#half my work in engineering is just keeping machines going as long as they can on the same parts

[nameforthemain]

I used to assume engineers would have all the latest gadgets and up-to-date technology, and that my engineering grandad was just an outlier for choosing the least practical, more expensive solutions instead of just updating his methods.

And now I'm an engineer and just spent £16 on an external DVD/CD player for my laptop, I'm beginning to think there may be a theme.

#half my work in engineering is just keeping machines going as long as they can on the same parts #and that includes paying extra for parts that are so old they're no longer even being manufactured #like yes i could have just bought the films i wanted to watch digitally #and it would have been cheaper than the cd drive #but it's a matter of principle #i wouldn't have to buy one if they were still built into laptops but unfortunately you can't get them like that before #and i have such a large store of DVDs and CDs it feels wrong to buy a digital copy of something I already have #random talks

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hypermobility

Okay wait I have a prompt!!! If you wanna So I've been reading a lot of fics recently that are in space aus, with the whole humans are deathworlders concept (idk how this is common across my fandoms but it is so I'm binging them lol). And I had an idea based on recent irl events. – anon (long ask, cut for brevity)

inspired by my lovely @ghostofasecretary who has trained all of our friend group to look for hypermobility on account of our schlorpy joints :)

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: loosely implied analogical i guess, but as with most of my shit can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count; 1809

Remus glances up to see Virgil staring at Logan like his abdomen has spontaneously ruptured. He sees Roman out of the corner of his eye do the same. Virgil swallows heavily. "L," he says slowly, "what the fuck is wrong with your arms?" "Nothing is wrong with my arms, what are you talking about?" "Elbows don't bend like that!" Ah. So there was something wrong. Remus was right. Take that, human etiquette manual. Wait, shit, something's wrong with Logan.

Roman clicks at Remus as he comes onto the lab floor. Remus clicks back as he logs onto his station, sighing as he looks at the absolute mess someone's fucking made of the logs—seriously, it's only been one quarter cycle, how are they this fucked up already?—and Roman immediately leans over to see what he's sighing at.

"Wait, what's that?"

"Some xetron made an absolute fucking disaster out of the hadron logs."

Roman winces in sympathy and his carapace shifts. "Are you gonna do yours before you clean that up, or—?"

The last part of his question gest interrupted when Logan comes onto the floor, waving a brief hello with his fingers instead of his antenna—because humans don't have antennae, which was a pretty sharp learning curve for both of them when they'd been so confused as to why this human was refusing to talk to them or even show his feelings, they'd had a few apologetic shifts before Logan realized what was going on and explained everything—and raising an eyebrow when he noticed them clustered around Remus's station.

"Is there something wrong?"

"The shift before us messed up their hadron logs."

Logan rolls his eyes. "You'd think that for life forms insistent that their gravitational curves made them more naturally prepared for graviton scans, they'd have a better sense of how to record them properly."

"You're spellcasting on the acolytes, Logan."

Logan frowns, glancing at his tablet, before the equivalent phrase pings on the screen and he hums. "Ah, I see. Yes, well, if you'd like my help at any point, I only have the routine gamma sweeps to do this shift, so I should be amenable."

"Oh, I can do it, it's just a pain in my thorax."

Roman chuckles and heads back to his own station, probably to sneakily-not-so-sneakily ask some of the others on the shift who are fucking competent what the fuck happened. Remus gets himself ready to dive into the long and tedious work of redoing the spin increments and calculating the proper uncertainties for the right variables—honestly, do they even look at the readouts? It has the layout right there! And it's not like the other logs are invisible! Just look at the rows two microns above the empty one you're supposed to be filling out!—and manages to sink into a rhythm for the first half of the shift. Granted, he's absolutely muttering about how stupid it is that they aren't even calculating the basic momentum, let alone the angular velocity to account for the other celestial bodies in the middle of the waveforms, but it's fine, and Roman keeps up his running commentary of the molecular analysis machine that takes its sweet-ass time to do even the most basic of scans, and every so often he'll hear a small huff from Logan as he corrects their probe's trajectory, but for the most part, the lab is a quiet and serene place to be.

God, he can't wait until he gets rotated back to the engineering department full-time.

Like, yeah, he likes spending time with his brother, and the human's cool—he's really funny when he lets himself be, like his wit is drying than the mountain deserts on Cre-Ativa, and his facial expressions are fucking plat when their superiors are being xetrons, but there's only so much he can take of this quiet where not much happens. And he has to deal with the idiots who don't know how to format hadron logs correctly. This is the third time he's had to correct a typo that's rendered the rest of the calculations useless.

"I'm honestly about to recommend them for a review of the training course, that's how fucking serious this is."

"Maybe there's something wrong with how the keyboard is adapted for their limbs?"

"That would explain some of the typos, not all of them. And it definitely wouldn't explain why there's a massive formatting change about halfway through."

"Perhaps there's a shorthand they're using for some of the notes that we don't know about, and they're forgetting to correct them at the end of their shift."

"Yeah, but then they should tell us that, instead of—" Roman trails off and Remus looks up.

Logan is…stretching, yes, that's the right word. His limbs are extended over his head and his back is arched, but his upper limbs are…bending. Not like the way they normally bend, they're bending…too much? Not enough? The wrong way? Yeah, that's it. The wrong way.

Logan notices they've gone quiet and looks over. "Is there something wrong?"

"You're, uh," Remus stammers, "are you—okay?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, what is it?"

"Nothing, nothing."

He and Roman exchange a look—the first rule in the human etiquette training manual was if they get weird, just roll with it for a reason—and get back to minding their own business. Admittedly, some of the errors do make more sense now that he's looking at it like it's some kind of shorthand he doesn't know yet, but that wouldn't explain why some of these variables are straight-up wrong and why they wouldn't bother to tell him what the shorthand is so that he's not trying to do the work of two shifts in the time of one.

Something he does appreciate is that the way the shifts in the lab are set up, opposed to engineering, is that sometimes there will be people whose shifts halfway overlap with theirs. So there's always at least one set of people that are staying in the lab while a changeover is happening and then there's not that risk that the equipment will be left unattended. Apparently they learned that lesson the hard way when the molecular exhibitor decided to go into overload in the five minutes where there wasn't anyone logged in, and nearly destroyed the matter wave projector on the station next to it. The justification was in the name of safety, but really everyone knows it's just so the higher-ups know exactly who to blame when shit goes awry.

Whatever the case may be, the door slides open to reveal the other human down here, Virgil, yawning as he makes his way over to his station.

"Hello, hello, everyone."

"Hi, Virgil!"

Virgil winces. "You are way too chipper this early in the morning."

"It's past the circadian half cycle, Virgil."

"Yeah, and?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to acclimate to your schedule on your own time," Logan says, stretching again, "even though I'm sure your caffeine tolerance has—what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Remus glances up to see Virgil staring at Logan like his abdomen has spontaneously ruptured. He sees Roman out of the corner of his eye do the same. Virgil swallows heavily.

"L," he says slowly, "what the fuck is wrong with your arms?"

"Nothing is wrong with my arms, what are you talking about?"

"Elbows don't bend like that!"

Ah. So there was something wrong. Remus was right. Take that, human etiquette manual.

Wait, shit, something's wrong with Logan.

"Logan? Do we need to take you to medbay?" Roman's already rushing out from behind his station. "There's a pack in the corner, I can—"

"Oh, for—relax, all of you, I'm fine."

"Uh-huh, yeah, fine, that's what I'd describe elbows that bend all schlorpy as, yeah," Virgil says, "what the—does that not hurt?"

"What? No, it doesn't hurt, look, your joints—"

"My joints suck ass but at least they're fucking bending the amount they're supposed to!"

Remus isn't quite sure how human joints are capable of such a surprising and invasive act, but never let it be said he's not curious. "Your joints are capable of performing anal suction?"

"What the fuck? No! It's a turn of phrase!"

"Oh. Disappointing."

"Ignore him," Roman says, "Logan, are you sure you're—"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I'm just—oh," he mumbles, prodding at his tablet, "what's the word for this in Common?"

"There's no word for schlorpy elbows, Logan—"

"Yes, there is!" He pokes around for a few more seconds before he lets out a noise of triumph and says something that the translators don't translate.

"It's what?" Virgil just shakes his head when Logan tries again. "I don't know what that means, bud."

Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, let me try it this way. What's it called when you are in a state of heightened energy and it leads to outbursts of things like running around, or talking too loudly, or being high-strung?"

"Remus," Roman offers helpfully.

"No, Roman."

"Are you talking about being excitable?"

"No, there's a specific word for it. It also serves as a prefix for being too much of something, or an overabundance of something."

"Too much—do you mean the word hyper?"

"Yes! Yes, that's it. And then what's the name of the thing that some people hang over cribs that have little stars or animals?"

Virgil stares at Logan for another moment. "You mean a baby mobile?"

"Yes, but only the second word."

"Mobile?"

"Yes, that's it. Then put the two words together—"

"There were probably so many other ways you could've said you were hypermobile, L, I'm just gonna put that out there—"

"Well, it got you to guess it, didn't it?"

"It's too fucking early for this shit."

"Again, it is afternoon—"

"Shut up."

Roman looks back and forth between the two humans, still twitching as though he's going to be asked to sprint for the medbay at a moment's notice. "So…is Logan…are you alright?"

"Yes, for the fourth time, I'm fine. Virgil's just a little excitable, that's all."

"You try being normal when joints are doing unexpected things," Virgil mumbles, more to his caf than anything else, but he reaches behind himself to pat Roman's carapace. "He's fine, his body just does that."

"But you said it bends the wrong way, how is that fine?"

"There is a thing known as hypermobility," Logan says, "it…oh, dear, it basically means that certain joints will bend…more."

"He's not hurt, that's pretty much all I know."

Roman looks like he's about to protest but Remus just clicks at him. They exchange another look as the humans settle back to work.

Humans are weird, just gotta roll with it.

These hadron logs, on the other hand—

"I'm gonna punt these flimflobbers into the next star we see."

"Can I help? They fucked up the carbon dating program as well."

"How do you fuck that up?"

"Ask them, not me!"

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #logan sanders #virgil sanders #humans are weird #humans are space orcs

[maxwellatoms]

I don’t know why more people aren’t watching this show, but it’s worth a peek.

This particular episode touches heavily on storyboards and animatics, and while these guys are all talking about feature films, just about everything they’re talking about applies to animation (half of any given superhero film is animation anyway).

Animatics are such an incredible tool that I’m shocked that they aren’t an industry requirement. We literally weren’t allowed to have animatics on Billy & Mandy due to “budgetary restraints”, and since I’d never utilized them before I didn’t realize what I was missing. Now, I basically board right into animatic. If I have a line of dialog for a character, I’ll just temp it in. That way I’m both writing and directing (essentially) at the same time. As I go, I know more-or-less how much time everything is taking, what’s working, and what drags. If I hit ten minutes and I’m still not into Act 3, I know I need to cut something to make room. I can make a version of my movie or show for (essentially) free and share it as a blueprint for others to follow or give feedback on. Why would you NOT do that?

There’s some good stuff in here too about the insane pacing of Television production, the amount of stuff you somehow have to hold in your brain when you’re dealing with all of these moving pieces, and the importance of having a plan for everything. As the director, you’re the only one who is really capable of keeping track of the project from the microscopic to macroscopic scale. Everything from overall tone to the tweak you want to make to line 236 is your responsibility.

