#maybe I’ll make a brief addendum later

[nattikay]

How to use tìftang (the apostrophe thing) when naming your Na'vi OC

The most important thing to note here is that tìftang is not decorative!! It’s not just there to make words/names look cool! It’s a consonant and represents an actual sound (specifically a “glottal stop”, aka that little catch in the back of your throat when you say “uh-oh”). Adding tìftang to your OC’s name will affect the pronunciation of said name.

When using tìftang in your OC’s name, you want to make sure it’s next to at least one vowel (a, ä, i, ì, e, u, o) or diphthong (ay, aw, ey, ew).

✅ Ka'ul ✅ Ka'nul ✅ Kat'ul

It CANNOT go between two consonants—this is a VERY common mistake!!

🚫 Kat'nul This is not pronounceable! It’s like having a character whose name is meant to be pronounced “Bob” or “Jimmy” but for some reason spelling it “Bokb” or “Jimtmy”.

The reason for this is Na'vi syllable structure. Tìftang can start or end a syllable, but it cannot go in the middle of a syllable, because it cannot cluster with other consonants.

For practical examples of what that means, let’s look back at the previous examples:

Ka'ul can break down into either [ka'][ul] or [ka]['ul], so tìftang is either ends the first syllable, or begins second syllable.

Ka'nul breaks down into [ka'][nul]; tìftang ends the first syllable.

Kat'ul breaks down into [kat]['ul]; tìftang begins the second syllable.

So what about Kat'nul? There are a few ways to break it down, and none of them work. [kat'][nul] and [kat]['nul] are both invalid because, while the tìftang is at the end/beginning of the syllable like in the other examples, it’s clustering with t or n. Remember that tìftang cannot cluster with other consonants!

The other way to break it down—and probably the way most people unfamiliar with Na'vi would be thinking—would be [kat]'[nul], with the intended pronounced syllables just being “kat” and “nul” with the tìftang thrown in to look cool and alien. This doesn’t work because again, tìftang is not decorative! It is a letter with a sound (one that’s not even really physically possible to pronounce properly between a t and n even without the syllable rules), not a punctuation! Kat'nul-pronounced-Katnul the Na'vi is just Jimtmy-pronounced-Jimmy the human. Just spell it Katnul!

Speaking of clustering, here’s another mistake I see sometimes (though a little less commonly):

🚫 K'atnul

This is also not pronounceable, because while yes the tìftang is next to a vowel, within its syllable it’s clustering with k. Remember that tìftang can only begin or end a syllable; it can’t go in the middle of one like [k'at]!!

Now, here’s a quick thing to be aware of. Remember earlier on I mentioned that tìftang must go next to a vowel or diphthong? Let’s talk about diphthongs real quick:

A diphthong is what you get when two vowels merge into a single sound. Na'vi has four of them. They are written ay (a+i), aw (a+u), ey (e+i), and ew (e+u). That said, you could have a names like these:

✅ Kaw'nul ✅ Key'nul

…but not like these:

🚫 Kow'nul 🚫 Kuy'nul

Why does the first set work but not the second? Because in the first set, the w and y are not standalone consonants, but rather part of the aw and ey diphthongs. In the second set, however, ow and uy are not diphthongs, so the w and y are regular consonants, which means Kow'nul and Kuy'nul don’t work for the same reason as Kat'nul: tìftang cannot go between two consonants. (changing the spellings to Kou'nul and Kui'nul would work, however!)

tl;dr - to assess whether you are using tìftang correctly in your OC name, ask yourself three questions:

1.) Is it next to at least one vowel (a, ä, i, ì, e, u, o) or diphthong (ay, aw, ey, ew)? ✅ Ka'ul ✅ Ka'nul ✅ Kat'ul ✅ Kaw'nul 🚫 Kat'nul 🚫 Kow'nul

2.) Does it begin/end its syllable? ✅ [ka'][nul] ✅ [kat]['ul] 🚫 [k'a][nul]

3.) Is it clustering with other consonants? 🚫 [kat'][nul] 🚫 [k'at][nul]

If your answers are yes, yes, and no, in that order, then congrats!! You have used tìftang correctly!

If your answer is no to the first two or yes to the third, you can fix it one of three ways:

Move the tìftang to a valid position: 🚫 K'anul -> ✅ Ka'nul

Remove the tìftang completely: 🚫 Kat'nul -> ✅ Katnul

Add a vowel: 🚫 Kat'nul -> ✅ Kate'nul, ✅ Kat'enul 🚫 K'atnul -> ✅ Kì'atnul 🚫 Kow'nul -> ✅ Kowa'nul

Now go forth and tìftang responsibly! :D

#i know i’ve made a tìftang post before but i see so many kat'nul type names on here I felt the need to make another one 😅 #avatar #na'vi #lì'fya leNa'vi #avatar oc #na'vi oc #oh wait shoot I forgot to mention psuedovowels (rr and ll)…meh well…I don’t see people try to use those in names much anyways #probably not worth adding a whole section here lol #maybe I’ll make a brief addendum later #basically: a syllable that uses a pseudovowel can start with tìftang (example: ✅ ['rr] ✅ ['ll]) #but it CANNOT end with tìftang (or any other consonant for that matter) (example: 🚫[rr'] 🚫[ll'])

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 7: Somnophilia (+Double Penetration - 2 holes)

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,397

Warnings: Somnophilia, double penetration, anal sex, sex toys (dildo + plug), dom!Roger, protected sex, light degradation (slut), edging

A/N: This was kind of inspired by a couple of different posts I saw on a (now deleted) porn blog. I’ve been wanting to do something with the concepts for a little while now and this seemed like the perfect opportunity!

I guess I was picturing 70s rog since its a flatmate/fwb type relationship but go nuts imagining whatever you want lmao

It hadn’t been Roger’s idea to set up a friends with bennefits type arrangement, but he’d liked the suggestion when you made it and before the end of the night was out you’d sealed the deal, so to speak. He’d been a touch tispy at the time, as had you, but when he woke up in your bed the next morning he hadn’t believed it to be a mistake, even if you were his flatmate. And so the arrangement (or as Roger dubbed it, The Fuckbuddy Pact) stuck. In an effort to make sure neither of you would feel weird about what happened and to avoid anything becoming too much like a relationship, Roger suggested that you should get all your kinks and weird fetishes out into the open straight away.��

“That way we’ll both know what we’re in for from the jump,” he said, looking at you from the opposite end of the couch, “None of that getting to know you shit, or taking our time. We’re both here for sex so let’s just figure out what sex we’ll both like and get straight into it, right?”  “Sounds excellent,” you’d said, cheersing his bottle of beer with your glass.   It was how he’d discovered your interest in somnophilia (a term he’d not heard before and had needed a thorough explanation of). But once he knew what it was, Roger had been keen to try it out with you. There were other things too but the somnophilia was the newest to him and, thus, the most exciting. Before the month was out you’d figured out a system to incorproate it into your sex safely. The main rule was that if either of you was asleep and naked, it was okay to initiate sex. Eventually there ended up being a few exceptions or addendums added to that rule – it was still okay if the sleeping party wore a top of some kind as long as they were pantsless, and once or twice lingerie had been deemed to not count as clothes, but only on special occasions when you’d prearranged it. It became a regular part of your sex lives, which was especially useful for Roger who often didn’t get home from playing gigs until the early hours of the morning. If you were in bed and undressed, he’d take the opportunity to blow off some of the adrenaline without having to use his hand which was underwhelming compared to your cunt. But, more often than not, you’d do what most sexual partners did and got it out of your systems before bed time.  

Roger already suspected that you were hoping for a quick tumble when he heard the knock on his door, but he had other things on his mind too as he told you to come in.  “Hey, Rog, you busy?”  “Uhhh yeah, sorry, running late for rehearsals but I can’t find my fucking drumsticks,” Roger said, moving things around his desk as he searched for the missing sticks.   “Oh, damn.”  “Let me guess,” he said, pausing in the hunt and turning to face you, “horny?”  “My friend recommended a porn thing and I kinda got worked up.” You shrugged, unembarrassed to admit what you wanted.  That self-confidence was enough to make Roger wish he could stay and give you what you wanted but he was already late and couldn’t afford to be later. Instead he laughed and turned back to double check his backpack, “I would but, I’m leaving as soon as I fin- Aha! Bloody things must have rolled off the bed. Sorry, Y/N.”  “Oh, no worries. I’ll take care of myself.”  He smiled at the thought, “Well I better go. See you tonight?”  “Yeah, see ya. Have fun.” 

