Latest Posts by jarich - Page 5

You know that scene in John Wick 2 where he (John Wick) gets hit by a car and then he immediately fights the assassin driving that car, Cassian, and then they battle for like sixty minutes on the streets of Rome, shooting over cars, knife fighting, falling down a whole flight of stairs, and then grappling and grabbing each other on the cobblestones, yelling and grunting like a bunch of dudes having good old fashioned fun, and then finally they end up smashing right through a window and coincidentally landing in the assassin hotel "safe area" where they're not allowed to fight anymore...

and then they go and have a drink together?

I thought they should've fucked.

So I wrote a book about assassins who do that sort of thing regularly. Check it out here.

But I added what the scene was lacking, besides the fucking part...

Demons.

The scene for anyone who doesn't remember or doesn't know it.

This book has:

an improbable amount of badass, LGBT, demon summoning assassins (the absolute best of the best being transgender).

a scott pilgrim style plot, involving one pansexual demon summoner having to fight all 7 of his exes for the sake of his newest contract.

a nonbinary weather controlling demon, trapped on earth. also, one of the exes.

a blind smartass with a nasty mouth and nastier eye-related powers.

a city on the brink of annihilation, trapped by forces unseen and unheard and unknowable.

the most bombastic and ridiculous magic system ever constructed by man.

and maybe...just maybe...an angsty gay time loop romance (the best narrative trope) but you didn't hear that from me.

It's dark, it's humorous, it's romantic, it's riddled with absolutely insane fight scenes, and most importantly...

It's unabashedly queer and unrealistic and silly and yearn-y.

And I'd really appreciate if you'd help an indie author out, with a sale or a reblog! Agents and publishers told me that it was too queer for regular audiences...and that the concept was just not very compelling.

They might be right, but it still had to exist. I still had to make it, anyway. You know. You have to make the art that you want to see in the world.

Anyway.

Sorry for the long post...you can check out my website for future releases.

And last thing: Character commission of the MC, our lovably slutty pansexual assassin Sebastián Monterey:

And cheers! Sorry for the long post. Have a good night.

Yup, that's basically the whole point of pain psychology for chronic pain. Telling your brain that you accept the pain signals are stuck, but that ache isn't life threatening and you can get by with fewer warnings about it.

hey don’t cry. spiro the bald eagle failing at catching a crab, okay?

*chirp*

you mean to tell me there are people who don't make little creature noises on a daily basis? wild

I was walking on a rather remote beach when I came upon this Whip eel drying up in the sun. These are intertidal eels that can actually handle themselves out of water for a bit, but it’s not normal for them to be fully exposed in direct sunlight like this. The tide was at least six hours from coming in and I felt like this eel was in distress, so I made the decision to dig him out and return to the ocean. His body was too delicate to be simply pulled from the hole without injury, so I got to digging.

This endeavor took about 40 minutes as the eel was quite long and difficult to excavate. Also had to continually refill my temporary eel pond to keep him from drying out entirely while I worked.

If you are an eel aficionado like myself, please enjoy this silly little video of the relocation process set to some jaunty royalty-free disco music.

Idk about y'all but I personally think anyone referring to scars, vitiligo, and cellulite as a fetish thing is saying more about themselves than they realize they are.

I'm in tech and I agree that there are some things that LLMs can do better (and certainly faster) than I can.

1. Provide workable solutions to well-described (but fairly straightforward) problems. For example "using jq (a json query language tool) take two json files and combine them in this manner...."

2. Identify and fix format issues: "what changes are required to make this string valid json?"

3. Doing boring chores. "Using this sample data, suggest a well normalised database structure. Write a script that creates a Postgres database, and creates the tables decided above. Write a second script that accepts json objects that look like EXAMPLE and adds them into the database."

However, while there is a risk my employer will decide that LLMs can reduce the workforce significantly, 99% of what I do can't be done by LLMs yet and I can't see how that would change.

LLMs have the ability to draw on the expertise and documentation created by millions of people. They can synthesise that knowledge to provide answers to fairly casually askef questions. But they have no *understanding* of the content they're synthesising, which is why they can't give correct answers to questions like "what is 2+2?" or "how many times does the letter r appear in strawberry?" Those questions require *understanding* of the premise of the question. "Infer, based on hundreds of millions of pages of documentation and examples, how to use this tool to do that thing" is a much easier ask.

The other thing about having no understanding is that they can't create anything truly new. They can create new art in the style of the grand masters, compose music, write stories... But only in a derivative sense. LLMs possess no mind, so they can't *imagine* anything. Users who use LLMs to realise their own art are missing out on the value of learning how to create their art themselves. Just as I am missing out on the value of learning how to use the tool jq to manipulate json files which would enable me to answer my own question.

LLMs have such a large environmental footprint, that they're morally dubious at best. It should be alarming that LLM proponents are telling us to just use these tools without worrying about the environment, because we aren't doing enough to fix climate change anyway. "Leave solving the future to LLMs?!" LLMs aren't going to solve climate change, they're incapable of *understanding* and *innovating*. We already know how to save ourselves from climate change, but the wealthy and powerful don't want to because it would require them to be less rich and powerful.