I’m not a huge fan of Snyder’s body of work, but Zack Snyder films are Zack Snyder films. His stamp is all over them. The Russos come from a much more Disnified, collaborative background. And lest that sound too noble, the collaboration is all directed toward making a product engineered to be enjoyable. In a very real way, it’s The Auteur vs. The Machine. Listening to this episode, you can tell that no one ever say Zack Snyder down in a room with a bunch of lawyers and research executives to talk about whether or not he was accidentally delivering fascist messages or how many girls aged 8-12 were into Steppenwolf. Whereas that would be Day One at Disney, and every day after would involve some other checks-and-balances meeting, a number of high-level sign-offs, and the upkeep of an intricate company-wide roadmap.

Snyder and the Russos both found themselves making superhero movies for two very different companies in two different very ways. The ways those movies were produced are as much a result of the studio culture as it is the personalities and desires of the directors. As much as Jellystone has reminded me how much I love deep collaboration, methods of production are often not my choice. Depending on the studio, I’ve occasionally felt either overwhelmed by too much “support” or left alone in the woods to die. Neither situation is exactly ideal, but both present their own unique challenges and opportunities. The Machine is efficient, gets things done, and will protect you -- as long as you’re in its good graces. The Auteur is laid bare -- flaws and obsessions on display for anyone to see. Neither Snyder or the Russos go too deep into the studio culture at either studio (oh to be a fly on the wall when the pizza is gone), but is one really superior to the other? Learning to work within the confines of a studio’s culture is a whole different layer on the onion, and I wish they talked about it here.

It’s cool to see that from the simplest cartoon short to the summer blockbuster, the struggles in the entertainment industry are all the same. The pay’s way better on the blockbuster side, though. In case you’re trying to choose.

#animation #animatics #directing #pizza film school

[tobiasdrake]

As long as we have all this downtime, we might as well go visit old friends.

We used to eat bits of it together.

...that's not as gross as it sounds.

Right. That. Sorry, I don't words good when I'm grieving.

This is a sacred place to the villagers here. And now it's a sacred place for us too.

Zale and I made Moraine babysit our Flasky Boy while we attend to the business of pounding on TIA's door. We would have left the hollow puppet there too but he doesn't take orders; He just follows us around mechanically. It's eerie and I'm half-convinced Resh'an did that as a practical joke.

B'st doesn't get hit by things, so much as he is given the conscious suggestion that he should behave as though he was hit by a thing. Which he ignores.

I would too.

I think he should seek out Yoyo first, personally, since she's the one who delivered the prophecy of his creation. There may be more to that prophecy.

Are they....

Is Cael going to use Kickball to rip out the Immortal Children's souls and put them in robot bodies that can leave the castle?

Because that's an awesome idea and as long as they're doing it consensually, I'm 100% onboard with it!

I don't see Watchmaker around so they might not have told her. But. Like. Who gives a shit. She wants to be imprisoned here for eternity with nothing but her work keeping her company.

They're going to make a new body for Kickball too. Might need a new name to go with it.

Everything's better here in Mirth. The air's cleaner. Water doesn't taste like rot. Food doesn't come from a wall. Also, we have a functioning ecosystem. Gotta be honest, I'm not even sure what we're breathing in the other world since the plants are all dead and the climate regulator isn't regulating climate.

We might just be. Like. Ever-so-slowly using up a large but finite supply of breathable air distributed among the few remaining organic lifeforms on the planet. That's horrifying. I'm gonna stop thinking about that now.

OH OKAY THEY'RE GOING TO BECOME A HIVEMIND AMALGAM.

You know what? That's on me. I should have known better than to leave them unsupervised. They're children.

I've got the juice if we need to Moon Shiv it again.

FROGGY. ROBOT.

...

PINK froggy robot.

I'm sorry I can't pay attention to your big prepared speech because OH MY GOD YOU'RE ADORABLE.

Does that pink gem on your chest work like a mobile eclipse cannon or is that just there for aesthetic. I love it either way.

FROGGY

Okay fine, Artificer. Legal Team says we can't call you Froggy for trademark reasons, seeing as you're very obviously a composite of two distinctly identifiable characters. Gotta keep the branding as lawyer-friendly as possible.

No, I get it. I'm happy for you. For all of you. Please don't be offended when Serai and I aggressively destroy this machine with extreme prejudice. Your froggy body is fine but this thing isn't allowed to exist.

So that's a no on the eclipse cannon functionality. You should look into upgrading. The fatal flaw that defeated the cannon before was that it was stationary.

In any case, welcome aboard, Arty. It was nice to see home again, for what time we had here. Even if I may have made a small miscalculation in my plan for how to deal with TIA.

BUT THEN WHERE THE FUCK IS HE!?!?

I'LL START BURNING THINGS, I SWEAR

Fortunately, I kept a cool head and calmly, civilly allowed myself to be dragged from the room. And now our time here is done. We return to Serai's world, armed with the greatest technology the Clockwork Castle can build.

HAHAHAHA SEVEN GREEN GEMS ASSHOLE, kneel before my Gold Engineer!

#sea of stars #drake plays sea of stars

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Chapter 2 - "Tides"

Masterlist

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 2.8K Chapters: 2/5 Rating: Explicit

Chapter Summary: After settling in to your new job in Romania, you find that even though you try you can't keep Ulysses Klaue out of your mind.

Warnings: Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Minor Injuries, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation

A/N: Thank you for your patience as I set things up, and now the real (but fun) work begins! This would have been up yesterday but I'm just emerging from a head cold. I was trying to edit yesterday but was just perpetually annoyed at everything, but thank goodness the sinus pressure finally broke today, so I still manged to stick to what I intended (it's still the weekend!).

In my mind this is set somewhere between "Avengers" and "Age of Ultron". I wanted to give myself somewhere to go, since I do kind of have plans beyond this! I'm not sure yet if I'll end up extending this work, or start a new one (in a same universe/established relationship kind of deal), but we'll see!

Title is from the song "Bringin' Home the Rain" by The Builders and the Butchers.

AO3 Link

And the weekends come and go like tides and they soak you to the neck And pretty soon the weekdays are all the same

Ulysses Klaue certainly wasn’t lying, although you'd argue that "non-traditional" was just a bit of an understatement

Yet here you are, on a six month contract in Romania tucked in the foothills of the Făgăraș mountains, and working for a black market arms dealer.

The pay was more than enough for you to agree to the six months, and at the compound you find that you have access to the most advanced equipment you've worked with which is a bonus. There are residences on site, a separate group of buildings connected through covered walkways to the machine shops and engineering sector, and everyone has their own private quarters with keycard access. It's nothing fussy, essentially just a bachelor’s apartment with a shower, small kitchenette, a double bed and desk, but it's comfortable enough and you don’t spend much time there anyway.

As for the work itself it’s pretty well what you expected - welding and metal work on both large and small scales, assembling, disassembling, unloading and moving supplies. However Klaue makes it clear to everyone who comes on board that even if you’re brought on with a specific set of skills you're still expected to step up and do whatever is necessary to keep the gears turning. 

One month in and you haven’t yet learned what this might entail, but you assume that it’s only a matter of time. 

The shifts are long and taxing but you do have two free days a week, though not always back to back. Fortunately, even though the compound is in an industrial area you're also pretty much right in the mountains with forests surrounding you. You’re also an hour and half drive from Bucharest with plenty of other smaller cities and towns relatively close by, so on days when you’re not completely exhausted you find opportunities to explore the new country that you’ve found yourself in.

You rarely actually see Klaue because as it turns out he’s an incredibly busy man: There’s this manufacturing compound in Romania, a salvage yard off the coast of South Africa, a network of mercenaries working for him around the world, and if he can’t do or acquire something himself he invariably knows someone who can. It’s a massive operation and you soon realize that you’re just a single cog in a huge machine.  

With this information and what you’re able to glean from others working for him you realize that Klaue is a deceptively intelligent man, and while he might seem like walking chaos at first glance he also has a code, such as it is. He figured out a long time ago how the world works and then found a way to make it work for him. He doesn't give a shit what people think of him, despises liars and hypocrites, and it’s quickly impressed upon you that you do not go back on your word with him. Ever.

Since arriving you've only seen Klaue from a distance and haven’t actually had any one on one interactions with him, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still cross your mind. 

You’ve been so accustomed to finding calm in the face of a storm your whole life that you’re still startled when you think about how he threw you off balance so easily with just his eyes, and frustrated that you never really found your footing after that. 

But then sometimes you think you were just having an off night, that you were exhausted by the heat and had just imagined the way that he looked at you. Yet even as you try to reason your way out of it you keep coming back to the feeling you'd had in his presence. The feeling of being caught in an undertow, of pushing and pulling, of resisting and succumbing. And then you think that maybe you shouldn’t be thinking that way about a man like Ulysses Klaue and tamp the thoughts back down again.

Klaue has returned to Romania to oversee a new shipment of raw materials and almost everyone outside of the night shift has gathered to wait for directions.

While he’s coordinating the offload with the foremen you try to pay attention, but as he speaks you notice how the overhead lights catch on the sharp line of his nose, and how the dark scruff of his beard accentuates the angle of his jaw as it sweeps down to a slight underbite. You feel an unbidden swell of heat swirl down between your legs as you find yourself wondering whether it would feel soft against your skin or- Oh.

You’ve completely zoned out so you don’t notice right away that he’s caught you staring from across the room, and by the time your brain finally shakes itself free of its reverie you realize that he's been looking back at you for several moments while continuing to speak.

He smirks when he notices you finally snap back in, ensuring you know that he caught you. You feel a little bit foolish (again), but this time you square your shoulders and don’t allow yourself to look away. Neither of you breaks eye contact until his attention is drawn by a question from one of the other workers and you finally release the breath you’ve been holding.

Once everyone disperses to get started on their assigned tasks you notice that Klaue is making his way over to you, still with the ghost of a smug smile hovering at the corner of his mouth.

"So. You’re settling in ok, then?" he asks as he stops in front of you.

On the surface it sounds like a simple question, just small talk with your boss, right? But beneath it you once again feel your skin prickle under the weight of his attention. At least this time you're anticipating it so you’re able to keep yourself from stammering this time.

"Yeah, pretty well actually," you're happy that your voice sounds steady. "It's a lot of work, obviously, but nothing I haven’t been able to handle so far."

"Good," he replies, his phone pings and he pulls it out of his pocket to read the message. "I need everyone here to work together and pull their weight."

You look up at him and smile politely. "Not a problem, sir." His eyes flick back to yours and he gives you a sharp look, your heart beats hard in your chest but you manage to keep your expression neutral.

“Good to hear,” he smiles in turn. “Let me know if there's anything that you need,” he says, before pocketing his phone and turning to one of the foremen who’s been trying to get his attention.

"Ok, sure,” you say, a bit surprised by that. “I will, thanks.”

He looks back at you as if he’s going to say something else, but then turns away to attend to business.

You watch him as he walks away, noting the way that the fabric of his shirt pulls against the muscles of his shoulders- Get it together, you think to yourself, wondering if you’ll ever come away from an interaction with Klaue and not feel flustered. 

As promised you continue to work hard and don’t give anyone a chance to question your being there.

Of course, just because you don’t give anyone the chance doesn’t mean that there aren’t those who simply don’t like that you’re there.

There is one guy in particular, a giant brute of man with a shaved head and a tree trunk for a torso (“No Neck” you’ve dubbed him), who perpetually looks like he’s just sucked a lemon and seems to have made it his primary pastime to stare menacingly at you. Maybe it's because you're a woman, though you're not the only one here, maybe you remind him of someone, or who knows? Maybe he just doesn't like your face. Either way it’s unnerving to be sure, but fortunately you work in different units and are rarely in the same area at the same time. 

