#avalon is alien tech

[theroundbartable]

*Avalon*

Arthur: it's cruel, isn't it? For him to tell me about his magic in that final moment. I never had the time to adjust... To pay him back...

Sidhe: You are here now, Arthur Pendragon. The prophecy has been fulfilled

Arthur: of course it has been. So, how long do I have to wait before he comes here?

Sidhe: oh, no, Arthur Pendragon. Emrys is Immortal, he cannot join us. It is you who will return to earth.

Arthur:... Wait, seriously? When? Can I go now? I have so much to tell him!

Sidhe: don't be ridiculous. You won't be coming back to that traitor, you moron. Your destiny was to unite Albion and have Emrys watch over you until he cannot bear to live without you

Arthur: I beg your pardon?

Sidhe: Emrys is a powerful god. He has once betrayed us to protect humanity, to protect those foolish mortals from what they deserve. Their realm will one day be hours, but with Emrys guarding it, we have no chance to take over. That is, until one of our leaders came up with the idea of you.

Arthur: me? The IDEA of me?

Sidhe: yes. You were made from our magic in exchange for your mothers life. Emrys has left our realm and we will not let him cross the threshold. Once your loss has broken him, we will invade, and YOU will ensure that we do not fail.

Arthur: you want to break him?

Sidhe: it will only Take a few millenia. Earth will soon be hours.

Arthur: you mean, I'm your hostage

Sidhe: yes.

[mothinked]

Owen made a face that was caught somewhere between bafflement and mirth. "Not my calling I don't think," was his dry, monotonous response. "Let's go with ice cream enjoyer. And leave the baking to the pros." There was more than one bakery and coffee shop in Avalon. At the corner of his eye, he saw her moving closer and closer until she was felt leaning on him, pressed up against his side. He shifted so that his body was turned more toward Abby, opening his posture up though he didn't try and pull that 'yawn and not-so-subtly stretch your arm out' move. Instead his hands raised to link together at the back of his head and he exhaled softly through his nose, chest rising and falling steadily.

It was definitely something he did attempt during movie nights in Salt Lake early on into their relationship. To be young and in love—just two goobers against the world.

Back then she'd rolled her eyes yet smiled to herself when she thought his attention was back on whatever they were watching. But presently, he wanted to let Abby progress things at her pace, not his. If she was just looking for an old-fashioned cuddle session, Owen wouldn't protest, that much he already conveyed by turning himself toward her. He spoke to her sotto voce when more of the Nostromo crew were introduced, "The sequel is my favorite. In that one, Ripley and the kid actually remind me a bit of you and Lev. How you took him under your wing, kept him safe."

The smell of Abby's hair was distracting and so was her warmth. Owen tried a little harder to pay attention to the movie. Minutes later, he made a comment about liking the retrofuturism of the eighties when they saw more of the Nostromo's interior; it was why he liked collecting movies from this decade. The tech during that time was bulky but the fashion was cool. Except the mullet was a very questionable haircut that prevailed to this day, apparently. There was at least one or two Fireflies that he'd seen rocking a different variation of the mullet with the sides kept shaved.

"Think you can stay awake long enough for Aliens?"

A small faux gasp. “Something you can’t do? Sounds like you better start hitting those baking cookbooks,” she teased knowing damn well it was probably better for the both of them if Owen did not learn how to bake so they weren’t constantly eating such sweet treats. But god damn this was good and the perfect way to end such an epic night of feasting. Really, she couldn’t recall when, if ever, she’d had a full lineup of food this good. Certainly not in Seattle. Not even in Salt Lake. Maybe there were a couple of meals here in Catalina that came close but this help a spot safely at the top for now.

The credits had her intrigued and she eagerly awaited as ALIEN was spelled out slowly but surely across the screen. So ominous. Even from this, she could tell she was in for a treat. Maybe Owen knew what he was talking about when it came to movies. More talk of sweet treats left her wanting to take another pie but she needed to give her stomach a break. Abby scoot over just slightly to make some more room for him but didn’t go far. A small grin formed and she looked over at him lazily. Yes she’d heard of such trucks from her dad but had never actually considered it becoming a reality at any point. “Aww, Owen. Are you going to become the ice cream man of Avalon?” Oddly enough, the name wasn’t as endearing when she said it out loud. It had…. serial killer like vibes? “That sounds awful. Just… ice cream man,” she corrected with a laugh.

Abby allowed herself to sink down into the couch and she followed his lead, propping her feet up on the coffee table but was careful to not knock over that sweet, sweet pie. Doing so would feel like a crime in and of itself. As she slouched, she leaned over so that she could lean against him. Not her full weight, but enough for him to know it was purposeful and not her simply falling over with exhaustion or so focused on the film she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. Her eyes are glued to the screen and she takes a mental note of names to remember and ‘Ripley’ captures her attention. “So that’s who I’m being compared to? She better be the baddest of them all cause right now she doesn’t seem like much.” Of course she didn’t, they were only 5 minutes in but she went quiet again as she fell back into watching.

[servicereward]

1, 22, 25 and (if you want) 7? ☺️

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

A mix of both! I daydream a lot when I'm doing idle work at home, or my job. I kind of turn scenarios over and around in my head and when I like it, I think about how I would translate that scene into words so other people can see and feel what I do. But when I land on a sentence, I have to write it down really quickly or lose it to the ether. Sometimes an idea hooks me and I have to write it immediately; most recently this is how I was with my published Finella/Mary Gargoyles fic, and before that my unpublished Thara Celehar fic for The Chronicles of Osreth series by Katherine Addison :)

22. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process?  How do you come up with titles?

I usually title my fic during the writing process; it's relatively easy for me to come up with titles but sometimes I need to work on the story for a little bit in order to fashion it. I try to make my title a concentration of the fics central theme (longer work) or event (one-shot). For example, "Come to Me, and I Will Give You Rest," is about two women finding kinship and eventually romantic love with one another after living lives of hardship within their respective social classes.

"Orders of Service" (posting TDB) spans the years of 1988-2198 and OwenPuck's experiences with life, love, devotion, and death from both an immortal and mortal lens.

"The Eternal Child" (posting TBD) is an alternate timeline one-shot where Alexander and Puck were taken back to Avalon after the events of The Gathering Pt 1 + 2.

By contrast, I have an unnamed WIP alternating between the respective childhoods of Fox and David, filed under a folder named "The Childhood Series" and with silly throw-away title of "Dr. Spock: On Parenting a Megalomaniac." This one could be seen as a companion piece to "Orders of Service" because allusions are made to events in that fic, but out-rightly it's about David and his relationship with Petros 1960-1975ish, Petros and his relationship with his wife, Fox's relationship as an adult with Titania, and Titania's relationship with Fox as a baby.

25. What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)?

My favorite part of the writing process is the writing - it feels so good to have a concept come to life with words that come from my own brain. This has always been one of my favorite parts of writing. I do enjoy brainstorming, because it's like an AMV in my head. But there is such a high to landing on the right flow of words to convey exactly what you are seeing and feeling in your head. Once I'm in the zone I can be in there for hours, building something and looking back and my work and appreciating what I've done so far.

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

This is a snippet from my 2198 WIP - the odds of it ever being published like how I envision are long, but I find it a very fun writing exercise to flesh out concepts like the Space Spawn and the science fiction aspect of alien tech / being in the year 2198. I'll post two snippets, both works in progress.

Snippet 1: (Context: This is from a Spawn perspective. I tried to make their concepts of self, identity, and communication alien while still being engaging. In my version of 2198 The Spawn are a mix of militocracy / theocracy, and have the ability to change their shape in detailed biological ways but cannot be exact physical copies of any one alien race; they are always Spawn. They are raised without the concept of individual identity unless very high up in the government, and typically communicate with each other telepathically)

The suspension chamber was a clean, edgeless void. The refractive index of the space was turned to maximum, as ordered. The light inside was pure, white, and familiar. The Spawn discovered long ago that the environs in which they thrived were often distressing to those who would resist them.

This subject was faring better than most. In the time it took for all the bio-enquiries, and between alterations, the subject had managed to find a corner. It wasn’t exactly a corner, of course, but as close as one could find in a suspension chamber. The subject kneeled where the slope of the floor began to curve into the slow slope of the ceiling, pressing it’s frons against the wall of light. 

This proof of resource was amusing. A small impressiveness. This subject had directed a large number of subversives, after all. Some intelligence was obvious. 

Praetorfect drew close to the subject’s side with the disabled limb. Deprived of its rudimentary prosthetic, the arm stopped abruptly above the middle joint. It was not likely the subject would resist or attack, but caution bred favorable contingencies.

Praetorfect cleared the throat. Using it was uncomfortable and undignified. But it was too high an expectation to hold that this fleshy race would perceive the insight of the Spawn. The synthesized mixture of oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and argon slid back through the primary orifice and over the infolding of membranes that were suspended across the laryngeal cavity. There was no taste to it, because Praetorfect saw no need for taste buds.

“How are you feeling?” The voice was thin, quavering. It would suit the purpose even if Praetorfect ran out of patience on the pleura and respiration muscles.

Subject did not respond. It’s eyes remained closed. Praetorfect had spent years studying Earthling emotional expressions and psychological signaling when the planet was disclosed as the fleet’s next objective - this subject was neutral. 

But it was awake. 

The Bioficers were sure, Praetorfect was told.

“Feeling poorly?” Praetorfect answered for it. “That is understandable.”

