Aelyce's Wonderland

[teaboot]

I'm going to start a game show where I play songs the contestants have never heard before in a huge room with bad acoustics and they have to guess what the lyrics are

[teaboot]

Mall Cafeteria: Yoonotugudubegowin Hobububuduhabusah / Gubudubudubugee Guddubagudduhgoin / Im done hidinow I'm shinin like a bubaubee / Peecesobidah ! / I'm so bryduh / ba du wannuh / reeEEEEEEEEEEE

Me, sobbing: please just tell me what you want

[inkskinned]

she is a princess and you are a dragon. she will be married tonight. do not keep standing outside of her room like that, go inside. go get her. that is what proper dragons do.

not that you have ever been a good or proper dragon. when you hatched out of your egg, your eggtooth was too smooth. the other dragons were rough with you, put little holes in your wings.

you were not bold. you were odd. you liked rippling water and the shine of chitin when bugs scuttle and of course the movement of the stars. those were all acceptable interests albeit maybe not traditional. perhaps you had inherited these through some great-great-uncle or something. certainly a dragon may be wise, or clever, if they are not bold.

yes, you have been a great deal of a puzzle to the other dragons. your body is smaller and rather more soft than it ought to be. so speed should have been yours, perhaps - your mother said it would be like fighting a shadow. if a dragon is not aggressive, it may instead be cruel, sly; a backstab. but alas your scales - so iridescent that they almost shine like the moon at night, a glow from within - you are not a shadow, you are a beacon like the flash of a knight's blade. your father has said at least you would make a fine egglayer, a nice mate to a good male. a dragon like you may still be a good mother perhaps; and that is a fine thing to be; although of course it would have been better if you'd been a trove-hoarder instead.

what a dragon must not be is kind.

you have watched her now for six moons. what a good and proper dragon would do is to go inside and to snatch her. a very proper dragon would have kidnapped her many times over, but you will be the delight of your brood to princess-snatch even at all. when you catch her in your jaws and bring her home, they will love you, then. they don't think you're capable of it, but you are, because you're a proper dragon. you can show them that. if you go in, now, right now.

you are rather too glossy to hide in the shadows, so instead you have learned how to appear flat and round, a puddle of light. (how your siblings would mock you! a dragon should be matte, to blend with the night). you dapple your flank with mud. you perch in odd angles atop of trees, scuttle like the bugs you love - hither, tither, frantic.

what you must not do is fly with your wings full-out. alight, you will be limned by the moon's corona. you will be a beacon. you must remember this when (not if) you snatch her.

____

you found her because of the lake. this lake in particular was your favorite - nestled deep in the woods, between two mountains. it is very quiet; there is nothing to horde there so no other dragon bothers you. a gentle waterfall spills over into a deep cove, and there are many mossy caves you've spent your afternoons napping in. while it is not proper for a dragon to prefer such things, you like to lay in rolling tenure just under the water. you have become excellent at holding your breath, can do it for hours. it is the easiest way to appear as a patch of sunlight.

she was not sunlight. she was the night's joy. the dark press of water. her face at first concealed by many diaphanous layers. her breathing quick and quiet.

she had pulled them back to drink from her water flask. and there she had been: a princess. your first very-real princess. right there, only the reach of a single talon from you. if you had simply lunged then, you would have been able to take her easily, in one single movement.

but you did not take her.

she had startled you a bit; you'd been daydreaming about music, which you'd just discovered, and rather liked. you'd heard it from a little house while you snuck in and stole their sheep.

but you knew the sound of fear, of being followed. you'd been chased too many times, you knew what it looked like. the rapid jolt of fear.

you smelled her then; cinnamon and onyx, and perhaps that was what had blinded you. perhaps your mouth was just watering. whatever the case, you waited until she had fled back into the forest; and then you waited a bit longer. in her wake, a garrison of men, their hands rough.

oh. so they were not knights. they were just men chasing a young woman through the woods. perhaps they did not even know a real princess had been running from them. well, that was a relief. you are not good at fighting with knights, who have swords instead of cudgels. these were just men, so you rose from the water in the quiet way you'd learned from the fish. they did not hear you coming.

and besides. proper dragons do violence so well.

___

once you had smelled her you could find her, although such things have always been easier for you than for the others. you spend a great deal of time studying things - it allows you to analyze them. you have tried to explain to the other dragons that sometimes it is best to slow down, but of course no dragon should be slow.

at first you did not understand the confusion of the people's umwelt. they relied so much on their communication (only words and actions!) and what they could see with their eyes. you and the other dragons did not use these as much; but you liked prying out the little sonic differences between hello that means "i like you" and hello that means "i don't like you."

so it took you a while to learn that you were responsible for what had happened to her. men had gone missing, and even bad men going missing makes a big fuss. (you know that if it had been girls missing, it would be okay. many proper dragons steal girls because it will not bring a knight to their door). for a while she had been trapped on the palace grounds. it was determined that it was no longer safe for her to be just a princess, she must undergo some human transformation and become a wife.

even so. you had gone looking for her (only to study, of course, so you may know how to snatch her best). but that night you saw her descending from the window of a castle, quick and agile, moving like a whisper, clad almost entirely in black. you could see her quite well of course, although you were not seeing her; but instead her heat and her smell and her sound and all the other sensory noise all humans give off.

you followed her, keeping yourself in a cloud so you appeared as if mist. she stole off into the woods. you were interested in that, and watched her scuttle - although of course you could have taken her then, you wanted to study your prey as best as you could. she did not seem to do much in the woods, only run around cry into her little hands.

she appeared to be looking for something. she did not get far that first night; scurried back to her bed. over and over this happened - she would run as far as she could, only to go back again. it seemed rather boring to you, but of course you had been free your whole life.

and then one night - finally, she arrived at the lake. she sank to her knees then, her hands pressing into the water. her head tilted to the sky. her dark hair spilling in a caught breath behind her.

this is how you heard her voice for the first time. when she came again the next night, she did so more quickly, more assured. straight to the lake, as if it had called her.

she had skipped a pebble over the surface of the water. this action was dangerous, because it almost hit the sail of your wing. you had structured yourself very finely to look like a rockslide.

"three months." her voice was like her: it was deep and smooth and dark, a low violin string. "they want me to marry that bastard in three months."

and then she cried into her hands again, and the sound of it almost broke you.

you followed her maybe more than a proper dragon should, after this. more than just back to the castle and her bed. you hid along her daily walks and watched her in the throne room and saw her out riding horses. she was good with dogs and nice to her people and very much a proper princess, although you had heard it said a proper princess ought not to slip out at night and run around barefoot through the woods.

you discovered she is terrible with directions. you have often had to make a path more clear so she could get home again. she cannot hunt better than an egg; you have had to kill fish and push them subtly up to the shore.

but she appears to love the lake as much as you do. you have seen her read by candlelight (how foolish. the entire woods saw her each time). you have seen her build little paper boats to float along the surface. you have seen her strip her many layers and dive in, have seen her lay with her belly to the sky, floating like she is suspended by the hands of darkness itself.

oh. so she loves the stars, as well, then.