The trillion dollar problem is literally "how do we change our current society such that leadership requires the ability to lead, a commitment to listen to experts and does not result in the leader getting buckets of money from bribes and lobbying?" preferably without destroying the supply chain and killing hundreds of thousands.

so like I said, I work in the tech industry, and it's been kind of fascinating watching whole new taboos develop at work around this genAI stuff. All we do is talk about genAI, everything is genAI now, "we have to win the AI race," blah blah blah, but nobody asks - you can't ask -

What's it for?

What's it for?

Why would anyone want this?

I sit in so many meetings and listen to genuinely very intelligent people talk until steam is rising off their skulls about genAI, and wonder how fast I'd get fired if I asked: do real people actually want this product, or are the only people excited about this technology the shareholders who want to see lines go up?

like you realize this is a bubble, right, guys? because nobody actually needs this? because it's not actually very good? normal people are excited by the novelty of it, and finance bro capitalists are wetting their shorts about it because they want to get rich quick off of the Next Big Thing In Tech, but the novelty will wear off and the bros will move on to something else and we'll just be left with billions and billions of dollars invested in technology that nobody wants.

and I don't say it, because I need my job. And I wonder how many other people sitting at the same table, in the same meeting, are also not saying it, because they need their jobs.

idk man it's just become a really weird environment.

I think a lot about how, if the glorious violent revolution happens, every kid with significant medical needs in a hospital where power gets cut will die.

You can decide you're willing to sacrifice your own life, but you don't get to tell everybody else on the planet that they're acceptable collateral damage.

Reblog if you think asexuality is a legitimate sexuality.

I'm trying to prove something.

i love in fantasy when its like “king galamir the mighty golden eagle and his most trusted advisor who would never betray him, gruelworm bloodeye the treacherous”

The Halloween Queen’s Mean Beans

The world around Derek was silent and dark as he walked home from the gym, but he was playing air guitar. Still pumped up from his workout, Derek listened to rock music in his earbuds and sang along to it as he made his way back to his apartment. The sidewalks were empty, the sky was darkening, and only the streetlights and setting sun lit the way. Lights did not shine through the windows, which he would have found strange if he had been paying attention. 

As he neared the entrance to his apartment, streetlights began shutting off each time he walked under them. He raised an eyebrow took out one of his earbuds, and looked up at them. The rock concert atmosphere he had cultivated for himself in that moment immediately dissolved into something a lot eerier. Derek didn’t believe in the supernatural, but this was strange. 

A crash and a clattering in the alleyway beside him made him jump. He peered into the alleyway, attempting to make out any shapes in the darkness. 

“H-hello?” He asked. He knew it wasn’t wise to go inside the alleyway and investigate, and that it was better to just go home… but he knew if he didn’t know for sure that it was safe, then he would be frightened of what would possibly be down there, the fear of the unknown replacing the fear of what could happen to him. This fear was too powerful and his curiosity was too strong, so he took slow careful steps down the alleyway, and turned the corner. 

On the other side of this alley was the dim glow of a streetlight, which revealed the non-supernatural scene to him. There was a metal trashcan, its contents of rotten food and old chip bags spilled all over the floor. On top of the trashcan sat a cat, who stared up at Derek, swishing its tail as if nothing had happened at all. Derek heaved a sigh of relief, confirming his suspicions, the fear of the unknown subsiding because now he knew all, and knew there was nothing to fear. 

The cat was a very fluffy cat with dark fur. It must have belonged to someone because no stray could have been that fluffy. And its eyes… its eyes were large expanses of bright colors, containing so much feeling, so much innocence. One of the eyes was a deep blue richer than the blue of the sky. The other was an intense yellow, shinier than gold. Enamored with this beautiful being, he knelt down and spoke softly. 

“Hey, little guy,” He said. “Are you lost?” 

The cat responded with a slow blink. Derek let out a small chuckle and continued watching the cat. Those eyes were hard not to look at, as each of them grew lighter in color as one looked away from the pupils. There was a splash of color around each pupil also, the blue eye having a green splash, and the yellow eye having a faint red splash. They were so colorful, so beautiful… Looking at them  made the tight knot in his stomach loosen, and his shoulders hunch. His eyelids drooped, and he suddenly felt more tired. He went to stand up but it occurred to him that he didn’t want to stand up, that he wanted to keep watching this cat. And staring into its eyes. 

He realized he felt uncomfortable knelt down the way he was, so he settled down in a way that felt natural to him, with his palms pressed against the ground. And now that he was on all fours, now that he was closer to the cat, he felt the need to say something to it… it would have been awkward to just keep staring at it. It was only right to have a conversation, yes? So, he thought long and hard on a conversation topic, and finally spoke up. 