Subject did not respond. The environment was cold - were humans prone to states of torpor?

Praetorfect had come here for answers to questions. Perhaps that could be one of them. The bioficers could help.

“You are a unique subject,” Praetorfect said. “Life on this acquisition was not thought worth studying, until you.”

Subject did not respond.

“We are happy we could put you back together again. We took you apart twice.” A pause. It was strange to think about drawing in air to make sounds. All of the languages here were ugly. Praetorfect continued making noise. “Do you know what isotopes are?”

Subject did not respond.

“There is an element common to - most - life in the galaxy. Your world calls it - carbon-14? There exists technology that can determine the age of biological organisms using the science of particle emission. This is combined with some knowledge of light speed mechanics on a subatomic level, and this is used to...the details are inconsequential. But you know the effects.”

The subject’s shoulders rose and fell in perfect time. Each of it’s breaths was no shorter or longer than the duration of the last. Praetorfect wondered if it had been broken, despite what the bioficers said. 

That would make the inculcation problematic.

Snippet 2: (Context: This is an original alien character created for the fic interacting with Delilah. She's an odd-duck from a mainstream Spawn perspective)

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you are nice to look at.”

“Stop it.”

“Is it wrong?” A-Li was incorporating more tonal shifts and variation in her speech patterns. Usually she mirrored whoever she was talking to, regardless of what they were talking about. Her words came out hot. Delilah paused, scaling back her feelings.

A-Li had little hold on social nuance.

“It’s creeping me out,” Delilah explained. “Don’t you know that’s weird? I thought you were supposed to be an Earth expert.”

“It’s one thing to know. Another to experience.”

Delilah rolled her eyes. She supposed that made sense. But still.

Then A-Li said, “I wish I looked like you.”

No. Absolutely not. She turned fast enough to make the spawn skitter into the depths of her cell.

“If I come back here tomorrow and you’re wearing my face, I’ll rearrange it for you. This mug belongs to me, and me alone,” Delilah growled.

“You would rearrange my face? That’s so kind,” A-Li crept forward on hands and knees again, as was her wont. “It takes a lot of time and energy so I would appreciate the help.”

[xasha777]

In the year 2424, the Earth was a patchwork of revived ancient cultures and high technology. The Celtic Britons, who had reclaimed their ancestral lands, were now a thriving community, their traditions interwoven with the most advanced tech the world had ever seen. They had become a people both of the past and the future, living in harmony with the land and the sky above, which was streaked with the trails of starships and the gleaming towers of New Avalon.

Commander Aisling of the Starship Pendragon was a paragon of this new age. Her bloodline could be traced back to the Druids, and she had the ancient symbols tattooed along her spine, but her eyes were fixed on the stars. Under her command, the Pendragon had been on countless missions to the edge of the galaxy, seeking new alliances and rediscovering lost human colonies.

Her latest mission was the most daring yet: to traverse the Veil Nebula and establish first contact with a newly discovered civilization. The Pendragon was a ship unlike any other, its hull inscribed with protective runes of old, its engines powered by a fusion of ancient spellcraft and quantum technology. Aisling stood on the bridge, her captain's hat adorned with the skull of Bran the Blessed, a relic from the mythic past. Her uniform was a blend of traditional Celtic attire and modern battle armor, a statement of her unique heritage.

As the Pendragon slipped through the fabric of space-time, a sudden burst of energy pulsed from the Veil Nebula. Aisling's Celtic instincts and commander's training kicked in simultaneously. She commanded the ship's AI, Merlin, to interpret the data. Merlin's voice, a blend of old Welsh and synthetic tones, announced that the energy signature was a greeting—a message encoded in a pattern that mirrored the ancient Celtic knotwork.

The realization hit Aisling like a thunderbolt from the heavens. The new civilization was not just another race; they were descendants of the Celts who had been taken from Earth by an alien race millennia ago. The ancient prophecies spoke of such a lost tribe, the Children of Danu, who would one day return to the stars. The message was clear. They had kept the ways of their ancestors alive, just as the Britons had, and they were reaching out.

As the Pendragon made its approach, Aisling could feel the weight of history upon her shoulders. This was more than a diplomatic mission; it was a family reunion millions of years in the making. And as the starship passed through the luminescent gas clouds of the nebula, the view screens shimmered with the image of a world that looked like Earth as it once was—verdant, wild, and majestic.

Aisling stepped onto the soil of this new world, greeted by the leaders of the Children of Danu. They were a people of war and wisdom, their technology organic, alive, and woven through with the magic of the old ways. They spoke a dialect that Aisling's AI had to translate, but the resonance of the language was deeply familiar.

In the days that followed, Aisling and her crew shared knowledge, stories, and customs with the Children of Danu. They celebrated with feasts that reminded Aisling of the legends of the Otherworld she had heard as a child. The two cultures, separated by the vastness of time and space, found unity in their common heritage.

As the Pendragon prepared to leave, a pact was formed. The Celtic Britons of Earth and the Children of Danu of the stars would stand together, a confluence of past and future, tradition and progress, Earth and the cosmos. And Commander Aisling, the woman who stood with a foot in both worlds, would be the bridge between them, her starship a chariot riding the endless spiral of history into the future.

[aevyk-ing]

Thoughts on Rise of the Titans

SPOILERS ahead

First, I have to say the movie didn’t go the expected way, at all. Instead of moving forward... it quite did the opposite. That’s not my cup of tea, and let’s take the Futurama finale as example: while I think it’s beautiful and well thought, the idea of them living their lifes again and againg makes me a tad uneasy. But let’s stop talking about finales and start with the beginning: 

-Blinky is doing the narration. So he lives. :)

-While I quite enjoy the recap (and hearing Jim joining it), I feel it wasn’t needed.

-But the music...

-Bellroc always seemed the stronger one for me.

-Oh, so no filling the gaps, huh?

-Whoa, Claire has gotten so good at magic.

-I’ve spent the whole fight gasping every time Jim gets hurt.

-The “no-magic-cannon-force” is quite a good idea.

-Wait, they’re calling them “wizards” now?

-Nari in Douxie’s body is both hilarious and weird.

-Poor Toby, he’s desperate to make people know he’s cool.

-“At least you’re normal, kitty.”

-That confidence, Krel.

-Not the ribs. That’s not good.

-Yes! Are we going to see a wedding?

-At least Merlin left the plans in his chamber. That’s... a good thing for how many wrong?

-Yeah, we already know magic and Akiridion tech mixes well.

-And Krel’s still wearing the suit...

-Oh, no, they’re married? Wait, what? Wait, no. No, no, no, don’t go that way.

-Just like the Sims. At least we may see some cute alien babies.

-Eli has Neville-Longbottomed hard.

-Just Nari’s presence working sounds bad. But I guess it was the only way to do it.

-Hey, it was Brazil and Asia!

-I can’t help it, but the waterfall in front of the Earth Titan... at least they’re watering along the way...

-No, don’t split. I hate that kind of quests because you normally focus on one. I mean, this time is different because each one has a fav character, but I was sure I was going to be more invested in Claire and Blinky’s one. And I did.

Let’s talk about the quests separatedly:

1. Earth: After a while thinking how hard is for Nomura to avoid the sun, she gets killed just like that. Douxie trying to get up was funny, but once he woke Nari up, I knew they were going to go Titan v.s. Titan.

2. Ice: They get TV up there? Anyway, I was weirdly excited to see Jim, Barbara and Strickler with winter clothes. Aja was... weirdly annoying. I mean, I don’t like her when she’s in “I’m a warrior princess” mode, but she was trying to do her own thing and not listening to others. And Strickler... no, seriously, no. And right after they got ridden of Nomura. But hey, it was interesting to see the cannons and I loved that Toby was there. Poor Toby feels like he has to do an extra effort to be at par his friends and that’s not okay. At least we get the answer: Jim’s father doesn’t deserve an explanation.

3. Fire: The new Trollmarket it’s cool, but I feel like it could have been... just a little more. It was so funny when Archie convinces his father to go because “he likes how much Blinky screams” and the flight scene was top-notch, but hey, it’s DreamWorks. The Kronisphere... I’ve seen too much stuff like that, but anyway. When I saw it in the trailer I thought it was a piece of the Heart of Avalon and that’s because of the color. The fight was alright but Jim burning his hand for opening the gate... Archie staying behind... the robot/Titan fight... everything was in another level. Such a shame it was for nothing.

-Lots of things were for nothing.

-I would have loved to see Jim struggling with getting back to being normal, but we got Toby (and Jim at some part) struggling with not feeling “special” enough.

-Have to say I love the new encantation: “For the good of all...” and that’s what the movie forced its way to.

-Seeing Coach Lawrence and all the students again was nice, but I would’ve love to see Darci and Mary talking about all that has happened.

-Just how big is Arcadia? They have a natural park too?

-Wait, the Arcane Order can die? They can die.

-Poor Douxie. Even though we don’t know how much time has passed until Nari was found, I bet he was quite attached to her.

-I feel like Eli was brought back for just a “gasp” moment. He didn’t do anything at all!

-Steve’s pregnancy is just... disturbing.

-I don’t get it, why does everybody have to show their support for Jim so he can wield Excalibur?

-As much as I love the “become” speech, having all the characters (many of them who shouldn’t have heard it) say it didn’t feel right.

-Hey, at least Stuart gets to do something.

-You get yeeted, you get yeeted, you get yeeted...

-Why-did-you-take-off-your-armor-Toby?