One day however you're on your way back to your quarters after a grueling shift and a stop at the canteen to grab food, when you do happen to cross paths with him. Unfortunately you don’t realize this until he has his fists wrapped in the front of your shirt and you’re being lifted up.

With a startled cry you kick out with your feet but find that there’s no ground beneath you. You then try to direct your kicks at him but while you do make some contact your movements are essentially useless in this position. No Neck brings you in closer. 

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you won’t be here much longer,” he snarls in your face.

What?? Maybe he thinks you’re someone else? 

“Dude, I don’t even know who you are!” you yell back at him, quickly realizing that trying to reason with him is going to be pointless since he doesn’t seem to be in his right mind.

You can dimly hear voices yelling around you but you’re not sure if they’re trying to calm or encourage. Your adrenaline is soaring and even though you’re terrified it gives you a clear head through the panic.

You’ve been trying to pull and twist yourself free which is proving useless, so instead of wasting more energy you decide to switch tactics: you take as deep a breath as you can and on the exhale relax your body as if to signal surrender. 

This has the effect that you hoped for and you can feel his grip on you start to relax as you drop slightly. It’s in that space of a breath when he begins to lower his guard that you reach your hands out to grab his shirt in turn, and with all of your strength you wrench your head sharply towards his face. 

Even through the stars you can tell that you hit paydirt when you hear a crunch followed by an angry cry, and then you're falling.

He drops you awkwardly as he falls backwards and tries to bring his hands up to his now bloody face at the same time. You try to catch yourself but you fall in a way that causes your previously broken arm to slam down on his steel-toed boot and you let out a shriek of pain, white light blooming behind your eyes and nausea surging through your gut. 

Lying in a crumpled heap you can do nothing but try to keep breathing through the waves of agony, so completely unaware of anything outside of you that you barely notice that someone is helping you to maneuver to the edge of the hallway and siting you up against the wall.

As the worst of the pain finally begins to ebb your watery eyes refocus, and between blinks you realize that it’s actually Klaue kneeling on the ground there with you. The skin between his eyebrows is creased in a frown, his expression one you weren’t sure that he could make. Worry? 

As you get some of your other senses back you start to massage your upper arm to try to figure out if there’s any serious damage. Your fear of a new injury has you removing your arm from the long sleeved protective layer you wear for welding, and evidently you haven’t completely gotten your thinking sense back yet because you’ve done this before you realize that Klaue is now seeing you with your shift half off - even if you are just wearing a sweaty sports bra underneath. 

Then, suddenly, his hands are on your arm. You jerk at the unexpected contact but he whispers a “Shhh” and calmly continues to check your skin, squeezing gently, asking if that hurts. Your breath is coming shallow and nearly stops when his fingers ghost along the ridge of your scar. You can only shake your head “no” in answer to his question, unsure if anything that might come out of your mouth right now would resemble an actual word. 

You drag your attention away from the pressure of his fingers and force yourself to make your own assessment. Though the area is turning red, you note with relief that you don’t see any blood and the pain is stabilizing to a deep but not catastrophic throb. 

“I’m ok”, you finally manage on a shaky exhale.

“Lift your arm,” Klaue says.

“Listen, I’m fine-” you start but he looks at you sternly, his eyes cutting you off. He's so close to you that you can see the beads of sweat on his brow.

“Up to your shoulder,” he continues.

With an annoyed frown you reach your arm out straight and slowly raise it up to shoulder level. The joint itself seems ok, and while you can feel the muscles pull and ache as they stretch out over where the hardware of your repaired injury sits it’s not unbearable by any means.

“Listen, it hurts, but in a way that just means I’m going to have some gnarly bruising tomorrow,” you say, lowering your arm and starting to pull your shirt back on. 

Klaue removes his hands allowing you to redress but he still seems hesitant, and after a moment says, “Take two days off”.

“What? No! I’m good, it’s not even my dominant arm and I’m not some fragile- “

“I wasn’t asking,” Klaue’s voice is low and you find yourself suppressing a shiver. “Forty-eight hours.You need to let it rest.” Then his face shifts, his blue eyes softening again with the concern you weren't sure you actually saw earlier.

Well, you're not quite sure what to do with that, so combined with your aching limb and exhaustion and the tremors you feel as the mild shock starts to wear off, you decide that it’s not worth arguing.

"Fine,” you sigh and then grumble, “but I don’t like it.” 

"You don’t have to,” he says with a dry smile and stands back up.

Satisfied for the moment at least, Klaue now turns his attention on your bloodied attacker who's been behind him this whole time. Reflexively No Neck tries to shrink back but he doesn't get very far since David and Cliff - the other man from Utrecht - are each firmly holding onto one of his arms. 

You can’t see Klaue’s face now but as he straightens up you can certainly imagine it, and it’s satisfying to watch the bastard’s face instantly turn ashen.

“If you want to keep your life," Klaue’s voice is a growl full of blood and grit, "you will leave. Now”.

You don't know exactly when he leaves but that's the last time you see No Neck, and no one bothers you for the rest of your time in Romania.

That night in your bed, after having showered and taken two percocet with a mouthful of whisky, you’re attempting to release some of the tension from the day. As your fingers move between your legs, though, they feel frustratingly ineffective and you think that maybe you just need to accept that you're drained, it’s not going to happen, and should just grab the ice pack from the freezer and try to get some sleep. 

You sigh and as you’re mentally running back over today’s events for the nth time, the image of Klaue’s hands on your arm as he knelt beside you flashes through your mind. A throb of heat rolls through your core and the circling of your fingers between your legs resumes, more quickly now. 

Strong, thick fingers slide up your arm, then move to grip the hem of your shirt to pull it the rest of the way off of you. Arms wrap around you, lifting and then adjusting your body so that you’re straddling his lap. His hands slide down the curve your waist to grip your ass and you smile at his groan as you arch your hips against the hard length you feel there, allowing you to find the desired friction against your clit through the fabric of your clothes-

Your orgasm peaks so suddenly that you cry out, rocking your hips frantically against your fingers, gasping as you chase the waves of startled pleasure.

Breathless, you can only lie there riding out the aftershocks that continue to pulse through your body as you try to process how quickly you came from just the thought of his hands. Through the fog of your receding orgasm you can't seem to come up with much in the way of coherent thought aside from one thing:

Oh. 

Shit.

Thank you again for reading! Just a smidge of smut this time, but chapter three will be where we start getting to the good stuff. 😉

#fanfiction #ulysses klaue #ulyesses klaue x f reader #ulysses klaue x reader #ulysses klaue x you #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bringin' home the rain fic

[saltypiss]

The TF2 situation is just funny now.

I wish Gabe would just make a video that's titled: "TeefToo"

He just walks onto a dimly lit stage and says:

"After over a decade and a half of development, we kinda figured it was fine where it was at. To be honest I dunno what you want anymore. Ya'll have this idea in your head that we can just squeeze creative energy out of people if we throw enough money at them. That's not how we work, that's not how most companies work. That's not how creative works are produced.

We're glad you're passionate and want more from this IP, truly, the infinite money printer that is this machine has been incredible. But we're burnt out. The engine it's on is literally almost 20 years old, it's 19 as we speak. You were either not born or 5 when we shipped our first game. I'm old. I'm grey, my hair grows and is too strong to possibly cut, please understand we had color when this game released and was still being updated.

Look, we'd love for it to simply live forvever, but updates aren't going to do that. It's been on life support for so long, it's become a lost cost fallacy for so many of you. We pulled the plug such a long time ago, all we're doing is putting make-up on the corpse, but eventually that shit smells and, well, Billy, your dog is dead. He's been dead. Nobody ran him over, nobody left chocolate or diahreha medicine out, it's nobody's fault.

This happens. It's been hard to keep up appearances but we're hurting too, we moved on. You should consider moving on too. I understand that will be difficult, but at the end of the day, a dead dog in the sun is one to be sad about, but a dead dog being dressed up to make a kid happy? Disturbing. Utterly. I do not know why we thought it was a good idea, maybe we too thought it could come back, but the reality is, it's gone. It's dead. And we are a disturbed people.

Also, we're also not doing anything with our other games, like, ya'll heard what happened with L4D3 right? It was literally almost done but half the development team wanted to use our competitor's engine, no seriously that's why it was cancelled, like... we're done as game developers, okay? We're just gonna make hardware, leave us alone. This has been Gab Enowl, hopefully it was worth the wait."

#team fortress 2 #gabe newell #gaben newell #tf2 #team fortress 2 update #valve #steam

[cutegirlmayra]

I have to admit, I haven’t seen that episode in a long time, so I had to go back. It’s just... a very silly rebranding SEGA tried and, although fun, I’m still a stickler for the canon xD

But, combining it with the AU altnerative dimensions can be fun! So, here we go~

                                                           , too~

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUTDOWN, DO NOT SEND IN ANY. Other than that, I love you all so much ^^

Prompt:

After the heroic ‘smolders’ Amy was being whisked away by all the charming chivalry, Sonic began to wonder why she didn’t exactly ‘openly’ show that for him anymore...

When Tails went to press the button to send them home, the machine needed a change of battries, but he accidentally clicked the wrong button.

When that happened, the two beams, one red to their Knuckles, and one blue didn’t cross, but ended up hitting Sonic.

“W-What’s going-!?” before Sonic could say anything, both him and Knuckles were sent to an alternative dimension.

Different... from the heroic Knuckles.

While they were gone, that Knuckles expressed more gentlemenly acts with Amy, and although Amy giggled and ate it up, she kept asking about Sonic and their Knuckles... “I hope they’re okay.” she looked away from Heroic Knuckles trying to extend his hand to her with a plate of cookies.

“Oh, well, your Sonic in this dimension seems quite resourceful!” he tried to cheer her up, “Mine was clumsy and... well, frankly, a child. Yours seems to carry himself with the pride of a warrior and diginity of... uhh... one with dignity, Mi’lady.” he held his fist up in... ehhh... somewhat confidence in his words. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be back in time to send me home, and I can then finish saving my dimension from the ruthless takeover of that dastardly Eggman!” he knelt down from his towering, large stature and patted her back, which made her smile at him.

“Thanks Alternative, party-hat Knuckles.” she looked at him with gratitude, and as he nodded and got up, heading over to help Sticks with another batch of cookies--the first he rested in front of Amy where she sat on the couch--offering to make sure the oven didn’t blow up from her chaotic whacking of it with her boomerang.

Amy sighed and looked out the window, turning around to prop her fingers on the edge of the couch’s back. “Sonic... Knuckles... Just be safe.” she worriedly stated quietly to herself, resting her cheek, “Mmmmm...” she whined a little, ‘At least Sonic’s there to make sure Knuckles will be okay... right? I’m usually there to keep Sonic safe, though...’

She closed her eyes, yearning to know her two friends were safe.

In the other dimension, Sonic and Knuckles crashed down and learned that Eggman had retired, instead, converting his lab into a vactional retreat for old people, and to get off his lawn.

Sonic headed into the village with Knuckles when they thought they saw some Eggman robots, and were trying to get them to cross-beams and shoot them, but they only spat out towels.

Again, they were just running around doing errands, with Orbot and Cubot trying to get the games, party streamers, and food all set up.

Weirded out by a world where Eggman wasn’t... suspicious of anything... Sonic and Knuckles went to their friends places.

Sticks was now a scientist, who would work with Engineer Tails to help replicate the machine they were describing and get them home.

