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my big takeaway before the final episode of gqx airs is that machu and nyaan are pretty fun, i hope they get their own series someday
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[oc] They need token money
(I painted this on the subway, worst mistake of my life. I was fighting for my life trying to keep the paint within the lines)
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https://archiveofourown.org/works/66585553/chapters/172123963
5 -- Maintenance, Care and Operation of Farm Machinery: A Practical Guide
Calibarn and Aerial were gone. It was possible their like would never be seen again. But Suletta didn’t need a gundam for her purposes. Not these days. Demi parts were easy to come by these days, and they mixed and matched across models readily. Suletta spent so much time in a Demi Trainer in her school days that maintaining one was second nature. She had been offered a more advanced Burion mobile suit—the benefit of having friends in high places still—but she graciously turned it down. Simplicity, durability and ease of maintenance was more important out here than the bleeding edge of technology. She had made her own modifications, mostly for the sake of improving visibility. The cockpit hatch, for instance, had been done away entirely, giving her an unimpeded view of the world outside, save for a roll cage put there for safety. There were no plans to take this thing up into space, after all. A Haro fluttered by, hovering on its little rockets. It gave her a report on the field that surrounded the house. Temperature, moisture, ph balance. “Conditions ideal,” it concluded. Just what Suletta wanted to here. “Right. Time to get to work!” She made her way slowly up a gently winding catwalk and into the open cockpit, settling into it heavily. There, she winced, then reached behind herself. Her fingers buzzed with the pain of nerve damage, but through the leaden sensation she found something that didn’t belong. She held up her shaky hand to find that she had sat on a colorful plastic object. A little beet mascot, shaped like a heart and wearing sunglasses. Printed across its front were words that said: “You make my heart skip a beet!” Suletta smiled. “Huh! So that’s where that was.” She dusted it off and put it on the left console of the Demi, where it joined, among other plastic figures: a little mascot carrot, a watermelon with googly eyes, a cornstalk that had a ukulele, five different cartoon tomatoes and a cup of ramen with noodle arms. Suletta tapped a tomato on the head and smiled. Then she started the Demi. It hummed to life, the fine-tuned sound of its reactor belying the rather grimy exterior.
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Thinking about how in Gideon's narration she employs 206 anatomical names for bones but Harrow doesn't know the difference between a hilt and a pommel. Something something cavaliers being expected to respect/understand/integrate into necromancy while necromancers are not expected to do the same for caveliership. Is this anything.
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some words you can only spell on autopilot. once you stop to think about it you've already lost the fight
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I love that psychic powers are still "allowed" in science fiction. They're an acceptable part of the aesthetic. Like you can't have magic, but you can have brain magic, because it's more Science.
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Finally, after weeks of waiting...
The time has come!
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https://archiveofourown.org/works/66585553/chapters/172053343
3 -- The Quicksilver Witch
That silly red Dilanza lay in pieces. There was a smell of burning ozone everywhere. And what was this white fluff in the air? Oh, right. That big stupid feather. It disintegrated under the winning blow of her beam saber. That was fun. And now they stood in Sycorax’s hands amid the flurry of feathers riding the thermals of the battle. Suletta looked… relieved. Miorine raised an eyebrow. Was there every any doubt she’d win? “I really didn’t think you had it in you, Miomio,” Suletta said. “Don’t call me that.” “Aw. You gotta let me give you a pet name. We’ll be spending a lot more time together.” “The hell does that mean?” “It means…” Suletta turned to face her. Her hands were clasped before her, and she gave a demure look, smiling at Miorine’s evident bafflement. “You won against the Holder. Which makes you the Holder.” There’s that word again. “The Holder of what?” Suletta looked down at her hands clasped against her belly. There was a flush to her cheeks. “Me.” She shook her head and turned to retrieve Miorine’s digital notebook. She tapped in a few commands. Miorine’s pilot uniform shifted colors from her usual drab gray to something white with black accents and gold trim. “It makes you my Holder. And my groom.” Miorine looked at her. “Your what?”
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