It was later than he’d expected by the time Roger got home. Part of him (the part in his pants mostly) vaguely wondered if you’d still be up for something but the bits of him controlled by his brain thought it more likely that you’d have had a nice couple of orgasms on your own and called it a night. Still, he thought he might at least check in on you once he’d dropped his bag in his room. To his surprise though, his bed wasn’t empty like it should have been. He jumped when the light from the hall softly illuminated you, on your back and deep asleep, but his shock quickly turned to delight as he realised you were naked.   “You little minx,” he muttered under his breath, impressed by the invitation you were giving him. But as he walked closer he paused again, noticing something he hadn’t been able to see from the doorway. There, beside your hand, was your favourite glass dildo, as if you’d passed out after using it.  “Oh you are naughty,” Roger chuckled. He traced one hand down your body, between your breasts and over your stomach, and softly said your name, checking if you’d rouse. But you were deep asleep and not likely to wake up any time soon. A plan for what to do with you forming, Roger stepped away from you for a moment to strip down to his briefs. His cock was already beginning to stir at the sight of you. He reached out to touch you again, less cautiously this time, palming your breasts before dipping his hand lower and lower, down to your cunt, pleased to find you still wet from whatever you’d been doing before you fell asleep.  You let out a soft hum as he explored you, thumb teasing over your clit as he wet his fingers between your folds.   Roger paused at the sound, not ready for you to wake up yet, but once it was clear you were still asleep he sank two fingers into you. Slowly they penetrated your heat, pausing to make sure the sensation hadn’t roused you at all. But you slept on. Carefully Roger partially withdrew his fingers before sinking them in again, gradually working up to a consistent thrust that had your unconscious body sighing and spreading your legs wider.   “Good girl,” he whispered, watching you carefully. The hall light was still on but his door wasn’t open fully so the darkness was only dimmed slightly. He twisted his fingers inside you, easily finding the spots that usually made you scream his name but which now just made your eyebrows knit together. By this point in your relationships Roger was quite confident that he could understand your body. He’d made you cum enough times, awake and asleep, to know what you liked and just how much you liked it. And he knew what it looked like when you were close to orgasm. Which is how he knew to stop, to still his fingers and wait for you to calm down.  

There was no real reason to edge you. If anything it just made it more likely you’d wake before he’d got his dick wet. But he had fun with it. Watching the way you’d shift, your chest rising and falling more rapidly, your lips parted as whimpers fell from them, your hips automatically rolling to meet his hand. And then he’d stop again. It made him chuckle quietly to himself. Knowing he could control your body so easily was thrilling. It made him want to do it more. So as soon as your face had relaxed again, your limbs loose and limp, he’d settle into the rhythm once more, curious how much you’d take before you woke up and begged him to finish you off. It was tempting to just keep going. He pictured you waking with a moan, your first words a plea for release or better yet for his cock so he could fuck you properly. Roger groaned. In the time he’d taken to edge you a handful of times his dick had well and truly stiffened and, as much as he enjoyed toying with you, what he really wanted was to cum in you so when you woke you’d know you’d been used. With that thought in mind he withdrew his fingers fully, taking a second to suck them clean and enjoy your taste. Having you on his tongue just made him want to fuck you more so he carefully knelt between your legs, shifting one to give himself a better angle. He was moments from finally taking what he so wanted to take from you, when something caught his eye.  

It didn’t glint as much as it did in the day but he could see it’s outline all the same. And when he double checked that he wasn’t imaging it, pressing his thumb against the hard end of it, you groaned.   “A dildo and a butt plug?” He asked you, knowing you wouldn’t respond, “Is that a surprise for me? Or is it just because nothing satisfies you like I do?” Roger’s hand slipped down to his underwear, pushing his briefs down enough that he could get his cock out. He hissed as he spread his precum along his length, contemplating how he should use you. “Could fuck your cunt now and hope you stay asleep long enough for me to get back there. Or maybe I should just go all in, have your arse straight away. That’ll mean wearing a condom though. Or would it?” he shook his head, now was not the time to try anal raw for the first time, “No, condom definitely.” He was still trying to decide what to do when you shifted in your sleep, rolling onto your side. The new position you lay in made it much easier to reach your arsehole.  “That decides it then,” Roger said to himself, shedding his underwear and opening his bedside draw for his lube.  

Carefully, he settled himself behind you and slowly began to remove your plug. It took a few stops and starts, pulling out and sinking in, almost fucking you with it, as you whimpered in your sleep but you seemed to press yourself back towards him as if trying to encourage him.   “Just can’t get enough of me, can you?” he chuckled as he set the plug aside and spread the lube around your hole. He rolled the condom down his shaft and spread the lube along it too, humming at the slick friction of his hand, knowing he was about to feel something a hundred thousand times better. And then he lined himself up, pushing the head of his cock into the ring of muscles you’d so generously stretched out with your plug. He went slowly there too, partially so you’d sleep on and partially so he wouldn’t cum embarrassingly fast.   When he finally began to fuck you, you moaned into your pillow, able to feel it in your sleep.   Roger bit his lip to keep his own moan from getting too loud.  You moved in your sleep again, your legs opening more as you half rolled onto your front. It let Roger fuck you deeper and gave him better access to your pussy too.  “You’re a bit of a whore when you’re alseep,” he said softly, reaching for the dildo. You were still wet enough that it sank into you easily, like it remembered where it had been earlier and fit into your cunt perfectly. The way you lay meant he didn’t have what he’d call easy access to you but it was enough that he could thrust the dildo somewhat rhythmically. He faltered here and there as the feeling of fucking you distracted him but he didn’t feel too bad about the slips, knowing it was keeping you from reaching your release. Your sleepy sighs and moans got louder as he filled both your holes which just made him fuck you harder, enjoying the sounds you were making and wanting to hear more.  

You woke with a broken moan in your throat, jerking under Roger’s hands but he shushed you, his palms warm against your skin and his voice familiar and reassuring.   “Stay right there, baby. Being such a good set of holes for me to enjoy.”  You couldn’t do much more than moan again, dazed from the sudden way you’d been pulled back to consciousness and realising what you’d felt in your dreams had been very real indeed.   “This was what you wanted wasn’t it? When you fell asleep in my bed.”  You nodded, the sound of the fabric of the pillowcase loud against your ear.  “Uh uh, words Love. If you’re going to be a slut the least you can do is admit it.”  “Yes, Rog. Want-wanted this.”  “Good girl. And how do you feel now?”  “Oh god, close. So close.”  Roger slowed the pace of the dildo, putting more effort into thrusting into you, his hips slapping loudly against your skin.   You keened at the loss of friction.  “Slut-s don’t com-complain.” Roger grunted as he used you, “They t-ake what they’re giv-en.”  You whined but that just made Roger laugh, louder now you were awake but broken by groans and moans of his own.   It didn’t take much more for him to cum, stuttering out, “Fu-ck Y-Y/N,” as he did.  

Roger was panting as he eased himself out of your arsehole, replacing his cock with the plug and giving your hip a light tap of thanks. The dildo was still inside you, but he’d not been moving it at all as he reached his climax so it wasn’t much help.   “Did you cum?” he asked, his breathing still heavy as he flopped onto the mattress beside you.  You shook your head and sighed, “And after I waited here all night to surprise you too. Thought you’d be home sooner.”  “Is that why you had the toys? You got bored waiting for me?”  “No, I was expecting you to come home while I was using them. Only then I came and fell asleep.”  "Of course,” Roger laughed, “you still got your shag though, don’t know why you’re complaining.”  “I’m really fucking horny still, that’s bloody why. What are you smirking about?”  “Nothing. Just nice to know edging you in your sleep works just as well as when you’re awake.”  “Prick!” you squealed though unable to contain your smile at the idea.  “Don’t worry. Give me a few minutes to clean up and get my stamina back and then I’ll make you cum as many times as you want.” 

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

#my writing #my blurbs #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine

[some-cookie-crumbz]

So, where's Kosmo in the married Kidge headcanon? I just imagine the kidgelings riding him around like a floofy pony.