__

you must go in. she will be married tonight. that is a human thing, but you have since learned what it has meant. she will go to somewhere else, and you will not see her again, maybe ever. and then how will you be a proper dragon? go!

you have made yourself in the form of a gargoyle, hiding in the white stone. you can see into her room; and the tapestries that seem unlike her. everything in her room is very bright, which is bad for a proper dragon. there are many knights in the hallways and in their rooms, and their smell is itchy and repugnant to you.

her dress is white, which does not seem like her. you have only seen her wear black. she is sitting at some kind of desk, and she is crying again. she smells of cinnamon still, but moreso of grief. you can feel the heartbreak in her as if it was inside of you.

you cannot watch her cry anymore. you have watched too often without moving. that is shameful.

you nose the door open. you can move quiet, because you are not very big. she is within a cave of you, then a wingtip, and then she is standing up, looking into your eyes.

"it's you." her hand on your jaw is warm. "i thought i was imagining you, you know. i turned around that day. i saw what you did to those men. i have been looking for you since. i told everyone that i had an angel to protect me. they locked me in here anyway."

you are not an angel, you are a dragon. you have to keep your wings locked tight or you would explode the walls of this place. it makes you feel big, suddenly. you are not used to that sensation. you do not like to be locked in a tower. you believe maybe the princess does not like to be locked in a tower either.

you take her in your jaws. she is very small, and does not resist you. although you are not a strong flyer, you must take off in a single push. any other movement would be too slow. you must also hold your breath so you do not smell her, the clove and cinnamon and little bird of hope. your mouth would water and you would drop her.

against the full moon, you do the thing that is impossible. you stretch yourself out all the way, a bold and beaming arrow, and you fly. you can hear them cry about you now, loudly. a banner that would strike pride even into your father: dragon. dragon. dragon.

on the eve of her wedding, you snatch the princess from her tower.

an arrow whisks for you, and then dozens, and then hundreds. you are not afraid of pain. you have learned long ago how to fly with holes in your wings. you hold her very gently still, and you push past the smell of your blood.

in the night you are a star. someone somewhere could look up and see you and make a wish.

there will be another lake, you decide. you can find another lake. somewhere very, very far from here. however long you must fly, however long you must hold your breath: you will take her home, because you are a proper dragon.

___

sometimes they come for her, your treasure. you have built her a little castle here, deep in the forests off the map. and of course for you: a silver round lake like the shift of her iris. you bring her books and she brings you bugs to study. you let her saddle you, and together you ride through the clouds and fog banks. she is a shadow on your back; a warm and velvet thing. she makes you music and lives the way she should; free in the night like a promise.

but they do come. you have stolen a real princess, and they do not want her to be a princess. they want to make her into a brood mother, or into bait, or into prey. they always look into the caves first; into the places proper dragons stay. they are real knights, not just men with sticks. they are loud and their smell still makes you itch.

but she has made you brave now, and cunning. if a dragon is not big, it should be cunning. and since you are a proper dragon, and since your treasure is your most precious thing, you lay in wait.

let them come. you will let the light drip off of you, and then you will pour through them.

afterwards, your princess will tell you a story around the fire. she will patch your wounds as she did that first time. she will sing to you.

and in that moment, neither of you will be a title nor a story. she will just be herself, and you will just be you.

[the-prairies-calling-out]

"Why do you buy books when the library is right there?"

Because publishing houses will not continue printing paper books if libraries are their only customers.

Also, I like being able to read at my leisure and generally have books at hand.

[its-the-blob]

#public libraries are good because they let people access books they might never otherwise read#private book ownership is good because it's Yours#physical books are good because they last a long time and again it's Yours#ebooks are good because you can fit a whole library into the physical space of a single book and they're cheaper to produce#audiobooks are good because they're accessible to people with eyesight or visual reading issues and leave your hands free#in conclusion: all books are good and people should enjoy them however and whenever they can#(lest it be misunderstood I agree with you completely OP I just also really like books in general and it got away from me)

YES. all books. every kind

[parkchanwoohoo]

I'm fucking weeping rn

[lesbiansforboromir]

You actually cannot skip to being good at a creative endeavour that you haven't put much practice into. You cannot trick your way out of the 'knows that your work is not what you want it to be but don't know how to improve it' stage by planning or reading or talking about it really really hard. At some point you just have to craft through it until your brain finds it's own unique way back to the 'everything I make slaps' stage and be prepared to start the cycle all over again. You just have to make that project you're excited about slightly less good than you want it to be. (Says this standing in a pool of blood and covered in blood and also coughing up a little blood)

[lesbiansforboromir]

everyone stop reblogging this I hate to be reminded of my own good advice

[bigfrozensix]

“Ariel sold her voice for legs just because of a guy“

Meanwhile Ariel with legs;

Ariel already loved the human world long before meeting Eric (you don’t get a collection like hers overnight) and when she finally got a chance to explore it, she took it.

Ursula made it more about Eric than Ariel ever did.

[gae-bolg-alternative-dot-exe]

[atalana]

and i mean hell this has been talked about before in more depth than i can, but when people complain about how the ending was changed (the original fairytale does not give ariel a happy ending, she dies trying to protect the prince), i think about the fact that this was written by a gay man in the 1980s

and i think it’s entirely valid (and gives her an extremely strong connection to the queer community) to change the story so she doesn’t die because of who she loves

[starlitskvader]

Triton made escape a necessity. Once someone goes to the point of destroying your possessions in a violent rampage, there is no staying and sticking it out, there’s no safety. (And Ariel, even in Ursula’s lair, gave Triton more thought than he deserved at the time.) Nowhere in the ocean she could go and be safe. Everyone’s always ‘why don’t they just leave :|’ in abusive situations until the leaving is not something they find 100% worthy of approval.

Ursula made it about Eric. She didn’t have to. Ariel had to get out from under Triton’s thumb, it could have been literally anything. Ursula took advantage of a desperate victim for her own agenda. Realistic predatory behavior toward a vulnerable person.

And also

There’s always the ‘Eric didn’t want her until she was silent and meek’ criticism - FIRST OF ALL he started out looking for a woman who wasn’t silent, and second of all what part of the carriage driving bit (or any of her other actions on land) is meek, exactly?

People above have noted the queer subtext. Now, on the subject of Ariel being willing to leave her family, aside from the baseline ‘this is an abusive environment and she was not safe there’ angle I already mentioned, consider: Ariel’s father made it clear he would stop at nothing to crush and tear down who she was and replace it with what he wanted her to be. Now - what demographic might that resonate with? And given Ashman’s involvement, do you think that was a coincidence?