-See? Poor thing has self-esteem issues.

-The new armor is still weird.

-No, Toby, no... and... crushed...inside...a car.

-Time-turning is the new “It was all a dream”.

-Wait, I thought he was going back to... doesn’t matter.

-Jim just wanted a normal life after all.

-I have so many questions: How does Merlin know Toby is worthy too? Blinky is going to train him (I bet so)? What’s going to be Jim’s weapon? Is Toby going to the Darklands to save Enrique? Will Claire still be a sorceress? If that doesn’t work, they will go back in time again and then Claire is going to be the Trollhunter? 

-I would’ve loved to see the new storyline in the credits. And a Douxie song.

-Wait, no Zoe?

[draw-and-write-right]

Avalon/That Space Thing - a new wip intro

My main @disasterinspace was tagged by @livingdeadwriteblr in a follower celebration post. I don’t know if they’re still making the playlists, but it reminded me to post an intro for my new wip. So here’s a brief overview:

Meet The Players

The Grekks - the obligatory evil lizard species

Compared to most other sentient races, the Grekks are a pretty primitive species. Sure they have a fair amount of tech, but most of that was gained through less than honourable methods. However, their brains and bodies are both well equipped for battle, putting them at the top of the ‘hired gun’ list.

The Brakothi - the other obligatory lizard species

This is the sibling race to the Grekks. Both reptilian species evolved on the planet Braxon, living in relatively peaceful harmony for centuries. Thanks to the Brakothi’s more developed ‘science brain’, the two species have maintained their peace with each other, even through first contact. But, where the Grekks became the thugs of the Local Group, the Brakothi became one of the foremost species in the race for viable interdimensional travel.

Captain Solaris “Arthur” Reid

Arthur has been the captain of the space vessel ‘Excalibur’ for the past three and a half years. During that time, she has taken the Excalibur all throughout the Local Group, keeping peace for the Alliance, forging new trade routes for Avalon and charting the remote planets in far off galaxies.

Doctor Merlin Jones

Merlin is the Head of the Science and Research Devision on the Excalibur. He is his own greatest creation, a self-made man with a robotic left arm and half a mechanical right leg. He’s not the best at expressing himself, but the artificial mood expressers implanted in his head help with that.

The Excalibur’s AI - “Cal”

Cal is the voice of the ship. He helps with the day-to-day running of the Excalibur and is vital to the maintenance and upkeep of the ship’s systems.

Rough excerpt: “Like all ships from Avalon, the Excalibur had an onboard AI that assisted in things like piloting, datebase searching and news gathering. But Cal, as he was called, wasn’t allowed too much control or access. After all, the ancestors were a paranoid people, who made sure to document all the possible causes of an Avalon-wide apocalypse. Evil machines and AI programs trying to take over the universe was a common theme amongst many ancient simulations.”

Meet The Plot

The Excalibur was a fully equipped battleship, but Cal was mid-update. They weren’t ready. They weren’t even meant to be there. But they were. The Excalibur was in orbit above Mars when the planet was attacked. With Merlin planetside, previously liaising with the Program scientists, he was in perfect position to help defend the ground from the invading force. During the battle, however, an accident occurs, sending Merlin hurtling thousands of years into the past.

Now, with the Director placing retrieval of Merlin as a secondary mission, Arthur must track down the aliens who attacked Mars, recover their stolen tech, and bring her best friend back into the future.

Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list, or if you have any thoughts on my wip.

[chasingthebizarrepodcast]

Living in Cycles

I love listening to podcasts. I have been a listener of many podcasts for a few years and I have been a huge fan of the paranormal for even more years. Decades, to be exact.

One of my most favorite podcasts in the world is called Mysterious Universe. They cover so many fascinating stories about situations that are not covered by mainstream paranormal media. Some of the stories are over the top ridiculous and other stories make you think, but over all, the podcast is entertaining. Listening to them, I came across Project Avalon's interview with Klaus Dona called "Klaus Dona: The Hidden History of the Human Race".

This interview was about artifacts that have been found that Mr. Dona presumes are older than official, known recorded history. I had come across ancient human cultures before that pre-dated the oldest civilizations that we know of today. I had heard of ooparts from Michael Cremo, Graham Hancock, and Ivan T. Sanderson. Phil Schneider was another name floating around, mainly because he claimed to be a geologist with the government and he was a whistleblower who was part of a building project to build a tunnel underneath the Dulce base. He was caught in an altercation between aliens and the special forces who tried getting him out of the tunnel safely... well, Mr. Schneider found fossilized objects deep in the earth that are parts that we know of today as well as sophisticated pieces of high tech machinery.

Mr. Dona talks about some of the artifacts that he's found with strange drawings and symbols that predate Sanskrit writing. It was interesting to hear him talk about his theory that there has been a pre-existing global civilization living on Earth before us. The very general explanation of his ideas is that this older civilization is why there are common religions, common architecture and styles, and why there's perfectly aligned structures that were constructed thousands of years ago around the globe that have precise distances that represent important numbers for humanity throughout our history. He goes as far as to say that these civilizations were alien.

I can't say that I agree that these older civilizations are aliens, but my question is "what if?" What if there have been older civilizations of humans that have had a natural evolution on Earth? What if they've reached the point where we are today and through some accident, natural event, or self-destruction, we were wiped out and only a handful of survivors remained? If those survivors were only a few, that would mean that they were probably left roaming through the continents like nomads and they had to learn how to hunt all over again, they had to grow their own food, make their own clothes... everything that they knew would eventually crumble into dust with enough years passing by except for artifacts that got caught up in the Earth's process of fossilization or in the process of being enveloped in rocks that eventually preserved it well enough until we found it many years later?

Without formal schooling, how long would we remember how to perform complex calculus formulas, let alone simple addition and subtraction? How would we write anything if writing slowly disappears and people forget to write their own language? How much would our language change and new words that we can no longer spell come into our diction? It wouldn't be surprising that a pre-historic engineering or mathematical genius figured out how to build something everyone today would think is impossible. People like that have always existed, even if we don't know their names or have any records of them.

But let's take a look at all the things that we still can't explain today. Like how did so many cultures around the world come up with similar gods and similar backstories to those gods? I know that there's a few theories, official and unofficial, but it goes further than that. Many cultures around the world have the same symbologies for the same colors... for example, the color purple was used for nobility and royalty in Europe and the Aztecs were reported by the Spanish to be using the same color for their royalty as well. There's words in the Aztec vocabulary that are written very similarly to pre-Roman cultures. There's words in Navajo that resemble the Hebrew language. The very same battle symbols and signals used by Romans is the same way the Aztec army was organized. There's new sites being discovered that predate the earliest cultures.

Not only does it make sense that there were earlier civilizations of humans, that they probably figured out some things like algebra and calculus that got passed down the cultures and only few people were able to figure it out, and that these ancient civilizations were wiped out by some means. It also makes sense that the ancient civilizations would travel from continent to continent without officially recording it. Maybe it wasn't often. Maybe they travelled when land conditions allowed them to travel easier, but it left a mark on the people that were visited enough to change subtle things. How could you not? There were more than capable civilizations that could've sailed across the ocean. We have recently discovered that the Vikings had a base in the Canadian coast and that they were trading with the natives of the area. How do we know that there weren't more Vikings that travelled down further south in the continent and came back? Pretty sure word got around that there were more people to trade from and more land to cover south of where they were. There's gossipy people everywhere in every culture after all.

Ok, that's enough for me for today. I have to go and get some sleep before I continue ranting. Until next time!

Project Avalon Interview - https://projectavalon.net/lang/en/klaus_dona_2_interview_transcript_en.html

[officialotakudome]

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New Post has been published on https://otakudome.com/wyatt-cenac-inks-deal-with-wb-animation-cn-studio/

Wyatt Cenac Inks Deal With WB Animation & CN Studio

Wyatt Cenac has signed a new deal with WB for animation projects:

Burbank, CA (August 16, 2021) – Warner Bros. Animation (WBA) and Cartoon Network Studios (CNS) have set an exclusive, multiyear cross-studio overall deal with Emmy® Award-winning producer, writer, and performer Wyatt Cenac.

Under his deal, Cenac will develop and produce original animated programming at both WBA and CNS intended for a variety of audiences including preschool, kids, adult and family/co-viewing across all WarnerMedia platforms, as well as external outlets and services. Currently, Cenac has two projects in active development at the studios – an animated longform movie and adult animated series – in addition to assisting on other various series development. Cenac joins Looney Tunes Cartoons executive producer and showrunner Pete Browngardt as the second overall cross-studio deal at WBA and CNS which allows for maximum creative flexibility to develop original material and access to the extensive character and franchise libraries at each studio. As a producer, this marks a return to the medium for Cenac who began his career in animation writing for four seasons on King of the Hill beginning in 2002.

Sam Register, President, Warner Bros. Animation and Cartoon Network Studios said: “It is a huge win to have someone as funny, insightful, and unique as Wyatt join us at the studios. His creative voice further expands the variety of stories we can tell, and I look forward to a great partnership.”

Wyatt Cenac said: “All that time I spent watching cartoons instead of doing my homework is finally starting to pay off. Thank goodness (and I suppose WBA too).”

Wyatt Cenac is represented by UTA, Avalon Management and attorney Jared Levine.