*rubs hands together* Ho boi, I’ve been meaning to add one about this! When I first started the Kidge Family headcanons, Kosmo wasn’t a thing yet, but I’ve gotten pretty attached to him. Especially him and the Kidgelings!

This won’t be too long I think and my plan is as follows; how Kosmo’s behaves when Pidge is pregnant, how he is with the babies in general, and how his relationship with each of them changes as the kids get older. I’ll also talk a bit about him and Bae Bae’s little puppers, too.

So, let’s get this show on the road!

When Pidge gets pregnant with Amber, Kosmo doesn’t really realize that anything is going on until she starts actually showing/ changes start going on in the house. He’s initially a little confused as to why she’s putting on weight, but he picks up on it pretty fast. To him, he sees this as their little pack getting bigger and he gets really excited about and becomes the most affectionate, doting nanny/ guard dog there is. If Pidge goes upstairs to take a nap, he’ll teleport up with her – or, on days where she’s particularly tired or achy, teleport her there himself – and let himself be used as a big, wolfy pillow. Once each of the babies are born, he becomes immediately attached. As far as he’s concerned, they’re his pups, too.

He gets so upset when the babies are crying or making fussy noises or whatever. He loves them so much and he’ll get super anxious. He knows not to just teleport into their rooms without Pidge or Keith going with him, so instead he’ll just pace and whine and make a big fuss of his own.

Pidge jokes that the babies have caused both the men in her life to become neurotic. Keith can’t necessarily disagree.

So, for the most part, how he treats the babies is pretty much the same when they’re all really little. He gets super protective of them. Like, he’ll teleport anywhere that he’s allowed to keep up with them. He’s also really affectionate and patient with them. He’ll deal with pretty much anything the babies have to dish out; pulling his fur, patting him too hard, flopping on him like a pillow, you name it and he’ll typically deal with it. Pidge and Keith are both incredibly grateful that he seems to understand that the babies are too little to know any better and doesn’t hold it against them.

All the kids get to ride him like a horse. This is non-negotiable; he is so big fully grown that Keith could ride him without any trouble. You better believe the Kidgelings get to take full advantage of having a horse-sized wolf.

Some differences in dynamics start to present themselves as the kids get older.

Amber and Kaden, being as sporty as they both are, really like to play with Kosmo when they have the free time, but having the time is sometimes a struggle. During the week, both kids are booked solid between school work and their club/ sports team activities. On the weekends, though, they both make sure to spend some time with him. Amber will take him on walks and is always more than eager to let him cuddle up with her for a nap or, more often than not, some much-needed belly rubs. Meanwhile, Kaden will make sure to play with him. He actually teaches Kosmo how to play soccer, so they add that to their list of games along with fetch, tug of war, tag and hide and seek. With tag, they have had to attach a “No Teleporting” addendum that Kosmo follows when he feels like it.

Newt is, by far, the Kidgeling he is closest to, which I’ve mentioned before. Newt’s a bit on the socially-inept side when it comes to humans, but he’s phenomenal when it comes to handling animals. And Kosmo is, by far, his most favorite animal in the whole wide world. Newt’s the one most often taking him on walks, playing with him, bathing him, letting him sleep in his room, doing the whole Boy-and-His-Dog shtick; partially because he has less activities that allow him to do so and also because he makes the time for him. Newt considers Kosmo one of his best and only friends in the world and wants to make sure the space wolf is always happy. Kosmo has a brief stint of jealousy when Newt is allowed to keep a stray dog he found and started nursing, who ne names Smog, but Newt makes sure to let Kosmo know he’s still his favorite. He incorporates Kosmo in teaching Smog how to be a Good Boy™, which helps make Kosmo feel better about everything, as well as working to help he and Smog warm up to each other as well.

Aria spends a pretty good amount of time with Kosmo, despite her misgivings towards one of his pups later on. To her, Kosmo is kind of like a big, living stuffed animal. She does the most in regards to his “beauty care”, as she likes to call it. She handles trimming his nails and will spend hours brushing his fur for him. Kosmo is actually super picky about his nails in specific and only lets her do it, since she’s never accidentally snipped his quick. When they go on family trips where the animals stay home, Ari actually has to be sure to trim his nails the night before they leave. Other than that, she loves having him attend tea parties with her and her little stuffed animals. She even has a special little ribbon that she’ll tie into a bow tie when he attends; a black and silver ribbons with little shimmering star and moon shapes all over it. She also has some little business-style ties for him, too, but the ribbon is especially for tea party events.

So, let’s talk about those Cosmic Puppers, shall we?

Bae Bae and Kosmo have two litters of puppies; one litter between when Amber and Kaden are born, and the second one not too long after Ari turns four. Because they already have their hands full with a toddler, Keith and Pidge decide against keeping any of the four pups from the first litter. Commander Iverson takes the oldest, Kolivan and Krolia take the youngest, and Ezor and Zethrid take the other two. Kosmo and Bae Bae still get to see the oldest pup pretty regularly, and anytime they come to visit, the other pups come by too.

The pups names are as follows; Andromeda, Speckle, and Dip and Dop.

After their first litter of pups are gone, though, Kosmo has an adjustment period. He doesn’t understand that the puppies aren’t coming back and actually spends a couple of days freaking out about where they went and when they’ll be back. And then, he starts getting worried about Amber going away and gets super protective of her. He actually growls and stands in the way when Matt tries to take her to the backyard while he’s visiting one time.

That’s when Bae Bae steps in and explains to him how, exactly, puppies work on Earth. She explains that the puppies are given to other families, where they’ll get to live with new human folks who will love and take care of them, or that sometimes the family will keep a puppy for themselves. At first, Kosmo is still disgruntled about the whole situation but he tones it down a little; though he is still fiercely attached to Amber, simply for his own comfort. Those are his puppies – his family – and they should be with him! But then, after the first few weeks, they have a playdate with Iverson and Andromeda; Keith’s idea, as he hopes that seeing his puppy is okay will help cheer his wolf friend up. And Kosmo sees how happy his little pup is with this human, who dotes on her and speaks sweetly to her, and he realizes that it’s okay to let go a little bit.

Is Kosmo’s epiphany here a hint as to what someone else needs to learn later on? Maybe~!

With the second litter, there are five pups. Newt initially argues to keep all five, but quickly switches tactics to begging to just keep one of the puppies, swearing up and down that he can handle another dog. At first, Keith and Pidge are skeptical about it. Three dogs and four kids is already a lot to look after, and the idea of having two puppy-aged pooches in the house just seems like asking for trouble. However, they end up conceding because they live to make their children happy within reason. Newt gets to pick whichever pup he wants first, but it’s not a decision he makes alone.

“Okay, buddy, it’s a big moment!”

*Kosmo tilts his head, a bit confused, as he sits beside the gated area where the puppies are playing. Bae Bae’s napping in her plush bed off to the side.*

“Mom and Dad said we can keep one of your puppies! But now we gotta pick out which one it’ll be!” *He tilts his head, watching the four pups that are blinking in and out of existence as they play with a ball, then the little runt snuggled up napping with Bae Bae.* “Well, I know Auntie Acxa and Auntie Veronica are taking one. Sleepy Boots over there would probably be a good choice for them; mellow but still has a lot of that usual puppy spunk people look for in their doggy friends when she’s not sleeping.”

*Kosmo looks from him to the other four pups, understanding what Newt means and what they’re deciding. His tail starts wagging and he teleports himself into the play pen, bowing at the pups and running around with them for a bit. After playing for a while and tuckering them out a little bit more, he picks one of the pups up by their scruff and teleports back out, presenting the little pup to Newt.*

“Is he your final choice?” *Newt asks while taking the wiggling pup into his arms, giggling when he starts licking his face excitedly.*

*Kosmo lets out a little yip of agreement, solidifying his choice. The pup he’s picked has the most resemblance to Kosmo in regards to build and fur style/feel, but his coloration is more of the same cream/beige of Bae Bae, though he does have some little swirls of dark blue along his back and sides.*

“I think he’s the perfect pick, buddy!” *Newt reaches out and gently scratches behind one of Kosmo’s ears before they head upstairs to show his parents which pup they picked.*

Acxa and Veronica end up taking the sleepy pup, Kinkade takes another, Coran takes a third pup, and James takes the last. The remaining four pups that are adopted out are named as such; Vanilla, Hitchcock, Juniper, and Drizzle.

There are stories behind the names each of the two litters of puppies are given by their new owners but I’m not gonna go into that right now.

As for the pup the Kogane family kept, they end up naming him Wink. The name is chosen because, out of all the pups, he is the one who tends to use his teleportation the most; to both good and bad effects. Wink himself is a cheeky little pup and has a long list of stuffed animal murders trailing behind him. Due to this, Ari doesn’t like him as much as she likes Kosmo or Smog. Kosmo does his best to try and get his pup to act better, but it takes a good while before he understands that he can’t just teleport himself wherever he wants. Wink and Smog are also the best of friends, constantly playing together and snuggling up when they sleep.

Kosmo has a good, long and happy life with his humans and loves them with all his wolfy little heart.

#crumbles grumbles #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Kidgemas #half baked headcanons #Man this was a fun one to think about!

[renwyck]

A Haircut

The morning light filtered into Aislynne's room bedroom, a haze of dust sparkling like fireflies in the rays of the sun. While it was starting to get cooler during the night, the dawn brought with it a warmth -- a promise for a brighter day.

Once more his attention turned to the mirror, Renwyck's gaze pouring over his reflection. With a furrowed brow, the warrior shook his head. "Hey Lynne? Can I ask for a favor?" As if he hadn't asked enough of her already...

Singing in the kitchen as she always seemed to be doing this time Aislynne was going through her stores. There were pies cooling in the windowsill, meant for a trip to the orphanage later that day - something she made a habit of whenever she was in any city. But it would be a while before she headed there and she had other things to work on over the next few days.

Her books were scattered on the table along with papers and colored inks and a single pencil. There were jars and pouches of powders and dried herbs, leaves and flowers and strange things that were probably best left unidentified.

Her song was soft but bright, not loud enough or jaunty enough for her not to hear Renwyck when he called out. "If you're going to ask me to me face!"

Renwyck chuckled, neglecting to put on a shirt before walking down to the kitchen. He showed up in the doorway wearing nothing but his usual leather pants. Even his feet were bare. "So, uh..." he spoke in an attempt to get Aislynne's attention.

She was just leaning over the table checking some of the notes in her books when he appeared. She lifted her head and then ber brows and slowly straightened, hands on her hips. "I can't make you a shirt that fast," she teased. She was doing a good, forceful job of ignoring that scar. She had more than one of her own after all. But what she really wanted to do was run up and hug him. She grinned instead and waited expectantly for him to say what it was he really wanted.

He ran his fingers through his long, black hair as a tinge of pink washed over his cheeks. "I was wondering if you'd... ah... cut my hair?" It was the first time he really felt a desire to return to normal -- assuming he could even remember what 'normal' felt like.

Aislynne's smile warmed  and she gave him a nod. "There's a little basket in the bathroom. If you go grab it for me we'll get started." That was where the good scissors were, the comb and brushes and things.

While he did that she drug out a stool and moved some of her things away from the area. Then she paused and called out: "Bring a big towel, please!"

After a brief search for the requested items, the warrior paused, glancing in another mirror. It wasn't him. At least, not who he used to be. And certainly not who he wanted to be. Renwyck slung a towel over his shoulder before scooping up the basket to return to Aislynne.

Aislynne was just pouring tea when he returned. She patted the stool for him to sit while she took a drink. Then taking the basket she picked out what she would need before sidling around to pin the towel around his shoulders like a cape. She smiled at him then while picking up the scissors. "The way it used to be or something new? I saw a gnome with a pink mohawk the other day . . . "

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not being adventurous. Just want to get back to..." Renwyck's words trailed off. There was a pause, a pensive look in his eyes.

There was no going back. Not to the way things were at any rate. No matter how hard he tried, Darkshire would still be lost. His comrades would still have betrayed him. Safrona would still be gone.

No. There was no going back. Only looking forward.

"The way it used to be," he finally answered, a part of himself silently mourning the past.

She watched him too closely to ever miss those things. So she tucked the scissors into her belt and stepped close enough to take his face in her hands. He might have been sad but her smile was warm, even adoring before she kissed his forehead.

When she let go her fingers found the ends of his long hair and she gave a gentle tug on each side. "Ok," she said, slipping behind him. "But I think you would look very interesting with a mohawk."

With that she moved behind him and gave another playful tug to his hair before she started combing it out. After a moment she spoke: "Oh, try those cookies, they're fudge. It's a new recipe and I need to know if they're any good before I take any to the kids."

Renwyck seemed to ease slightly at her touch, the warrior closing his eyes contentedly as she worked the comb through his hair. But the prospect of fudge cookies quickly garnered his undivided attention. He swiped a cookie from the plate, munching greedily.

Aislynne didn't expect much talking while he ate anything chocolatey so she hummed quietly as she started cutting on his hair and watched those dark locks fall to the floor.  "I've got more in the oven," she said finally, "different kind though. Not all of the kids like chocolate. I think."

She smiled a little then. "Don't worry, I'm not taking them all. Mostly they get the pies."

After the cookie was fully and ravenously devoured, Renwyck couldn't help but grin. "Oh, good. So I don't have to lie and say 'they don't taste good, but I wouldn't want them to go to waste, so you can leave them with me.'"

"Oh, and I absolutely would have believed that." She tapped him on the head with her comb and grinned. Then she paused for a moment so she could try a cookie herself. She wrinkled her nose up in thought then put the treat down in favor of her tea. "It's maybe a bit much chocolate for me but the chewiness is good. "

And then she was back to his hair. It was coming along nicely so far. "My Gran used to make these really buttery oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips instead of raisins. But sometimes she'd use cinnamon or honey butter and put it in bits of caramel instead of chocolate. You'd like those I think. I need to try making them sometime. I don't know why I never have."

Renwyck couldn't help but laugh before stealing the remainder of her cookie. He gave a murmur of contentment while licking every last crumb from his fingertips.

"You won't be happy until I'm fat," he said with a playfulness in his tone. Reaching behind him, he waited until after she snipped a lock of hair to poke her in the ribs.

If she'd been paying attention she probably would have grabbed his finger. As it was she was taking a look at her handiwork thus far and ended up flinching away in a fit of giggles. "If you aren't nice to me I will leave you with only half of your head done!"

The length of it was all gone by then, however. He didn't have his style back yet but it was well on it's way. She poked him back and then took a step away to make sure he wasn't going to try again. "And I'll be happy as long as you're happy. It doesn’t matter to me if you're bigger or smaller! I would, however, like you to keep both of your ears so you might want to stop poking me."

"I dunno. Some women really like battle scars. I'll just say I lost an ear wrestling a wild boar with my bare hands to protect a crowd of Stormwind orphans." Sheathing his poking-finger for the moment, Renwyck placed his hands on his lap.

Aislynne giggled quietly. "You're terrible, you know that? But . . . I was always proud of my own scars so you may be right. At least a little bit." She was quiet for a few minutes after that, clipping away at his hair. "You are going to have to wash up after this. The towel helps but only so much. I'm almost ready to do your neck. And no mohawk." She gave out the heaviest, most exaggerated sigh she could muster as if she'd really wanted to see him that way.

"I've been called many things in my lifetime, but 'terrible'..." Renwyck started, his grin broadening. "Okay, yeah. 'Terrible' probably makes a top ten."

Aislynne just grinned, too focused on her work for much else just then. She didn't chop his ears off and his hair, when she was done, was exactly the way it was when she met him.  She walked around him in a slow circle just to make sure and with a satisfied smile and nod she stuffed another cookie in his hand and went to get a washcloth so she could shave his neck. "Now, we're not piercing your ears or anything? You're sure?" she called out from the bathroom. "Once I get going I like to keep going!"

He laughed before indulging in yet another cookie. "Do you think I should keep a bit of a beard?" He scratched his fingers through the scraggly whiskers, finding a few stray cookie crumbs. "A much shorter beard?" He added a quick addendum.

"Well, what we do is shorten it up and see. And if you don't like it we keep going," she said as she walked back in with a steaming washcloth that she draped carefully around his neck. "Ok, you get to sit for a minute while I get the last cookies out."

He closed his eyes, the heat from the washcloth relaxing his entire frame. "Fair enough," he murmured, allowing his mind to drift. It was typical for his thoughts to go instantly to Safrona. The sense of calm shattered, his heart sinking to his stomach. Suddenly he regretted eating so many cookies.

Swallowing roughly, he forced his eyes back open to focus on Aislynne. Though the frown he had been wearing faded, but the tension in his creased forehead remained.

It was only a couple of minutes before she had the cookies out and cooling. But it was long enough to alter his mood; she could see that. She arched a brow and though she moved behind him once more to take care of his neck her hands found his temples first and rubbed there gently before carefully smoothing their way across his brow. She lowered herself enough to rest her chin atop his head. "You're still going to be beautiful all wrinkly but let’s not make that happen today, okay?" she asked quietly before moving to kiss the top of his head as she did whenever she could actually reach it.

Her hands moved to his shoulders and she rubbed there for a moment too, letting that warm cloth do its job a moment longer before she finally removed it and picked up the razor. And as a rather absent afterthought she added: "Think about puppies."

"Mm," he hummed softly, for once not allowing Aislynne's words to soothe him. Regardless of her tender affections, he couldn't help but feel the gnawing pain working its way to his chest. He sighed softly as he closed his eyes.

"I don't want to be alone, Lynne," the simple admission was soft and melancholy.

She put the cloth right back on his neck when those words came and pressed it there carefully with her hand. She did her best to contain a quiet sigh. "I don't either," she replied so softly it was barely audible. She blinked away the stinging in her eyes and then she did sigh. "I want to say that it gets easier but . . . " She took a breath.

"I know having me around isn't enough , I wish it was and I'm sorry that it's not but I did mean it when I said I wouldn't leave you alone. Not until you do find someone who- Who is enough."

The most wavering little sigh fell from her lips and she was glad she was behind him because he didn't know how close this all was to her too ; knowing was the very last thing he needed. She bit her lip hard and waited so her voice wouldn't break. "I hope having me around is better than nothing."  She frowned so hard. "But eventually when I'm getting in the way . . . well, I'll do my best not to."

She took another deep breath, she was getting off track. "You won't be alone forever. That's not the kind of life you're meant for. I know it."

He had been blind -- so focused on his own torment that he had neglected to see something that was right in front of him. Her words helped him see. Closing his eyes, Renwyck bowed his head, wishing that he could be ignorant a while longer. But it was too late.

Any words of reassurance or solace escaped him, buried by the mountain of guilt that overcame him. One more person to injure. One more person to lose. It was a blow to the stomach, and one he couldn't endure. She had saved him. So many times, she had saved him by offering comfort and hope when he was standing on the precipice of oblivion. It was her hand that had pulled him back.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," came the broken apology, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached for the cloth at his neck, pulling it from his skin to place on the table before him. His eyes opened as he rose from his chair. "I should go..."

He didn't get to rise all of the way before her hands were on his shoulders to stop him. "Sit down." She wasn't asking. "SIt down, please." Only with that "please" was there a hint of pleading and for that one word she sounded on the verge of tears as she had been all along. But she took a breath and quelled them all.

"What good would that do either of us? You feel better when I'm around, I know you do, even if it's not perfect. And I am better when you're around."

She gave such a heavy, wavering sigh and moved around where she could face him; no hiding the hurt or the sorrow in her eyes or in the crease of her brow. "I was alone before you. The way that you've been feeling? I had that. I had that for almost five years before I met you in Duskwood. Five years of that."

"I know what it's like to lose a home, a city, a kingdom. I have lost every single thing, every single person who ever mattered to me.  I lost a war, I lost my freedom. I watched my father slit his own throat to keep from turning worgen. And then I lost my-" She took a breath. No. Not that one, not now.  "I lost everything and I threw myself into war until they said I was losing too much, that I wasn't feeling enough and they told me to go. And I was so lost. But I found you. And you . . . made me better. You did."

There were tears in her eyes at that point; she did not try to hide them though they did not fall yet. Her gaze turned in the direction of Duskwood, her voice weakened. "When that night happened . . . "

"After I healed up I went to the Broken Shores, I went to Argus because I had nothing. Again. And I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to fight, I'm so tired of war, but maybe a demon could finally kill me."

Her eyes went so wide and she slapped her hands over her mouth; she'd never said that before, not even to herself. Oh, she'd known what she was doing but she'd never admitted it until now. Because she was angry and she was scared and she spun around so he couldn't see her anymore.

This time she wouldn't keep him from rising to his feet. He felt everything in her... the pain, the loss, the search for an escape. He felt it all in her because he had felt it in himself. "Lynne," he whispered her name as he reached for her, resting his hands atop her shoulders.

Her heart beat an uncomfortable, erratic rhythm against her chest and she shuddered with all the things she was still containing when his hands found her shoulders. It took her a long moment of pressing her hands so hard against her mouth before she finally, slowly, lowered them. One found his where it rested on her shoulder and she did her best to curl her fingers around his. " What good is it if we both feel like that apart?"

Her voice was so broken, so beat down that she took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out in some hope that it might give back a little strength.  She didn't want to lay all of this on him, it wasn't fair and she knew it, but she needed him as much as he needed her, maybe more. So she turned to face him, still trying to blink away the tears that kept coming. She couldn't say the words while she was looking at him but she could bury herself against his chest. "Please don't push me away."

He held her close, wrapping his arms tightly around her body. Closing his eyes, he rested his head atop hers, his cheek pressed against her hair. His heart ached to see the pain she had been fighting through, all the while wearing a smile for his sake. So many days he had leaned on her like a crutch at the same time she needed one of her own.

I'm sorry Lynne. I'm so sorry...

His arms held her even closer to his body, as if he was making up for all the times when he wasn't there for her. "I made the mistake of abandoning the woman who owns my heart. I'm not going to abandon you too, Lynne..."

For that moment at least she felt safe and not so alone  as she usually felt. Her arms were tucked between them at first as if she were really trying to hide but when he didn't pull away they made their way around him. She relaxed a little after that; still upset though less tense. But she was afraid of how much she'd said when she never wanted to say any of it at all and she really didn't know what to do.

His words had her brow furrowing up. She'd had suspicions of course but what could she say now? Nothing. Her fingers pressed carefully into his back in response so he would know that she heard him, that she was listening. "I'm sorry," she said finally because she was sorry for everything he was dealing with and for adding her own issues to that. All she could do was hold onto him tighter.

"Don't be," he whispered against her hair before placing a kiss on the top of her head. With a heavy sigh, he ran a soothing hand against her upper back. "I'm here... I'm not going anywhere..."

It was a while that she kept him that way thinking that maybe they could both use the time and the closeness. But eventually she calmed enough, relaxed enough to be embarrassed. She gave him one last, tight hug, pressed herself into his chest as if she didn't want to let go but then she did pull away from him just enough to lean back and look up at him. "We should finish your hair," she said quietly, offering up an embarrassed little smile.

[ RP between @aislynnemara and myself. Thank you for reading! ]

#Aislynne Mara #Renwyck Darrow #RP #A Haircut #And confessions #The feels got real

[theazurerat]

ODT - XXXII “Contagious Personality”

(If you have any questions, feel free to check out the about page in my sidebar!)

+++ Ordo Tartarus Inquisitorial Datatomb Lexob accessed  +++

+++ Awaiting Inquiry… +++ > Retrieve OTD - XXXII +++ Retrieving… +++ +++ Datatome Found. Clearance granted.+++ +++ “Kill the alien before it can speak its lies.” +++

OTD Number: OTD-XXXII

Designation: “Contagious Personality”

Threat Level: Hereticus Extremis

Status: Captive

Conditions of Containment: OTD-XXXII is currently located in Incarcerarium ███, under orders of Inquisitor ███████. Incarcerarium ███ is a small facility ordered constructed by Inquisitor ███████ in year ███.M41, located [INTERDICTED]. Due to Inquisitor ███████ being innately immune to the effects of OTD-XXXII, the Conclave has ordained that he be the sole overseer of containment for OTD-XXXII. Therefor, only servants of the Ordo Tartarus directly chosen by ███████ are permitted to enter the facility.

Incarcerarium ███ is forbidden to all non-essential personnel, including non-approved Inquisitors. The facility is armed with heavy weaponry to combat voidships. Any Inquisitorial vessels who land in Incarcerarium ███ are to be turned away at the landing pad. They are not to be allowed in the structure under threat of lethal force. Any non-Inquisitorial vessels who approach Incarcerarium ███ are to be given one (1) warning delivered via vox, while station weapons are armed. If they continue approaching, Incarcerarium ███ is to fire at will. Unauthorized departures are to be immediately destroyed.

Any non-essential staff, and security positions in Incarcerarium ███ are to be manned entirely by servitors. Cell-LXXVIII (“Heartless Heroes”) monitors the facility, enforces containment, and assists in experimentation. Candidates for induction into Cell-LXXVIII are to be submitted to Inquisitor ███████ if they meet the following prerequisites: 1) Being psychically null. 2) Having extensive mechanical brain augmentations.

Description: OTD-XXXII is a woman with dark skin, standing at 1.80m, with black hair and gray eyes. OTD-XXXII has stated that they are 84 years of age. OTD-XXXII is an Eta level psyker with a passive psychic anomaly that emanates approximately five (3) meters from their person. This anomaly manifests whenever a person converses with OTD-XXXII. Any human who enters within 5 meters of OTD-XXXII will be afflicted with a psychic phenomenon that Schola Psykana adepts have yet to understand. Once this has occurred, the subject becomes OTD-XXXII-I. This affliction is permanent, and its result occurs whenever OTD-XXXII-I enters REM sleep.

Upon waking, OTD-XXXII-I will bear the memories, knowledge, and personality of OTD-XXXII. OTD-XXXII-I will not remember anything about who they were before being exposed to OTD-XXXII. OTD-XXXII-I will show confusion, as their memories have shown to be a complete match between to OTD-XXXII, up to the moment the phenomenon had taken place. Effectively, this will result in the propagation of OTD-XXXII. The being seems to be aware of their ability, as no matter how dramatically different the body of OTD-XXXII-I is from the original, they seem to quickly accept this as normal with no sign of distress.

OTD-XXXII was first discovered in a schola progenum academy on Dinash, where it had spread to every single human within the facility. Instances of OTD-XXXII have been observed to be capable of cooperating, actively working to keep their spread a secret. Cell-IX (“Skeptics”) were sent to infiltrate the academy. Only two acolytes from Cell-IX escaped, Acolyte █████, and Techpriest ██████. Both reported to Inquisitor Lyska that they had encountered an Alpha level psyker using telepathic abilities with an immense radius of effect (this was found later to be misinformation). The region was cordoned off, and a pair of assassins from the Culexis temple were called on to capture one instance of OTD-XXXII, and kill the rest. The assassins successfully purged the entire facility and apprehended OTD-XXXII without falling to their effects.

Addendum I: The following is from an interrogation of OTD-XXXII,

Interrogation XXXII-I

Interrogator: Inquisitor ███████

Questioned: OTD-XXXII

Date: 2.56216.888.M41

Inq. ███████: Good afternoon. I’m sure you already know why I’m here, yes?

OTD-XXXII: I see you slept well, Inquisitor. You seem… healthy.

Inq. ███████: You may not have gathered it yet, but I’m a null. Omega class, actually. The warp just disappears into me like light around a black hole.

OTD-XXXII: So that’s why you give me a headache all the time.

[OTD-XXXII puts her hand to her forehead. Throughout the interview she can be seen wincing in pain.]

Inq. ███████: And I take it you understand that this is the reason why your ability hasn’t manifested within me?

OTD-XXXII: Yes. A soul can’t be changed if there isn't a soul to change.

Inq. ███████: I think from your tone I’m supposed to feel insulted. I don’t, but I’m sure that’s what I’m supposed to feel. So, I need to ask, did you deliberately enslave the people in the Schola Progenum? 

OTD-XXXII: I didn’t enslave them!

Inq. ███████: Then why did they take on your consciousness?

[OTD-XXXII winces again, her teeth bared. She looks down for a few seconds, then back up.]

OTD-XXXII: This just happens around me. I am not even sure when it started, or why. All I know is that my sisters are still people. Technically, their personalities would eventually diverge anyway, as they experience different things. But I don’t enslave them. I don’t control them. They are entirely independent from me, they just happen to have my memories, and the same ability to replace other people.

Inq. ███████: This phenomenon was a colossal threat to all of humanity. If those assassins didn’t kill your… “sisters”, then you would all be dead when Dinash was blockaded and incinerated from orbit.

[OTD-XXXII grunts in pain and rubs her head again.]

OTD-XXXII: It’s like someone’s poking my brain with a needle! How much longer are we going to speak?

Inq. ███████: I’ll try to make it brief. I’ve seen that, aside from your dangerous phenomenon, you are otherwise harmless. I could attempt to study this effect, maybe even try to nullify it.

OTD-XXXII: I would have no more sisters. Inq. ███████: Correct. I can’t sympathize with your familial connections to those changed by your presence, but I’m not about to destroy you out of fear. I’ll save such options for when it becomes necessary. OTD-XXXII: How gracious of you.

Inq. ███████: That being said, I have one more question for you before I end this interrogation. In the raid on the Schola Progenum, the entire site had to be purged -- 346 total. You were the only one chosen for apprehension. So I have to ask, are you the original personality? Or are you a descendant of the original entity? OTD-XXXII: I... don’t know. I don’t remember what my true body looked like.

Inq. ███████: Understandable. We’re finished here, I’ll have you escorted to your cell.

End of Interrogation

Note: She’s relatively safe with me here, but you have no idea how close we came to a serious psychic crisis. We’re lucky she kept her psychic plague confined to that academy. If a single person got out it would have spread. In 18 days the planet would be completely overtaken, and Exterminatus would be our only option for it, and any other worlds it spread to. To be frank, I’m considering killing her, but as of right now, in this isolated station, looked over by my people, she’s harmless. Everyone here is either an untouchable, like myself, or mostly mechanical. We’re going to continue running experiments to see what this phenomenon is, and if there’s any way to reverse, or prevent it. – Inquisitor ███████, Ordo Tartarus.

#warhammer 40000 #scp #scp foundation #ordo tartarus datatomes #fanfic #psychic #contagion #warhammer 40k

[alethiometry]

[fic] Non Serviam

Title: Non Serviam Fandom: Silicon Valley Characters: Jared Dunn, Bertram Gilfoyle, Dinesh Chugtai Rating: PG Warnings: show-level swearing Word Count: 2,021 words Summary: While Richard goes and meets with Gavin, the guys back at the house pour one out for Anton, have a rare sincere conversation, and contemplate next steps. 4x10 coda/addendum.

Notes: A quick self-indulgent thing that I threw together after watching the season finale one too many times. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Enjoy!

Read below, or on AO3.

The server room is cold without Anton—empty, now, and spacious. Far too spacious. And silent, like a tomb. Almost like the offices they’d populated during Barker’s brief tenure as CEO, after the clearance sale. But whatever somber feelings their former office space had stirred in Jared, it’s nothing compared to the cold sterility of an Anton-less garage.

It had taken a couple weeks to get used to falling asleep with all the humming fans and little flickering LEDs, the constant whirrs pulsing through Anton’s circuit boards; the silence now is oppressive by contrast, even with Jian-Yang and Dinesh’s muffled argument coming from the kitchen. Jared wonders how long it’ll take to get used to sleeping in his own bedroom again. Maybe the constant twinge of muscle cramping in his back will go away after a couple nights on a real mattress. That would certainly be a silver lining.

Still, he’ll miss the server room. He supposes he should call it a garage, technically, but a garage is for parking cars, and he doesn’t think anybody’s parked their cars in here since Erlich bought the place.

Speaking of which, Erlich should have checked in with them by now. Jared pulls out his phone to shoot him a quick text (Does he have international texting? Can he even get a signal way up in the Himalayas?) but when he unlocks his phone all he sees is the falsified Hooli-Con app glaring up at him.

Right.

Somehow, even after everything, he can’t bring himself to delete it.

He’s got half a bottle of Martinelli’s in his mini-fridge, leftover from the one night they thought they’d be rich—the one night of unbridled, carefree celebration before Keenan’s betrayal. The cider’s beyond flat by now, almost disgustingly syrupy, but somehow it seems fitting.

Bottoms up,

he thinks glumly, and that’s when the door creaks open.

“Thought you moved back to your place,” Gilfoyle says, as tonelessly as ever. The air mattress bounces a little as he sinks down next to Jared, swigging directly from his bottle of Pappy van Winkle.

“I did,” Jared replies. “I just thought I’d come pay my respects. I can leave, if you’d like.”

Gilfoyle shrugs and clinks his bottle against Jared’s. “To Anton,” he mutters, pouring a bit of his bourbon onto the ground.

“To Anton,” echoes Jared, joining him.

They sit there in silent contemplation, each with his own beverage, staring at the empty room. Other than a couple shelves and crates that hadn’t fit into the U-Haul, some scattered wiring and electrical components that Jared can never seem to remember the names or functions of, and that giant photograph of Gavin Belson (turned, mercifully, to face the wall), there’s not much else to see.

“Can I ask you a question, Gilfoyle?” Jared says quietly.

“Why was I so attached to a stupid fucking machine that I built with my own two hands, that sat in here holding every goddamn byte of data and line of code that we worked our fucking asses off for?”

“Well, when you put it like that—”

“Have you ever built anything from scratch, Jared?” Gilfoyle asks.

“I set up a bird feeder once,” Jared says. “It was from a kit that I got for Christmas at one of my foster homes, but I assembled it myself and filled it with feed and climbed up the big tree in the front yard to hang it from one of the branches. A few days later, a mother bird built her nest on another branch right above it to lay her eggs. I never saw how many she laid; it was too high up to see from the ground and I didn’t want to disturb her—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Gilfoyle mutters, taking another swig.

“—Then one day I came back from school to a crow savaging the eggs,” Jared continues. “The mother bird was so helpless against it, and it just kept tearing and tearing and eating and eating. And then—she just flew away. And the crow finished eating and

it

flew away, and all the twigs and bits of egg just sort of—dripped down all over the bird feeder, like some grisly tree ornament gone awry.”

Gilfoyle snorts. Once upon a time, Jared would have found it mean-spirited. Now, though, he’s come to expect the callousness. Welcome it, even. It’s a testament to how far they’ve come, if nothing else.

The door swings open again. It’s Dinesh this time, nursing a bottle of—

“Are you drinking my fucking beer?”

“Fuck you, Gilfoyle,” Dinesh snaps. He takes a long, slow swig while flipping Gilfoyle the bird.

Jared watches them stare each other down for a moment, gauging whether he needs to intervene yet again, but then Gilfoyle deflates with a muttered “whatever” and a roll of the (still cat-contact-lensed) eyes.

“Figured I’d find you guys here,” Dinesh says, seating himself on Gilfoyle’s other side. “Jian-Yang’s been chain smoking all fucking day since getting back from the airport. And blasting fucking Chinese pop ballads. No wonder Erlich wanted to fucking kill him all the fucking time.”

“Where is Erlich, anyway?” Gilfoyle asks. “You guys ever hear from him?”

Jared and Dinesh both shake their heads. Gilfoyle shrugs again. They lapse into another comfortable silence, sipping their drinks.

“So where will you two go from here?” Jared asks.

Gilfoyle and Dinesh exchange a look.

“I go where the money goes,” Dinesh says. “And right now, as big of a fucking prick as Richard is, the money’s with him and his new internet.”

“I told you when we were working with Gavin Belson,” says Gilfoyle, “I hate to see good tech go to waste. Richard’s a lying sack of shit with piss-poor management skills, but he’s still a brilliant programmer.”

“I mean,” Dinesh adds, “As long as—” He trails off, looking embarrassed, and takes a hasty swig of his beer.

“As long as what?” Jared asks.

“As long as you keep him in check,” Gilfoyle finishes.

“He fired me,” Jared says. “You were both there.”

“And then he hired you back,” Dinesh says.

Gilfoyle grunts in agreement. “We were perfectly happy leaving him out in the cold until you called us. Totally worth it, though, to watch Melcher lose his shit. Again,” he adds with a smirk.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Dinesh says. “About Richard sleeping with Melcher’s fiancee? I mean, like, before Melcher started beating the shit out of him.”

“Oh—yeah. Yeah, he told me what happened. He didn’t want it known, though, for obvious reasons. Not that it matters now, I suppose. Cat’s out of the bag.”

“Right. Point is,” says Gilfoyle. “Richard trusts you, Jared.”

Dinesh nods. “And so do we.”

“Richard went to go meet Gavin at Josefina’s,” Gilfoyle says. “I’d bet half my shares in Pied Piper that Gavin’s offering him another acquisition, and I’d bet the other half that Richard’s gonna turn him down. It’s only a matter of time before the space saver app takes off—I mean really takes off—and we’re on track to make servers, including Hooli’s box business, completely obsolete. And with the new, decentralized internet, well. It’s a brave new fucking world.”

Dinesh smirks. “What Gilfoyle is trying to say, but can’t because he’s an arrogant dick, is that even though we’re on board, we can’t do this without you. Me, and Gilfoyle, and especially Richard. We need you, Jared.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Jared says, “but it’s been a long couple of days and I should head back to my place. My squatter didn’t exactly leave the place spotless when he left, so I still have a lot of cleaning to do.”

He leans over to drop his now-empty Martinelli’s bottle into the recycling bin, then pulls himself to his feet. It feels like a longer walk than usual to the garage door opener, despite the fact that he now has a direct and open route where he doesn’t have to worry about bumping into shelves or knocking some rigging out of configuration and thereby, to quote Gilfoyle, “skullfucking the entire company.” The door opens with that familiar creak and long groan, and Jared finds himself already missing the sound.

The sun has set over Palo Alto, the sky a light-polluted haze of dull greys. Richard should be back from his meeting with Gavin soon, and Jared would very much like to have some more space to think things over before getting back to work. Suddenly he feels very tired.

“I, uh, I’ll see you two tomorrow,” he says with a half-hearted wave, digging in his pocket for his car keys.

Dinesh and Gilfoyle exchange another look.

“Hey, Jared,” Dinesh calls. “Jian-Yang’s already moved all his shit into the master bedroom. We’re gonna have to start looking for someone to take his old room soon.”

“Erlich still owns the place, so there’s no rent to pay, but even without Anton eating up all the power, Jian-Yang’s stupid smart fridge is gonna piss all over the electric bill,” Gilfoyle adds. “And we’re not exactly rich yet.”

“That’s true,” says Dinesh, “but it’s a lot of hassle to look for people and schedule showings—”

“—and we’ve got a fuckload of work to do on Pied Piper.”

“And even if we do find someone, they could be, like, a serial killer or something—”

“—which, fascinating though it may be to share a living space with someone so uninhibited in his or her hobbies, poses a very real threat to the productivity of the company. Not to mention all the potential legal bullshit that comes with housing a murderer.”

“Roommates aside, the Palo Alto housing market is more competitive than SAT prep at a private school. I bet a nice, one-bedroom condo in a convenient location would sell in no time.”

“Would make the seller a shitton of money, too.”

“Right, and driving to and from your workplace every day is pretty bad for the environment.”

“And gas prices are going up again.”

“And taking the bus or biking seems pretty inconven—”

Jared holds up a hand. “I get it,” he says with a smile. “Thanks for the invite, guys. I, uh. I’ll let you know soon.”

He surveys the empty garage one more time as Dinesh and Gilfoyle return to the house. The garage door squeaks shut, Pied Piper logo gleaming bright from the light of the streetlamps. Jared starts up his car and pulls out of the driveway. It still stings, to be sure, Richard’s betrayal and near-immediate outreach and apology. Jared doesn’t doubt the sincerity of it for a second, but it still gives him pause. Forgiveness was easy when they all thought they’d be dead in the water in just a matter of minutes. They would see Pied Piper through to the bitter end, and part ways as amicably as they could manage, under those circumstances; that had been the plan, and he had accepted it. Now that they’re very much alive and seemingly thriving, though—now Jared’s not so sure.

But if what Gilfoyle says is true, that Pied Piper will only grow from here to one day overtake Hooli as the new tech giant in the Valley, well. They’ve all of them now seen what Richard is capable of, both the good and the bad. But the three of them—Dinesh, Gilfoyle, and himself—perhaps they together can somehow save Richard from becoming Gavin 2.0.

Jared smiles to himself as he pulls into his designated parking spot behind his condo, remembering that hazy, sleep-deprived night they’d spent on the dick-jerking algorithm that gave rise to middle-out—remembers the cables he’d hauled from the garage as Gilfoyle tore holes through drywall and Dinesh and Erlich kept their viral livestream afloat. He remembers the roller-coaster tumult of his first (and last) Pied Piper board meeting; the revelations of Peter Gregory’s storage unit; the dread, then ecstasy, then alarm as they assembled in Melcher’s office that very morning, very much ready to go down as a team, only to discover their unlikely salvation via smart fridge.