[tokidokifish]

there has been scholarly discussion about the idea that the og little mermaid story, where she dies at the end, was written as a queer allegory.

so taking that into account… there is something very touching about taking this story from hans christian andersen from beyond the grave and being like “things are different now. they get to be happy. she gets to live.”

[ruffboi-mags]

also in re: “Eric didn’t want her until she was silent and meek” the meek part’s been discussed but can we please talk about how when he first met her he thought she wasn’t the girl with the voice that he was trying to find and was disappointed, but that he slowly fell for her anyway? He’d explicitly wanted Ariel WITH her voice, but came to love her without it.

[tuulikki]

The bit about Howard Ashman being queer is finally giving me some glimmer of understanding of why the teenaged girl mermaid is named “Ariel.” Because, although the Disney movie single-handedly changed popular perception thereafter, Ariel is a boy’s name. Howard Ashman absolutely knew that.

(Ariel in Shakespeare’s The Tempest also has male pronouns, in case anyone was struggling to remember.)

[sztupy]

Landmark German ruling declares Google's AI Overviews are Google's own words and makes it liable for false answers

A German regional court has ruled that Google is directly liable for the content of its AI search overviews. According to the court, previou

[ayeforscotland]

Let’s fucking go

[made-in-manetheren]

This is HUGE.

1. The court holds Google responsible for statements made by its AI, considering them Google's statements (search engines have limited liability for results in their engine as they're the words of other sites/companies/people), meaning when their AI lies/hallucinates they're liable for the defamation/harm resulting from those statements.

2. Google's defense that customers are generally aware of the lack of reliability and are responsible for fact checking was dismissed. As the court pointed out, that would "significantly diminish" AI Search's stated purpose and it can't be distinguished from Google's business practices/statements as a search tool.

3. Studies have found about 91% of Google's everyday AI responses are accurate, leaving millions of searches per HOUR with potential liability for falsehoods. 56% of correct responses weren't supported by the sources the AI listed. Both of which mean Google is now liable for a LOT more AI "errors."

4. Google was held liable for 80% of court costs in this case and this precedent is expected to reverberate around the world. This is a massive shift from the 3rd-party search provider role Google has previously played and it comes right as they've tied ALL searches to their AI search.

TL;DR Google reeeeeally stepped in it this time.

[fatmasc]

Hey i’m a fashion design student so i have tons and tons of pdfs and docs with basic sewing techniques, pattern how-tos, and resources for fabric and trims. I’ve compiled it all into a shareable folder for anyone who wants to look into sewing and making their own clothing. I’ll be adding to this folder whenever i come across new resources

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/16uhmMb8kE4P_vOSycr6XSa9zpmDijZSd?usp=sharing

[fatmasc]

Updated just now with new hand sewing resources (mainly buttonholes) and textbook pdfs on fashion history, fashion illustration, and thinking through designs!

[bosstoaster]

OP I owe you my life

[whatchamacallitz]

OP you are the greatest person currently in my life. You beautiful, thoughtful creature.

[stahsm]

Overlock Stitch by @clothes_reetzy

[thatisuseful]

Damn, that's useful

[fluidstatick]

Finally a hand sewing tutorial on a hemline that isn't just the ladder stitch! the ladder stitch disappears when you tighten it, but it's not meant for hemlines because it breaks really easily! The overlock stitch is more stable, so it holds much longer, and it won't pucker or warp the fabric!

[basuralindo]

So I just simultaneously did, and possibly didn't lose my job today :)

Very much did in the sense that I literally do not know where my job is at the moment. But, for the time being I haven't been let go because nobody else including the store owner knows where it is either.

So, I don't wanna risk doxxing myself by posting pictures but goddamn am I tempted because this is not a believable event. This is a cartoon problem. For looneytoons.

But yeah, so, I work(ed?) at a kiosk selling boba tea, right? Freestanding kiosk in the mall with full water and electrical hookups and multiple fridges and sinks and a mini kitchen and the works. Fully functional tea shop. Very important to note that it was there last night, The work chat was discussing another issue last night at closing time. I'll get back to this.

It's been showing signs of being on the way out with how business is being handled lately and I've been considering other options, which is probably why I'm not as torn up about this as I should be, but maybe it just hasn't set in yet, but that's not the point. The point is there's been a lot of shit breaking and not being replaced and nobody mentioning anything about it until I walk into work in the morning and have to figure out why shit like the fucking cash register isn't there today. So I'm kinda used to having to ask questions about big things that nobody bothered to update me on. I was out for two weeks recovering from a surgery, so I came to work this morning assuming there'd be some kind of bullshit, yeah?

So, the question I had to ask the chat this morning was:

Not a text I ever thought I'd have to send in sincerity, but there it is. Because what I found instead was a fenced off patch of discolored tiles and a few holes in the floor where my entire place of employment used to be.

And the answer? Nobody knows! It was there last night when the mall closed, and every single trace of the structure and all its contents including drink making supplies and our safe and cashbox was gone when it opened again. And when I say nobody knows, I mean everyone from last night's closers to the actual (former?) owner of the store jad no fucking clue about this until getting that text from me this morning. For once I am actually the first to know. 🎉.

So. I guess I didn't so much lose my job as had it stolen. Not by AI, but good old fashioned hands-on human beings picking it up and carrying it away somehow. All mall security would tell me was that they were instructed not to tell me anything and have us contact our management. Who also don't know anything. And later on I came across some construction workers around the gravesite of the kiosk discussing filling in the holes, asked them about it, and was told that they "weren't at liberty to say".

So, not only is my job gone in the most literal physical sense of the word, but it was taken in some kind of super secret kiosk extraction in the dead of night without any warning or witnesses and nobody is allowed to speak of it. The store owner said she was gonna figure it out 10 hours ago and still no word back.

I don't know what else to say aside from I've been laughing all day and I'm gonna have a hell of a time explaining Schrodinger's Unemployment to the benefits office.

[basuralindo]

Update that is not an update because I'm basically certain this isn't what actually happened:

My mother in law thinks the FBI took it.

Not any of the other stores around the state. Just the one little kiosk.

Why? Because she loves a conspiracy and is just a little bit extra.

Also because she was around for the massive crackdown on Yakuza-owned businesses in Waikiki (in her homestate) that did actually involve the FBI seizing stores (no confirmation of making kiosks cleanly disappear in the middle of the night though).

Still no word from my job on what's actually going on, but the most likely theory so far is that maybe the kiosk was on lease and got repossessed? The mystery continues

(also shout out to the person who proposed Carmen Sandiego)

[basuralindo]

ACTUAL (partial) UPDATE:

According to the owner, based on what she's been able to find out, the kiosk was not removed legally and they're starting a potentially long process of legal action. I hope she gets to sue the shit out of whoever did it but for now at least I know for sure I'm unemployed.