Wyatt Cenac Bio Emmy®, WGA Award winning and Grammy nominated performer, writer, and producer Wyatt Cenac is NY-based stand-up comedian. Armed with an “attentive, inquisitive perspective” (AV Club) and an “hilariously understated style” (Paste Magazine), he has become a favorite of audiences and critics alike. From 2008 to 2012, Wyatt was a writer and popular correspondent on the hit late-night Comedy Central series The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, where he earned 3 Emmy Awards and one Writer’s Guild Award. Wyatt has appeared as a recurring character on the popular Netflix series Bojack Horseman, Fox’s The Great North and Bob’s Burger, and FX’s Archer. Wyatt also starred in the TBS alien abduction comedy series, People Of Earth, alongside Da’Vine Joy Randolph and Ana Gasteyer. Notable amongst Wyatt’s feature work was his leading role in Barry Jenkins’ award winning feature film, Medicine for Melancholy. He was also an Executive Producer on Terrance Nance’s Sundance Film Festival entry An Oversimplification of Her Beauty. In February 2016, A Special Thing Records released Wyatt’s fourth comedy album Furry Dumb Fighter. Wyatt’s second hour-long standup special, Brooklyn, which he also directed, premiered on Netflix in October 2014. The special was also released as a limited-edition vinyl-only album of the same title on Other Music, which was nominated for a 2015 Grammy for Best Comedy Album. The TV hour was listed as one of the “11 Best Standup Specials of 2014” by Vulture and was praised as “some of his best, funniest insights” by The AV Club. Wyatt’s first hour-long special Comedy Person premiered on Comedy Central in May 2011, earning him a spot-on Paste Magazine’s “Best Comedians” list of that year. The album of the special was named one of the “Best Comedy Albums of 2011” by Huffington Post. His standup comedy and variety series Night Train with Wyatt Cenac streamed on NBCUniversal’s comedy-focused subscription-video service SeeSo for two seasons. Wyatt can also be seen in the Emmy nominated digital series aka WYATT CENAC on First Look Media’s Topic.com. Starring, written, and directed by Cenac, aka Wyatt Cenac was nominated in 2018 for the Emmy for Outstanding Short Form Comedy or Drama Series, and received a Webby Award nomination for Best Individual Performance. Wyatt recently produced and starred in his own critically acclaimed satirical docuseries for HBO, Wyatt Cenac’s Problem Areas which was nominated for a GLADD Award and is available to stream on HBO Max.

[avalonbayblog]

Tech Support  (BillyxAvalon)

Billy is, once again, working on upgrading the rangers’ zords and weapons and this time Avalon is a willing participant to help. (aka, the time Billy finally found out he had feelings for Avalon, before Kimberly dragged it out of him).

Inspired by this post (x)

-

“What are you up to today?”

“I’m running diagnostics on the Zords and determined by the results of those tests I will then facilitate the capacities the hydraulics will be able to handle while under certain pressures of battle,” Billy explained before clarifying with, “Tests, tests, and more tests.”

“Fancy an assistant?” Avalon asked.

“I’d love one.”

Billy wasn’t sure what to expect, really. He wasn’t one that many people would call anal-retentive. If he were being gratuitous he’d say he could be as laid-back as Zack at the best of times. At the worst the blue ranger could get a little persnickety. But who liked having fingerprints mar computer and video screens? Who liked having to take the time to clean up a mess that wasn’t a mess beforehand? Who liked to have their work messed up when he had a structure order to everything it.

Not to mention what everyone lovingly dubbed his techno-speak. It was a part of him and always had been. But he saw the way everyone looked at him as he continued to speak—or ramble as his parents also lovingly pointed out. Saw the looks when he finished. The half-second pause as they tried to work through what he had said before inevitably asking him to repeat himself.

‘English please’.

He thought he was speaking English. It wasn’t his fault he preferred to use the big vocabulary he had learned through his numerous studies and pieces of literature that lined the walls of his house and the library when he had the free time.

It was probably the only thing in life that actually ticked him off.

So much so that as much as he tried to keep a straight face, Trini, so far, had been the only one he could handle for a length of time. Kimberly, as much as he loved her energy, was a little too energetic for the Command Center. Jason was a little too peaceful about things going on. Zack didn’t take it as seriously as he could and Tommy…Tommy tried. His forgetfulness didn’t help.

When Bailey joined him in the Command Center it was a match made in heaven, she enjoyed the sciences and alien technology that they came across with their zords and weapons. But she was a young girl with her own set of friends and coming into her own in the world. But she wasn’t always available for some help.

Having Avalon helping him wasn’t too foreign. He’d subject her to many moments of being his guinea pig for DNA recon due to their proximity. She initially whined and complained about it but dutifully handed over saliva, strands of hair, or nail clippings when asked. Soon afterwards, she could have the samples prepared for him before he knew he needed to ask for them.

He watched as pleasant surprise shot across her face, making her stormy, dark brown eyes brighten. Much like a skyline after a rainfall. The clouds broke away and sunlight came through. The smile that came to her face was one she didn’t show often enough. Then it was clouded over once more and she suddenly scowled at him. Billy blinked in surprise, eyebrows coming together.

Logically, he knew there was nothing he’d done in the last couple of seconds that could have made her irritated at him. She did have random bouts of mood swings and knew it was from her trust issues. If he knew her as well as he thought he did—which was very likely—she wasn’t sure why he agreed o have her in the Command Center alongside him.

“What” Billy asked the question with a little laugh to his tone. He couldn’t help it. The scowl on her face and her smaller stature made her look like a little kid that was having a tantrum. Not the powerful force to be reckoned with in and out of battle.

“What?” Avalon parroted.

“Why are you…glaring like that?” He asked. He lowered his coffee mug from his lips and moved to the sink to rinse it out. With a few quick movements he had it rinsed, washed, and dried, sitting neatly in drying rack. Everything back where it needed to be. Then he turned back to Avalon, patiently waiting for her explanation.

Once again, he found himself unable to stop watching her. He could see the storm of emotions brewing through her eyes. Her shoulders slumped and she started to tug at the sleeves of the orange flannel shirt tied around her waist. Finally, she lifted her head, slapped her hand against her thigh.

Her eyes met his.

“Usually you prefer to do these things yourself,” she said.

Ah.

It was true; he could be a bit of a lone-wolf at times. It was never intentional. Sometimes he got so into what he was doing that everything tended to fall by the wayside. Or maybe it was that he didn’t quite feel comfortable around them. He was the odd man out in terms of athletic amongst his friends. He wasn’t a wimp by any means, being taught martial arts and gymnastics from his friends but it was never his forte.

“Why would you want me to help?”

“Because I enjoy your company,” he said honestly.

“Oh.”

And that was all that needed to be said by way of explanation. It was the truth. HE enjoyed her company. It was a bit of a bragging point for him. He was the first one of their group she had really opened up to. By his count she was the only one that she wasn’t too hostile with when they first met. Not that he was keeping score. It was a simple observation. Just like he was the first one that she’d given a nickname to. It had annoyed him at first, who wanted to be known as a short, blue, elfish creature.

Then he’d heard the ones she’d given the rest of the rangers and was grateful for small favors. It had grown on him pretty quickly once he realized the intent behind it. He’d studied Australian culture shortly after meeting her, knowing it was something that many of them did over there. Give nicknames to those they considered friends. He was flattered and pleasantly surprised to know she considered him one, first. Truth be told he didn’t always know how to act around her rather than being straightforward.

It was a wonder that he had found himself growing close to her, understanding her so well. She was a lone-wolf in her own way and protected her pack—her little sister and their friends—as fiercely as an alpha wolf would.

He believed the word for it was kismet.

-

Billy pulled a headset over his ears. “Alpha, please run a diagnostic on the Tyrannosaur zord while I go into the cockpit to asses the damage there.”

“Right away, Billy,” Alpha agreed, toddling off to do what he was told.

“What do you want me to do?” Avalon asked.

She stood a few feet away from him, glancing around the Command Center’s zord hangar. Every time the zords were dismissed after battle they went back to their hiding spots. However, when it was time for them to have maintenance work done they were summoned to the hangar.

Thankfully, it didn’t look like there was too much damage that needed to be fixed. But looks could be deceiving. He had an innate understanding of the inner workings of the zords to know when something as small as a chipped piece of a control panel could mean structural damage inside.

“I want you to wait with Alpha to see what diagnostics says,” Billy explained. He adjusted the microphone lead so that it rested by his mouth. “And relay the information to me.”

Avalon lifted a flat hand to her forehead and saluted him. “Aye, aye, Smurf.”

A smirk raised to Billy’s lips. He turned and grabbed onto the rungs of the ladder directly to his right and quickly climbed up. He walked along the catwalk, gently sliding his fingers over the metallic finish of the Pterodactyl, Saber-Tooth Tiger, and Triceratops zords before coming to a stop at the Tyrannosaurus zord. Then he carefully lowered himself down the hatch at the top of the zord and wedged his way into the cockpit.

It smelled faintly like mechanics, sweat, and cologne. Their consistent and often sporadic calls to action had caused for everyone’s increase in their personal hygiene. It seemed that Jason had taken Zack’s advice of the cologne to ‘attract the babes’ as he put it. If only those babes knew Jason was a ranger, it’d probably cut out the middle man and keep Billy from choking to death every time he went to do basic maintenance.

A wry smile came to Billy’s face and he turned his attention back to the computers inside the zord. Everything looked to be okay from the first glance. No chips to the control panel, no buttons jammed into its housing in desperation of needed power. No joysticks knocked loose form their tracks. But that was only on the outside. With the hardware inside composing of wires and fragile pieces of machinery, anything could’ve happened.