This dimension’s Knuckles was a therapist, but... he really didn’t actually do much besides ask geniune questions that confused him about other people, who then paid him for his confusion as they were able to talk through and about their traumas.

“Guess we can find me then.” Sonic was about to go out the door when Dr. Echidna stopped him by holding up his hand.

“W-wa-wah-wait, hold on there!” he looked to the other Knuckles, “Sonic’s on babysitting duty, you won’t really be able to get five minutes with him... let alone three.” he looked a little like he had tried, his eyelids falling slightly to be half-open in exhaustion. “Amy’s working all the time to support them, too. I really don’t think now’s a good time for-”

“Babysitting!?” Sonic jumped back, “Sonic T. Hedgehog doesn’t sit around and do nothing! What kinda dimension is this!?” he held up a fist in offense.

“Uhh... the dimension where you have responsibilities?” Knuckles held up a hand and shrugged his shoulder.

“Hmph. We’ll see about that!” Sonic took off, not liking the sound of that!

“Uck, can’t believe Sonic’s into daycare now... but, good for him.” Knuckles from their dimension stated before looking to Dr. Echidna.

“No, for real, I was asking a geninune question. Does Sonic even have any responsibilities other than staying home and looking after the kids?” Dr. Echidna sincerely wanted to know the truth to that, “Like, does yours just... actually... do things?”

“What kids?” Knuckles looked over to his other alternative dimensional therapist self. “You mean... Sonic really just plays with kids all day? How fun!” he gave a huge open smile to that.

“More like ‘who’s kids. Sonic’s a full-time dad now.” the good Doctor explained, “Though, I’m not sure how or why...” he put a finger under his chin, looking down as though to think about it, as Knuckles did the same thing.

The two began, ”Hmmmmm....” in unison.

Sonic barged through his door with a spindash, “Alright, I’m here to set the record..! ... Straight?” Sonic paused when he saw the whole of the hut completely surrounded by different colored hedgehogs, all with hues similiar to blue, pink, red, turquoise, and purple shades.

“What... on the planet!?” Sonic moved back, a bit taken aback and scared when all of the children suddenly stopped. Some were crawling up the curtains, others were throwing food from the fridge, and another was bashing a bat against what looked like a ripped up pillow case.

“... Dad’s home!” One called out, throwing out what looked to be a vase out the window and reaching his hands up in the air in joy.

“DADDY!”, “DAD!”, “DADEO!”, “Dadman~”, “Pops!”, “Father.”, “Papa!”

At all the screaming and loud exclaimations of joy, Sonic’s eyes shrank and he cried out before booking it away.

“So, you’re new.”

He paused, as out in the field, in a beach-chair with sunglasses and a drink,... was his alternative dimensional self.

“Sit down, kid. Take a load off.” He pulled out another chair from his back and, with some swagger, flicked the chair out and sat it next to him, dusting it off. “You’re not from a new batch I wasn’t told about, right?”

“H-huh?” Sonic tilted his whole body, too startled to even comprehend.

This Sonic had a small gut and lowered his sunglasses a second to take a look at Sonic, “Spitting image of me... buuut... you look too old to be one of mine.” he put the glasses back on and took a sip of his drink. “Amy won’t be back from work for another hour. Sit and chat a moment.”

The two ended up lounging... before Sonic unparted his intertwined hands on his stomach and shot up, “WAIT! ARE THOSE ACTUALLY YOUR... our?... AMY’S KIDS!?”

“Shhh.... look at that sunset.” Dad Sonic laid back and stretched, “Nothing beats that... Alright. I still got, what..?” He looked at his watch under his gloves and bandages. “Emmm... 10 seconds before Amy arrives? Plenty of time.” he nodded and got up, “Watch this.” he winked to Sonic and tossed off his glasses, dashing back into the house.

A few cat noises and whirling of wind, before Dad Sonic opened the door and gestured for Sonic to come inside.

Sonic didn’t want to, but Dad Sonic dashed behind him and pushed him in.

The place... was spotless? The vase was glued up, the kids were all sleeping on the couch with the t.v on to Tommy Thunder re-reels, and the food was back in the fridge with the floors being spotless. The pillow was sewed up nicely in patches that actually looked like ‘art’ before Sonic turned back to his other self.

“Wow... you... I... how the-?” he was flabberguasted as Dad Sonic bent down and put a hand to his shoulder.

“Look, when things get overwhelming, or if something ‘new’ spooks you too badly... just know you can trust yourself to get things done in the nick of time.”

The door opened and Amy stepped inside, “Oh my gosh, Sonic, I’m so sorry! They held me over for an executive meeting on charity fundraisers and then-... ah.” she smiled sweetly, relieved when she saw that it was all taken care of and handled.

Dad Sonic smiled and got up from speaking with Sonic, going over to help Amy remove her jacket, “Hope it wasn’t too bad, Amy.”

“It wasn’t... this means a lot, thank you for taking care of things at the ‘fort’.” She teased, and looked over to Sonic,... tilting her head. “I... Don’t remember this one.” she confessed. “Spitting image of you, though. Wait... how long have I been working!?” she panicked, her hands coming to her cheeks, “Sonny, is that you!?” but litlte Sonny woke up slightly, yawning.

“Here I am, momma.”

The others woke up and she went to greet them, as Sonic was still puzzled by the fact that this somehow... works?

Dad Sonic put his hands to his hips and then gestured for Sonic to come out with him, “Alright, Champ. Let’s sort you out, huh?”

But then... Dad Sonic began to glitch out of existence like Knuckles had back in their own dimension. “What the..?” He looked at his hands.

The kids gasped, one stating, “Mama... what’s happening to Daddy?”

Amy held that child close and looked to Dad Sonic.

Dad Sonic just held out his hands, “Hey, I’m gonna be fine. Just gonna sort this out, alright?” he was very... calm?

Sonic learned a lot from that day, when they headed back, the two Knuckles were still ‘hmmmm’ing to themselves and Dad Sonic just thumb-pointed to the other Knuckles, which Sonic nodded to and the two hoisted him up and away.

“Hmmmmm--oh, bye other me!”

“Hmmm... Oh, yeah, Bye Dr. me! Hmmm...”

“You take care! Hmmmm....”

The two continued their ‘thinking’ stances before Dad Sonic revealed that Eggman was still evil, hatching up a new plan and showing that the ‘bingo’ machine was actually his newest invention to turn all the old people into mindless work slaves to make more robots for him, so HE could actually relax...

“Diabolical.” Sonic shook his head, just joking around.

“Hey, I got a question...” Sonic began before Dad Sonic held up his finger.

“Nah, save it for your future kid.”

“... Wait, this isn’t my future. We’re in an alternative dimension... r-right?” he suddenly flinched back as Knuckles immediately snapped out of his thinking.

“H-hey! That’s it!” he took Sonic’s hands, “I promise buddy, I won’t do anything to ruin your future... With Amy.”

“My- WHAT!?!” Sonic’s face turned to panic as Dad Sonic just scratched behind his head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell Sticks and Tails they won’t need to bicker on about how to get you two home. See ya.” he gave his signature smirk and wink, before activating the two beams as Eggman cried out, ‘Noooo!!! My retirement plan!’

Upon arriving back, Amy embraced Sonic, and the other dimensional, heroic Knuckles, was sent home. “I’m so glad you’re alright, Sonic! What was it like in that other dimension?” she cutely put a finger to her mouth as Sonic just shoved her to the side.

“I-I-I need a walk...” he nervously took off... and pulling out a beach chair, facing it perfectly with some adjustments to the sunset... he sighed in relaxation... put on the same shades as Dad Sonic had... and rested his hands on his belly...

“Sometimes... you just can’t overwhelm yourself... with things you don’t know nothing about...”

“Hmmmmmmm....”

“Knuckles... buddy, just let it go.”

“O-oh, sorry.” Knuckles punched over a tree, cutting off it’s truck with his punch, uprooted with some effort the base, and placed it by Sonic to watch the sunset with him...

They both sighed as though letting that confusing dimension go.

“... So... do you like,... want to talk about it?”

“Knuckles, you’re not a real therapist.”

“Well, not yet!”

#boom!sonic #sonic boom #boom!sonamy #sonamy boom #cutegirlmayra #sonamy prompt #sonic boom prompt #sonic boom au

[boyakishantriage]

BANG.

"Hello boys."

The human stood in the doorway. To the space station. Wearing an exo suit. And a long bag.

Aliens quickly stood up. Energy weapons trained at me across the food hall.

"Can I move now?" She asked, moving away as several grenades were thrown into the room.

Soldiers ran in, taking the pirates in the large bar as they took away weapons. Aliens barely keeping up as the humans ship literally crashed through the energy shield, slammed into the hangar and didn't explode as it forced the door open.

How do these Terrans do this?

The hallways quickly became filled with "CLEAR", gunshot filling rooms as the I ran around the building.

To be honest, I had done idea what I was doing or where I was going. Given a bag of C4, grenades, a gun and told to "stick them everywhere" after making the aliens run into the desert.

Something ran past, throwing blocks into rooms, ends of hallways, occasionally running into rooms, smacking them with a blinking block and just generally running around.

Our guard barely could keep the humans back, crack shots. Quickly communicating and figuring out the armour's few weaknesses. Hitting the joints, our best strategy was physically closing off the building. But this human had ran through gunfire, ran around faster than anyone could catch her and also being more of a nuisance than a problem.

I fucked under the large alien as it reached for me. Last block of C4 linked to this trigger in his hand and close enough it should. Blow the equipment. I wore my oxygen mask, currently turned off, as well as the lightest gear I could get. Since I didn't really train with a gun, I just ran around.

BOOM.

The rooms began exploding, equipment breaking as the human continued to run. With most of the force pushed to stop the humans, ships flying into the hangar and WAS THAT A BATTLESHIP?

"ELLIE. HOW MUCH C4 DID YOU JUST ACTIVATE?"

"HALF? WH-EYE-EYE-E"

No idea what was going on, this place was big with some doors I couldn't just walk into. Actually most. I pressed the second trigger.

The ship tilted as defences were aimed at the large human battle ship, it was covered in mirrors, explosions didn't seem to do anything and currently only the archaic torpedoes, physical bullets we'd never stocked up on and even then. The whole ship was busy trying to ram into us. What was their plan? Ram into a ship and land into the water below??

The plan was to ram the ship and land it back on earth. It was a terrible plan. But we'd had like. Two months to Jerry rig the ship, cover it in mirrors, design, prototype and build three things. A large enough engine, a massive claw hand and what I can only describe as sticking the BFG onto the ship.

The ship careened, massive mechanical hands unfolding from the base of the paint covered ship as it held the ships above the planet's surface. Landing craft were all on hold, we were the reinforcements and it appeared they'd commandeered one of our ships and. But that was impossible. There was no way short of reverse engineering the entire ship and even-

Explosives rocked the bridge, or what I hoped what the bridge. Their ship was built like a maze. Like they'd modified a cruiser for war. Which is frankly ridiculous and lazy. Wed practically reversed engineered the ship, over engineered it to become a war machine and then spray painted it red to make it hit harder and then I covered the whole thing in pink glitter because I have the humour of a five year old.

The human threw a bag of block at the ground, tossing the triggers to the blocks and juggling them.

"SURRENDER TO THE JUGGLE!"

I shouted, the probably captain staring in horror as I increased the triggers as they fell. Juggling had three parts. Throwing shit predictably, catching it, balance. Doing it while moving was part threat, part because I want to see if I can cause surrender from a party trick. And also because I lost my gun in the hallway.