Really hoping for more details in terms of who/why/how, so I'll keep updating if I learn anything.

For now the summary is: An unnamed entity that is most likely mall management (on account of mall security cooperating with them) stole an entire kiosk and all the contents including money and machinery with barely a trace in the middle of the night grinch-style, with zero warning or explanation, and ensured the silence of both security and the construction crew, in an action that was definitely preplanned and illegal, and as far as I know nobody knows its whereabouts.

So now I'm officially out of a job. Because my workplace was literally stolen in the night.

[basuralindo]

Actually fuck it let's share some photos cause I wouldn't be inclined to believe this myself. It's not like anyone can stalk me at my job now and I'm not gonna have to see any coworkers that might find my tumblr.

Enjoy the unintentionally funniest text I've ever sent in my life

Aaand a close-up:

The last remains of a once Very Much Solid And Immobile Workplace

[basuralindo]

HEY HI HELLO THIS ONE'S MY FAVORITE

via @kagaminilen

[mysteryteacup]

[cut to a kiosk on legs, sipping a boba, while wandering into the nearest forest on chicken legs]

[ardanelvilyafeanturi]

Here you go @a-bit-too-dyscrasic

[libraford]

Googled something about quick hydration and it suggested big jug of water, couple tbsp pickle juice, dash of lime juice.

Its surprisingly tasty????

[libraford]

Pleased to report that after a day of this i am not longer craving caper brine and my mouth is not dry as usual. There's some good suggestions in the notes too that I want to try.

-ancient roman posca: water, red or white wine vinegar, honey, salt, herbs (coriander, mint, thyme)

-switchel: water, ginger, vinegar, sweetener, lemon, salt

-ayran: yogurt, water, salt, mint

-Agua pepino: water, cucumbers, lime, sugar, optional mint.

[libraford]

I have been reminded of:

-shrub: vinegar, sida water, elderberry (or other berry), sugar.

[libraford]

I have now been informed of

-sekanjabin: honey, vinegar, mint, water.

[libraford]

"Wow, I wonder why this post was popular this week."

-sees the reports of the heatwave in Europe-

"... ah."

[lovely-v]

Every time Sean Astin makes a statement on whether or not Sam and Frodo were indeed gay for each other in lord of the rings he’s always like “well we have to acknowledge that attitudes around sexuality have changed dramatically over the past several decades and since authorial intent is only up to speculation, the story is open to multiple readings, some of which might have different significances for different groups of people also they kiss on the lips because I said so”

[busket]

at the rose city comic con panel this month a fan asked them (sean and elijah) if sam and frodo were in love and they said

Sean: .....yes. absolutely

Elijah: 100 percent.

Sean: dont tell rosie

[explorerrowan]

Rosie: "This is my husband Sam, and that's his husband, Frodo. Frodo is my husband-in-law. I'm not into him, he's he's a bit too 'elfy' for my taste, but Sam likes him, and that's fine with me. As far as I know, Frodo can't give Sam children, but Frodo looks after ours all the same, so I don't mind sharing Sam if it means another pair of eyes on the wee ones. In all honesty, our family tree is right simple compared to some hobbits. Yes, I'm referrin' to you Lobelia, over there pretendin' you ain't eavesdroppin'. Still bitter you ain't got either of my boys or their house, eh?"

[arcaniumagi2]

[ms-katonic-of-tamriel]

Tbh it's canon that Frodo invited Sam and Rosie to move in to Bag End after their wedding and they all lived there for a couple of years until Frodo went to Valinor, so yeah. Running with it.

And once Rosie dies, Sam says his goodbyes and disappears after him.

[roach-works]

what’s funny is people assuming that rosie would somehow be too dim or naive to KNOW that sam loved frodo, instead of looking at a guy who would loyally follow a beloved friend to hell and then help carry him home again, and not be like ‘oh i can’t not fuck that.’

[elodieunderglass]

Polyamory, specifically polyandry, would be an interesting solution to the oddball population of the Shire.

The Shire is excellent farming country, with consistently good weather, and only one tough winter in living memory; hobbits like to produce large families; they’re resistant to disease, rarely violent, and encounter few dangers. It is usual for hobbits to produce many children, so that (for example) Bilbo and Frodo are unusual in both being only children, with no siblings, and not having children of their own. All of this should point to a population that increases every generation if not doubling outright. Young people (and their ideologies!) should rapidly outnumber the old with an ever-increasing effect and impact on society. However, the Shire has a surprisingly stable history; it never seems to increase or decrease greatly in population, and the bell curve of age seems… demographically balanced? There certainly isn’t a conflict from rising young bloods challenging the middle-aged reactionaries; there’s no unemployment; there are no housing crises or waves of emigration, or even a tendency for young people leaving home to marry. Meanwhile, not only does the Shire not suffer from internal pressures, but it remains obscure and hardly noticed in global politics.

What makes sense here is that adult hobbits form a loose group. Four parents in a polycule, between them all, may produce four children. All four parents claim to have four children. An outsider would assume this meant the adults had eight children.

Hobbits therefore are not especially fertile or fecund. They simply have large families. Much of their interest in genealogy is due to the complex relationships of blood-kin, hearth-kin, love-kin and pledge-kin, who must all be carefully tracked and measured - not just because you need to make sure that you don’t climb into bed with an un-permitted degree of blood-kin, but to track family alliances and carefully quantify the precise level of thoughtfulness to put into the proper present to gift your father’s lover’s lover (too much implies a degree of intimacy that might upset the polycule.)

Thus, while a hobbit matron may tell a startled dwarf that she has seven sons, she might only have borne five of them herself, and have one hearth-son by her wife, and a pledge-son of her first husband’s. There are between three and four fathers involved at various stages of production, from conception to pledge-duty, but there is debate about the precise number of fathers, as one child was festival-conceived and therefore provisionally pledged to the Brandybucks until more distinctive paternal traits should materialise. It’s expected that four of the sons will be uninterested in women, and their contribution to family life will be in raising hearth-children and pledge-duty. However, this level of detail is normally negotiated later in conversation, as a mutual overture of friendship. So she’s just clear and simple: yes, certainly, she has seven sons. Yes, they’re all hers. Yes, that’s fairly normal - yes, hobbits like big families. How big? That’s really hard to say! Well, about thirteen hobbits live in her house… er, she has forty-three nieces and nephews. Yes! She has nine siblings, that’s correct, but some of them are still babies themselves..

In this way, a bewildered dwarf might assume that hobbits are absurdly fertile, producing an average of seven children per couple, at an absurd pace.

When in fact, with about half of hobbits never bearing biological children, the population of hobbits is pretty much always the same.