Goldar was nothing short of ruthless when fighting against the Megazord. Almost as if the mere sight caused him great displeasure.

Billy’s wry smile widened at the thought of the golden monster instead deciding to use his words when fighting against the rangers. If only they could be that lucky. A simple conversation to send all the monsters away. It’d sure make their jobs a hell of a lot easier. Taking a screwdriver from his belt, Billy pried open a metallic panel that lead to the wires inside.

Leaning over it, he frowned. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong. But none of the zords ever came out of a fight with little structural damage. Now that he thought about it, it was typically Avalon’s Orange Stegosaurus zord that was the one most damaged. She did have a very offensive offense tactic in her fights. Or else it was easier for her to unleash her aggression on the monsters rather than the other rangers as she’d done before.

A familiar crackling sound filled his ears and Billy lifted his head to press into the ear-piece. “What’s the verdict, Alpha?”

“There’s smoke coming out of the bottom of the zord, is that good?” Avalon’s voice replied over the radio. In the background, he could hear Alpha’s frantic ‘ay yi yi yi yi’s’. For a moment, Billy was floored by the completely casual tone to Avalon’s voice.

Smoke in a zord was never a good thing.

Billy pressed his finger firmly against the ear-piece so he could respond, “No, Av, that’s not good.”

“Next question; is it normal?”

She was going to give him a heart attack. He knew that for sure. She was going to make him drop dead from stress alone. Billy quickly climbed out of the cockpit of the zord. His feet practically grew wings with the speed he got himself back down to the ground where Avalon stood calmly next to Alpha, who flapped his hands towards the last vapors of smoke that dissipated in seconds.

“As soon as he finished running the diagnostic, something started happening with the tail, mate,” Avalon explained. She poked her cheek with the end of the antenna sticking out of the radio. She looked it over for a moment. “Looks to me like the circuits have been fried. I reckon it could use some new rotors, too.”

“If you knew what’s wrong with it, why did you ask me?” Billy asked.

Avalon’s eyes flashed. She pointed the end of the antenna towards him. “To see that look on your face, Smurf.” He rolled his eyes. “Honestly? Because you’re not going to be able to fix that yourself.”

Billy pressed a hand to his chin. He took the scanner that Alpha handed to him and waved it over the tail section of the zord. It beeped towards the inside, where the tail connected with the body of the zord. “You’re right,” he agreed. “The mechanics at this point of connection are routinely difficult to handle on one’s own.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

“We’ll need a screwdriver, a wire cutter, a socket wrench, and a flash light.”

It took only a few seconds for the items to be acquired before Billy put himself on his back and wiggled his way underneath the Zord. He pressed the flashlight into his mouth, using his teeth to hold it steady while he looked over the parts. Avalon scuttled up next to him, carefully holding onto the other pieces of equipment.

Reaching up a hand, Billy pulled the flashlight form his mouth and waved it over the section that had been smoking. The parts were covered in soot, an acrid scent hanging around them. It was all he could do to not choke on it. No matter how used to the different smells from the zords, the first wave always shocked him.

“See this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“There’s structural damage to the zord that I hadn’t previous observed. I can’t recall it taking in any hits from the last couple of fights. So, it must be standard wear and tear over the countless uses of the zord. These sockets here are starting to become loose, making the wires neighboring them to fray and become structurally unsound. Then these soldered points have commenced to corrode and melt against each other. They need to be detached and re-worked independently.”

“So, where are we looking at to start?”

Billy heard a rustling sound then felt her breath on his cheek. His eyebrows came together when he noticed it. It was a little distracting. His heart rate immediately increased and he felt his hands start to shake. Something strange squirmed in his stomach. How peculiar.

Billy turned his head to answer her and was gob smacked by how close she was to him. He could see every individual freckle that dusted her cheeks and nose, see the freckle that sat right above the right side of her upper lip, position perfectly vertical to the one above her eyebrow. Could clearly see the scar that ran from the bottom of the right side of her jaw that stretched up to the apple of her cheek. Could see her long, dark eyelashes stand out against her paler skin.

He’d always thought she had a striking face, her eyes incredibly intense. But up close…

“Billy?” Avalon asked.

Billy turned his attention away. He had no idea what came over him. Yes, he felt she was attractive, but it was just a factual statement. Just as he thought the same about Marge, Melissa, Trini, Kimberly, and other girls at Angel Grove High. It was scientific, they were all aesthetically pleasing.

Keep telling yourself that, the voice inside his head teased.

Now Billy frowned. Where had that come from.

“Yes, uh, it would be best if we started by taking apart the soldered points so that the tail can be detached.” He swallowed hard, lifting his flashlight once more. The beam of light wobbled back and forth. “That way we’ll be able to wholly ascertain how profound the structural impairment is.”

“Gotcha.” Avalon carefully placed the screwdriver on the ground beside her and picked up the socket wrench. She squinted, searching for the easiest point of entry then placed the wrench against it, moving her wrist back and forth to start loosening the bolts.

She worked deftly. Ping. Ping. Ping. Bolts dropped down into her hand by the second.

Something struck Billy then. “How did you know what was wrong with the rotors?” He asked.

A chuckle escaped Avalon’s lips. “I guess that’s the one bright side to having dated Chase for a while, yeah?” She pointed out. “He knows more about cars than anybody. I reckon, alien technology aside, it’d work out the same way.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I’m surprised he had more to say than what hit we were going to do next. It became his life.”

“Gang life can be pretty difficult to get out of,” Billy said. He didn’t have to explain it to her. She knew firsthand. He often wondered if she continued to run with them out of fear or because if it was the same reason he, statistically, knew to be true. It was harder to get out than to stay in.

“Not if you don’t want to get out,” Avalon pointed out. “And Chase definitely doesn’t. It’s the only life he knows, he likes the power.” A slow smile started to work its way to her face. “Imagine if he ended up being a power ranger.”

Billy thought about it and smiled as well. What a preposterous idea. Being a ranger was for those who were true at heart. It as how the power chose you. Still, seeing the vicious teen as a ranger was a humorous idea equally.

“What color do you think he’d have?” He asked.

“Knowing him?” She paused for exactly one second. “The girliest color you could imagine.”

“Pink?”

“Maybe even yellow, mate. Can you imagine the bloke in yellow?” She started to giggle. “What would his dinosaur be?”

“Well, considering we have the Mastodon and the Saber-Toothed Tiger, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a dinosaur,” Billy pointed out.

He thought about it for a moment. It came to him almost immediately.

“A chicken.”

He said it so dead-pan, so frank, so flat that Avalon burst out into hysterical laughter.

Billy found himself laughing along with her in seconds. He continued to laugh, trying to hold the flashlight steady but found that he couldn’t do it. He hadn’t laughed that hard since the last time Bulk and Skull managed to get cake all over them at a ill-fated martial arts attempt at the Youth Center.

He had fun with his friends, always had fun with them, but completely letting go and not being so shy was…hard. Finally, Avalon popped off all the other bolts and collected them in her hand before shimmying her way out from underneath the zord. Billy followed her then sat up, running a hand through his hair. He got to his feet and walked over to the end of the tail and gave a short tug, eyes widening at the weight of the machinery.

He expected it to be heavy, but the thought came back of how heavy it would’ve been if he didn’t have the added physiology from their ranger power. Billy carefully dropped the tail to the ground then stepped around it to look inside. Just as he thought. Some of the inner machinery wasn’t looking too good and Avalon was right when she said the rotors were an issue.

“Told you, mate,” Avalon said. She reached in and in a matter of seconds managed to remove the rotors from inside the machine piece and hefted them into her arms. “I’ll get started on these and then you can work on the other stuff.”

She walked over to a work bench and set the pieces of machinery down. Then she picked up a pair of glasses that sat on the bench and held them up to her face. Then turned to face him. “These yours, mate?”

Billy looked up at her. “Yes, they’re mine.”

“You’ve got terrible style in frames.” She slid them onto her eyes and scrunched her nose for added effect. “Hate to break it to you, Smurf, but It makes you look like a nerd.”

“They’re prescription.”

“Even worse. You’re fucking blind, too.”

Billy laughed to himself. At least she’s honest.

With a teasing smile, Avalon carefully set his glasses aside and picked up another set of safety glasses, immediately sliding them onto her face. He could practically see the manic glee in her eyes as she picked up the blow torch to use it.

Billy placed his hands on his hips, eyelashes fluttering as he watched. Avalon pulled her flannel shirt up over her arms, slid her hands into a pair of gloves, and arranged her hair behind her shoulders. She adjusted the safety glasses that already rested on her face and picked up the blow torch, holding it against the spinning metal in front of her. Sparks flew but she continued to focus on the part in front of her, turning the blowtorch this way and that every few seconds.

And still Billy watched. Watched as the sparks illuminated her face, making her freckles stand out against her skin, making her dark eyes reflect the bright light. The way the corner of her lips turned up in concentration. Then she lowered the blow torch and lifted the safety goggles up her forehead, making her hair fringe stick straight up so that he could see her entire face.

Could see the smile of pride at her own work.

It was then he knew.

Then he finally, completely understood what was making him act so weird all day.

He was in love with her.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 77)

Note: Incoming Drama.

“I’ll tell you in a Honey Dream,” Qrow said. “It’s a lot better if we have visual references, so you see the full effect of it.”