“Nyaa!” He said, lifting one of his hands, and waving it as if pawing the air. His voice was much higher pitched than it was before. After he said that, he tried to register what it meant and why he said it, but realized it didn’t matter. It made sense. It was a sensible thing to say. In fact, it was a very thought provoking comment for the cat. It was smart. 

Even after settling down, he still felt uncomfortable. There was a lot of tension in his lower back, his ears and feet felt squished, and his face felt itchy. He bent down, and raised up his bottom, attempting to stretch his back, he did that, he wiggled his toes. The freeing cool night air hit him as his paws burst through his sneakers, and his tail burst through his pants. He swished it back and forth to let blood flow through it again. His legs grew itchier and hairier, the hair thickening into a layer of fluffy brown fur. He wrinkled his nose, and the itchiness in his face stopped as whiskers broke his skin and grew outward away from his nose.  As for his ears, he wiggled them as well, letting them stretch into triangular points. Hairs grew on the backs of his ears, which grew into fur. They stretched out like flattening clay, and morphed into his head morphed in such a way that made his growing ears move to the top of his head. 

Once the changes were done, the cat in front of Derek opened its mouth to speak

“Mmm, so my servant can finally hear me,” It said. Its voice was disproportionately low, and it enunciated as it spoke. The voice reverberated in Derek’s skull, and sent chills down his spine. 

“Meow?” He asked. 

“That’s right,” The cat replied “you are a cat. Your human mind is under my lock and key, only to come out when I say. If you attempt to think as a  human would, the thought would just turn into a ‘meow’ or a ‘nyah.’”

Derek purred as the thoughts that ran by his mind, images and sounds relating to his human life, slowly dissolved into a chorus of meows, all worries subsiding under mindless feline desires. His eyes rolled backward slightly, as a wave of confusion washed over him. He couldn't think at all, so he couldn’t explain these new feelings and sensations, but the lack of thought and the constant presence of ‘meow’ satisfied him. He lifted his hands again, and pawed at the air, and stuck out his tongue in his daze. 

“Now I need you to listen closely,” The cat said. “I am the queen of Halloween. I am the shadow in autumn. And you are one of my faithful servants, my knight of the shadow… You will help me find more like you, more to convert. If necessary you will speak. If not you will not think… meow of you understand.”

Derek set his gaze on his queen, set his jaw, and looked at her with an evil grin. He settled back on all fours, gripping at the layer of dirt below his palms. 

“Meow.” 

****

Djerald was happy his roommate had come home late, as he had more time to read. Every evening, Derek would come home and be loud and obnoxious, telling him about what he did at the gym or what happened when he played football with his buddies, or telling Djerald that he was too boring and he needed to get out more, and Djerald’s favorite question for when Derek had nothing else to say ‘why does your name have an extra D?’ Djerald liked Derek a lot of the time and thought he was a friendly guy to hang out with, but Derek just didn’t know when to be quiet so much of the time, so he was happy that Derek came home late, but he had let his guard down and flinched when Derek kicked open the door. 

“Boom baby!” Derek shouted. Djerald winced and buried his head deeper into his book. “Yo, crazy night!” Derek continued. “I was coming home from the gym listening to rock meowsic, and then I heard this nyoise in the alleyway, which turned out to be nyothing, but I went to the store and got this really cool cake!” 

Djerald rolled his eyes. He didn’t know why his roommate was speaking that way; it must have been his fake Australian accent he always tried to put on… it had gotten worse.

“Nothing is crazy about the story you just said,” Djerald muttered. There was a thud and then a clatter as Derek pulled a plate out of the cupboard.

“Anyway,” Derek said, “mew gotta try it, it’s so good! It’s called like… ogre cake or something? It’s got fudge, red velvet, green food coloring, it’s perfect for the holiday season!” Derek placed a plate on the coffee table next to Djerald, who finally looked up from his book at the sugary mass in front of him. It was a glob of green frosting, dark fudge and red cake. It was as if Derek took a fistful of cake, plopped it on the plate, and then smashed it with his fist, which he wouldn’t put past him for doing. It didn’t appear to be very appetizing, but Djerald’s stomach growled, and he realized he didn’t have anything to eat that evening. So he picked up the plate, and cut off a bit of the blob with his fork and ate it. 

He chewed slowly savoring the rich chocolate flavor and the sugary frosting. The fudge stuck to the roof of his mouth, but the cake itself was very soft and spongy. It was not a high quality cake by any means, but as soon as he tasted it, he craved more. He scarfed it down by the forkful, chewing a little bit, but not waiting to swallow before he chewed the next part. Green frosting got on his face and his hands, and unbeknownst to him, splotches of skin around the frosting started fading to a dark green. 

“Wow,” he muttered, “That cake was, really tasty, I-“ 

Djerald stopped, finally looking up at his roommate and seeing how he had changed. He took off his glasses and then put them back on, verifying he was seeing what he thought he saw. Derek had large feline ears at the top of his head, one of them twitching with mischief. There was a smirk on his face, not his usual overly confident smirk, but a sly expression. He had long thin whiskers, and his blue eyes were replaced with two slit feline eyes, one yellow and one blue. There was a hole in his shorts where a long tail emerged and swished back and forth, and his legs were now covered in brown fur. His feet were bare but now they were bigger, but stubbier, each of his toes big and round, his feet as a whole now becoming large paws. 

