was when she began to dawdle or turned in the wrong direction that the stones were slippery. They slid and spun beneath her feet, trying to topple her, so that she found herself unbalancing into the water again and again. Those times Matty had to sneak back home, eyeing past every corner so that Mama didn’t find how wet she’d gotten. Every time she left the Nowhere unfound, unsearched, unexplored, it was with a sense of resignation that the two of them shared.

Matty scrambled down the cliff, exploring the muddy banks with her eyes. Bubbles drifted to the surface from the holes bugs and crablets made, making little chimneys for their homes.

Looking past her windied hair and the grass stain that had just now appeared on her dress, she hardly looked like the type for adventure. The expressionless nature of her mouth combined fiercely with flat eyebrows and perpetually unsurprised eyes. Together with the roundness of her face it lent an air of sullenness to an otherwise normal-looking child. In behaviour, as far as nine-year-olds went she was well boring in comparison with her classmates, who laughed and shouted and played games loudly, swapping love and hate with equal ferocity. Compared with the other children, she was placid and unfeeling – Little Matty who didn’t laugh at anything and whose frowns were of confusion, not of anger. They didn’t see her at these times, when the Nowhere was at work, calling to her from the inside out. They didn’t see the curious determination shining quietly in her eyes.

The entrance would be somewhere close by, of that Matty was sure. The encounter with the Man made her certain.

Only a week earlier she had been in the same place, deciding whether or not to risk the journey through the creek before Mama came to find her, when she saw a man heedlessly approaching from the other side of the creek. Layers of clothing peeked out from each other, the collar of a shirt sticking out from under a jumper, which was under a cardigan, which itself was under a scratchy brown scarf mostly covered up by the lapels of his black coat. His trousers had a hole in the knee, but that hardly mattered because there was another pair beneath them. The black top hat he wore was browned with dirt and ragged where the top stuck out like a can of open spaghetti. There was beard all over his chin and up on his cheeks, like the sort Matty’s Papa had grown to look fancy for his job at the bank.

He had stopped at the top of the bank opposite, where Matty told him that he looked funny.

He said he was cold, not funny.

Matty never got cold. Or hot. Not like other people did.

“I’m just like other people, then …” His eyes looked far away, deep into the bush behind her and closer than his nose at the same time. He said he came from somewhere where it was hotter and since he’d only just arrived he had to make do with what he’d found. Apart from the shirt and one pair of trousers, which he said had a hole in them on account of his having fallen when he arrived, it had all been hanging up in some fields near the buildings.

The buildings he mentioned must have been further along, but wherever he had found them it was all the same. Matty made sure to tell him that she expected he’d taken it from someone’s clothesline and that was stealing and was wicked behaviour.

“Oh. It was wrong to take things,” he said, taking off the hat and staring into it. A repentant curve sat uncomfortably in the corners of his mouth. “Now I feel sorry for making a hole in this hat. I just needed to let the smoke out.”

And Matty noticed that there was indeed smoke coming out of his head. It coiled out in a small wisp, growing like a watery ghostly grey hair that disappeared before it finished.

“Is your head on fire?” she asked.

The man explained that that was what people’s heads did where he came from, but only when they weren’t working properly.

Matty asked why, and where he came from.

“The Land Beyond the Door,” he said.

And the Door was nearby.

The Nowhere woke up in Matty’s mind. All this time, it had been a game of sorts to find the Nowhere, to find what it wanted, where it led her to, but now it was something more. The Nowhere opened, somehow. It spat people out from a hot world, where people weren’t taught that stealing was wrong, and there were fires in their heads instead of their words. The Nowhere opened. Just not to Matty.

#writing #original fiction #ask answered #The Somewhere

[i-am-become-a-name]

I want to know about tenses please!! also seven tegan

okay, so tenses was lurking in my desktop writing folder and I haven't opened it in yonks (18/5/2020, to be exact): what it is appears to be a list of, well, tenses, in French.

le conditionnel passe (the past conditional – used to express an action or event that would have occurred if some set of conditions, stated or implied, had been present – (j’aurais aimé – I would have loved (them had I known))

le futur antérieur (the future perfect – used to express a future action that will have already taken place when another future action occurs - (j’aurai aimeé – I will love them (once something has happened))

If I'm remembering somewhat correctly, this was going to be a jumpy around Time War fic, possibly about Fitz and Eight? Maybe I'll finally write about the Gally Four, but shout out to 2020 for thinking I'd remember exactly. xD

-

As for seven tegan well..... it's semi related to a comment in A Death in the Family about the Doctor's calendar, and more specifically to the audio Afterlife.