So, after setting up a dreamcatcher, and some convincing Winter that dreamer’s honey was safe, they were off into the blank, white space that was the dreamscape’s “lobby.” After a few moments to help Winter get her bearings, Qrow started narrating.

The world changed all around them, flashes and scenes of the First Settlers’ societies, and Fae settlements 1,000 years ago, the wilderness of Avalon steadily disappearing as the former expanded rapidly and makeshift settlements and towns turned into the gigantic city states they were now, while the latter made their cities and settlements one and the same with the giant trees, the massive caves, and the underground caverns.

“In a big, convenient coincidence for me that all three of your questions can actually be answered with the one story, because they all connect to one thing:

“The Viridian Valley.

“Our two species aren’t strangers to working together for a common goal.

“However, it’s usually with the Fae manipulating things from the sidelines to keep you guys from wrecking Avalon with your industry or scientific endeavours you don’t know the consequences of just yet, but we know all too well; sneaking in and posing as humans to combat politicians, movements, and organizations that’d make life hard for all of us; and sometimes even spreading rumours and legends to keep people out of places we’d rather they not be poking their noses in, such as the Valley as it is now.

“In short, we Fae have been using you humans as pawns. But before you go complaining about us being evil puppet masters, know that all we’ve ever truly wanted is one thing:

“To be left the fuck alone.

“Your First Settlers arrived and threw the entire realm for a loop—widespread ecological damage, the permanent disruption of the flow of magic, and not to mention there were all those times you made in to where we Fae were hiding out, looking for more resources and land.

“And even though our weapons were no joke even then, your guns and giant-ass industrial equipment weren’t, either.

“This is why we’ve been so secretive about everything, primarily with making you humans believe that we Fae are just fairy tales, people’s personifications of all the wildlife that is waiting to fuck your shit up out in the Country:

“Because we were and are still terrified that if you knew of the things we have, what we could do, what we are capable of, we’d have an alien force spreading out throughout our territories like wildfire, using our own magitech against us as you improve it at a pace we can’t even begin match, take over Avalon as the new dominant race and build your cities over the ruins of ours and the corpses of our kind.

“Don’t get us wrong: we know that not all of you humans are greedy assholes who just want to take everything they could possibly get from the world, damned the costs to everyone else.

“But seeing examples of people like Valentino and his ilk, the damage they could do in such a short time with the full blessing of most of your people… it was enough to make the Council and most of the Fae—Celestian or Eldan—agree its best if we just keep to our side, we corral you humans in yours, and we both keep on living.

“Then all of that changed with the Viridian Valley, the first and so far the only openly joint Fae/Human settlement in Avalon’s existence.”

They were now in the familiar layout of the Tree of Life, except with humans walking around with the Fae, both species deploying a combination of their technology as they changed the muddy swamp they were standing in, planted and hyper-accelerated the growth of trees, and raised the skeletons of both their architectural styles all around.

“The conditions couldn’t have been better for it:

“There have always been Fae that have been against how things are being run, but never really had the chance to do much of anything, because they lacked the numbers, the magitech, or the support, wondering if there was any sort of game changer they could use to their benefit.

“The humans were just going into their Neo-Rennaissance all because of the tech we Fae had been seeding and slipping into your society to encourage you to stay in Heartland and minimize the damage you were causing to Avalon, and they were wondering what more they could do with all this fantastic new magitech popping up everywhere.

“All that was needed was someone to bridge the gap, to lead the breakaway, to hold these two rebels, anarchists, and radical visionaries long enough to start to build something new.”

They were underground in the Valley’s main wellspring, a mix of Fae weavers and human scientists trying to harness its power with a mix of their magitechnology and elemental weaving techniques.  At the head of it all was a leopard Fae, her hair and skin white as snow, hands glowing with purple magic.

“And that someone was Salem.

“This is the only time you’re going to hear her name from me, by the way, as the one time it’s not going to jinx you to hell and back if you say it is if you’re just learning that, or teaching it to some poor sap before they doom themselves.

“The Valley was supposed to be a Libertarian Paradise: ‘No Shepherds nor Council. Only Progress.’

“No regulations, no governments, no traditions, no laws, no limits to what they could do, no guides on what they should do, how they would use the Valley’s titanic wellspring—your Old World Ayn Rand’s Objectivist wet dream where it was every one for themselves as they strived to push the boundaries of magitechnology and what you could do.

“And they didn’t just push, they fucking annihilated it, and we’re still trying to figure out where exactly to draw the new line, if we even can anymore.”

The scenes flashed and changed, showing images of all the achievements of the original residents of the Valley:

The incredible speed and size that they could make the plants, animals, and minerals grow, the new and exotic combinations and creations that they could birth. Strange and alien fusions of their technology that they used to sculpt the landscape however they pleased. Both species with fantastic prostheses, their augmented bodies radiant with magic and vigour, even the dead rising up from the mortician's slabs to the joy of their loved ones, and the delight of the makers and scientists on the side.

“For less than a decade, it worked.

“Unfortunately, it turns out that a philosophy saying ‘the Strongest, Smartest, and Most Successful deserve everything, everyone else gets jack shit’ philosophy is great if you’re one or all of those, but not so much if you’re not.

“Pretty soon, the majority of the settlers were discovering that they really liked having protections against people robbing them blind or stealing their ideas and profiting from them without giving them a dime, taking care of them when they got sick or injured and couldn’t work let alone haul themselves to the hospital, and just generally keeping things safe and sane so they wouldn’t have to constantly watch their backs.

“And those at the top like Her found they really wanted to keep the power they had ‘rightfully earned.’”

Now, mass protests, chaos out in the streets and the wilds. Decrepit slums far off in the wilderness with shining, luxurious cities in the distance. Genetic experiments escaped from laboratories rampaging throughout the streets, marauders and looters taking advantage of the panic, humans and Fae forced to fend for themselves with whatever they had.

“So, among other measures to keep the masses from trying to leave, rising up, or calling the rest of the realm and telling your Holy Shepherd and/or the Council to ‘GET US THE FUCK OUT OF THIS HELLHOLE!’, She got her makers and scientists to make her the perfect attack dogs:

“Soul Eaters.”

This time, they found themselves standing in a laboratory, fluid-filled vats with the prototypes for the monsters all around.

“They worked perfectly. Aside from being really hard to kill, incredibly lethal, and way faster than anything that big should be able to move, they were also very smart, and were capable of completely absorbing the magic from everything they killed to grow stronger, smarter, and better.

“And unfortunately for all of us, they evolved to the point where they realized they really didn’t like working for Her and her flunkies.”

The scene changed. Death and destruction everywhere as humans and Fae ran or futilely tried to fight against the swarms of Soul Eaters pouring in everywhere, wherever or whoever you were in the Valley, the corpses of their victims dissolving into magic as they consumed and absorbed their entire being, each death only making them even stronger.

“We don’t know exactly how Gabija and her friends defeated her, overthrew Her kingdom and survived long enough for the Council to find a way to cross the Endless Sea and help clean up the mess. Hell, maybe She just got eaten by her own Soul Eaters, seeing as She was one of the most powerful weavers to have ever lived, and by now we all know just how much those motherfuckers love magic.

“But what we do know was Gabija was really good at killing them, and all the other horrors in the Valley, whatever they were.

Gabija rushed into the scene with her scythe, the weapon glowing its iconic, ethereal silver as she slaughtered the Soul Eaters, saved the survivors with the help of an elite team of humans and Fae armed with weapons, magics, and magitechnology, all alien, slapdash hybrids that seemed to have been cobbled up on the spot and held together by duct-tape, multi-paste, and prayers.

“The Keepers were never meant to be a permanent position. The Council figured, we’d have just Gabija, maybe a second after she retired or got killed, then phase it out entirely once we shut the Pandora’s Box that was the Valley.

“Then we discovered just what kind of shit the Fae and humans could achieve working together, how many of them were almost impossible to contain and/or kill, and that the Soul Eaters had gotten smart enough to know how to hide, gather their strength, and only ever attack when they were pretty sure they could stand a chance of killing us all.

“And most importantly, Gabija and her descendants seemed to be our best shot of keeping them inside the Valley, prevent them from escaping, or getting into the wrong hands—Human or Fae.”

“So what’s Weiss got to do with all this?!” Winter snapped. “Why, if you’re so scared of us humans yet fond of manipulating us for when it benefits you, are you suddenly so fine with your Keepers having relationships with our species?”

“Because,” Qrow said, “like Ruby said, you humans and half-human hybrids are the key to keeping the bloodline alive.”

Images flashed in front of them, images of all the Keepers and their mates, starting from Summer and Taiyang, stretching all the way back to Gabija next to a silhouette with a question mark.

The Keepers were all more-or-less the same, younger, slightly different clones of what was in essence the same Fae. Their mates varied greatly—male, female, gender ambiguous, tall, short, heavyset, thin, and of no shortage of combinations of Old World ancestry—all unified by one key detail:

“Human...” Winter whispered. “… They were all human.”

“Or like you and Weiss, they were hybrids that were more that than Fae, to the point where sometimes they never even had the slightest clue until we got them here.” Qrow added. “But whichever of the those they were, they also had one other consistent trait:

“Power.”

They returned to Maharlika Avenue, Taiyang blocking and reflecting Cinder’s laser beam with his ironbark arms, standing tall despite the rapidly disintegrating buildings around them, holding them off till Ruby could fire Weiss’ supercharged ice beam.