“Derek,” Djerald gasped. “What happened to you?”

“Nyah,” Derek replied, sticking out his tongue. The former jock got down on all fours and padded away from Djerald. He jumped onto the counter, accidentally knocking plastic cups and mugs onto the floor but then pushing one, a vase on the floor. It shattered, sending shards across the floor of the apartment and leaving a puddle of water. Djerald jumped up and shouted. 

“Hey! Stop that! Tell me wha-“ 

Djerald was interrupted by a spasm in his jaw, where it twitched forward and locked into place. His eyes widened as he saw his jaw was now also broadening, and pulling forward more and more, and as his jaw was growing, his bottom two chocolate covered canines were growing as well, pushing his other teeth outward, doubling in size, tripling in size, until his bottom jaw stretched far past his top jaw, and two big tusks poked from his bottom jaw, over his upper lip. He put his hand over his mouth, out of disbelief, verifying that the tusks were truly there. 

He opened his mouth to scream, to yell and demand to know what was going on, but when he breathed in, he let out a heavy belch, and he tasted the cake he had just eaten. The flavor was wonderful, and he wished it hadn’t ended, he wished he was still eating. His mind became cloudy and he forgot about his rapidly changing body, and found he could only focus on the cake.

“More…” he grumbled. “Me. Want. More!” He stomped from the couch over to the counter. His bare feet became a pale grey and then a dark green, each of them swelling and becoming twice their original size, fattening, stretching, and growing thicker skin. His skin was so thick that when he stomped through the shards of glass, they merely stuck to his feet and did not pierce deep into his skin or draw blood. 

There were sharp growing pains in his legs as they grew a full foot within an instant. The pain was so sharp that he would have shouted or hollered, but it was gone as quickly as it came, making him forget that it happened in pursuit of the cake. At the same time, his calves and thighs ballooned in size, growing mostly fat, but also a lot of muscle. The legs of his jeans were immediately reduced to a bunch of threads as his fat green legs expanded to reveal themselves, making his jeans now look like ripped denim shorts.

When he reached the cake, he took two fistfuls of it and stuffed one of them into his mouth, frosting and fudge getting all over his face and on his shirt. It was even sweeter than he remembered, the fudge tasting richer and having a nice bittersweet flavor. He swallowed and shoved another fistful into his mouth, eager to eat more. The more he ate, the more he focused on the cake and the less he could focus on anything else. 

As he ate his stomach ballooned outward, at first being only slightly bloated, then being a chubby round green mass peeking from he bottom of his shirt, and then stretching and shredding his shirt to threads, emerging as a large pot-belly which made his figure round. As his stomach grew, his spine elongated in a similar way to his legs, making him another foot taller, but at the same time, it curled downward, forcing his posture to worsen. His shoulders widened, going from scrawny and skinny to bulky and broad. His arms swelled, new flab sagging downward. His hands doubled in size, and became calloused and blistered, his skin growing as thick as it was on his feet. Despite this growth in his hands, his fingers became shorter and stubbier. 

The changes finally reached his head. His face went from thin and bony to round and chubby. The cartilage in his ears thickened but softened, the rounded tip of his ear growing a bump and then a point, before his ears folded inward, becoming concave to better pick up sound. His ears were now short, thick, pointy, but also muscular, able to move around however he wanted. His nose flattened against his face but then broadened, and rounded, becoming more bulbous. His sandy blond hair grew longer, more ruffled, and spiked upward. 

His skull shrank to accompany his shrinking brain. As his brain shrank, his desires and ambitions became simpler. He no longer wanted a safe job or a family, he wanted to eat more and to sleep well. Abstract concepts left his mind. Now he only understood food, and danger, or whatever was physically in front of him at the moment.  In a brief moment of lucidity, he found his senses were leaving him. While it alarmed him, the sensation was like a massage to his brain, like a soothing static taking over his thoughts. His jaw dropped and his tongue, now a dark grey, hung out of his mouth. He stood there and savored the satisfying feeling of the last of his thoughts leaving him. His memories of college and what he learned there were dissolving. His ability to read became reduced to an appreciation of squiggly lines. He found it hard to form a complete sentence in his head, but more importantly, he noticed he had a loose grasp on his name. 

Djerald, he insisted to himself.

Me Djerald. 

Me… ‘erald 

Me ‘ral

Me… Ruh… Me Ruh. 

The last of the complicated thoughts left Ruh the ogre’s brain as he took another chomp at the cake. He shut his mouth and then he grinned, looking down at himself, and taking in his new form, admiring his belly, and feeling a sense of pride when looking at his big hands and big feet. His ears perked up as a giddy feeling took hold. He puffed out his stomach and balled his hands into fists, drumming his belly. 