Tl:dr, hobbit population works perfectly well, both internally and in the perceptions of outsiders, if the majority of the Shire is gay, they’re all polyamorous, and they all firmly claim to be parents of high numbers of children. Of course Frodo fathered Sam’s kids - he named them! They were pledge-kin but not hearth-kin, as Frodo needed a lot of quiet and stability in the home.

No outsider ever parses hobbit genealogy well enough to understand this except for Gandalf, who never explains anything either.

[dancingspirals]

are you kidding? Gandalf would WEAPONIZE his knowledge of Hobbit genealogy against outsiders

[elodieunderglass]

Since “pledge” kinships are multidimensional and can occur in different directions, hobbits can form - and formalise - family bonds simply because they choose to. Gandalf doesn’t tell anyone that the formation of Thorin’s Company, the Fellowship of the Ring, and Belladonna Took’s Accidental Troop of Mercenaries* are legal formations of pledge-siblings, a hobbit family structure usually claimed to increase social class and prestige (as high numbers of pledge-kin confer distinction on a hobbit, being a sort of popularity vote/endorsement that adds greatly to their social power. Incidentally, this is partly why Bilbo was both controversial and successful in his pledge-claim of Frodo; outsiders mistook his “bachelor” status as someone living outside of heteronormativity, while the Shire was bewildered and increasingly annoyed by his rejection of pledge and hearth commitments. By rights Bilbo had too few pledge-kin, and too little parenting experience, to claim rights to an orphan, especially one from Brandybuck hearth; but conversely, his social status was high enough that his belated bid for his very first pledge-son couldn’t reasonably be denied by anybody.)

In short, all of the hobbits enjoyed achieving even larger families on their adventures, legally and without argument or debate. It’s free real estate. If nobody else is going to sibling these losers, we will. (The condensation of so many entanglements at once also legally made Pippin his own father-in-law.)

Gandalf never explained.

* see the post about the Old Took’s “enchanted diamond cufflinks” that obeyed the wearer’s commands; which were probably, given the general state of things, two lost silmarils recovered by his Remarkable Daughters and gifted to him because things stay small and safe in the shire

[chaosaccountant]

@elodieunderglass wouldn't that make pippin both denethor's pledge-son-in-law, and (as pledge-brother to the king) probably outrank him?

[elodieunderglass]

Only through Boromir while Boromir was alive! Pippin’s familial claim through Boromir technically dissolved on Boromir’s death, as Denethor hadn’t been privy to it, and those bonds rarely stretch to a stranger when the person in the middle has died before introducing them; although Pippin, who was well-brought-up, perfectly and politely rectified the problem at once by simply swearing himself as Denethor’s pledge-son. but through his blood-cousinship to Frodo, who was older than Boromir, his status as the Took double-primarc (don’t ask) and the proximity-enhanced status-doubling effects of having a five-way cousin in Merry, Pippin was demonstrably higher status as a pledge-sibling and was also his own father-in-law and approved of himself. As such, he would have significantly raised Boromir’s social status and marital prospects in the Shire.

Inheritance follows parent-child pledge as the primary consideration, with matrilineal descent as the secondary. Pippin would have been bewildered to gradually understand that Denethor held his two sons in such odd and different standing :-/ hobbits don’t recognise kingship so it would’ve been very upsetting and disappointing to Pippin to understand how Denethor stood in position of sworn-father to a whole city of people without even being slightly fair to his younger hearth-son. Aragorn is demonstrably much better dad-material and therefore had Pippin’s vote. Pippin, by virtue of being an excellent father-in-law to a spectacularly promising young son-in-law, also considered himself a better candidate for king of Gondor than Denethor, by outranking him in Dad Competence - but was too busy by the time he realized this to point this out .

Ironically, the events in which Pippin realized this made Faramir his own hearth-son - so Pippin won in the end and took a great interest in ceremonially approving of Eowyn. Gandalf never explained

[elodieunderglass]

[tkingfisher]

I will buy that for a dollar, yup.

[deafmangoes]

It crossed my dash again! The Hobbit Polyamory Post!

[dykeselfcest]

holy shit okay may have found a game-changer for web searches...with duckduckgo it's easy to turn off the ai features permanently, but regardless of engine there's the increasing problem of the search results themselves leading mostly to ai-generated articles on random ghost websites that say a lot without any information, and then the information they do give is contradictory or otherwise just wrong. this is especially a problem for me when trying to search for, e.g., a current list of the best products in a certain category.

finally searched for a solution and there IS in fact a giant hand-curated list of sites containing this content. it can be imported to ublock origin on desktop or mobile, and even can be used on iOS via the ublacklist extension in the safari app. it's updated regularly, and importing via the link as described should allow those updates to go into effect automatically.

i've only tested it a little bit, but after importing the list and repeating my duckduckgo search for backpack recommendations, my top results now lead to websites that appear to be linked to actual organizations in some form, with an "about us" page and the name of a founder and everything. the text is still often a bit wordy and SEO-optimized, but it now has actual recommendations that are relevant to the query. BIG IF TRUE???

please do not start talking about The Definition Of Art on this post, or Whether Human Creations Have Souls. i am very tired.

[dykeselfcest]

once I added this it took me 15 minutes to find a backpack that met my needs and order it with free shipping. I feel reborn

[tollhousecookie]

Hey check out how hard i ca]

[musclemanveryregular]

You know who else ca]

[countably-infinite-rats]

its not that hard guys, wat]

[tollhousecookie]

[n portal through posts 😁

[musclemanveryregular]

[n portal through posts 😁?

[countably-infinite-rats]

[ch- wait... guys???

[inbabylontheywept]

"R&D? More like R&Deez Nuts"

In a future where intelligent life had managed to break the chains of death, disease, and famine, it had yet to escape the iron grasp of bullshit corporate team building exercises.

Luckily for the R&D division of TLOB Enterprises, they had a human. His name was Earl, and he surpassed even immunity to bullshit, literally gaining strength from it like some sort of coprophilic vampire. It was almost as disgusting as it was fascinating, but the novelty of it was charming enough to keep things in the green.

The specific brand of bullshit the group was dealing with on that particular day was a “team-building laser-tag battle” pitting the three main divisions of the orbital branch against each other: Accounting, Sales, and Innovations.

To be frank, it didn’t seem like a very fair fight. Accounting was the largest branch by far at twenty-seven heads. Sales lagged behind this a great deal with seventeen members, still absolutely dwarfing R&D’s mere four.

The rules of the game were explained by a cheery corporate speaker, aided by pictures presented in something that was dishearteningly close to a power-point program.