I think she'd baulk at five coming back for her end implied by the Gathering. She'd send away Michael, and if five came back, she'd send him away too. But she deserves someone to hold her hand, but I think she shouldn't know who it is. 😭 "And, the only thing she truly wanted, (it wasn’t the only thing, she wanted to live, she wanted Michael here even though she’d sent him away, she wanted she wanted and she wanted) he never looked at her with pity in those dark eyes. The nurses and the doctors on this ward, always subdued, quiet, like they were all already dead. But she was Tegan Jovanka, damn it, the world would know when she died, if only from the collective decibel level going down."

#an ask a palpable ask #lurking-latinist #i too baulk every time i go near this doc but that's because it makes me want to cry #(and because afterlife kinda put an end to me thinking seven would do this but i want her to have a hand to hold anyway. that hologram post #about modern helped me settle that a bit more)

[jodjuya]

Halo 2 sucks.

Halo CE is an amazing game front to back. And then you put in the sequel and it's just such a fucking mess.

CE has such clarity, such unequivocal grace and beauty and elegance and fluidity.

And 2 has fucking none of it. It's such a claggy mess.

All the vehicles handle like Master Chief forgot to take the handbrake off; all of the environments are cluttered opaque mazes – I have no clue where the fuck I'm supposed to go or why or how because there's little to no environmental signposting; those new grasshopper enemies are the most obnoxious opponents I've ever faced in a video game in fucking yonks; all the enemies feel spongy and more tedious to kill; so much of the design of any given level is area-defence busywork – "hey MC, just hang out in this area for a while and kill half a dozen waves of enemies kthxbai";

WHY ARE THERE SO MANY DAMN CUTSCENES?!?

WHY DID YOU PRACTICALLY REINVENT THE ENTIRE FPS GENRE ONLY TO THEN TURN AROUND AND GO "YOU KNOW WHAT THE SEQUEL TO A GAME CALLED 'COMBAT EVOLVED' REALLY NEEDS? THAT'S RIGHT, FOLKS!

🎉LESS COMBAT!!🎉"

Our introduction to Master Chief in the first game: Some Guy gets decanted from his space-casket and is told "go get 'em, tiger!"

Our introduction to The Arbiter in this game: a painfully long and needlessly drawn-out saga of Some Alien on trial for Hersey, his drumming out, his ritual branding, him being dragged down a prison corridor while the goons dragging him bitch about it, some MORE chinwagging about the institutional position of The Arbiter (feat. a good old fashioned "as you know …" style exposition-dump), and then him being voluntold to be the new The Arbiter and ordered to go on a suicide mission to fulfil the letter of his execution sentence.

And it just drags on and on and on and on

AND THEN YOU GET SENT OFF ON YOUR SUICIDE MISSION WITH A BUNCH OF OTHER COVENANT TROOPERS ON YOUR SIDE, TO GO KILL SOME DIFFERENT SET OF OTHER COVENANT TROOPERS WHO LOOK THE SAME AS YOUR ALLIES!!

Oh, you wish you could differentiate between your targets and your friends? Well how about go fuck yourself!

The one nice thing I'll say about Halo 2 is that dual-wielding a pair of Needlers fucking slaps.

#Halo 2 #jodjuyas video game reviews #blogging

[ace-malarky]

War

Maybe a companion piece to last weeks? idk technically it's the same family but also fucking yonks down the line like Blodwen here is Calia's uhhhhh great-great-great-granddaughter? I think?