“Ug! Ug! Ug! Ug!” 

Each time he struck his belly, he let out a simian grunt, and each strike made him feel more powerful. It fanned a fire within him. 

“Ruh big! Ruh happy!” 

Derek meowed at Ruh, giving another uncharacteristically sly smile to the ogre. Ruh put on a lopsided grin and chuckled.

“Funny kitty,” He said patting Derek the head. Derek’s ears lowered and he let out a brief purr. Derek then hopped down from the counter and opened the drawer, revealing a bunch of cooking tools and a rolling pin. 

“Club!” The ogre shouted, snatching the rolling pin. “Ruh have club.” He lifted the rolling pin and rested it on his shoulder, carrying it as if it were a club. He didn’t know what he would need it for, but he knew that it would make him feel safe. Having his feline friend around also made him feel better. He didn’t know where to go or what to do now, but it didn’t matter, because Derek could decide for him. Derek meowed at the ogre again and padded toward the door, and then reached up to open the door for his big green friend, beckoning him out into the night. 

It was kind of a dick move to create animals that require air, then confine them to the freaking ocean

Wait, beneath the sea floor?

OUGHGH??

OIUOHGHHVOIH!!!!!

The Depths of Ultra, part 1

This is the first 5ish pages to a short story I wrote in undergrad. I want to be an author, I am a writer, but I work doing other things to make ends meet. This specific story is my best and most polished work, but its too long to be submitted to any competition and too short to be a book. I have no idea what I am doing. -Enjoy ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“ -and you’ll never be!” his father growled. Eorling cringed away from the disappointment in his father’s eyes. The burning stare followed him as he ran away through an endless corridor that stretched out to the horizon and up to the sky. Behind him, his father’s scolding rant followed him, growing louder and louder until  the nightmarish specter was upon him.

Eorling flinched and groaned as someone banged away in the hallway with a pair of wooden clackers. He rolled over, peering at the wall between him and his door, as if he would suddenly become clairvoyant. He pulled himself out of bed, and the clackers sounded again. This time, whoever was wielding them called aloud.

“Up! Up, you shiftless, lazy, long-eared louts! We’re digging today! Ankirat burn your slow bones! Get out here now!”

The voice belonged to one Foreman Ozglow. Experienced and effective, he was one of the most favored foremen in all of Ultra. The stout dwarf commanded respect and not a little awe, with an armored beard and arms covered in the scars of many battles. He could also bang clackers together loud enough to wake the dead.

Eorling hastily stuffed himself into his work clothes: a thick linen shirt and canvas overalls. He stomped his feet into sturdy, steel capped boots with thick soles and wax-sealed walls that kept out the water and damp. The hat he fit onto his head was also capped with steel, and the padding inside was brand new. Overall it was a snug, comfortable outfit that was built for hard work. Dressed, Eorling drained the dregs of last night's beer that he had left, tugged his beard, wiped his mustache, and was off.

The rest of the crew was out in the hallway, stretching and scratching themselves. The Foreman was counting heads and was already geared up. A spark of excitement flared in Eorling. Today’s the start of my shift. After putting in a full forty-eight hour shift, he would be a professional miner with all of the glory that came with it. He would also finally be considered an adult. Eorling hoped it would be enough to get the respect he so desperately desired from his father. Eorling’s father was a bitter dwarf. After a smithing accident took his arm, he had become rough and callous and often directed his misery at his only son. Eorling had battled for decades to earn his old man’s appreciation, but nothing seemed to work. Maybe, Eorling thought, this will turn the tide. A nice haul of loot and a good shift of work. He can’t ignore that.

The others were all there: Rikin, the foreman’s second, who had spent more time in the dark of the depths of Tera than in Ankirat’s daylight; Azik, who always carried his pick and shovel across his shoulders and bragged about his way with the lasses at the tavern; Krozlin, the only female dwarf on the crew, who was more than a match for any of them; and Eorling, the greenbeard. Foreman Ozglow turned, nodded as he counted Eorling, then spoke again.

“Right, lads! I’ve got a treat for the lot of you, and, if you don’t appreciate it, then you can sod off! Heading to Kron three. Gear up there.”

The rest turned to hustle that way. Eorling did too, but Ozglow stopped him with an outstretched hand. The foreman’s deep amber eyes studied him seriously. Previous apprehensions about his father’s lack of acceptance crept back into Eorling’s mind.

“Watch yourself down there, lad. I ain’t keeping firm eyes on you, and neither are the others.”

“Yes, foreman,” Eorling replied.

Ozglow’s stare was unblinking. “I mean it lad. You want to be a man? Act like one. Get moving.”

The hand was raised, and Eorling carried on. He trundled along through a maze of gray, stone tunnels, navigating in the dim light by reading the tunnel names at each intersection. The flickering lantern lights would not give enough light for humans or elves or immortals, but for the superior eyesight of the dwarves it was more than enough. After a short jog, he puffed his way up to a large, mostly empty room. Other than its entryway, it had three more portals, set into angled walls at one end. All three of these arches were numbered on their keystone, with the title for this section of the mine carved above them: “Kron.” 