They came to the wilds of the Valley, where Samaria and Myala were fighting a giant snake larger than the trees they were fighting around, dashing and ducking through the branches and trunks as they slashed and shot at her opponent, siphoning its life essence and steadily poisoning it to death as it struggled to bite them even once.

They were in the middle of a raging storm at the peak of the Flood, watching as a giant named Reynault stood on the deck of a boat with the Keeper, other watchers, and weavers, aiming his massive cannon at an even larger sea dragon surging towards him with its gaping maw open wide, the both of them letting out earth-shaking roars.

More and more scenes flashed before their eyes, the Keeper’s mates, all human or mostly human hybrids, all utterly decimating the worst the Valley had to offer, by themselves or alongside the Keepers and their companions.

“We don’t understand why the hell it is that Keepers only ever seem to be able to produce more of them with humans or hybrids. Whatever we’ve tried, it just doesn’t work—parent Fae of equal or greater power, hybrids that were more Fae instead, and/or donating their cells to other parents.

“Don’t get me wrong: the kids from those unions and experiments generally grow up to be incredibly powerful watchers and weavers themselves. Just look at Yang and the shit she’s capable of, even if she only ever could rely on the Fae and hybrids hiding out in the human settlements.

“But they’re just no Keepers of the Grove.”

“We’ve studied the shit out of them and their mates, tried to find that Something, that gene or specific configuration of traits that let them kill Soul Eaters and other nightmares with ease, absorb the ridiculous amounts of power without going crazy or dying from the surge, and all with a complete and utter lack of any sort of selfish or evil intentions whatsoever.

“But 1,000 years later, we still have no idea what makes them best friends to all and slayers of giant monsters and threats to all of Avalon, which is why we need them so badly, why we take such great pains to take good care of them...”

The returned to the blank space of the dreamscape.

“… And why we are so damned eager to do everything in our power to make Weiss want to stay, to be with Ruby.”

Winter and Weiss were stunned silent.

“If it helps, we were making plans to get you back into the human territories,” Qrow added. “The Council was supposed to tell you about them and everything I just told you after you got back from the Eve of the Ether fair, because we could tell you two were getting serious...

“… Though with the all the heat and attention everything the Valley’s getting now, your fake death being exposed, and the Heralds running around, those plans have all shot to shit, if not utterly vaporized.”

Weiss turned to Ruby, her whole body shaking with anger, her eyes blurry with tears, her expression changing, from shock, to betrayal, anger, to confusion, to fear, and finally, sorrow.

Ruby frowned. “Weiss…?”

“That’s why you just took out my guards that night, didn’t you...?” Weiss asked, her voice trembling. “Why you spared me, saved me for last and offered me that fucking deal, kept breaking into my room to terrorize me until I got so sick of it I’d want to go with you just to get away from the hell you’ve made of my life...”

She was crying now, her words broken up by sobs. “Why you were so nice to me… why you did your damndest to make as much of my life here as comfortable as possible… why you gave me that stupid plushie of your mother...”

She tried to blink the tears out of her eyes, struggled to speak. “You didn’t really mean it when you said you loved me, di you…?! All those times you kissed me, my first night in the Valley when we slept together, that fucking massage when I was so sore-stiff I couldn’t move—you probably didn’t even need to strip me naked, did you?!”

Winter blinked. “Wait, what...?”

Weiss ignored her, unable to see anything through her tears but Ruby standing in front of her those big, doe eyes of hers confused and terrified.

“Ruby…” Weiss whispered, “do you really love me...? Or am I just a part of your fucked up legacy...?!”

“I do!” Ruby cried, her voice trembling. “I meant every single word I said! I’d never lie about that, because I hate lying, and more than I hate lying, I love you!”  

“Prove it, then!”

“Okay! I will! Just… could you tell me how…?”

Weiss groaned as she grabbed the sides of Ruby’s face. “How else, you dolt?!” she screamed, before she kissed her.

Her lips were hard and unmoving like a rock, like the first time. Weiss kept on pressing, waited to see what she’d do, until she felt hands grab her shoulders and pull them apart.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Weiss cried.

“PROVING IT!” Ruby shouted back. “Because if you really love someone, you don’t kiss them back when you can just tell they don’t want you to, you stop!”

Weiss wrenched her hands back, her expression changing, from anger, to self-disgust, to horror, until finally, regret.

Ruby sniffed, tears pouring down her cheeks, voice trembling as she whispered, “I love you, Weiss…! Please, believe me…!”

The dreamscape faded around them, and they returned to the real world.

Note: I spent a full 30-minutes refining the ending for this. I hope it ruined you as much as it ruined me.

[iamtheunicornprincess]

Aight, folks. I think we can all agree on one thing: Audio gear is expensive. Unless you find it at a yard sale, sold by someone confusing a heavy duty multi-voiced monster for a kid’s toy (but hey, even a snot-covered Fisher Price xylophone from a Savers can be sampled into something beautiful), the chances of you finding a deal is going to be rare. If you are a sound person, then stories of such rarity buys will be over-told for decades to come; your audio friends will loudly resent you with a smile and ask you retell said legend again, and again. Usually, though, you’ll save up and look forward to the weekend you can finally spend together with your new, shiny, synth companion. 

Lately, I find myself longing so badly for my own space. I want a home. I grew up in a family of eight with five siblings, and while my childhood reeked of copious amounts of people related to me going in my room while I was out and touching my shit, and blurting pieces of my diary over the dinner table, and picking up the other end of a landline to eavesdrop, living with roommates is different. I’ve had some INCREDIBLE roommates, and would continue to live with them if I didn’t have to leave Boston/they hadn’t moved. But, I dunno. Although I foresee a future of travels and while I’m a more “go with the wind” type of person, there is something really, really calming about not having all my shit stuffed into a 10′x10′ bedroom in the most boring section of Brooklyn (though I did have a package stolen from me yesterday [and I not-so-secretly hope said salt lamp that s/he stole falls on their foot]). My dream is to someday own a house, once the terrors of student loans have surpassed, and I want a backyard. But, most of all, I want a STUDIO. And today, I am going to leave a list of my dream gear that I currently do not own that I would love to have in my said future studio (NOTE: Many of you have probably seen pictures of me using some of these items. I am lucky enough to have worked in two recording facilities that housed them and, like a good studio person should do, I utilized them to the point where parting ways from some of them still makes me sad. However, they were not mine). 

DREAM GEAR 

Arturia Minibrute

Some people might kind of wonder why the Minibrute is here: It’s not super expensive for an analog synth (you could probably find it under $300 at this point). But you know what? I don't own it right now, because I had access to it for quite a while before I moved. You’ll hear a great deal of it on my upcoming record, so over the past year or so, I’ve been nonstop mixing tracks I created with it. Even though I *could* buy it right now, I am so frugal with my finances when it comes to buying anything for myself. But, anyway - the Minibrute is great. I love the Microbrute, as well, but the Minibrute has a special place in my heart because of the dirty, gritty noise channel you can add to the mix, along with a sub and three other oscillators. Pretty sweet, especially since it has MIDI, CV, and a straight 1/4″ output. Can’t go wrong. I just love the sound... Anything gritty will have my heart.

OTO Biscuit

I kind of need to just get one of these because of how rare they are. This is the best distortion/bitcrusher I’ve ever used. I love running vocals with it, I love how easily out of control-sensitive it is, and I will love lo-fi for life. 

Roland Juno 106

Because, duh. This baybee is a classic. It has six voices. Despite it being fairly easy to track down, I’m well aware that the most common issue with this synth is voices dying (but you gotta remember that you’ll most likely purchase one that’s never had a voice replaced since, like, ever, and it’s from 1984). However, it’s EXPENSIVE to replace voices, and Roland does not create them anymore (it would be wishful thinking for them to, but as they don’t produce the 106s anymore...). BUT, there is someone who created a more functional voice IC replacement (check out Analogue Renaissance for more info on voice replacements. Just be wary that he will charge you for asking questions that have already be answered on his site, so read carefully). I’ve promised myself that I wouldn’t get a dog ‘till I have the time for one (duh?) AND money for any unexpected vet visits, so I’ll do the same for the Juno 106 (unless purchased with replacement voices).

ARP Odyssey 1978 MK III 

VINTAGE. NOT THE REMAKE. NOT THE APP. NOT THE MINI OR FULL SIZE FROM KORG. NOT THE EBAY SELLER PRETENDING IT’S A VINTAGE WHEN IT’S A KORG. I SEE YOU.  IT NEEDS TO BE THE VINTAGE MK III FROM 1978. Okay, let me explain: This synth holds a huge place in my heart. During the hardest parts of my life in late 2015 to mid 2016, I couldn’t sleep normal hours, or create. My anxiety was out of control and I had literally three full on attacks a day and I didn’t want anybody to know. So, even though I couldn’t do much to fix any of those issues at the time, I needed to do something. So,  I would force myself to pour over the manual for this synth every time I felt a panic attack creeping up, and would press random keys and hit record. The old sound of it would distract me. I don’t know. I just associate this synth with comfort. Every time I was sad, I would have this synth in front of me. I’d leave my apartment at odd hours of the night to go sit with it and hope something good would be recorded out of it. So, yeah - when I buy this synth, it needs to be vintage. It’s just sentimental and if I could buy the same synth I used, I would. And, yes, I love how it gets out of tune. A whole track on Living Proof is totally in tune with the Odyssey, but out of tune with... everything else. You’ll see. 