Anyway yeah Calia solved her problems by marrying into the Nightgales and deposing her father and it was all very dramatic and then they fled Leritheyar on dragonback and now they're set up out here in the Mist on some floating islands running a sanctuary for injured creatures and Inira has some,,, Inventive Ways of getting patients

~~~

Blodwen froze where she was on the stairs, hearing raised but muffled voices coming from the study on the ground floor.

 “You’re being ridiculous,” came her mother’s voice, clearer and sounding like she was striding nearer the door. “I will not–”

 “It could mean war, Inira, if you and that fae continue like this.” That was Blodwen’s grandfather, head of the family, all but roaring his disapproval.

 Inira scoffed. “They wouldn’t dare, even if they could pin it back to us.”

 “Half of your escapees make it back to our sanctuary. The evidence is beginning to look fairly damning.”

 “And you think they will attack us over that.” Inira’s voice was dripping with disbelief. 2all of our patients make it to us under their own steam, in their own way. To suggest that we’re – what, handing out flyers to the unjustly imprisoned creatures? Running a – a prison break just to give ourselves more work? It’s ridiculous.”

 “Yes, you’ve made quite clear your opinions on our worries,” said Blodwen’s great uncle, his voice level but strained. “Unless you have anything more useful to add, I suggest you leave this matter to us.”

 Inira laughed. “I have nothing more that you’d wish to hear.” She sounded as though she was right on the other side of the door.

 Blodwen straightened up to do her best to look as though she wasn’t listening in, and started to walk down the stairs again.

 “Would you like Altair?” Inira asked, as she opened the door. “I’m sure he’ll be able to phrase it in a way that you can accept.”

 “Thank you, Inira, but no.”

 Inira backed out in a low bow. “Until the next time. Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”

 Blodwen attempted to stifle the giggle that bubbled up at that.

 Inira closed the doors as she straightened up and smiled up at Blodwen. “How much did you hear of that, little flower?” She held her arms out.

 “Not much,” Blodwen said, stepping into her mother’s hug. “They’re worried about war?” Her mother gave good hugs. She was taller than Blodwen – and she’d just about reconciled to that – which meant that Blodwen could just bury her face comfortably in the crook of her neck and bpretend to be young again.

 Inira squeezed her and pressed a kiss to her head. “They’re being melodramatic. It won’t come to that.” She stepped back, slipping her hand down to take Blodwen’s hand. “Where were you going?”

 “To check on some of the new patients.” Blodwen twitched a slight smile. “I hear those dastardly bandits hit another private zoo last night.”

 Inira laughed and turned to walk at Blodwen’s side. “Mind if I join you?”

 “Of course not.” Blodwen squeezed her mother’s hand.

 The sun had burnt off the last of the morning mist. From the front door of their house – Blodwen stopped, as she always did – she could see down to the docks and out across the clouded sea. They were thick today, not letting a single glimpse of the chaos below through.

 “It’s clear today,” Inira shaded her eyes, “you can just about see the neighbours.”

 Blodwen laughed, spotting the next ring of islands easily; it wasn’t as far away as all that. “You might need to think about stepping down if your eyesight’s failing you that badly.”

 “Ooh, you little menace!” Inira laughed, wrapping an arm around Blodwen and squeezing her to her side.

 “Ok, ok!” Blodwen put up a token protest, not trying hard to wriggle free.

 “Don’t go planning your uprising just yet, I’d hate to have to keelhaul you.” Inira let her go. “Although that would change their focus, so…”

 “Come on.” Blodwen skipped down the few steps and turned her path towards the line of trees that hid their sanctuary.

 Walking through the wooden arch was like walking into another world. In the woods it was cool and dim and smelt more earthy, a slight hint of the wild, the slight spice of creatures that travelled the Mist.

 There were sheds full of the feed and equipment needed for anything that might happen within the sanctuary.

 Blodwen ignored them for now; she wouldn’t know what was needed until she’d seen what was there.

 “What… what would happen?” Blodwen asked. “if it came to war?”

 “We remind them that we once rode dragons,” Inira said grimly.

 “But the dragons are long gone.”

 “And before we rode dragons, we were pirates. This world was ade for us.” Inira frowned. “But it won’t come to that.”

 Blodwen nodded, still a little uneasy.

 “It won’t, Blodwen, I promise.” Inira tugged her so that they were face to face; she tilted Blodwen’s chin up to make eye contact. “Alright?”

 “Alright,” Blodwen mumbled. “Alright.”

 Inira smiled. “That’s my girl.”

 “Besides,” said someone else, “no one’s following through the Mist, let alone track them here.”

 Blodwen jumped, looking around for the intruder because that wasn’t anyone of her family.

 “Kam.” Inira looked up. “Delightful as always.”

 A reddish-purple giant squirrel – partway to human – was lying in the branches above them. “Of course.” The werecreature pushed himself back against the trunk behind him and scrambled down to the forest floor. “Not that any creatures came back here yet.” He became more human, losing height until he was only as tall as Blodwen. He flashed her a grin. “You must be Blodwen.” He offered her his hand. “Inira’s very proud of you.”

 “You must be the fae creature,” Blodwen replied, taking his hand. “My grandparents don’t approve.”

 Kam laughed.

 “You don’t look like the books.”

 “I’m adopted.”

 “What brings you here?” Inira asked.