The rest of his crew were pulling equipment from a set of battered old footlockers, and joking amongst themselves. Rikin did not speak much, and when he did, it was in a low, soft tone. Azik was loud and boisterous, always looking to get a snide jab in, whereas Krozlin was simply untouchable by the insults, always giving back as good as she got. Azik found no purchase today and turned to Eorling.

“Greenbeard! Glad you finally caught up.” With an easy smirk, the dwarf leaned back against a wall.  “I was worried I’d have to do all the mining my own damn self!”

Krozlin snorted and retorted with her North-Laker accent. “Oh give off, you blow-beard. You couldn’t work a stout into a froth with those arms of yours.”

Azik waved a hand as if he was swatting her words away. “I told you I’m not talking to you anymore, lass. No use in it.”

“Because you cannae stand a lady.”

Eorling kept his head down as he began to untangle a harness from one of the lockers. He knew joining in was a sure way to become the butt of the joke, and he had no want to embarrass himself on his first shift. Azik and Krozlin kept going.

“I love my ladies! And they love me! You’re just a curmudgeon what doesn’t know when to stop!”

“Hah!” She laughed, pausing in the act of pulling her harness up to her hips. “ Those skinny flits at the tavern, ladies? I’ve found human lads firmer than em! Those are sickly girls, and you should keep your hands off of em!”

Rikin made himself heard. “No, he should feed them. I agree, some of the younger ones have begun looking too thin for their own good.”

“Hear that Azik? Right from one who ought to know!”

Eorling continued getting his gear on. A shovel, a pickaxe, a small hammer and chisel, his harness and some protective plates, a cap spindle to hold a candle for light, a mine mug with a hinged lid on it, metal edging for his boots, and a few brass beard-studs to keep his facial hair firmly fixed in its braided pattern. This kept it from getting frizzy in the damp of the depths. He sat to dig out his gloves, as the rest of the crew were sitting by now.

Azik turned to him. “Well, what about you? You’re young, and you don’t look too thin, but your arms could do with a good double shift.”

“Ah,” he stuttered, “m-maybe, yeah.” Eorling had never known he was embarrassed about his lack of a love life. Until now.

“So shy! Kroz, you might like this lad, he’s all meek!”

Eorling felt a blush rising as the miner lady laughed. “Maybe! But no, I’m going steady still.”

“What, with that clerk lass–”

Ozglow marched into the room, hands full with rolled parchment and the specialized equipment of a foreman, such as a compass and loupe, pens and ink, and a set of acidic vials designed to detect metal purity. Each dwarf stopped talking and stood. Allowing your foreman or superior to stand alone was a grievous offense. He stayed silent and pulled to a stop, distracted by a few extra candle sticks that were refusing to sink into his pocket. He jiggled them a bit, and they finally fell into place. Then he turned to face his miners.

“You’re all suited and ready. Good. The last crew will be up soon, so hop to it! I need three barrels of beer, a box of rations–the ones with the good jerky, mind you–a box of flints and steels, a dozen torch points, some of that Drunder Good Bread, and three lengths of chain.”

He turned to each of them “Azik, you go get the beer–and none of that Sonder Suds swill. Krozlin, you get the jerky and the bread. Rikin you get the odds and ends, and Eorling,” he said as he turned to the new miner, “get the chains. They are two lefts and a right. Well? What in Judge’s hammers are you all standing about for? Go! Get me my equipment, you slow bones!”

Krozlin cackled a laugh and they each hustled off to their duties. Eorling saw that they did not need directions to get their materials, and felt slightly ashamed that he did. He followed the direction, leaving and turning left out of the door, then left again at the nearest intersection, and finally a right. The endless grays of the dusty tunnels could be confusing, but Eorling made sure not to stray from his given path. This led him into an alley full of heavy equipment, including the chains he needed. Each chain length was standardized, being twenty feet long.

The chains were an odd part of dwarven society. Some of them had existed for a long time, helping works for thousands of years. Though it was not difficult for the dwarves to make more, there was a certain love for old chains. Each chain had a history, a lineage. Each one was a chain to the works of their ancestors, both literally and metaphorically,  and some of the lengths here were thousands of years old. In the King’s Peak, there were a set of chains that were over ten thousand years old. They had aided in great constructions and even the killing of great foes, and were venerated by all dwarves.

Eorling selected three that seemed young enough for him to move. Touching or handling older chains was inappropriate for him. He slung one over each shoulder and swayed with their weight. They were heavy, and as he grabbed for the third, he pitched wildy off balance. With a clank-filled crash, he crumpled back against the wall, smothered by the chains. Eorling struggled to stand or wriggle out of the chains; he simply could not muster the strength.

Thankfully, he did not need to call out for help, which might’ve shamed him eternally. A soft voice spoke from the mouth of the alley.