First, each player would be given an infrared phaser, and a tag suit. The suit itself was surprisingly high tech for a toy, freezing limbs if they got hit, and paralyzing the person entirely if they were struck somewhere vital. After receiving their gear the three groups would retreat back to their offices and strategize for the next fifteen minutes. When the time was up, the station would begin to decrease its spin, lowering gravity from a comfortable one-point-two G's down to zero. The match would then proceed in the low gravity environment until two teams were eliminated, with its end being signalled by the return of gravity.

“Any questions?” the speaker finished, chromatophores flashing a nervous pink as the room remained silent.

“Haha, I’m gonna take that as a sign that I did a good job of explaining things! Alright everyone, back to your offices! And remember: We’re all part of a greater whole!”

Brisinj smirked, jagged teeth on full display. There was a moment of slow motion horror as Shiloh, Earl, and Valrose all realized that he was about to “whisper” something under his breath.

Brisinj’s equivalent of whispering was still more than enough to be heard across the room.

“Hard to. Be greater hole than. Sales. Even if. Hole is. Asshole.”

As seventeen heads swiveled towards him in disbelief he did the only thing he could that would make the situation worse.

He made eye contact with them and kept going

“BET THEY FART. LIKE. AN AIRLOCK. OPENING.”

Spittle foamed between the gaps of his jagged teeth as he forced air between them, the hiss he made literally filling the room.

And it just kept going.

And going.

And going.

Disgust morphed into disbelief as Brisinj continued to make the noise, eyes bulging, face flushed, before his lungs mercifully gave out and the hiss died with an artfully strangled gurgle.

Earl couldn’t help it. He guffawed. Shiloh’s disappointed and betrayed expression broke his heart, but he couldn’t help it. That final gurgle had been a masterpiece.

Valrose was the one that wound up taking the initiative, his hydraulic musculature giving him the strength to gently manhandle the cackling duo out of the room. Shiloh tried his best to give an apologetic wave as he followed the pseudo-crustacean out of the room, but the raucous laughter of three people behind him scorched that bridge like a leaf on the sun.

With a defeated sigh he ran to catch up to his coworkers.

---

“So… What do you think the odds are that sales decides to storm our little lab first?” Shiloh asked.

“Oh, 100%,” Earl replied offhandedly, his attention focused on rummaging through an old toolbox.

“Those are chances,” Valrose corrected, “Odds would be zero to one. But yeah, they’re definitely hitting here first.”

“I. WOULD BE. OFFENDED. IF THEY. DIDN’T.” Brisinj intoned at his standard just-below-deafening volume, “THAT HISS. WAS. PERFECT.”

Shiloh ran his claws over his scalp.

“Shit. They’re gonna slaughter us.”

Earl seemed to have found the tool he was looking for and was now rummaging through the LED drawer, gathering a collection of bulbs that he seemed promising to him. His tone was amused, even if he didn’t look up long enough for his facial expression to be read.

“Calm down. Slaughter is for real wars. Worst thing that happens here is they paralyze us and draw dicks on our faces.”

“That’s still not pleasant!” Shiloh protested.

No one argued that point.

The silence stretched on for a minute or so longer. Earl gathered his collection of bulbs before moving to the power testing lab, leaving the other three in the quiet. Valrose gave in first and pushed himself up, claws failing wildly as he got his four legs beneath him.

“So what are we gonna do? What’s our grand plan to avoid having to pretend to be dead for the next hour while the sales bastards make us into doodle boards?”

Shiloh shrugged.

“Make them work for it I guess? We could start by moving our shelving units, trying to funnel them through a choke point. Could give ourselves some cover while we were at it.”

Earl chimed in from the power lab.

“I got an idea, but I’m gonna be a little dramatic about it and make you wait to see it. Just uh… Cluster em’. The more of em’ you can pack together, the better. Even if it means making some cover on their side of the room.”

There was a slight sideways pulls as the station’s retro-thrusters activated, the rotation of the great craft gently pulling to a complete stop.

The game was starting, and Earl still hadn’t made his way back from the power lab. Brisinj was not pleased with this.

“HEY. EARL. DONE YET?”

Earl’s voice came back a few seconds later, strained but chipper.

“Almost!”

They could hear banging on the walls, the telltale sound of people launching themselves down halls in the zero gravity environment.

The noises were getting closer.

“So, uh, how ‘almost’ is that almost?” Valrose asked, his casual tone betrayed by the nervous twiddling of his manipulator claws, “Cuz I’m hearing a lot of boots hitting the walls and four wouldn’t be enough to hold them off, least of all three.”

Even without a person around to witness it, Earl still shrugged before answering.

“Yeah, well, that’s the thing: Four ain’t enough. Only way we’re winning this if I can get this party trick in working order, so just... Hold the line. Alright?”

Valrose clutched his pistol tighter, still feeling exposed in the pillbox he’d made from old shelving units and cardboard. Brisinj wasn’t pleased with Earl’s absence, but even that nuisance wasn’t enough to ruin the joy he felt at even this imitation of a fight. Shiloh just kept his sights on the lone entrance to the lab, hoping he could get the timing of his first shot right.

He did.

There was the black flash of a sales rep rocketing down the hall. He landed on all fours, limbs splayed like a tree frog, when Shiloh’s beam hit him in the back. He’d been too busy absorbing the shock of impact to begin his secondary launch, and as all four limbs froze at once from the registered vital shot there was nothing he could do but await his doom.

Apparently, doom chose to wear a grey suit that day. Another sale’s colleague had been following close behind him, and simply lacked the time to change direction. With no way to change course he slammed into his paralyzed comrade with a muffled swear, the two sent spinning into the open space of the research lab.

Brisinj picked the flailing survivor off with a casual snipe. His species was adapted for hunting and he didn’t even need to use the sights of the gun, firing from the hip like an old Western. The flailing stopped, but the accusing glare remained.

The second batch of sales workers seemed to have learned from the first, recognizing the challenges of rushing the choke point. There was the sound of scuffling in the hall as they struggled to position themselves in the 3D space before the first wave launched themselves out of the blind corner.

There were five of them, and they weren’t just smarter than the frontrunners, they seemed more physically capable. There was another sharp-toothed biped of the same species as Brisinj, and the two quickly locked themselves in a duel. Brisinj’s stationary position gave him an advantage in accuracy, but the speed that the other one was moving at made him hard to hit.

Brisinj let out an involuntary hiss as one of the shots hit him in the arm. His opponent’s eyes narrowed in fury at the sound, and the moment of distraction was enough for Brisinj to swap the gun to his functioning hand and take out one of his opponent’s legs.

Unable to position his landing well, the clerk hit the next wall and glanced off, spinning. Valrose took a careful shot at his chest and the flailing of limbs stopped, giving him the appearance of a shuriken as he whirled off in the direction of the power lab.

Still, his efforts gave four of his comrades enough time to get to cover unharried. As they began to fire at the entrenched trio, they gave more of their friends time to get through the door and set up.