Somehow. That worked. The captain had surrendered as I shouted at him constantly, the guys tying them up as I let the triggers drop to the floor. "so. I have like. Four triggers that trigger things. Do I just. Throw them into a-"

The man just snatched them off me.

"No. We're just taking them to earth."

"... That was your strategy. Run around, blow things up and don't die."

"yep."

"and you didn't die."

"nope."

"..."

#tag #Passionfruit

[neptoons1998]

The Bounds that Ties Us

Warning: I suck at writing twelve years olds so please bare with me.

A/N: So this one is going to be a mixture between BP and one. It's just going to have Riri be Wakandan. And how she becomes friends with Shuri. I think I want to create this to a slow burn type. Plus I like that both, T'challa and Shuri both freeze when they see their crush.  BTW this fanfic is half finished so it's going to hop all over the place super sorry about that.



Shuri sees another volcano replica she might scream. It was already bad enough that she has to wear these too-stiff royal garments. The princess felt even more stupid that she had to wear this monstrous outside of the royal palace.

The young princess was with her mother on her annual school field day. The school field day is where the golden city shows its best and brightest students off to the politicians and the royal family. To Shuri, it was a dog show. The young princess will keep her mouth shut just long enough for her mother to forget that she had lessons today. 

"And last be certainly not least," The headmaster of one of the many schools Shuri and her mother were visiting. The man places his hands on the young girl's shoulders. The small girl had two braids buns that had white ribbons holding them together and sat behind her ears, "Miss. Rihana here has been working diligently on this robot here."

The machine was a small little thing. It had wheels for legs zooming around people's legs. Just before it skirted to stop in front of the Queen’s feet. Queen mother looked at the robot, "That is very impressive,"

"Thank you, your majesty," The young girl said shyly. 

“How old are you, sweet child?” Queen asked smiling at the girl. Riri believed that she was dreaming. 

“I’ll turn nine in a couple of months, your Majesty,” Riri said depresently wanting to sound proper like her mama sounded when she was working at the hospital. Riri looked in corner of her eyes to see the princess Shuri crouched down to get a better look at the robot, "What type of program did you use?"

Riri was shocked that the princess was talking to her. She quickly croaked out, "Um, well C++ and Python. I refused to use Java."

"Ah," Shuri agreed. The princess wasn't sure how she felt about seeing someone else take interest in science like her. sure, her brother taught her the majority of science and engineering. That changed recently now that all he wanted to do now is suck faces with Nakia. And Okoye was twelve months of training to become a Dora Milaje. Leaving the poor girl by herself, sure she had her lab and all. Sometimes she wished she could have a friend to share science with; like bouncing off ideas together or setting the lab on fire and trying to put it out before any of the guards noticed. Shuri had a hard time trying to be friendly to the nobles that weren’t Nakia. They approach her as princess Shuri and not just Shuri. Maybe Riri can be her friend. The princess always wanted to have a friend. Based on the young girl's uniform she wasn't a part of the noble five's families. 

"Well I hope we'll see more inventions from Riri," Shuri said Riri's back straighten when the princess said her name.

Riri nodded her head, "Yes of course! I'll do my best!"

Shuri chuckled before she followed her mother's lead in leaving the school. In a few days, strange things started happening to Riri. Well for one she was getting special treatment. Her headmaster wanted her to have the best of the best materials when it came to her working on her robots. The young girl was willing to overlook them if that means she could have her own space to work. What got weird was that Riri thought she was being followed. Which had to be odd because there was no reason to follow her. 

Little did Riri know she was right. She was being followed by no other than the princess herself. Shuri couldn’t help it, she just trying to find the right way to say she wanted to be friends with Rihana. It is just complicated when comes to talking to people. 

"Y'know you could've asked for us to be friends," Riri said to the princess. Shuri fluttered being called out so quickly, "Yeah, well I did not want you to see as the princess. Just Shuri to Rihana.”

"I can do that. And if we are friends then all my friends call me Riri, not Rihana, So are we?" Riri said to Shuri. The small girl smiled at her, "Are we what?"

Riri rolled her eyes before she outreaches her hand, "friends?

Shuri outreach one of her hands to Riri's, "Sure we can be friends."

And with that, the pair will be inspirable.

A/N: Let me know what y'all think cause I ain't gonna lie I love this AU. And if I continue I might make it like 15 chapters of it.

#riri williams #shuri black panther #shuriri #ao3fic #fanfics #just writing down my thoughts #brainrot #au #wakanda forever

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“[I] just go to the junkyard and see what I could get,” he told The New York Times in 2010. “Went by the iron man, the boat man, the timber man. Ran by every month. If they had no use for it, I took it.”

He collected air conditioner fans, ceiling fans, industrial fans — the biggest is 25 feet across — and covered them with reflective pieces of highway signs that he cut by hand, so that when light hits them at night, the sculptures dazzle like fireworks or church windows that spin. He swears he didn’t measure, didn’t weigh, yet each windmill, as he called them, moves with engineered precision.

“I don’t use a ruler much,” he said on YouTube. “I can go down there with a hacksaw and I can come within a damn eighth of an inch just guessing at it.”

Simpson was one of the greatest visionary artists in the country, says Roger Manley, director and curator of the Gregg Museum of Art + Design in Raleigh, North Carolina, and author of Signs and Wonders: Outsider Art Inside North Carolina. “I think he’s North Carolina’s greatest sculptor, not just great self-taught sculptor.”

Rebecca Hoffberger, the founder and recently retired director of the American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore, agrees. “The level of Vollis’s imagination and the scale in which he was working is without precedent.”

Simpson trained himself on the math and mechanics to turn other people’s discards into brightly colored and whimsical Ferris wheels, clowns on bicycles, airplanes and rocket ships, men pulling a long saw, his son playing a guitar, ducks, horses, and dogs, all representations of his life as a farmer, father, and soldier.

Simpson was one of 12 siblings, born in 1919 in tiny Lucama, North Carolina. His father was a farmer, but Simpson was more interested in the machinery, eventually building a business moving houses and heavy farm equipment. In 1941 he was serving in the military on the island of Saipan when he converted the propeller of a junked B-29 bomber into a windmill that powered a much-needed washing machine. Back on the farm, he invented crop sprayers and built 13 cranes by welding pulleys, booms, and gantries, Manley says, and attaching them to the back of Army surplus trucks. He used them to move brick buildings or huge factory machinery, to pick up combines stuck in the mud or — legend has it — a locomotive when it fell off a trestle bridge.

He was in his 60s when he started building whirligigs for the fun of it.

He had prestigious visitors as well. In the mid-1990s, Hoffberger was preparing to open the American Visionary Art Museum. She’d seen Simpson’s work in Manley’s book, and after Manley introduced the two, she commissioned Simpson to create a signature piece, the visual draw to her new museum. Manley drove Simpson to Baltimore to see the site. Simpson, who had never been out of his home state except during his military stint, didn’t know how to ride an escalator and had never seen multiple-crossover overpasses. “It was like taking somebody from back in time,” Manley said.

Simpson crafted the 55-foot Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, repeatedly voted as the most beloved public art in Baltimore, so precisely calibrated for the space that it looks like visitors could reach out and touch it from the balcony.

He took his sons up to help install it in 1993, Hoffberger says, sinking an old Exxon pole 13 feet into the ground, Mike Simpson climbing on the structure while his father held a rope to keep the boom from swinging in the wind.

“He must have done that for well over three hours,” Hoffberger said. Then a staff member offered to give Simpson a break. “It took three of my young male staff to hold it, and they were only able to hold the boom for like a half-hour without being exhausted. And he had done it by himself. That’s how strong he was.”

Simpson was also smart. “If you listen to the man on YouTube, you would think he was dumb as a box of rocks,” says Mel Bowen, one of the men who maintain the sculptures. “But the man is not stupid. And he wasn’t lazy. He worked hard all his life.”

#folk art #whirligigs #Vollis Simpson

[oddballtumbles]

Building a Percy Jackson OC in my head right now. Have not read the books in years, I plan to reread them, just can’t right now. But this just WON’T leave me alone.

(Adult language and shit btw)

Daughter of Hephaestus, her mom met him in her early 20s, girl is 7/12, mom was pregnant 7 times, multiple sets of twins. ALL of them are kids of Hephaestus, their house is basically warded against monsters because by the time the second set of twins were on their way, Mom had enough and made Hephaestus deal with it. Hades now has a state of the art fetch machine for Cerberus, and monsters don’t bother her family until she dies. (Spoiler alert, Momma achieves minor godhood eventually due to popular demand and the invention of … something I haven’t decided yet; but it accidentally causes no monsters to be able to go after her bloodline. EVER lol)

Daughter is NOT an engineer (most of her siblings are engineers, tech developers, etc) but is thorough in SASS, and is more of a tinker type. The kind of person who knows random stuff and always carries ducktape but is more likely to only quick fix then refer you to professional than actually fix the problem. Just because the crack is taped doesn’t mean the bucket is fixed.

Specific interaction that keeps popping in my head:

Aphrodite (mad about long relationship with her husband, taking it out on the child of said relationship that happens to be in front of her)

Daughter (full of sass and absolutely fucking done with any and all dieties who think they are above the modern world just because they deign to exist within it occasionally. She has read the texts and watched the OSP videos. Nope)

A: I can’t believe anyone would even last that long! What could there possibly be to interest her in him???

D: idk but I can tell you that she likes the chair. Admittedly if she sat in it less there’d be less of us soooo.

A: please I be he’s only paying attention because she is the only one to look back.

D: well seeing as I’m a combo of both of them and when I went to camp everyone tried to send me to your cabin I’m not sure what that says about your poor taste. Or maybe eyesight?

A: are you calling me old?

D: you are literally older than Greece. What do you want me to do with that?

A: you-

D: look I’m just going to say this. If you paid even half as much attention to the husband you say you don’t want as you do to the lover you jerk around like an angry chihuahua, I probably wouldn’t be in your face sassing you.

A: Zeus arranged-

D: Oh please don’t get me started on that slut. We will be here longer than my mother’s been pregnant. Idk why Hera doesn’t just divorce the walking penis. It is a thing that exists! Also her taking out her rage on the kids and victims of his philandering is just avoiding the problem and causing more grief for the rest of us. If it’s some sort role play they are doing, nobody else is consenting the involvement, they both need to stop.

(Shocked silence.)

D: oh please, I cannot be the first to come up with that.

A: I’m not sure whether to smite you or give you a job.

D: I’ve never been smote before! Unless we count that time in the metallurgy which we do not talk to mom about. I came back fine! Barely even counts!

——————

Idk if I want her to have a Greek name or just a random one. I feel like she would get along with PJ-Dionysius in a “let’s drink and get high” kinda way.

She definitely has slept in all the cabins for no reason other than she broke in and felt like it.

Occasionally Hermes feels like she might be threatening his job a little, especially when she worked as a courier with heelies and a skateboard.

She’s ace by the way. Probably aro too, which is why she has no fear in front of Aphrodite.

#oc #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #i just want to sleep #maybe now I can #i’m so tired #plot bunny #leave me alone #asexual

[therappundit]

***THE RAP PUNDIT PICKS: 10 Albums From 2023***

ICYMI, THE PUNDIT'S PICKS - 150 SONGS FROM 2023: https://therappundit.tumblr.com/post/737507981202259968/the-rap-pundits-picks-150-songs-from

Here we are, last post of 2023! Below are some of my favorite albums that dropped this year. Hope you dug these releases as well, and either way, please feel free to share your favorites from throughout the year.

Wish you all a happy & healthy New Year (buckle up, 2024 is already lookin' like it's going to be a bumpy one)...and I shouldn't even have to say this, but remember that music has no expiration date, so keep these great releases in rotation into '24 and beyond 🙏

We Buy Diabetic Test Strips by Armand Hammer

2. VOIR DIRE by Earl Sweatshirt & The Alchemist

3. Maps by billy woods & Kenny Segal

4. Ganger (Deluxe Edition) by Veeze

5. Burning Desire by Mike

6. Another Triumph of Ghetto Engineering by Open Mike Eagle

(Nostalgia in the right hands can be as reliable of a slam dunk in music as they come.

7. Another Planet 4 by Phik & Lungs/Loneswird

(A raw bar fest from start to finish, that's made it this high on my list off the strength of relentless consistency. Amidst the scattershot references to pop culture and NYC-isms, there are two MC's with a lot to say, so listen closely and you're bound to learn more about their personal tastes and opinions. Phiik and Lungs have off the charts chemistry and a shared vision of keeping their foot firmly on the pedal from opening bell on any verse right on through the period at the end. Another Planet 4 is just the duo's latest display of comradery in what can be considered a deceptively lengthy catalogue, but here we have Lungs/Lonesword doing a great job of establishing himself as not just a Micro Machine motor-mouth on the mic, but a producer that's capable of carving his loops into an equally potent tool to share his voice.)

8. And Then You Pray For Me by Westside Gunn

(Maybe not the record that the oldest "loyal" Griselda fans wanted, or the trap record that turned the less tapped in into Griselda stans, but it's absolutely the record that Westside Gunn. For years, anyone that followed the Griselda Records mastermind knew that the curator of some of the hardest rap records to arrive in the tradition of the Wu-Tang Clan, Mobb Deep, and Roc Marciano, at his core was a huge Young Dolph fan that wanted nothing more than to drop an album that tipped his hat to the legendary Dirty South hustlers and Three 6 mobsters that inspired him. It can be viewed as a "something for everyone" album, and while there are some static moments on the back half of the project, on the high points of And Then They Prayed For Me, Gunn is bouncing from track to track with the gleeful mania of Nicholson's Joker at the museum, fiercely confident that whatever art he smashes is immediately improved just for having made contact with him. The irony is that some of his best artistic choices don't make any reference to art at all...like his delivery on "Suicide in Selfridges" and "Disgusting", and who would have anticipated Estee Nack's delivery on "JD Wrist"!?)

9. Pommon Sense by dp0mmy

(It wouldn't be bold for me to suggest that Atlanta is bubbling with hip-hip talent, mostly because Atlanta has been at the rap game table calling shots for about 20+ years now. However, outside of the ATL, a lot of rap fans don't think of the Southern mecca as being the hotbed of diverse underground talent that it really is. Well, if this is news to you, pressing play on dp0mmy's Pommon Sense will set the record straight. A wide range of "non-household" names stop by on the young producer's record to make their presence known, so much so that it will take you a long time to really get through this album...because you will pause after every other track to check the credits, and get lost down a Youtube or Soundcloud hole, checking out the backlog of one of the many talented Atlanta-based artists that work with dp0mmy. Of course dp0mmy is at the center of it all, holding court amongest the instrumental tracks and burts of bars with standout production that puts more life and beauty into underground beats than I have heard from any under the radar producer since DJ Spinna. I'm very excited for any future music to come out of this camp, and you should be as well.)

10. Pap On P.E.D's by Papo2oo4

(As fresh and raw as he is an homage to some of rap's best music from the past two decades, Papo2oo4 sounds every bit of the New Jersey-by-way-of-NYC that he is. He can casually slide between verses and hooks with the casual menace of Curtis Jackson, but his style is definitively his own. Papo sounds equally at home over dusty instrumentals as he does over fist-pumping, Jersey club beats, and with Pap On P.E.D's being his strongest tape yet, there aren't many artists entering the new year with as sharp of an upward trajectory as Papo2oo4 is right now.)

Honorable Mention: Mookie Blaylock by Jiles & Vinyl Villain, Faith Is A Rock by Wiki, MIKE & The Alchemist, Trapper of the Year by Certified Trapper, Catch&Release by S!LENCE & Lungs, Hood Hottest Princess (Deluxe) by Sexyy Red, 2MM by Sideshow, Sundial by Noname, Summer's Mine by Babyface Ray, Liberation 2 by Tabli Kweli & Madlib, Noir or Never by Che Noir & Big Ghost, JOINTS by Marco Plus, Shook World by King Vision Ultra, The Son's Shine by Silky Southern, Pookey: Stik Figa Finds Himself by Stik Figa & DJ Sean P, a Gift & a Curse by Gunna, Infinite Victory Loop by Roper Williams, Owe It To Myself by G.T., Noise Kandy 5 by Rome Streetz, Mourning Due by Nappy Nina, Halfway There by 03 Greedo, 26: The Maryland Era by Tokyo Cigar, Everything Good? by Black Milk, Bin Reaper 3: New Testament by Babytron, Lonestar Luchador by That Mexican OT, and many, many more....

#best albums of 2023 #best of 2023 #best rap of 2023 #underground hip-hop

[f-adan]

Updates to the design and history of my Sombra Lunar OC

(Old version of my Sombra Lunar OC)

I recently made updates to the armor design of my Sombra Lunar character, it was something I wanted to do for a long time

I started with the helmet, what I try to keep is that the visor looks like a half moon, and I am between adding more details and no, this is what I have for now

Next a preview to the "bracelets"? , (I don't know if they have another name) from the Sombra Lunar armor

Basing myself a bit on artie_stico's interpretation, (X's profile, formerly Twitter), of a commission that I asked him for a long time ago

Part of the design is that apart from having a "mini-machine gun" and it could also deploy a "laser dagger" or just a dagger*

For the skin update I would remove that weapon option and just leave the mini-machine guns, this because I want him to use a type of bladed weapon, so I'm considering giving him a pair of sai or a katana or both.

*This information can be consulted in the old profile of Sombra Lunar, before ´´Sombra Shorai´´), in DA - https://www.deviantart.com/f-adan/art/NDC-Sombra-Shorai-661360984

Continuing with the update of Sombra Lunar's armor, I move on to what I consider one of the most remarkable elements of its design, its skates.

(Also based on artie_stico's interpretation of a commission that I asked him for a long time ago)

Following the Sombra Lunar armor update, the rest of what covers his body, this is where there were a little more changes

Starting with the fact that I had to redesign his shield, his emblem

An element that I always missed to include in her original design is that of a mini jetpack, (with crescent-shaped wings (? ), she doesn't fly, she only uses them to make big jumps and then glide between buildings, the other thing is to use her propeller to gain more speed

Almost finishing the Sombra Lunar armor skin update

Beneath her armor, she wears full-body black metal mail for protection

Sai or katana or both?

She knows that she can't always depend on her technology, so now she carries a pair of sai just in case, although originally I wanted to give her a katana, (for her feud and rematch against Queen, an artie_stico OC), but I started to think in the sai because they are non-lethal weapons, (she does not seek to do damage but they would be useful as a defense), although I am leaning towards using both

Another change that I made to her was her hair style, she was not very satisfied so it is a combination of her first design and the previous one

Mask?, after a confrontation with Queen, (OC of artie_stico), her helmet was destroyed so her identity was revealed, she uses it in case she repeats herself

Now that the armor design update has been completed

I present to you Mitsuki Sánchez, alias "Sombra Lunar", "The Midnight Heroine"

"From the dark side, the moonlight will guide me"

And to finish this update I also did a review of his story with some changes since his debut in DA as Sombra Shorai, then the origin story of Sombra Lunar

Mitsuki Sánchez was born and raised in Japan, to a Mexican father and a Japanese mother. Her childhood was a bit difficult since her parents had different expectations for her future. Her father wanted her to focus on sports while her mom in science

For what Mitsuki from a very young age learned the disciplines of gymnastics and skating from her father and computer science and robotics from her mother, it was a stress for her because she only wanted to make her parents happy, (because they were always arguing)

She reached her limit and when she turned 15 she decided to dedicate herself to robotics. Her father, disappointed in her and starting the divorce proceedings, decided to go back to Mexico once and for all and leave them.

After that, she had a time of peace with her mother, getting her degree in robotics engineering and going to work for one of the most important companies in that field, and over time she would meet an attractive young man who would become a couple and they would commit

But deep down, something was bothering her and she felt that she had to make peace with her father before getting married, so she decided to go to Mexico with her boyfriend to look for her father… The last thing she knew about him was that he had an old farm and went there to look for him

When they got there they were intercepted by organized crime, his father had made a deal with them and had not fulfilled his part and due to their misfortune they coincided when they went looking for him to settle accounts … they eliminated his father and took his father hostage she and her boyfriend … tried to extort money from the embassy, their families and the company where she worked … there was no response… they eliminated her boyfriend in front of her as a warning that they were serious … there was no response either ... instead of eliminating her too, one of those bastards came up with the idea of using her for their dastardly business … she was enslaved … she spent years living like this … until an enemy group of those criminals attacked them and in the midst of the confusion they managed to escape

Hurt, confused and in a country she doesn't know she was lost and her only means of survival was theft, she spent months like that until she was arrested, if it weren't for a police officer they would have sent her to jail, so only her They deported them back, but ... Everything in their home had changed forever ... their mother had passed away from the impact of her kidnapping and the rest of her family did not know her because of her inheritance ... also the same in the company where he worked … they ignored it to keep his inventions and patents

Completely alone and abandoned, she robbed again, but not only to survive, but to gather resources to take revenge on that company, little by little she began to steal technology to improve her thefts and attacking that company from the shadows … That was his plan but during one of his robberies, during his escape he observed that in an alley there was a woman being attacked, how a burst passed through his mind for all that he had suffered when he was deprived of his liberty and without hesitating he rescued her

Since that night, she swore that no person would have to go through what she went through, so she became a night watchman

Thank you very much for your time for reading this blog and getting here, if you give me a chance I will continue to introduce my OCs with you and in the near future I will publish more stories about them, thanks again and have a great night

#oc #oc ideas #doodle #sketch #drawing #webcomics #superhero #superheroine #Sombra Lunar #Mitsuki Sanchez #redisign #original character #moon #black moon #dark moon #media luna #half moon #luna #armor #design armor #character design #character art #originalcharacter

[askthechronoverse]

Chapter Fourteen: The Day The Fox Came to The Door

Last Chapter •||• Next Chapter

The fox worked tirelessly to try and reverse engineer a gem just enough to make a weakened decoy. The decoy Puppycorn ate had resurfaced, but it was half digested and completely discharged of whatever energy it had by then. This gem was now sitting on the workbench beside her, nestled between her notebook and a graduated cylinder. She was occasionally joined by Rex while she worked, like she was now. The man sat on a wooden bench next to her, a bit battered from a tough training session with Hawkodile.

"Please pass me the jar of red liquid. I think we're getting close to a breakthrough!" She couldn't help but let a self satisfied smile appear on her face. Her assistant passed the jar and closed his dark eyes for a second. "I know this will seem rude, but I'm glad you're available at the late hours of the night. Science, especially planet saving science, shouldn't sleep!" Rex yawned.

"Hm? Yeah. Glad my insomnia helps the greater good."

"I will look into a better way to help you sleep once we finish our work and the Unikingdom is back to a time of peace. Sleep is important for your body to function." The fox spoke while she worked.

"I've functioned for a long time without sleep, Doc. Don't stop working on the stuff ya had going before on my behalf." His tone of voice was uncharacteristically gentle. He looked away from the fox.

"RJ, that's what a friend does. I get the impression you needed the reminder from your vocal patterns and mannerisms." She poured what she had been working on into a makeshift mold made out of something not unlike children's molding clay. "I believe we're ready. Let's let this concoction set and we'll test it with Hawkodile. We know his strength and can mark any increases."

"Yeah. Got it. Just call me… when ya do the test." Rex stretched his arms, yawing in mid sentence.

"I encourage you to rest in the meanwhile. I won't lie to you: I do worry about your capacity to provide aid to us in your current state."

"Tell the recurring nightmares that." He slid off of the stool.

"I know this may not be something you want to hear, but I would suggest therapy of some kind when this is over." Doctor Fox hopped off of the chair she was sitting on. "Nightmares can occur because of -"

"You sound like my ex, Doc." He muttered quietly before heading out of the workshop before the fox could utter a reply.

The fox stayed in the makeshift lab for a little longer. She wandered the room, looking at blueprints for the Rexcelsior which had the location of the time drive shockingly absent. She soon found a half built motorcycle hidden under a tarp. It was clearly built for speed, a sleek machine made of found parts. She did remember he had a parts list on the chalkboard that now sat in the living room that was used to compile what they needed for an attack plan. She wanted to help, but she didn't know how he even got as far as he did. A lot of the parts were random, like he couldn't find the exact part and used the next best thing. This may be a glimpse into the thought process of a Master Builder, something she had only heard about from Unikitty. She was admiring the bike when Richard floated into the room. He held a rolled up piece of paper in front of him, the pressure from his invisible hands threatening to rip it in two.

"Doctor Fox. I'm sorry to interrupt you. There is something you should see." He put down a newspaper from Frowntown. There was a mysterious ailment going around that was causing people to evacuate the city for other parts of the galaxy. It came on suddenly and the origin could not be found.

"That's not good. They may be trying to get people off of the planet to make way for their demolition." She shook her head slowly. "We need to stop this. If we can keep people in their homes, that will slow things down. We should ask R-" She stopped herself. No. There was no need for the violence asking the Master Breaker for help would eventually bring. She could solve this with her mind alone. "How is the ailment spread? I'll need a sample right away."

"The article claims it may be in the water supply, but you can't go over there. If anyone here does, it would be risky." Richard cautioned, fear clearly in his voice.

"I'll send a robot." She called a robot from her lab and asked them to bring her a water sample. "This may take a while. I need to ask someone something." She shuffled into Rex's room, where he was haphazardly sleeping on his bed with a pair of headphones on his head. She looked at his sprawled out body for a moment, then pushed him off of the bed. The human surfaced from the floor, headphones now half off of his head.

"You rang, Doc?"

"May I finish building your motorcycle? I may have a need for it soon." She frowned a little at the messy state the man was in. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed him.

"I guess? As long as you promise to wake me up like a normal person next time." He didn't wait for a reply from the scientist and curled back up in his bed. She nodded and shuffled back to the unfinished motorcycle.

"I'm sure he'd let me make improvements to his design." She grabbed some tools and got to work. By the time her robot brought the sample, the motorcycle was finished. It was a beautiful vehicle at this point, made even more aerodynamic by her changes. It looked like it even had a nitro booster installed to it. She didn't have time to detail it; she would leave that up to him later. The fox took the sample from the robot and got to work analyzing it. She soon finished the analysis and gasped. "This ailment is evolved using the power of the gems! This must be the work of a Doom Lord!" She looked at the bike. Should she ask for help? No. She shouldn't. Rex needed to sleep and the others could be at risk if she didn't do something about this. After getting a hazmat suit on, the fox hopped on the bike and sped off to Frowntown.

She soon found herself in an abandoned downtown Frowntown. There were signs up all over telling people that they were under a water boil advisory. The place was already sad enough normally, but with everything shuttered up, it was downright creepy. She slowed the bike to look around for some sign of a Doom Lord. She had to remember the ones she saw before. Who would she be looking for? The memory came to her as she saw him.

A being in a plague doctor outfit stood by a window, checking for signs of life. His movement was birdlike as he checked something off of a clipboard. He muttered softly, almost like a coo, about the results of his plague. Around his neck was a green heart shaped gem. Was this one of the real gems? Doctor Fox decided that she would worry about that later. She followed the plague doctor down the road, watching him check off names. Eventually, the dark doctor stopped at Master Frown's apartment. The young Doom Lord answered the door.

"You doing a thing, Plague?" The birdlike creature bobbed his head. "Cool. Cool. Cool of you to avoid our place."

"I came to warn you to stay away from Princess Unikitty and her friends. Doom will make them an example of her power in due time and an example of what will happen to those who resist and reject her." The voice that came from the being was bone chilling, the right amount of high-pitched and grumbling to make Dr Fox's tail fur stand up on end. Plague checked something off on his clipboard. "Please leave the planet at the earliest convenience." The being moved on as Frown closed the door. Doctor Fox gasped. Doom had plans to make an example of them. But how? Could that be how Rex loses his life in Captain's timeline? Does he try to protect them from something? Either way, she couldn't allow that to happen.

She continued to follow Plague until the bird stopped at the water supply that was shared by the Unikingdom and Frowntown. She steeled her nerves. Now was the time for action, not thinking.

"HEY! STOP!" This was all she could think to shout. The plague doctor slowly turned to face the fox. He tilted his head.

"Doctor Fox, I presume?" The voice unnerved the little fox, but she got off of the motorcycle and walked in front of it. "Come to provide the town of Frowntown with some of your experimental medicine?"

"I'm here to stop you from destroying our planet!" The fox walked in front of the bike. "You're the one playing with people's lives!"

"For the record, dear Doctor, the plague I spread is tied to me for the present moment. Once someone leaves the planet, they are no longer harmed. The point is to make people leave. To have people on the planet when we demolish would be irresponsible and a PR nightmare." The plague doctor glanced down at the water. "That should not matter, but Doom has plans for you and your friends that will make her look better by comparison. We really must thank you, Doctor. This plan wouldn't be as perfect without your involvement." The plague doctor grinned a sickening grin.

"We aren't going to let you guys get away with any of this!" Doctor Fox paced to the other side of the motorcycle, but went no closer. "It doesn't matter much what your plan is!"

"But you are. Our plan is perfect. We will succeed because we have accounted for everything you and your friends can conceive. You and your friends can do nothing but marvel at our plan when it's complete. Marvel and grieve." Plague's guttural voice made Doctor Fox's ears go back. "I offer you this information, Doctor, because my work is done. I was put in charge of making the people of Frowntown vacate and this work is done." He tapped his clipboard.

"There is always time to reverse our fortunes! We can still beat you and the other Doom Lords!" Doctor Fox took a breath and walked closer to the bird like creature. She grabbed at the gem, which he didn't seem to resist. It was soon in both of her paws.

"Again, Doctor. My task is complete. The time where you can claim this planet as your home is drawing to a close. I give you the opportunity to say goodbye. You should thank me." The bird slid off into the shadows. Doctor Fox folded her arms. That was… too easy. Master Plague sure was confident in his boss's plan. That didn't matter to her right now. She was sure there were people who were still sick. After mixing some chemicals she brought with her, she threw the vial as far as she could into the water supply. This should purify the water. She got on the borrowed bike and headed back to Rex's cabin. She needed answers that only one person could provide that she had access to.

The person in question was in the study, where he always was. He was reading what appeared to be a history book with a notebook next to it with detailed notes.

"Good evening, Doc." The older Puppycorn put the book down. "Something you wanna discuss?"

"Yes. You come from a timeline where Master Doom successfully enacted her plan, correct? What was the general public's opinion of her?" Doctor Fox pulled a notebook of her own out of her lab coat.

"The opposite of… our mutual friend, if I'm being honest. Everyone hated him but thought Doom…" A growl came from his throat. "was the one who saved us by taking him out. They knew to leave her alone, though." He turned to the book and another growl escaped his throat. "Here. I'll show you." He pushed the book so Doctor Fox could see it. "I still gotta do homework after this ends, you know?" Doctor Fox leaned in to look at the page Captain flipped to.

After the Battle for Syspocalypstar, the person responsible for starting Armommageddeon eventually resurfaced on the Unikingdom, a planet in the Systar System. Little information survived about his plans on the small planet, but he was ultimately defeated and killed by a syndicate based on the planet already known as the Doom Lords. The skirmish caused the planet to be destroyed, displacing the people of that planet. Most of them moved to Syspocalypstar, including the royal family.

"Interesting." Doctor Fox's eyebrows furrowed as she got to the end of the page. She was sure there was more, but Captain already closed the book. "I may have an explanation for all this, but I have a feeling you know it."

"I'll tell you what I told my kid self: history is told by the winner. Especially when the loser can't answer for himself." He put his head on the desk. "His plans. Ridiculous."

#the newspaper isn't antiquated •||• written works

[depressedspacedoctor]

TEN QUESTIONS | Desiderio Bello

Last week we began the character sheets with Osanne Yates, the snide, self-destructive captain of the Whale Shark! Today we’re continuing our look at the crew with her much more put-together first mate, Desiderio Bello!

I’m using character questions from @wisteria-lodge because I find them really useful for understanding the characters, and for figuring out future plot points. You can find the questions here; it’s time to learn about the big man of the ship:

What is his go-to drink order?

Desiderio gets a local beer wherever he goes, usually in a bottle because he trusts it more than from the tap. He’s the moderating influence on Osanne, so he tends to find some microbrew specialist thing he can savour.

What is his grooming routine?

He takes a little more care of himself than Osanne. He’ll shave his stubble (not that it makes much difference, it’s back by the afternoon), wash his face, and style his hair, but only when he’s on the job. Outside of that he’s happy to hang loose and let his beard grow.

What was his most expensive purchase? Where does most of his disposable income go?

He bought a coffee machine for his apartment one time because Osanne was all like “I need coffee ALL THE TIME there’s never enough coffee” and she used it like once and was like “this thing sucks make me stovetop coffee” and from then on it’s sat in a box in his apartment gathering dust. And the thing is, it’s a proper cafe-style coffee machine (a little one for like one coffee at a time, but still) and you can bet Osanne just put instant coffee grounds in it. So Desiderio cleaned it out but he hasn’t used it because Osanne doesn’t like it.

I think most of his money goes on nice clothes. They don’t look impressive or anything, but he is the best-dressed on the crew. Mainly because his t-shirts don’t have holes in them. He also buys a few grooming products (I feel like he puts a little oil in his hair, just to keep it bouncy), but less frequently.

Does he have any scars or tattoos?

I like to think Desi didn’t have a single tattoo until he joined Osanne’s crew, which was also when Osanne learned that not everyone has a “first trip tattoo” tradition. He’s a Bertoni boy through-and-through, so his first tattoo was gambling themed: something like the card suits around a compass, to fit in with the courier theme.

Scars-wise, Desi was pretty badly injured in an engine explosion at some point in his career; he’s got shrapnel scarring across a good half of his body. Outside of that he’s mostly been careful, but he’s taken his fair share of cuts as the first mate (and because he’s so protective of Osanne). He’s also got a bad back, from years of lifting and carrying cargo he probably should have left to the forklift… Azel takes care of him as best he can, but he’s in pain a lot of the time.

When was the last time he cried, and under what circumstances?

Desiderio would absolutely deny crying at anything, but he’s particularly susceptible to movies about family. He’s been away from his own family for so long, he feels a little longing for that bustle and closeness of home; credit to him, he’s trying to find it with the people on his crew, but he tries not to push things.

Is he the oldest, middle, youngest, or only child?

I think I’ve already established that he’s got a pretty big family. I’m not putting numbers down here (so I can change my mind in the future), but his family is close-knit and there are “brothers”, “sisters”, “uncles” and “aunts” who aren’t even related by blood that are part of his family. Genetically he’s the eldest brother, but family friends have become brothers to him so he’s fallen somewhere in the middle in the end.

Describe the shoes he is wearing.

Desi has practical black boots with steel toecaps because he does a lot of heavy lifting. When he’s done with the work day he’s got some fancy cowboy-style boots he likes to wear out to bars. He’s got some sleek black trainers he wears when he’s exercising – when he’s not working and he’s not out, he polishes up his cowboy boots. His work boots look a lot rougher, because he knows they’re gonna get scuffed all to Hell the next day anyway.

Describe the place where he sleeps.

He’s got a poky little apartment on FerroCapita that’s as much Osanne’s place as it is his. He can never live by himself, he’s always drawn to other people and groups – in this case, the size of the place makes himself and the captain enough.

On the ship he’ll pick out a bunk, but he tends not to sleep in it – he’ll either curl up in the cockpit with Osanne, or curl up with Azel to make sure he’s okay. As a result his berth on-ship looks pretty pristine.

What is his favourite holiday?

For some people, Bertoni’s Independence Day is an enforced mandate of celebrating the succession of King Bertoni, a corrupt tyrant whose loyalty is to his cronies and not the people. For the Bello family, who are too low on the rungs of society to matter to those in charge, it is a day to say “Fuck the King! And Fuck Three Suns too!”. Desiderio likes to be home around this time, because it’s often a gathering time for his family and he gets to see everyone. He would be hard-pressed to call it his favourite holiday, though – the ever-present threat of Bertoni enforcers breaking down the farmhouse door and arresting everyone for sedition weighs on his mind, and he keeps one hand on his gun and one eye on the door whenever he’s around for it.

For the most part he enjoys any celebration he can spend with his family. The one occasion he follows religiously is the Royal Gala, because it is used to showcase the latest fashions from around the galaxies, and often features interviews from the designers themselves.

What objects does he always carry around with him?

He’s always got his toolbelt, which contains a hammer, a screwdriver with about a dozen extra heads, pliers, wire-cutters, extra wire, gloves, and a small soldering iron. In addition to this, he’s always got a miniature sewing machine and some scraps of cloth. He doesn’t like wearing damaged clothes and is quick to repair nicks and tears.

Desiderio is kinda the mom-friend of the group. He’s got everything you need on-hand and he’s always looking out for everyone else. It comes from being the eldest in a big family, he’s been watching over people his whole life.

#Red Moon #Writing #Character Sheet #Ten Questions #amwriting #wisteria-lodge

[yaldev]

The Team

The Septumvirate’s funding would cover three full-time employees for Decadin.

Renne. Mechanical engineer. The first friend Decadin made at Exodus. Strong in body and will. Could’ve done this whole project himself if his immortal soul could imagine anything but rotating shapes and hot girls.

Nemesk. Aethereal engineer. Decadin’s study partner in Fluid Dynamics 2 and Magic Manufacturing Processes. Advanced proficiency in numbers. Working knowledge of the Ascended language.

Miash. Musician. The only one Decadin had never met. Miash got an interview because Decadin wanted to know why a music student was applying for this role. He showed Miash one of the blueprints and he immediately picked at the visual design elements that made it clumsy to read. Then he started theorizing about the impact this creation would have on urban air quality. Five minutes later, he was gushing to an attentive Decadin about pre-National polyphonic folk singing, and he was hired.

Lhusel. Mechanical engineer. Flying machine specialist. She said this was volunteering, and Decadin left it that that.

Decadin brought the vision, the organization, the logistics and the diplomatic warfare capabilities against their source of funding. Together, they were going to build a miracle.

- - -

A crystal bug was standing half-upright on a work table, a whirlpool of energy around its mouth, vibrant colors swirling in its transparent body. Some larger animals were watching it eat, but for now they posed no threat.

“You have a point.” Decadin nodded. “Even our best measurement tools aren’t too accurate.”

“And humans are insensitive to ambient mana levels,” said Miash, “but for dirtclouds, it’s their whole survival strategy.”

A few other crystal bugs wriggled about in a paperboard box. Decadin took a pair of metal tongs on the table, picked up one of the glassworms and leaned back in his seat.

“If I had to pick a favorite animal, it’d be these.” He smirked and watched it try to squirm out of the tongs. “I started in biology, thought I could make a mark there. We still know so little about nature, and crystal bugs are packed with mystery.”

Miash grinned. “I almost went into bio.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But I had to pursue what I wanted deep down.”

Decadin turned his wrist, flipped the bug over. “Music?”

“Art, all of it, but music’s what came naturally.”

“That’s awesome. If you’re ever performing I’d love to come see. Certain the others would too.”

Miash blushed, unused to anyone caring for long. This was a formality, he had to change the subject. “So why’d you transfer out of bio?”

“Eh.” Decadin dropped the bug back in the box.

- - -

Decadin knocked on the door with his free hand.

From the other side: “Yes?”

He stepped in. The machine shop was dark, just couple of Levilights™ where Nemesk was hunched over a work table.

“Hey. I brought another tool that might help.” Decadin set a bowl of stew by Nemesk’s elbow.

“Oh.” Nemesk bent back up, looked over his shoulder. “Did not ask you to do this.”

“No, but Lhusel and I made extra, and it only made sense to keep some hot for you.” Decadin smiled, then looked at the blueprints. “How’s it coming?”

“Bad.” Nemesk dropped his pen. “Too much to fit on a reasonable size. Magic can’t fix it all.”

Decadin bent over to take a look himself. The sketches were hectic, eraser marks obvious. “What if it wasn’t a reasonable size?”

“We have the money?”

“Probably not.”

Nemesk huffed, rested his forehead against his hand. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Decadin frowned. He thought of losing Nemesk from the project, or as a friend, and adrenaline shot in his body. “Why?”

Nemesk’s other hand traced along the table as he spoke, as though building a model of his greivances. “No certainties. Assume things for the calculations, will need lots of testing, but no time. Still don’t know where getting parts. And barely below budget, right? If this doesn’t work, there’s nothing to show, and might be my fault. Or everything will get pulled if they found out Lhusel was working on it.”

Decadin patted his shoulder. “Stand up, you need a hug.”

“Uh?” Nemesk stood, and when Decadin pulled him in, he needed a second to process before he put his hands on the stewbringer’s back.

“You feel this?” Decadin murmured, “we’re here.”

“I know.”

“But we get so tied up in the math we forget we’re just bodies and souls.” Sensing the tension in Nemesk, Decadin pulled back to look him in the face.

“Yeah,” said Nemesk, hardly able to meet his gaze, “but much else I can’t be sure about.”

Decadin breathed in. “I’ve been there. You know what helped me?”

“What?”

“This, all of this, is a machine.” Decadin let him go. “Some parts move by themselves, some are invisible, but it’s all pieces of a system. It all makes sense when we get some hindsight, right?”

“Not help.” Nemesk frowned. “No good machine we can’t work out from the start.”

“Is there more on your mind than you’re telling me?”

Nemesk still wouldn’t meet his eyes. Decadin grimmaced.

“You think you need some sleep? You can have your dinner and go if you want.”

Nemesk sat down. “I’ll have it as break, but if I don’t do this now, just moved to later.”

“Your call.” Decadin smiled. “Can I give one more tip?”

“Mhm,” Nemesk hummed through a mouthful of stew.

Decadin opened a drawer built into the right side of the table, took out a jar of orange liquid. “If you can’t get rid of uncertainty, make it work for you.”

“What you mean?”

He set the jar on the table. “It’s mana. I think I only got through my second year because I kept it on my desk and it randomly gave me answers.”

“But the jar stops any effects from leaking, right? Too dangerous if no.”

“Yeah, for all we know it doesn’t actually do anything. But call it superstition.”

Nemesk smirked. “So now going to use mana to help us get rid of mana?”

“Hey, why not?”

“Well if we need it for good ideas, what we do after it’s gone?”

Decadin laughed.

- - -

Decadin stayed home one afternoon. He was going to spend all day crunching numbers, and he figured it was good for teambuilding when the others could vent to each other in his absence.

Aether dynamics was hard. It was fluid dynamics but also multi-dimensional parabolic geometry and also applied mathematical theology. It demanded so many parts of his brain that the proofs always took Decadin hours, and treading new ground felt impossible. How was he supposed to work out the most sustainable mechanism to repel mana back into the Aether? His only hope was a second jar of mana he bought for himself, purple this time. When he needed a break he’d pace around his room, bauble in hand, shaking it, swirling it and watching it settle with post-deterministic patterns.

The chaos wasn’t helping this time. Nemesk was right: if these jars actually changed anything outside the glass, the orange one would’ve burned down the whole academy by now. If they were ever useful it was for prompting new questions, but this time there were none to find. Decadin slumped back into his chair, double-checked an equation. It wasn’t even close to true if the variables were what he thought they were. He stared at the liquid magic in the jar, tapped it with his fingers, and then gave it a spin. He looked back at the paper. Back at the jar. Half the mana was gone.

Decadin gasped. Concepts neglected since first year started crashing into each other. He jotted a couple notes about centrifugal force, lept from his seat, grabbed the jar and sprinted off to tell Nemesk.

- - -

“You’re asking for more?”

“I had no plans to come up here and request a reduction,” said Decadin. Back on the platform. Back in the spotlight. Back in front of the Septumvirate. One of the members was replaced since last time, and the new voice was especially skeptical.

“Don’t bother giving us some fluffed-up story of all the progress you’re making. Your supervisor’s confirmed that you’ve yet to build a functioning prototype.”

“My case is that even if we fail, we’ll have made incredible discoveries in the process. Our work also supports future projects with similar aims.”

Another voice chimed in: “‘Incredible discoveries’ isn’t very specific.”

Decadin raised his chin. “We found a direct association between mana repulsion and centrifugal force in holding materials.”

Silence for a moment, until the first voice returned. “When was this?”

“Last night. We were all so excited I forgot to sleep.”

A third voice laughed, then a fourth spoke: “I respect your dedication, but it hasn’t brought results.”

“The materials we need are… scarce. As soon as we get the funds for delivery, you’ll get your results. There’s no waste here, I’m covering the holy ink we’ll need out of pocket.”

“We’ll consider it.”

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

Yaldev is a sci-fantasy worldbuilding project by Ulysses Maurer, with art by Beeple. By looking at narratives, stylized loredumps, bad poetry and little details, we'll witness the story of a planet filled with magical power, the nation which tried to conquer it, this empire’s dramatic collapse and the new world which emerged in its wake. Along the way we'll meet the characters who live here, and we'll explore questions about nationalism, rationalism, the natural world and the quest to master it. For all stories in chronological order, check out the pinned posts at r/Yaldev!

#beeple #fantasy #scifi #worldbuilding #writing #everyday #short story #surreal #dystopia #dystopian #dystopian fiction #science fiction #science fantasy #sci fantasy #sci-fantasy #scifantasy #sf #sff #worldbuild #worldbuilder #worldbuilders #magic #d&d #dnd #canadian writers #escapism #lore #amwriting