“Hands full then, greenbeard?”

Really happy to see this at my local library

The Zionist genocide and warmongering will likely be remembered as the death of the U.S.-centric, UN-mediated international political system that’s been predominant since the 90s. They’re using chemical weapons on UN officials and it doesn’t matter at all. They’re showing that they can do anything that they want and that the U.S. will give them infinite supplies anyways, there’s no longer any premise of legality at all. Definitely the first major sign for the fascistization of international politics to come

Think of the most bicyclist unfriendly urban section of road you can. Somewhere that even your most enthusiastic bicycling friends are careful on. Now imagine that road if you just removed every car. Keep the delivery vans, the trams, buses, motorcycles, scooters, crazy pedestrians and bicyclists, just remove the cars. No parked cars, no moving cars, no cars waiting at traffic lights. In such a circumstance, would that road still be "too dangerous" to cycle on?

We're so used to assuming that cars belong on streets, and that everything else is essentially borrowing space. But that's a category error.

Watch: Carl Sagan schooled B.o.B. on his flat Earth theory more than 30 years ago

Follow @the-future-now

Happy Halloween!! Eat lots of candy and stuff!!!

I’ve been patiently waiting for a nice second-hand wood dresser to appear on fb marketplace or at Goodwill for months. Finally, I grabbed this one yesterday for $50.

My inspiration for this project are some dressers I saw at Anthropology that have gorgeous carved details. But I want my dresser to cost $200 or less rather than $2,000.

Of course I can’t add actual hand-carved wood, but I’ve got clay and some silicon molds + epoxy and a potential overconfidence in my DIY abilities.

First up, I removed the existing hardware and sanded this pretty lady down. She is now looking MUCH better without all those terrible stains (and the drawer pulls weren’t doing it for her, tbh).

Up next, I’ll give her a paint wash or three and start trying my hand at faking some carvings!

if you wanna know what my dissertation is about, it's pretty much this!

Technically true.

3

Chapter 2

“Mate?” Her voice barely more than a whisper, Anna had to ask. She had to make sure she was not misunderstanding.

Adriel gently nodded, not dropping his eyes from hers. Annabella felt her heart speed and her lungs seemed suddenly unable to draw air. She felt her head spin a bit, the reality of the situation setting in hard and fast. For a second her eyes dropped to the center of his chest, where her hands were now splayed. At the moment, everything about him was affecting her more than she had anticipated him doing so in the beginning, let alone than she wished it did. Setting aside the fact he was Abriella’s father, he was gorgeous and she was finding him far more muscled than she had anticipated judging based solely on his profile in his suit.

When their eyes once again met, her breath and voice stuttered as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “So, I’ll be your first…” Each word was enunciated and came out slowly as she still tried to make sure she expressed herself clearly. Every implication from what she had learned of anglic relationships over the centuries tumbled through her mind and she was failing to grasp them soundly.

Was that really what she was worried about? Adriel’s jaw clenched hearing the words come out and the seeming hesitancy of them. His pride and, if he was honest, heart were more than a little bit wounded that her mind first went to sex and his inexperience. His voice held an edge, no matter how hard he tried to keep it out, “worried that you will not be satisfied due to my lack of experience, Bella?”

The sexual attraction and magnetism between them was strong, and it was all he could do not to ravish her on the table upon which she was sitting, yet that she was concerned about his experience struck at something within him that hurt in a way he could not express. Rarely did he feel vulnerable in any way, but at the moment he felt completely defenseless before her. His jaw tensed more, and he fought snapping. He had wanted to claim her there and then, but she worried that he would leave her wanting greater pleasure then he could provide? Angels did not copulate before they found their mate; but that did not mean he had not provided pleasure in other ways, and would not ensure that she was completely sated when he was through with her. That she would doubt him, and it would be her primary concern; that bothered him. He wanted a mate focused on more than the physical, but it seemed he had been granted otherwise by his father.

“First relationship.” Anna clarified, a bit taken aback and unsure of what else to say, after feeling like she had just been slapped by his reaction. Although she supposed the other was true as well, she was not about to state that from the way he had just spoken to her. She had seen the hurt on his face, and heard it in his voice. She was actually hurt herself now that he had thought she was referring to sex. It had been the last thing on her mind. How could he think she meant that? Relationships were complicated and sometimes messy; it seemed that communication was starting off that way for them in this one.

As soon as Anna spoke, and Adriel realized his mistake, his eyes closed and his head fell forward a bit. Obviously he was trying to process things as she was, and the heightened sexual tension between them, that had been building since their first meeting, was not helping. “I am sorry, my Bella.” He swallowed, unsure what else to say. Curse Div, curse Stennis, curse…fuck…he didn’t know. Maybe he should curse himself for jumping to conclusions after seeing how well that had worked out over the years for Cruz and Abriella. His mind, his body, and his heart seemed to be warring with one another on how to handle everything. This had to be one of the most unique situations when it came to angelic matehood, and nothing had prepared him for it.