Valrose was able to put up the best fight here. His head barely poked out of the pillbox, the only part of him truly exposed when he fired was whatever arm happened to be holding his pistol. He simply ran through them like an assembly line, one pincer passing the pistol off to the next as his arms took hit after hit.

He managed to get a chest shot against an upper levels sales manager, but the real gains of his strategy were in the way he took fire off the other two. Brisinj’s sharpshooter accuracy had gone down to mortal levels after swapping to his non-dominant arm, but he was still able to get two cocky reptilians through the chest when they tried to leap for better positions. Shiloh himself seemed content to take limb shots, whittling the sales team down slowly. His reptilian comrades weren’t particularly good shots, but they made up for it with their default ambidexterity. It was the real sharpshooters, the mammalian bipeds and greys, that suffered the most from losing their dominant limbs. For a moment, it looked like they could manage to hold their positions indefinitely.

The moment couldn’t last.

Two shooters made a bullrush for Valrose. The first, a reptilian, was taken out easily, but Brisinj only managed to get the second’s leg before he dove in through the entrance slot. There was a muffled curse before Valrose was evicted from the box, limbs splayed.

A chest shot.

Shit.

The pillbox was positioned behind both Brisinj and Shiloh. Having it captured didn’t just mean that they’d lost their main distraction, it meant that they were about to get caught in a crossfire.

Shiloh may not have had the quickest body, but he had a lightning mind. Before Valrose was even shoved out of the slot he was launching himself out of cover. He had his knees bent in front of him like a shield, sacrificing them midflight. If he’d been aiming for a wall, he’d have hit the ground frozen, unable to push off, but he knew better: There was a water pipe hanging off the wall he could swing around like a gymnast on, repositioning his trajectory on a beeline for the power lab.

Brisinj himself realized a half second later what he needed to do, but his superior speed made up the difference nicely. He dug his clawed fingertips into the carpet, weaving serpentine down the hall, more of a climbing motion than anything else. It was working beautifully, beams of infrared traced all the places he would’ve been if he’d been foolish enough to move in a straight line. He’d almost made it the full length of the hall before a lucky shot grazed his hand, the remaining arm locking tight. Dropping the last pretense of strategy, he simply kicked as hard as he could off the wall, launching himself towards the door he’d just barely seen Shiloh disappear behind.

It worked. He barreled into the lab, just barely managing to twist enough to land feet first on the wall instead of bouncing around the room like a 140 kilo rubber bullet.

“EARL! THEY GOT. VAL. ARE YOU. DONE. YET?”

Earl turned around, a wild grin on his face. He’d built… something. There was a breadboard covered in crudely soldered chemical batteries, a handful of resistors, and most importantly, an LED. A matte black cone of plastic was wrapped around the top bulb, focusing the light from a radial burst to a much more concentrated cone.

Brisinj was good at circuits, but the whole thing was so rushed and messy he could barely tell where the on switch was. Shiloh, on the other hand, seemed to understand immediately.

“Does that LED emit in the same wavelength as the pistols?” he demanded, almost gleeful at the prospect.

“Close! We’ll see if it’s close enough to fool the sensors.”

There was no time for self-congratulating speeches. The sales team had begun to follow them down the halls, eager to finish what they’d started.

Earl braced himself by the doorway. Behind him laid his wounded teammates...before him laid destiny.

And what human would he be, if he had not laid with destiny?

He launched himself across the room, body parallel to the ground even as he fired the cone down the hallway. He didn’t have the expert precision of Brisinj, or the fast thinking of Shiloh, but he married both in a way that lent itself beautifully to movement. He only needed to be good at dodging, his homemade infrared blaster was basically miss proof.

It was a massacre. The infrared cannon froze everything in its massive, continuous cone, combining the best traits of both a machine-gun and a flamethrower. You couldn’t pray for a better room clearing device. Earl was able to clear out the entire corridor with a flick of his wrist, paralyzed salesmen drifting through the zero-gravity environment like frozen corpses after a hull breach. There was something eerily beautiful to the scene.

The effect was ruined somewhat when the drifting “corpses” started whining about rules and blatant cheating, but Earl was far too busy not listening to them to bother listening to them.

Using the floating bodies as jump-off points, he rocketed down the hall, the cone making a gentle figure-eight sweep as it cleared every point in his field of vision. Limbs froze at awkward angles, as people tried to fire from behind cover and those that tried to move for a better vantage point, desperate to make sense of the chaos, found themselves cast adrift.

It took him a little under four seconds to wipe out the remnants of sales. It took him longer than that to spot Valrose, buried as he was under a pile of four clerks.

It only took him one bounding leap to reach his friend, and two great heaving pulls to send the clerks flying off into space. Val was currently face down, and he took a moment to steel himself before turning his friend over.

No.

They’d got him. There were four dicks on his face, each from a different species, with a level of anatomical detail that Earl found both frightening and educational.

Huh. So that’s what they look like.

Val’s expression was as inscrutable as any shrimp’s, and his casual tone wasn’t helping.

“Give it to me straight Earl: How bad is it?”

Earl placed a gentle hand on Val’s shoulder. They were both men here. He deserved the truth.

“Val… There are four dicks on your face. Like, full on dicks. Dicks with veins kind of dicks.”

Val’s face twitched a little, but he kept that calm, stable tone that everyone on the station knew him for.

“I see. Earl, could I ask you a slight favor?”

It was probably the result of seeing too many cheesy war movies, but Earl didn’t think he could refuse a comrade that had, in a way, given it all in pursuit of duty.

“Anything man. Just name it.”

The temperature seemed to drop, so cold was Val’s response.

“Avenge me.”

---

R&D solved its vengeance problem the same way it solved all of its problems: By breaking its solution down into easily replicable steps and then moving on to mass production.

It took Earl only a minute to print out a halfway decent penis stamp, time that Shiloh and Brisinj spent figuring out how to act as the other’s limbs. They were far from graceful, but they could get by. With no time to lose they began clumsily navigating the open spaces, moving from body to body, a flurry of stamping, jumping, and laughter.

Earl himself spent his time getting situated in the pillbox. He wasn’t sure if he could beat the onslaught of accounting, but it was worth a shot. Even in the worst case, his goal could be to just buy time for Val’s vengeance.

There was time for two people to get stamped before the first accountant poked his head around the corner. Earl recognized his face, even if he didn’t know his name. He was a fellow intern, green as a sapling. A quick pulse of the blaster was all it took to turn him into a statue, a fate he seemed surprisingly at peace with. Even as a casualty he continued to relay information to his teammates. It seemed that he’d been chosen specifically as a sacrifice.

“Alright everyone, you’re not gonna believe this, but the lab boys actually managed to eliminate everyone in sales.”