Brave new world, indeed.

#silicon valley #jared dunn #bertram gilfoyle #dinesh chugtai #my fic #sv fic

[unbearablylight]

Hi! I loved your AHS: Cult post, you summed up a lot of the thoughts I had on the wasted potential this season's premise has. I was just wondering what your thoughts were on the previous seasons? I find them to be really hit or miss in terms of tackling social themes and just storytelling overall and I would love to hear your thoughts! :)

Thank you! I liked your addendum, too; I hadn’t heard Adina Porter was coming back so I’m interested to see what she’ll add. And yeah, I agree a lot of it tends to be really hit or miss. I’m going to try to make this as brief as possible, because otherwise I could write an entire thesis on AHS and that’s probably too long for right now.

The best way to do it is to probably give my ranking of seasons and a short reasoning as to why. So, here goes:

1. Murder House

Granted it’s been a while since I’ve watched this season, but from what I remember it wasn’t really trying to be anything other than a really terrifying show. And it was great at that. The plot is sometimes a little confusing or nonexistent, but it terrifies in a way that no other season has really done to me since. There doesn’t seem to be much of a message or tie in to social themes, besides possibly Jamie Brewer playing such a large and beloved character. Ryan Murphy often has really great concepts for TV shows that then fade out over time, but since this is the first season, it was fun and exciting and something new on television.

2. Hotel

For a while, I’ve been debating whether or not Hotel beat out Asylum, but as I’m writing this I feel like it did, so I’m putting it second. This is largely based on personal opinion more than anything. Hotel felt like a rebirth for the show. It was creepy and twisted, had a decent plot and characters you could root for, and was actually scary where Coven and Freak Show hadn’t really been. I think the addition of Lady Gaga was an excellent one, and she was used just the perfect amount. I had feared she would become Jessica Lange’s replacement, and I think a lot of the downfall of Coven and Freak Show stems from too much of a focus on Lange, but Gaga was merely another member of the ensemble cast.

While I didn’t care much for Wes Bentley’s character, I loved the whole Ten Commandments murder thing (really anything that twists biblical stuff is fascinating to me for some reason). Denis O’Hare worried me at first, but I think the show did a good job at telling a heartfelt, honest story about Liz’s relationship with her son towards the later part of the season. I only wish they had cast an actual transgender actress. Again, I think what you said in your addition to the Cult post is right: AHS is better when social themes are pieces of the show, not entire concepts. This is another one that just seems to want to tell a story.

3. Asylum

The reason I rank Asylum lower is I really could not get into Sarah Paulson’s character for some reason, which sucked because she was most of the focus. I feel like I should go back and rewatch this season now that I love her as an actress, because when I originally watched it she drove me nuts. Other than that, I think it’s about equal with Hotel — decent plot (I think the story derails mostly with the aliens because, like, what?), a medium amount of scary, some good characters. Sarah playing a lesbian at first seemed out of place to me, but when it landed her in the Asylum I understood why they did it. Evan being in an interracial relationship kinda pricked me though. Ryan Murphy seems to have this weird thing for doing something mildly taboo (usually in a sort of socially forward-thinking way) and feeling edgy for it. “It’s the 60s and he’s with a black girl, gasp!” It didn’t really tie into anything with the plot, and the girl hardly appears throughout the season, so it felt like nothing more than a pat on the back for making a statement.

It does have one of the best opening credit sequences, though.

4. Roanoke

Roanoke had the benefit of being really goddamn scary a lot of the time, but the plot was an utter nightmare of writing. One show within a show was already kind of annoying, two was getting ridiculous. By the end we had like 6 and I just wanted it to be over with.

I honestly don’t remember a lot of what was going on, other than they were a bunch of idiots trapped in Murder House Part 2. I know you mentioned Adina and the racial subtext she faced throughout the season, but this would have been a lot more effective if she hadn’t been like... the actual worst. Being unfairly criminalized and vilified for killing her husband would have been far more effective if she hadn’t actually done it. I really just kind of hated her by the end and was furious she was the one that got to survive (although the very ending of the show makes it clear as to why it has to be her).

And speaking of surviving, Sarah Paulson should have walked away from all of this. She survives the entire night, only to get gunned down by a bunch of police officers. Which, just... it doesn’t make sense? She’s a white woman who appears to be in distress. If anything, I was surprised Adina wasn’t shot. It would have been terrible, but she was a black woman who already was widely disliked and who might have killed an entire house full of people (from the cops’ perspective, not knowing the truth of Roanoke). That whole scene just felt very weird and out of touch with reality to me, idk. I’m tired of seeing cops shoot first and ask questions later, so basically that scene just shouldn’t have happened at all. There are a hundred other ways Sarah could have died.

5. Freak Show

I am probably the only person I know who ranks Freak Show anywhere other than last, but I’ll get to why when I get to Coven.

It’s not good. We all know that. It wasn’t scary, the plot’s all over the place and uninteresting, and the amount of potential it had made it a real let down. It does have some saving graces, though. Murphy has experience with this sort of “god help the outcasts” narrative from Glee. Jessica Lange is a slightly more interesting character than she was in Coven, albeit they’re far too similar, Evan Peters is actually a person, and Sarah Paulson delivers one of (two of?) her best performances in my opinion.

The major downfalls: I did not care about Kathy Bates at all (tbh, I don’t think she’s had a good character yet, except maybe the Butcher). The last episode where they just shoot everyone dead was a major copout. There are far more interesting ways to end a show, or even to kill a large portion of the cast. Emma Roberts suffers the second most brutal death in AHS history, trapped in a box and sawed in half by Neil Patrick Harris. I don’t know what it is about this show, but it loves to see Emma suffer at the complete mercy of a man.

Also, it was just really boring.

6. Coven

Oh, Coven. Where to even begin with you. This post has already gotten really long so I’ll try to condense as much as I can, but just know I could probably write a novel on why Coven is The Worst. And I think at the foundation of that is the fact that a large portion (maybe even the majority?) of the fandom considers it to be the best, if not up there. Which is just really harmful.

You take a season full of really incredible actresses. Like there are a lot of them, many of them very well-known and highly acclaimed. You stick them all in a house together, in a pseudo-sorority type of situation. What you should get is one of the strongest arguments for how women can lead a show and hold their own without men.

Instead, what we got was Coven. In which every female character is poorly written, exists solely for a man, and/or is there to compete with (and often be bitchy to) the other women.

A bulleted list of further atrocities (because there are too many):

Emma Roberts suffering the most brutal death in AHS history. Watching her get choked out by Evan on that bed for like a full minute (despite the fact that she was a powerful witch who could have killed him in a nanosecond) disturbed me to no end, especially given their history.

Kathy Bates suffering from Murphy’s Law of No Character Development (patent pending). Ryan Murphy sucks at sticking to character development. Bates could have been a really powerful tool to show that ignorance often is the root of hatred, and her relationship with Gabourey Sidibe could have caused a change of heart, but one episode she was actually learning, and the next she was back to her shitty racist old self again.

Gabourey Sidibe playing the Race Card. And I don’t take that term lightly. I mean she literally said “You don’t like me ‘cause I’m black,” when a) no one had expressed any disdain to her at all (outside of Emma Roberts’ general bitching to all of them), and b) her weight probably got more comments than her race had. This line literally sounded like something written by a white dude who probably thinks reverse racism is real.

The race politics were a mess in general, tbh. Especially concerning their different uses of magic.

Lily Rabe dying??? For no reason??? Rude more than anything else.

Jessica Lange syndrome started to take over the show in this season, and this was her worst character. She shouldn’t have been so much of a focus.

The only good things to happen this season were Jessica and Angela taking out those business men (iconic, but from what I can tell — because I don’t remember exactly — the Axeman does most of the killing for them), the Coven chasing out the Axeman, and Sarah becoming the supreme (which I had unfortunately guessed like 3 episodes in, so it wasn’t that much of a mystery).

Anyways, Coven is pretty much a catalogue of the worst parts of Ryan Murphy’s writing, and there’s probably a lot I’m missing, but this is enough for now.

Sorry this is so long, yikes. But that about wraps it up I think. Honestly if you read all of this, congrats haha. And thanks for asking! I love to rant about tv (obviously).

#dandyandry