ARP 2600

Again - the original, not the TTSH clone. The first time I ever saw this synth, it did not fascinate me -- I was 19, and I was terrified. It was 2009, and I was enrolled in Michael Brigida’s class at Berklee College of Music (he was my modular synthesis & signal flow professor and he’s worked on every ARP machine ever and was one of the best teachers I have ever had). Back then, the synth was held in A59 in 150 Massachusetts Ave. The room had no windows and reeked of mildew, and on the first day of class, myself and my classmates trekked down the hall from our classroom and watched Michael calmly create different patches. I was the shortest in the class, and I was the only girl, and I was painfully shy.  I wore a black fitted hoodie with spikes almost every day and I was fucking weird. Everyone in the class just seemed to understand what was going on and I just stood there, hardly able to see anything (because, well, I’m just shy of 5′3′’). Listening in awe, I felt like a total idiot. I had no idea what this modularapolis kajargen was and I was too afraid to ask for help. I clearly remember Brigida telling us to ‘not fear the synth!’ and to ‘make it fear you!', but everyone in the class just seemed at ease and I was, well, not!  Fast forward four years -- I got a lot more experience in the game audio and synth hardware world, and I was hired by the department, and the more I worked there, the more I saw that, sure, some people DID just have a knack for that kind of stuff right off the bat, but a lot of times, people wore a concrete-made poker face. I had already been employed by AKAI at that point and had gotten over my insecurities a little bit. And it was ME that everyone was now asking for help, since, you know, that was my job (those days, I worked 80+ hours a week between there and AKAI). I felt a little less alienated  that I was not the only person in fear of getting my ego hurt around the 2600, and I used this time to really learn it so I could help others understand it. Anyway, I’d go into work on days the facility was closed, and own it so I was more prepared to teach students it when class started back up. This synth taught me a lot about getting past insecurities, and guess what - I’m not so afraid of that synth anymore! Ha!

Yamaha CS15

This synth is so underrated and so cool. Made in 1979 for a few years onwards, it just sounds like how you think it would. Good luck finding one online that isn’t from Japan and doesn’t require a power converter. And if you find one and are feeling generous, my birthday is June 1st. 

THE KLEE 

Okay. I used modular eurorack systems quite a bit when I still lived in Boston. I do not own a system right now. However, The Klee. Is. A. Monster. I was immediately drawn to it because 1. it’s a sequencer and, um, I love sequencers and 2. it has green LEDs and buttons. I unapologetically love the color scheme of that thing, and it sounds fucking awesome. However, it will take up almost your entire rack case. Google it (sorry not sorry). You can build it from scratch for a little over $500 or buy it complete for a little less than $1,000.

 Avalon 737sp

Coolest preamp & compressor ever. I always “got” EQs, but compressors used to confuse the crap out of me. Ratios? Math!? I wanna do MUSIC (...till you realize a music technologist is more mathematically inclined than you’d be willing to admit, ha!). However, the Avalon really helped me understand what was happening to sound while changing up parameters manually, as opposed to staring at a stock plugin in Pro Tools and visually trying to hear results, if that makes sense. I just understand tech better when hands on. Anyway, one of my favorite producers of all time, Mark Ronson, has used them in recordings and the second I learned that, bam. Look at me! I can make myself burp AND I can use compressors with my eyes closed! 

Empirical Labs Distressor

Mostly because every studio I’ve worked in has them next to each other and I like the comparison. And it sounds good. I still prefer the 737 but I love this thang, too. 

Moog Sub 37

SOUNDS GOOD. MY MAIN HOBBY INCLUDES GOING INTO SAM ASH AND WAITING FOR GOSPEL GROUPS TO FINISH THEIR SYNTH JAM SESH SO I CAN GO INTO THE ISOLATION ROOM AND ROCK OUT ON THIS MOOG. 

Electro-Voice RE20

Just like the ‘wand chooses the wizard’ (and yes, I heard Ollivander’s voice when I wrote that), everyone will usually resonate to at least one mic that makes their non-traditional voice sound... okay. Heck, maybe it’ll even sound good! I really adore this microphone. I haven’t bought it because I have spent time in facilities over the past 4 years that have owned it everywhere I’ve went, but someday, it shall be mine. It’s mainly used in broadcasting, but, I dunno. I use it when recording my own voice singing because I just like how it makes it sound. I also like that Thom Yorke used it in a show once. Very coolio. Google ‘Radiohead RE20′ and I’m sure that basement show will pop up.

DSI Tempest

Um, coolest drum machine I’ve ever used. That thing is a beast. I love the weird sounds you can make, the sequences you can create, and I’m happy that DSI finally created a couple updates for it. Hell yizzzzzeah.

Crumar Bit-01

This synth came to my attention the other day and ohhhhhh my god, it sounds good. It’s so awesome. I played three seconds of a demo video and I said ‘gimme’. 

Otari MTR12

Very cool tape machine I started to mess with at one of the studios I support. It looks like an oven. Everything just sounds better with tape. 

-

And that is all I can think of, for now. May you all have a synth filled week.

Cheers!

x The Unicorn Princess

[x-heesy]

So uh... Who's your target market here?

Ummm... Bitches.

Hard hitting

When I step to the mic and start spitting

Freaking motherfuckers like some suckers getting freaked by the preacher man doing god's bidding

Cry to the angels

The stars explode tonight

Metatron one I been known to get the job done

We on some intricate, intimate, innocent, infinite, inner-shit

If we start something we finish it, our ability is unlimited

Isn't it, oh yes

I can process no less than a thousand thoughts Every one-tenth of a second

You still sitting on a see-saw

Our alien tech makes your g4 seem slow like Eeyore

You teach your computer to rap, I got light raining on my brain

Check these heads glued to the track all the night waiting for the train

My water-soluble, molly-coddled molecules submerge themselves deep inside a sea of post-imaginative psyche

Where matter doesn't matter then I materialize and come crashing into your sphere

With a nice, juicy tongue-lashing for your ear

Metatron one I been known to get the job done

We enjoy an electronic, symbiotic existence between here and Avalon

While you babble on about Babylon always trying to get the battle on

Our little green lanterns illuminate a very, very vast sea

We see patterns mentally mutilated people can't see

The lyrical spell-caster

Strapped with a fully stacked mystical, biblical hell-blaster

You mystified by the cyto while my ectoplasm is a much darker texture

As I reflect the effects of this evil architecture

Stunting our expansion, so I'm making sure that you feel this Like a man-made phantom, psychosomatic illness

Only difference is this shit is as terminal as bad timing

Keep refining your vertical alignment till you reach my island

Metatron one I been known to get the job done

There's no such thing as out of bounds

The death-walkers moving in and out of realms, electro-magnetic shields up

We always on-line, even when we catching shut-eye

Unfazed by restrictions inflicted by days gone by

I sit still as cast iron, watching my star-shine, exhaling for the last time

Deciphering ethereal material from imperial archives

Permanently upgrading my temporary hard-drive

The agents of the dark-side can't hide

Plus their voodoo can't find anyway to penetrate these calm minds

Like some self-imposed metaphysical apartheid

At the end of the day this beautifully maintained body's not mine

That's why I step to the mic and rock like I just dropped by

Metatron one I been known to get the job done

https://open.spotify.com/track/0NWhsqetxMzdyBKSqEHJfE?si=bCkX5lgS

[fanbun]

(previous part - 10)

METATRON ONE

“YO MAN,” said Kidtronic, “I DON’T KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT THE METATRON ONE CARTOON…”

“Why?” asked Random Boy

“MMM… IT’S A BIT GAY… …I WAS THINKING OF SOMETHING A LITTLE MORE ILL… LIKE THIS…”

hard hitting when i step to the mic and start spitting freaking motherfuckers like some suckers getting freaked by the preacher man doing god’s bidding cry to the angels the stars explode tonight metatron one i been known to get the job done

we on some intricate, intimate, innocent, infinite, inner-shit if we start something we finish it, our ability is unlimited isn’t it, oh yes, i can process no less than a thousand thoughts every one-tenth of a second you still sitting on a see-saw our alien-tech makes your G4 seem slow like ee-or yo teach your computer to rap, i got light raining on my brain check these heads glued to the track all night waiting for the train my water-soluble, molly-coddled molecules submerge themselves deep inside a sea of post-imaginative psyche where matter doesn’t matter then i materialize and come crashing into your sphere with a nice, juicy tongue-lashing for your ear

we enjoy an electronic, symbiotic existence between here and avalon while you babble on about babylon always trying to get the battle on our little green lanterns illuminate a very, very vast sea we see patterns mentally mutilated people can’t see the lyrical spell-caster strapped with a fully stacked mystical, biblical hell-blaster you mystified by the cyto while my ectoplasm is a much darker texture as i reflect the effects of this evil architecture stunting our expansion, so i’m making sure that you feel this like a man-made phantom, psychosematic illness only difference is this shit is as terminal as bad timing keep refining your vertical allignment till you reach my island

there’s no such thing as out of bounds the death-walkers moving in and out of realms, electro-magnetic shields up we always on-line, even when we catching shut-eye unphazed by restrictions enflicted by days gone by i sit still as cast iron, watching my star-shine, exhaling for the last time deciphering etherial material from imperial archives permanently upgrading my temporary hard-drive the agents of the dark-side can’t hide plus their voodoo can’t find anyway to penetrate these calm minds like some self-imposed metaphysical apartheid at the end of the day this beautifully maintained body’s not mine that’s why i step to the mic and rock like i just dropped by

(next part - 12)