Even muffled by the blind corner, there was still an audible wave of surprised hums. It seemed that they’d massed just out of sight, taking the slow and steady approach. Classic accountant move. Their patience and general willingness to strategize didn’t bode well for R&D.

The intern spent a few more seconds analyzing the room before relaying back even more info.

“They’re uh… they’re graffitiing the sales branch with genitalia. I can see Val, it looks like he’s been out for a while. They’ve got Brisinj and Shiloh helping each other out, but they’re both missing the use of two limbs, they’re not very combat effective. The only one that seems intact is Earl, and he’s got a little fort made at the end of the room. Hi Earl!”

Earl gave him a little wave. This was… oddly amicable. If he could pull this bit out longer, it would be a lot simpler than fighting.

“Hey! Sorry, I forgot your name. Always been bad with names. Who are you again?”

The paralyzed accountant didn’t seem very bothered by this.

“I’m Velen! The thing in your hand isn’t a phaser, so I’m assuming you made your own weapon?”

Earl’s eyes widened in alarm. Huh. Well, that element of surprise burned out real fast.

“Eh… Well… Yeah.”

He was already tucking the weapon away, but it was too late, Velen was already passing on more recon.

“Earl’s made a phaser! Lots of batteries and a large LED! It’s got a cone shaped barrel, probably covers a wide area continuously. Anyone got any ideas on how to handle that?”

Earl couldn’t hear the voices too well, but there were suggestions of various shields, ranging from using a wall of interns, to coffee tables. The winning suggestion came from a reptilian voice, recognizable by its faint lisping accent, identical to Shiloh’s.

“...I think there’s a large mirror hanging up in the lobby? We might be able to reflect the beam back at him.”

Earl considered this. If he waited here, there would be the substantial delay of them traveling down to the main docking area, then traveling back, then making their slow and steady charge. He didn’t have a good counter to it, but it would at least be a slow style of victory.

Alternatively. He could charge, right now. He might get shot immediately, he might win, hell, he might do neither and just succeed in delaying the inevitable a little more staunchly.

What the hell. He still had some fight left in him.

He braced his legs on the back of his pillbox, blasting himself out of the narrow entrance slot like an ICBM leaving a submarine.

Velen startled a little before continuing his play-by-play.

“He’s pretty fast! Hey, he’s making a run for the hall. You guys might want to pull back a little, or you’ll end up like me.”

There was the ominous banging of twenty-five points of shoes bouncing off the walls before Earl even rounded the corner. He froze, unsure of what to do, when he heard that same, old reptile speak.

“Not bad! After what happened on your colony world I thought you’d be taking things slow. War of attrition. Glad to see that you’ll gamble on victory!”

Earl launched down the hall towards the voice. The lizard that he saw was old, older than Shiloh. He’d braced himself at the edge of another blind corner, shooting a wink before launching out of line of sight.

Earl followed in hot pursuit, gun held on in front of him. The lizard was damn fast, always just a few steps ahead. Panting, he rounded a corner just in time to see a green tail whirl into the bathroom.

He grinned.

The little guy was fast, but he’d cornered himself there. Earl pushed quickly, eager to catch the lizard before he realized his mistake.

He rocketed in through the door, blaster on, and immediately realized that the lizard wasn’t the one screwing up. He was.

Mirrors.

He froze as the reflective surfaces in the room bounced the beam back at him. He drifted silently through the empty space, hoisted by his own petard, before he saw a familiar spiky head pop up from one of the stalls. Now that paralysis wasn’t on the line, the lizard’s movements were a lot more relaxed.

Earl spoke first. It was really all he could do, frozen as he was.

“I don’t actually know your name, but may I just say that you pulled this off beautifully?”

The lizard grinned.

“Ha! I’m Petrunko. I’ll take that compliment, today was probably the most I’ve used my brain in the last ten years.”

Earl tried to shrug, the suit reducing the movement to a neck twitch. He laughed at himself for trying, the excitement of the last few minutes wearing off, leaving him happy and tired.

“You sound like my boss. Get too good at your job and it gets boring, huh?”

Petrunko wiggled his hand a little, the surprisingly universal sign for kinda.

“Your job doesn’t really change, but your view of what you’re a part of does. Imagine if one of your cells became self-aware and you’ve got a good idea of what my life is like.”

Earl winced. That sounded like an existential nightmare.

Petrunko caught the expression and held up his three fingered hands placatingly.

“Whatever panic your ego has right now about feeling small and insignificant will be replaced when you get older. You’ll want to be part of something bigger than yourself. Give it time.”

Earl grinned at that. The advice was good but beyond that…

“Psh. Went from sounding like my boss to sounding like my dad.”

Petrunko crossed his arms, more amused than annoyed at the jab.

“Wonder what your dad would say about your little art project back there. Those canvases are a bit pricey for dick stencils.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, we only defaced two of them before your nerd squad showed up.”

Petrunko laughed. The noise was only cut off when a distant hum began, the ion thrusters on the hull giving some faint warning that the station was about to begun rotating again. Apparently, the other accountants apparently had seized the opportunity to finish off Brisinj and Shiloh.

The game was over. Earl felt himself gently falling to the ground, arms and legs suddenly free to move once more. Petrunko offered him a hand up, and he took it gratefully.

“Hopefully your friends got a few more with the delay you bought them. Sales has always been hard to get along with, but they’ve been mean bastards for the last four years."

Earl dusted himself off before offering a handshake. Petrunko clearly wasn’t familiar with the gesture, but he got the hang of it quickly.

“What’s it mean?”

Earl paused, processing. He was still getting used to explaining body language, to expressing so much in only words.

“It’s got a couple of meanings, but right now it means ‘You beat me, and earned my respect.’”

Petrunko concentrated for a moment, clearly trying to commit it to memory.

“I like that. I hope I get the chance to shake your hand next time, Earl.”

Earl had a moment of startling clarity: He’d just made a friend. A good one too, it seemed.

“Well, we’ll see if I can earn it. In the meantime, we should go check the other science boys. I’m curious to see how they’ve managed without me.”

Petrunko shrugged.

“I’d point out the strangeness of the newest person here trying to mother people with three, four times his expertise but… I do want to see what they managed in your absence. Come on, let’s go.”

And together they left, walking down the halls that just moments before they'd flown through.

In the companionable peace of things after the battle, Earl had one final thought:

I can't believe I wrote this off as bullshit. --- This is a loose sequel to this post: https://www.tumblr.com/inbabylontheywept/721036534229434368/so-whats-the-biggest-gun-youve-ever-made?source=share But it's not required reading. The shorts I wrote in this world aren't part of an overarching larger story, they're just borrowing characters and setting. I think the rule I'm going to follow is that hard-series get reblogs, general settings will just get notes like this at the end, showing what pieces they're attached to. I might change that later, I'm still figuring out optimal ways to use the site. Tumblr is pretty odd.