 “Can’t I just come and see how my favourite pirates are doing?” Kam slid to Inira’s side and slung his arm around her shoulders. “Call it a social visit.”

 “Oh, so you’ll be coming back for some tea?”

 Kam wrinkled his nose. “Your Archyn is still mad at me, isn’t he?”

 “Oh, mad’s a strong word.”

 “I don’t think it covers it, either,” Blodwen said. “They think you’re bringing war.”

 “War?” Kam squawked. “Oh, I would be so grounded if that happened.”

 “You still get grounded?” Blodwen asked, as Inira laughed. “But you’re an adult.”

 “Unfortunately, my guardian is old as balls and I will always be a child to him.” Kam shrugged.

 Blodwen giggled.

 “Sorry, she isn’t too young for my coarse language, is she?” Kamal turned to stage whisper in Inira’s ear.

 “We’re a family who never forgot we were pirates first; what do you think?” Inira pushed Kam away. “Do your folk think there will be a war?”

 “Unlikely.” Kam wrinkled his nose. “Besides, no one’s going to track us back here unless they have Mist crossers of their own.”

 “And considering we’re freeing them all, that’s highly unlikely.”

 “We? Which of us keeps getting threatened with pitchforks for this?” Kam held a hand to his chest.

 “You make a very good distraction.” Inira grinned. “Your service is appreciated.”

 “Can I come?” Blodwen asked. “The next time you go out.”

 “Sure,” Kam said. “The more the merrier.”

 Inira hesitated.

 “If Kam is doing all the heavy lifting–”

 “I am–”

 “Then surely it shouldn’t be dangerous for me. And – and grandfather likes me, maybe if I tell him it won’t lead to war, he’ll listen.”

 “Or he’ll be more mad at me for endangering his sweet granddaughter,” Inira replied. “I don’t know, Blod.”

 “Please?”

 “I swear no harm will come to her,” Kam said. “You have my word.”

 Inira looked between them both and sighed. “Alright. If she’s hurt, Kam, it’s on your head.”

 “Understandable.” Kam grinned. “I’ll come back once I’ve scouted the next place.”

 “And they’ll have to listen to me and there won’t be a war.” Blodwen nodded decisively.

#writing pieces #Blodwen Nightgale #the NightGale Saga #Mist Worlds #I'm leery of the whole ai bullshit thing tumblr/their bosses are pulling but like. they can take a fucking hike #I'm gonna keep sharing for now at least #until the site implodes lmao

[spogwam]

Final Year Project Research - 1

It’s great to be back, I’m dead excited to get on with the development of my film idea. I outlined the idea as developed so far to the class, and got some great film/series recommendations in Beautiful Boy, Euphoria (Season 2 Ep.2), Mommy and Christiane F. They look great and I will check them all out and discuss them here at some point, thank you for your suggestions. Thus far, I’m certain I would like my film to explore typically social realist themes through both theatrical and conventional techniques in contrast. I will be approaching this film as a writer and director, and so those particular roles, and how I approach them will be the focus of my research this semester.  

As I write this, I feel my work has matured significantly since I made my first film almost four years ago. Dropping Gear, for example, was at its core an excuse to have badass coke snorting sequences using lactose as prop gear. My intentions at the inception of that film project were similar to my intentions today, to raise awareness of drug problems in the Highlands from which I hail, but I became carried away by the power a director wields, indulging in it at every turn. The sinus infection I contracted from snorting all of that lactose was cosmic karma for my overzealous approach. I cannot link the full film here unfortunately as it will get me in bother with the polis (no joke). 

Today, my idea has mutated into a similar film narratively, with much darkly comedic writing in exploring a day in the life of two boys who take drugs regularly, one out of sheer nihilism, and one with a much more ambivalent reason. It is still set in a small town, but this time the town acts as a microcosm for Scotland as a whole, with these two boys’ monologues propelling us through the films thematic core, giving no easy answers, instead posing many politically charged questions. I am accustomed to the local dialect of the teuchter variety, and am having a lot of fun writing the dialogue so far, remembering growing up with my best pals and chatting shite about the streets. 

Although it is dialogue heavy, I plan on embracing silence as an emotional mechanism in key scenes of my film, and am looking to Scorsese and other pros for inspiration on this.  

I look to directors like Alan Clarke or (early) Nicolas Winding Refn for inspiration, the travelling sequences in the likes of Road (1987) or Pusher (1996) are fantastic at world building, showing poverty-stricken locations during dialogues scenes on the move to justify the presence and trade of illicit substances instead of telling it to us through any kind of exposition. It's dead clever stuff, and is a tool I’m keen to employ in my own film.  

Subtlety in writing is also something key to this project. I’ve done it before, gotten carried away and the message has become muddled. I am overcoming this possibility by writing these monologues from a unique perspective: boys who although speaking to themselves, cannot even trust themselves. This creates interesting subtext in the inherent dishonesty of their words. This is the approach I am taking to my work so far for my Final Year Project Research, and am feeling more creatively fulfilled than I have in yonks. I’ve been sparse in the past with my blog updates, but I plan to post as much as possible this semester, whether there’s been a creative breakthrough or not. I look forward to reading other people’s blogs and keeping up with their projects as they sound great. Watch this space!