Anna brought one of her hands to his cheek to gently caress it, the soft stubble tickling against her soft palm. “Adriel, I’m more worried about disappointing you.” She sighed heavily, now trying to be more careful with her wording and her nerves rising ever higher. “Being your first at everything…it’s a bit overwhelming. I did not mean to hurt you. I’m sorry if my hesitation in being able to put my thoughts together gave you the wrong impression. I’m just overwhelmed with everything, but that’s not a bad thing.” Now it was her thumb that swept slow and soft over his cheekbone as her voice mirrored that softness. She had been in his place more than once; she knew the blow to the ego and the heart. Worse, she had been in the place he thought he’d been in, where she had been a disappointment to someone else, someone who didn’t necessarily care that it caused her an ache.

Her touch almost caused a greater ache in his chest than his realization that he had been an ass to assume and not let her finish her sentence. If Annabella had reacted with anger or hurt, he would have understood and he deserved her reproach; instead she had been understanding and was worried herself. Adriel felt that it was he who did not deserve this female as his mate. His anger, which was indeed legendary amongst the Heavens and Hells, was something he now feared would hurt her and potentially drive her away. If he lost her…the ache in his chest caused him to breathe in sharply. He and Div would talk later.

“I am sorry, Bella. I have a temper, one which I have never had reason to contain nor restrict. I did not mean to offend or hurt you. I promise to do better in the future.” Slowly Adriel’s eyes opened and his head rose to look at her face. “You could not disappoint me.” Softly he kissed her, keeping his eyes on hers, feeling drawn into their cerulean depths and drowning within.

Gently he lowered his hands to her ass and lifted her off of the table. He had an idea, and it required getting in a totally different position than the one they currently were in. Her legs had still been wrapped around him, which helped as he carried her over to a large couch that was a short distance away. “I think we both got wrapped up in the feelings, emotions, and desires, mia bella. How disappointed would you be if we spent the rest of the afternoon,” one hand left her ass and slowly made its way up to the middle of her back, “just talking and becoming more comfortable with one another? Maybe avoiding more miscommunications?” He held her to him, trying to convey he didn’t want to let her go yet, but they obviously were both trying to grapple with this sudden shift in all they knew.

Anna’s hand was still on the side of Adriel’s face and again her thumb caressed his cheekbone, her head tipping to the side as she did. “Horribly…that is if there aren’t snacks and wine included in this snuggling on the couch.” Her lips curved up in a smile as she leaned into him. The passion that had overtaken them previously was waning, and that while the attraction had not lessened, now she wanted to know the man in a way that was far more deep and intimate than carnally. “A girl must have sustenance if she is to bare her soul to her mate, you know.” She was trying to lighten the mood a little. Truly, she wanted the wine more than anything.

When Adriel reached the couch, Annabella finally released her legs from around his waist. Her feet were only on the floor for a brief moment, however. As Adriel sat, he pulled her down with him so that she sat across his lap. Her ass on one thigh, her thighs were perpendicular across the other, with her shoulder tucked under one of his, and her head resting atop his shoulder. By the time they were settled, she was securely wrapped in his arms once more, and it was a toss up which was more pleased at the current situation.

One arm wrapped around her back with his hand on her hip, the other cradling her with his hand buried deep in her golden, silken hair, Adriel’s hold was gentle, yet possessive. How his daughter had found his mate and then matched them up without realizing it confused him, till he realized that Div had assisted her in pairing everyone up. It was true that his father worked in mysterious ways, but sometimes it would be nice if the being gave a heads up when he was about to upend your life. A soft kiss was placed on Anna’s forehead. She was his treasure and for her, he would learn not to explode as much as he had for the entirety of his existence. At least he would learn to temper his anger towards and at her, if not towards others entirely.

“I cannot promise to be a perfect mate. I shall try. There will be failures, but know that you are treasured regardless.” His hold tightened momentarily. “Tomorrow should be more relaxed. What do you think of spending the day together? We can go anywhere you want, or just stay here in Imperium and I can show you around. There are many nice places here on the Palace grounds.” A slow and soft kiss was placed on her forehead, and he inhaled the scent of her perfume as it mixed with her innate scent.

“I tend to snap to judgements and say things without thinking, so we both have things to work on, Addy.” Anna gave him a sheepish smile. Judging from everyone’s reaction at breakfast, she had a feeling that they’d all had run-ins with Adriel’s temper. She hoped not to, at least nothing worse than what had happened today.

Another kiss was placed on her forehead, then Adriel brought his forehead to hers. There was something in his eyes that made her feel that no matter what fights or disagreements that they had, it would end up okay. “Spending the day together sounds great, but how about we stay down here for a while? At least till we figure each other out a little more?” Annabella gave him a small smile, which was rewarded with one of his own and a very soft kiss. She was coming to like both from him exceptionally.

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To The Person I Returned The Expensive Shirt To - Jordan Bolton

My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is now available to pre-order! Get it here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky