Jun 2018 Archive, part c

I'm generally speaking the retro-gaming guy around here. So it's my job to point out all the classics. By which I mean, the ones you shouldn't avoid because they're actually good. I'll try to avoid pointing out anything I assume you all already know about (No, I'm not putting Fallout anything on the list, although I did get both the originals and a few of the new ones, and they are on sale). So... here goes.

-Baldur's Gate - Actually, don't buy this. Well, don't buy it on Steam. Baldur's Gate is a classic, and it's the game that earned BioWare its name. However, the version on Steam is the "enhanced edition" which has garnered mixed reviews because it apparently alters the writing. As of this time, there is no good way to buy the original Baldur's Gate from Steam or GoG. Pirate it, or grab a secondhand DVD copy (which is what I did: they're pretty affordable).

-Planescape: Torment - This time around, the people who did the Enhanced Edition did good. So you can buy this on Steam or whatever, nice and easy. Apparently they caught on that a game that is beloved and revered, largely for its writing, doesn't need alteration on that front.

Planescape: Torment, like Baldur's Gate, is an oldschool CRPG-type game. It's an I-hope-you-like-text sort of game, so be warned. But if you do like text, the writing is well known for its strength. Also, notably, this is one of the rare old CRPGs which you can apparently get through without ever using combat. So... that's a thing.

If you liked Wasteland 2, Pillars of Eternity, or Fallout: New Vegas, you should probably know that Obsidian Entertainment and InXile were both formed by ex-Black Isle Studios developers, who worked on this game, Fallout, and the aforementioned Baldur's Gate. So... yeah.

-id software woooo - TL;DR, Thoth loves id software. Go buy Doom, DOOM, Quake, or whatever. Then go download a modern sourceport, and if you bought Quake 1 or 2 look up how to enable the soundtrack.

-Eidos - Basically, every single Eidos game is dirt cheap right now. That means all the Tomb Raiders, all the Just Cause games, and so on. Go go go go go.

-Looking Glass Studios - Yes, these are in the Eidos category, but they get their own listing. Because Looking Glass Studios deserves it.

Looking Glass Studios, for the uninitiated, is one of the most influential developers of the 1990s, and a pioneer of 3D games. Not all of their games are available on Steam, but their Thief series, a pioneer of first person stealth, is. As is System Shock 2, which really should need no introduction. And speaking of looking glass, $1 can also get you...

-Deus Ex - widely considered one of the best PC games ever released. It's a bit fiddly to get running on modern systems, so to recap what I had to do:

1. Select OpenGL as the renderer, no matter if the game tells you it's "unsupported". The game lies.
2. Open the game's folder on Steam, open the file DeusEx.ini in the "System" folder, and under the section "[Engine.Engine]", add a line that says "FrameRateLimit=60"

Yeah, it's a pain. But the game is good.

-Another World - A great adventure game-ey thing. But you may have to look at a walkthrough once or twice, and you will die. A lot.

-X-COM - Any of them.

-Xenonauts - It's classic X-COM with a fresh coat of paint.

-Civilization - Every Civ game is brilliant. Pick your favorite, but Civ IV is the cheapest one right now (7.50 for the full game with all expansions).

-Frozen Synapse - not a classic, but a dang good game. There's a demo, so you can try before you buy.

-FTL - Another non-classic, but it's the archetypical roguelike and if you don't own it already you should go buy it.

-Strife: An obscure Doom-engine FPS, it had RPG elements before it was cool, had an overworld you could freely explore, an actual story and quests and stuff, and was generally both fascinating and ahead of its time. The Steam version is updated for modern systems, with nicer graphics, better controls (I think), and a ton of content that was left on the cutting room floor in the original release. It's fun.

That's it for now. I'll probably think of something as soon as I post this, but whatever.

Borderlands 2, Just Cause 3, The Witcher 3, and Darkest Dungeon.

It should really go without saying, but I heavily, heavily recommend Life is Strange (though it deals with sensitive topics like suicide, rape, and murder, so just a heads-up if you're triggered by that). It's an excellent choice-based story driven game with puzzle elements to it, and I cannot stress enough how much the ending will make you cry. It's excellent.

[i]Robin Hood[/i] is one of my favorite Disney films. That intro music is something I can still whistle at mere mention of the movie.

I had never thought about the historical context. How accurately it all fits makes me think about how much more thoroughly people were educated in the past. There's no way it could have fit so neatly without someone involved knowing about the real people.

I would totally read that sequel.

I'm very tempted to write it myself. I wrote a little fanfiction for Disney's Robin Hood when I was a kid, but it never went very far, because I always thought the movie tied itself up very nicely and it didn't really invite addition. But this is the perfect opening for a really fascinating (and historically relevant) story! I have a lot of writing projects right now and I recently got a job so I might not have time, but in the event that I do, keep an eye out for the beginnings of Robin Hood fanfic by yours truly? If Huinesoron is okay with it, of course. After all, he was the one who did the research and picked it all apart.

I also love the fact that you picked this apart so thoroughly. It's a fascinating question: I knew from a young age that this version of Marian had a claim to the throne that potentially put her on John's radar as a rival, but I'd never stopped to think whether or not it fit with the historical facts.

And I'm really glad other people still think about this movie. It's definitely my favorite version of Robin Hood and probably my favorite Disney film and I think it's very underrated. (And I rather hope they don't remake it as a live-action flick. For one thing, it would really just be a somewhat more realistic animated movie, and I don't think it needs any updates or additions.)

(I have the office to myself for at least an hour this morning, whee!)

I like this theory, and I totally want to see that sequel.

As for under-aged-ness, if I'm not completely off-base, girls used to be considered women as soon as they got their menses (and could therefore start having babies), and 11 is a pretty common age for that to happen. While that seems terribly young to a modern eye, we're talking about a time when people lived to about 35 on average, IIRC. Being considered of age at about one-quarter to one-third of your expected life span isn't that outrageous.

Of course, as the average life span has increased, the age of maturity has been pushed back accordingly.

~Neshomeh

Ad the issue of Eleanor being eleven shouldn't be a problem. After all, Disney's Snow White was only fourteen when she ran off with her prince to get married!

*cough*

Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly what a day.

...well, the Reader is keeping well out of this. She's getting her happy ending and she's keeping it, alternate timelines aside.

Have a Jacques Bonnefoy, though. He's been around since mid-2013, has some (at least remembered) experience with catastrophes, and can't stay dead outside of Torchwood: Miracle Day. If you can think of something to do with him, then go for it.

~Z

You can use any of mine you'd like. The kids would be pretty grown up by then. In spring of 2010 Helen was 9 months, Hannah 11 years, Kevin was 8 and Kyle 9. Safe to assume Cali and Cadmar had broken up years before your setting since I haven't seen Caddie in a long time. Agent Miah would be in her mid-40's by then. Just make it memorable?

I'm actually pretty sure that they would both have died by the point the story takes place in. Min Ra would have probably been killed after leaping in to protect someone else from a Sue (whether or not this was a Leeroy Jenkins move or a last stand and whether or not the person she was protecting died anyway is up to interpretation), and Effie would have been shot down on a mission (death's a hazard for the military).

But hey, if you want to keep one or both of them alive or explore their deaths in flashback, I'm game for it.

Peregrin is probably still generally alive, between Medical having good life-extension tech and [the thing that's spoilers for Anathem], Tomash is working in DoSAT by now (and therefore by Catastrophe Theory), but he'd've been in DMS around 2015.

(Farah and Kk'kttak are relatively new, and therefor unavailable, unless you want them to be.)

Feel free to not take me up on this if my lack of canonical output is a problem.

- Tomash

How far in the future is it set?

In addition to Doc and Vania, you also have access to my entire Nursery cadre. Let me know if you need more info about any of them; I have an Excel spreadsheet.

And also, that thing we discussed over email years ago is still on the table. (If this story even touches on that.)

—doctorlit, discussing that thing we discussed

If you don't mind the fact Richard only joined in December 2015, and Marina January 2016... Whoops, I just told it. :p

Do use all of Shift Twentieth - Finch, Bingle, Ninetwo, Anne, Anne's Cat - if you need them.

I can only request that you make it some form of darkly humorous irony, whatever terrible things you do.

Wobbles the Clown
The Notary
Doktor Trollenfisch
Gabrielle
---
If you're going to do Terrible Things to anyone, do them to the Notary. No-one will give a toss, except to laugh.

They weren't around in 2015. But Time Shenanigans are archetypical of the PPC, so sure, they're totally there.

If you want ideas for what terrible things can happen to them... Nah. Not giving them. I wanna see what you come up with.

Technically speaking, agents Ix, Lorson, and Farilan weren't in the PPC before mid-2015, there's that detail for you—but if for whatever reason you need more characters, feel free to ruin them. I'll probably be sitting quite gleefully to the sidelines with popcorn.

Have a triple chocolate (as in chocolate with chocolate chips and chocolate icing) cupcake! Don't forget to blow out the candle and make a wish!

[finishes fighting the urge to plug this one indie game that's on the Switch, fighting because I'm most likely its only existing fangirl and it would seem weird and out of the blue to just plug this game to an oldbie I haven't interacted with much]

AHHHHEM HEM. HEM. Don't mind that. That's just me typing my internal dialogue as an attempt at comedy.

Your Board present from me is the proper equipment required to generate solid light, whatever it is. Now go forth and make cool glowy stuff! :D

-Twistey

I'm glad you liked the movie, and I hope you had a happy birthday despite no presents. Have a digital present of a potted aloe.

While the idea could potentially be played for laughs, I think most of us would take one of several other options:

1. The agents may stop the badfic before it gets to that point. The poor mini doesn't deserve that, after all.

2. There's a thing called a Simulation Generator that's perfectly suited to rescue an innocent mini from that situation while still collecting charges.

3. A name misspelled consistently may indicate a character replacement rather than a mini.

4. The writer may not consider the misspelling important enough compared to other aspects of the badfic to remark on at all.

That all goes for your "example," too. There isn't a mission to it yet, and it will be up to whoever tackles it (if anyone does) to decide how to handle it.

~Neshomeh

...the idea is pure squick.

Also, what are the classic films alluded to in your user name?

The Department Of Redundancy Department is plotting to make the entire world redundant!

From the intelligence I’ve gathered, their evil plan includes, from the intelligence -

NO! THE REDUNDANCY VIRUS HAS STRUCK! WE MUST ESCAPE THE PLANET BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE, OR ELSE IT WILL BE TOO LATE!

(BfGs meaning Badfic Games, by the way.)

I won't go into the details of who they're conspiring against, but feel free to screw around with the idea.

-Twistey

THE PPC IS A FRONT FOR THE DARCONIANS! I'VE SEEN THEIR PLAN, THEY WANT TO RUN MISSIONS FOR LONG ENOUGH THAT AGENTS JUST ACCEPT IT WHEN THEY DECLARE ALL FANFICTION TO BE A THREAT! THEN THEY'LL ANNEX OTHER CANONS AS "PROTECTION" AGAINST IT! THEY'RE BUILDING A MULTIVERSAL EMPIRE!

(Y'know, just for a lark.)

Email me with your plans! ... Unless you don't want to risk our emails being compromised by Sues, I guess, in which case your paranoia is accepted!

Also, curse all laptops black-screening in the middle of one.

Spoiler warning if you didn't read the mission already. Spoiler warning if you didn't read the mission already. Spoiler warning if you didn't read the mission already. Spoiler warning if you didn't read the mission already.


“It’s incredible,” Mrs. Dives said again, sighing. She and her daughter were sitting in the door of the TARDIS, legs dangling over the void. “I can’t imagine why you’d ever want to come down.”

“Well, sometimes, the cultures on the different planets are even more interesting than the views,” the Aviator said, smiling. “The cuisine’s not half bad, either.”

Eh, what's the view to an empty stomach? Oh right, space and time traveling spaceship. Also, Dawwww.

“Barcelona!” Mr. Dives called, looking up from the TARDIS console, which he and Zeb had been poring over. “The planet, Barcelona, not the city. They’ve got—”

Wise decision, between the independantists and salty World Cup los–

“Dogs with no noses,” he and his daughter finished in unison.

Abort! Abort! It has to be worst place in the multiverse! Except trollfics.

The Aviator waved a hand. “I’m in mostly good standing with Upstairs again; I can’t let it stay that way for long, can I?”

Besides you can fix this by giving them buckets of aphids. These critters love flowers to the death, so the reverse must be true, right?

“Nobody!” the Aviator said quickly, just as Zeb piped up, “That’s what Ellie calls the Detective!”

Technically Ave's not wrong. The fex drops of that time certainly don't qualify as somebody.

“Have you been seeing someone?” Mr. Dives said.


"How do I give the shotgun talk to someone able to regenerate?"

"Dad! I'm 454 years old! I can date whoever I want! If I was ever dating someone, just deny– saying."

“Nothing to worry about, Dad, that just means we’ve got a mission,” she said, standing up and going back to the controls.

Stay here, Mr. Dives, you know you want it... Right until you see one mission up close.

“So what do you think it’ll be this time?” Zeb said. “Percy Jackson? Twilight? A Series of Unfortunate Events?”

Since you're so kindly asking... All of them (does that even exist?)

The Aviator took Elanor back from him and pushed the door of the TARDIS open, going to the console to read the report. “Harry Potter and Percy Jackson,” she called.

Come on IO, only one? You're getting meeker in your old age.

“So not even an attempt at an explanation for why she wants a kid,” Zeb said in disbelief. “Just—‘Hey, you know what? I want babies for no reason!’”

How can people write like this with straight faces?

“Or gotten splashed by a magic potion—”

Especially that one. Even mortals can do it. With magic (and maybe science someday. They're already trying for babies from parents of the same se anyways).

“I volunteer as tribute,” Zeb whispered in Zeus’ voice, and the Aviator gagged.


...Accurate Zeus is accurate, Zeb.

“Godmother?” the Aviator muttered. “So, what, she’s going to attend the Sue’s baptism and teach her about Jesus?”

Nah, I saw this in Shin Megami Tensei. By being obedient servile mooks to the Law God (a major jackass), they hope getting some perks while the rest of the ‘pagan’ gods become scorned demons.

“Could you try breathing away from me?” she said. “Your breath stinks.”

You should try grilled salmon with a cream sauce. Much better.

“Lilith. Juno. Olympia. Black,” the Aviator repeated flatly, pen poised over her notebook.

… At least the oh so subtle third one remotely looks like a Potterverse pureblood name, with all these constellations (not that Sirius would probably want to use one)?

The Aviator ducked back behind the curtain. “Rassilon’s saggy left—”


As another ‘question sane people never ask’... What happens to that curse if Rassilon regenerates a body of the different sex?

the plants

How are these plants… managing to do that? Where are the necessary organs?

The Aviator just groaned and added the charge. “What I wouldn’t give for a ...ing drink right now.” Zeb frowned at her, and she held up her hands. “Hypothetically, I swear.”

Okay, a fan of alcohol, I’m most definitely not, but Zeb, one glass at that?

“Skipping over the gods fighting over babysitting privileges,”

Another clear sign of badfic... A good parody would have made you want to read that again and again… What? What is passing above my head exactly?


“I’m going to projectile vomit all over this sofa,” the Aviator muttered.


Aim it at the enemy!

“Suddenly Elanor doesn’t seem so creepy by comparison,” Zeb said.

The Aviator slowly turned to look at him. “‘Scuse me?”

Emergency, need save!


“Yes,” the Aviator said, pursing her lips. “She is, thanks.”

Save found. Now fire the guy at Impulse Control.

“Projectile vomiting on Voldemort?” Zeb suggested.


See? That’s a viable tactic.

The Aviator grunted. “Then we’d get to charge for excessive angst instead of… hell, how do you even charge for this? Spoiled rotten prisoner?”

Duck it, the second one needs to be a charge in the list.

“Hitting her for everything she’s got, huh?” Zeb asked, opening a portal to their next destination.


Zeb, is there anything about this critter worth inspiring any shred of mercy?

Zeb looked over to see the Aviator’s eye beginning to twitch. “You know,” he said, “as far as songs go, it could be worse—”

Joe Dassin ?

“You know, too much of the same color leaves an outfit visually uninteresting,” Zeb said, shaking his head in disappointment. “Especially with her hair like it is—analogous colors are fine and all, but since her hair is blue and purple, she’d probably want to go for a split-complementary color scheme. Throw some red in there, make it pop!”

Where did a Pokemon pick up tips about human fashion? And how much does he charge? What? At least next time the characters will have nice outfits.

“You know, this still doesn’t make sense no matter how much I think about it,” Zeb said, rearranging his dress robes before sitting cross-legged on his chair. “Dumbledore wants her to be kept a secret so bad he never lets her leave her room, but then he invites her to sing in front of the school, but then he tells her as soon as she’s done she has to go right back to her room and… what, they’ll just hope everyone forgets about her?”

Remember, nobody cares about dumb facts and logic, Zeb. Only one-upping Harry.


The Aviator stood up, taking Zeb’s earmuffs from him when he offered them to her. “Let’s get that guitar,” she said as the Hall burst into applause. “Dee—er.” She cleared her throat when Zeb looked at her with a slow grin. “The Detective’s got an amp in his TARDIS—I mean, this is an acoustic, but he might still find a use for it.”

… Any chances of Elanor getting a sibling in the more or less close future y chance?

“Ave and the Detective, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S—”

PG level of discyourwebapps forbids me of pointing out the other four letters word fitting there… What? Do you have any idea how muh of a can of worms ‘love’ can be?

“Rock, Paper, Scissors?” Zeb suggested.


Lizard and Spock clearly missing there.

Zeb squinted at the notebook. “Ave, I can’t read Gallifreyan!” he called to her. “You gotta stop switching midway!”

Shamelessly stealingRespectfully borrowing the idea for Richard someday.

The Sue burst into a shower of glitter, coating the Aviator’s hands in sparkles. She recoiled in disgust and began shaking her hands as the tracker on her ankle began beeping alarmingly. “Shut up, it’s the Sue, you piece of *bleep*—” She delivered a vicious kick to the tracker with her other foot and it fell silent after one last, mournful beep.

That ducking piece of crap is still there, seriously?Just go to the Great Workshop in the Sky, dang it!

“Man, why can’t all our missions be this easy?”

*Looking at iximaz's mission count* It's all your fault Zeb. You'll know about what when you see it.

“Don’t go giving Ellie any siblings, now!” Zeb called after her.

IO is having some doubts there, Zeb. Should it go for a daughter or a son?


Again, Dawww for the start. And the mission presented the badfic well, with a nice and clean dispatch. Always linking reading this spin-off.

Well, it has two canons I recognise, a team I'm at least vaguely familiar with, and is only ('only') 14 pages... I guess that means I should read it. ;)

The opening scene is really cute. I clearly have something of a soft spot for domestic scenes (says the person who has written multiple stories about his retired agents and their kids...), and this works really well. (Though... I guess Zeb is... human now? I've clearly missed a lot. You have a thing for literally transforming your characters, don't you?)

... oh my gods, Artemis, Zeus, what. <<< The fact that this comes across so clearly shows that you've selected your quotes well. It also doesn't come across as overly-quoted, which is always a good thing.

For the mission itself, I'd say it felt about the right length - you hit the high points (well, low points), and didn't overcharge (the art of presenting a charge list that people won't just skip over is a tricky one to learn). I'd personally make my badfic quotes shorter than yours are, but I think that's in the range of style and preference; it doesn't feel like you're MSTing, is the main thing.

So yeah: good stuff. :)

hS

The beginning was very sweet and heartwarming. And Zeb teasing the Aviator was very fun.

This sue was pretty blatant, wasn't she? And man, that plants line. Spelling is important! (Although it's true planets probably would have been worse.)

Anyhow, very enjoyable. Read it on the train and laughed out loud.

• Elanor is cute - heck, the first two pages are nice heartwarming family stuff
  - ... ok, Artemis is way OOC
  - The Jesus line was good
  - Zeb, stop eating tuna
  - Plants growing out of her eyes. Wow
  - Ave seems tense about something around that conversation around Elator (or maybe maternal about Elanor), though maybe she was just joking
  - Projectile vomiting on Voldemort
  - Ave/Dee confirmed more When's the wedding
  - Zeb, stop tempting the IO
  - And when's Zeb and Jacques's wedding?
  
  Ok, overall thoughts:
  
  Ave's family stuff (and Elator) was really nice. Overall, I think this mission was a good balance of funny agent interactions, snark at the fic, and non-mission stuff. I'd say it's a reasonably solid PPC mission. Not exceptional, but solid.
  
  - Tomash

-Domesticity, immediately followed by a brain-breaking fic. XD

-Mind, now I'm wondering which 'Heaven' Zeb is humming... at least, I think there's more than one song with that name.

-I do appreciate the Aviator both being honest about her boundaries and not snapping at Zeb in the process. They have both learned something! ... I think.

-Aw, but the tuna! Is the Aviator allergic? I can't remember. :( Though that does mean 'bated breath' could double as 'baited' breath!

-Poor Hestia! Bad case of autocorrect, there, perhaps.

-"Both agents fought off a wave of nausea at yet another time skip washed over them" - at should be 'as', maybe? Or washed could be 'washing'.

-Also, poor Zeb. He just keeps digging these holes... might be overdoing it a little, but that might just be this mission.

-I do like how he's picking at the Sue's fashion sense, though! As well as the near-bookend with Zeb in the Response Center.

The Aviator may want to stop by DoSAT or something as well...

Thank you for writing! =D

-

That was a terrible fic, I'm impressed and horrified.

It seemed like the time-skips could have used a bit more scene-setting? It felt like we were back to banter really quickly after all of them. Not that time-skips are that strange, for an experienced pair of agents, but it felt like this fic was extra bad and yet it didn't affect the agents that much.

I loved the intro, and the threat of more trouble at the end with the tracker- I hope that comes back to bite her!

The pink floor-thing was really tugging on Anne’s mop. Its suction seemed to increase the more she pulled back on it and soon the mop’s handle was beginning to creak and she was feeling it right back in her joints. Her arms were beginning to feel disturbingly disconnected from her torso. She hrrrm-ed to herself for a while until she saw small cracks begin to spider around the floor. This struck her as somewhat not good.

‘Hey, Bingle?’ She glanced around the corridor. It was still. There was an eerie silence, except for the squelching, stretching sounds of the pink floor-things.

‘Hey, Finch?’ She glanced around again. An air conditioner hummed. The lights beamed. It was graveyard-silent. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled.

She released the mop and in a blinding flurry of movements that went SNAP! CLACK! SQUORRSH! the mop was totally absorbed into the pink floor-thing. Anne was pretty sure she heard something like chewing, as she walked down the corridor, around the corner, to Ninetwo.

Ninetwo was in the exact same situation Anne had been in. She was quivering and tugging and exhaling until Anne said: ‘Hey, hrrm, Ninetwo-’ at which point she yelped, hopped away, and watched as the pink floor-thing ate her mop.

Umm! Anne! Hello! And she saluted, trying to ignore the crunching snaps of the mop behind her.

‘Have you seen Bingle?’

Umm?

‘Have you seen Finch?’

Umm?

‘Well?’

Ninetwo rubbed her seedclock. Oh, um, no, they’ve been gone for a while. They disappeared hours ago.

‘You didn’t tell anyone?’ asked Anne with a raised eyebrow.

Ninetwo was immediately on the defensive. They - they almost always disappear! Nearly every shift, the both of them go completely AWOL and only reappear when the shift is over! I would suggest that it’s the both of them dodging their duties but that would be rude of me and against the principles of the PPC, so I won’t!

‘Huh,’ said Anne. ‘Okay.’ And she shrugged and walked off for a new mop.

--------------------------------------------------------

‘Oh, just you wait, Finch,’ Bingle said, rattling in his chains. ‘They’ll be here any moment. Just you wait.’

‘Sure.’

‘With the Security Dandelions in tow, and perhaps even an assassin or two as backup!’

‘I bloody well bet.’

‘Oh, believe me this,’ Bingle said, gazing, hardfaced, into the blackness of the cell they were sharing. ‘They will be here, any moment now. Any second. Just you wait.’

Talia peeked her head into RC65536+3i "Erm, hello?"

Thoth looked up from his perusal of Renegades of Pern. "Ah. Talia. What seems to be the issue?"

"I was looking for Tom, actually. Said he'd keep me company on shift, and then never showed. So, have seen him, big guy?"

"I have not, since..." Thoth frowned. "Three days ago. Most unusual."

"Odd..." said Talia, rubbing her forehead in thought. "I don't suppose you could use some magical to track him down or something?"

"I could. But I see no sense in doing so. He will appear. I am sure of it. In any case, I have my studies to attend to." He put his head back into the book.

Talia promptly turned and banged her head on the wall. It wasn't actually a hard bang, just one for comedic effect. "So... let me get this straight. We have a simple, easy way to locate your missing partner, but you won't do it because you're too lazy, and you think he'll turn up on his own in a place like HQ. Instead, you're reading second-rate 80's fantasy in an attempt to get a grumpy alcoholic with emotional problems to like you."

Thoth turned a page. "Believe what you will."

"Well... THAT'S STUPID!"

At that precise moment, Tom staggered through the door. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair mussed, and his clothes looked like they had seen three days without a wash (which they had). He promptly collapsed into his chair/improvised bed. Thoth didn't bother looking up.

"Tom?" Talia asked, concerned. "What the heck happened to you? Are you alright? Why didn't you join me on shift? What could have done this?"

Tom grinned tiredly. "It..."

"Yes?"

"It was..."

"Come on, say it!"

"It was..."

"...You're really doing this. Really. Just so we're clear, if you say anything about soap, I'm going to murder you."

"It was... d-d-Dark... Souls..."

RC65536+3i seemed to grow quiet for a moment. And then...

"SERIOUSLY?"

Meanwhile, Thoth continued to read, relatively unperturbed.

WARNING: Minor spoilers for Star Wars: The Old Republic: Knights of the Fallen Empire/Knights of the Eternal Throne.

---

The room felt empty without his presence, the two had never been alone with each other in a room before now, before the events on Ziost it had been always been at least Theo accompanying them, and after they'd had a war to fight and win and personal time had never come around. At least not until now, while the rest of the resistance on Odessen and around the galaxy celebrated, their leader and one of her closest confidants stood in a soundproofed, de-bugged room away from all prying eyes and ears and could just talk about the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter.

"He's really gone?" Naonae, known to many in the galaxy as The Outlander, asked, knowing the answer but still not quite able to believe it.

"He is." Pariya replied, nodding despite the fact she knew the Miralukan would not be able to see the gesture. "Disappeared searching for you not long after the Eternal Empire invaded. I was too busy with the Rift Alliance at the time to stop him from heading off, how he convinced the rest of his crew to not go along I have no idea."

Silence lingered between the two force users for a time before Naonae cleared it.

"He was a good friend, even for a Bounty Hunter. He will be missed." She turned her head towards the Zabrak, the grief of the Jedi obvious through the Force to her. "And I am sure he was a good Husband as well."

Pariya nodded again, blinking the tears out of her eyes, not caring about the other Jedi Masters that said showing emotions was a weakness, at least not caring about it now that she was with her closest, definitely still living friend, strange as it was to think of the Sith Lord like that.

"Even for a Bounty Hunter," She added after a second. "I will miss him indeed."

---
Novastorme

One day in the happy world of Headquarters, something very peculiar happened. Wobbles The Clown was missing! All the boys and girls and nonbinary life forms were very confused, because Wobbles made sure to tell all her friends if she was going away, and Wobbles was friends with everyone.

Everyone in the Nursery decided to go and look for Wobbles, because she might have gotten lost or fallen down a plothole, and that could be dangerous - or worse, boring. So off they went on an Adventure.

They looked in the Floating Hyacinth's office, but Wobbles wasn't there.

They looked in Wobbles The Clown's RC, but Wobbles wasn't there either.

They weren't allowed to look in Rudi's, but a friendly Security Dandelion did instead, and it said Wobbles wasn't there either.

They looked in the A/V Division offices, but the grown-ups there were not very friendly and screamed and threw things and one did a wee in his trousers, and worst of all Wobbles still wasn't there!

Where, oh where could Wobbles be?

---

"I... I really appreciate you doing this for me." The Notary looked immaculate, and it was only when you got close by that you could see the age and tiredness in her eyes.

"Ah-buh-buh-buh-buh! I'm doing this with you. The hard work is all on you." Wobbles would normally have offered a hug, but the way the Notary was trembling meant she stayed a pace or two away.

"I know, I know. I'm just..." The Notary sighed, quiet and old as an empty church. "Thank you."

Wobbles smiled and said nothing.

The door in front of them eventually opened, and a much shorter woman greeted the two and welcomed them into her office. In a few moments, it clicked shut, revealing a sign that said Nurse Jennifer Robinson, FicPsych.

The old Time Lord sat, and spoke, and when the tears and shaking and pain dragged themselves to the surface, Wobbles was there.

Right where she needed to be.

The shot was fired from behind. Point blank, from behind a cardboard box. In a flash of explosive light, the bullet left the chamber, piercing the cardboard, and approached Harrison's spine. In an instant, he vanished. The bullet might not have hit him, if it was any further away. But the bullet had vanished with him. The bullet hit, far away, in a dark safe room, somewhere miles away underground. Or maybe not. Harrison was gone, and so was the bullet.

It was written off as a failed mission. The target had gotten away.
Or maybe he wasn't lucky enough.

Two weeks pass. There were no more sightings of Harrison. No more tears in reality. No more extra hours of daylight, or unending night. No more. -


Or the bullet hadn't hit and he is merely biding his time. Maybe he is taking the chance to finally disappear. A fake death. A get out of jail free card.
A rare opportunity for a man like him. He should get what he deserves.

Another month passed.
He was only human, after all. Wasn't he? He seemed more machine than man. More animal than human. He was strong. Powerful. But a bullet can change all of that in an instant.
Harrison is presumed dead, succumbing to his injuries.

He was a force to be reckoned with. He defended many people. He helped many. But he harmed many, many more. He never showed his hand, and was trusted by nobody. He got what he deserved.

Harrison is dead. Whatever phenomena is occurring is not connected to him whatsoever. His house has fallen over a patch of farmland. Constant streams of ash pour out. A small amount of partially damaged golems currently roam, but will be contained and destroyed. Harrison is dead, and the dead have no hold over the living.

The golems began screeching at 9:04 pm, Tuesday evening. Simply bashing them with hammers wasn't enough. Attempts to move and contain them have failed. Harrison must have had batteries somewhere continuing their power. They will die soon enough.

After eight weeks, the golems have finally been silenced. Twenty ton deadweights; it was simpler to bury them than to move them. The house fire ceased, and was promptly demolished and shipped to a proper disposal site. An anticlimactic conclusion to the end of his tale.
And now, for some final words: Good riddance.

... I'll try making this about something other than PPC.



Amelia wandered reluctantly into the library. Clara was, of course, already waiting in her usual spot, with books all around and currently buried deep in an ancient volume entitled “History of the Divisions, Volume One – 100BC – 500AD”.

“Hello,” said Amelia, and Clara glanced up.

She put the book down and motioned to Amelia to sit down beside her, before pulling out a piece of paper covered in her tiny handwriting.

Amelia groaned and looked closely at it, trying to decipher her friend’s spidery scrawl. “What is this thing?” she asked.

“A study plan – look, I’ve worked out when you’re going to do what – you can see it later.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Look, Clara, I asked for some help with revision, not a whole study plan for the next… how long?”

“Six months. That’s how long until the exam.”

Amelia nodded.

“Anyway. Shall we get going?” Clara asked, picking up one of the textbooks (“The Theory of Magic”) and opening it.

Amelia moved a little closer and peered over Clara’s shoulder. She tried to focus, but the textbook wasn’t very engaging and she couldn’t stop thinking about what Nathan had said.

Clara turned a page and asked, “What was on that last page?”

“Um…” Amelia groaned inwardly.

“You’re distracted, aren’t you? What is it?”

“Oh… um… nothing….” Amelia knew there was no way Clara would believe that, and the red flush on her cheeks didn’t help.

“It’s Nathan, isn’t it?”

Amelia sighed and said “Maybe…”

Clara smiled triumphantly and began chanting “Amelia and Nathan, sitting in a tree…”

Amelia groaned.

The two women were curled up in bed together, blankets drawn up over bare skin to keep away the chill. Charlotte draped an arm over Ix's waist, grinning.

"So your full name is—?"

"Yes," Ix said, looking rather shamefaced.

"I mean, I knew Potterverse werewolves' names were a little on the nose, but—"

Ix rolled over, grumbling when Charlotte's arms tightened, pulling her closer. "You don't have to take the mickey out of it."

Charlotte rested her chin on Ix's shoulder, grinning. "I'm not teasing, I just think it's hilarious, that's all. Faolan Amaris—'little wolf moon'? Your old author really had it in for you."

"Weren't you named after a spider who wrote messages for a pig?" Ix said, glancing over her shoulder at Charlotte.

Charlotte stuck her tongue out at her. "Hey, it could be worse," she said. "Lupin's dad's name also meant wolf, and his mom's maiden name was Howell, so..." She trailed off when she noticed Ix's grimace. "What?"

"My middle name, Amaris, was my ma's given name," Ix said. "My da's name was Connell... which also means wolf."

Charlotte stared at her for a minute before letting go, guffawing loudly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing, but—"

Ix waved a hand, smiling wryly. "Wolf and Moon had a werewolf kid. It's alright, I'd be laughing, too."

So this is...kind of non-PPC writing. Think of it as...backstory of sorts...for an AU version of a PPC agent and some other people??

Alright. Basically: Doctor Who and Torchwood Hogwarts AU, wherein Torchwood characters through season 2 and Doctor Who characters through New Who's season 4 exist in the Potterverse--in the 1970s. The Harry Potter characters remain in place. Where does the PPC agent come in? Well, instead of Jack Harkness, we have Jacques Bonnefoy. And yes, there is a difference. Also, here he was born in France and sounds it, though he put a lot of effort into a British accent during school and uses that frequently as well.

Around 1975 or 1976, Jacques Bonnefoy (French Hogwarts student, graduated two years back) and his best friend Ianto Jones (Welsh Hogwarts student, graduated one year back) stumbled into the PPC (present day). They became agents in different departments, with the idea that they would stay for a time and then go back to figure out some way to help once the war with Voldemort heated up further, which it seemed it was going to. Several years later, that's what they did: they went back, rented a flat together, and joined their friends in trying to help (though not within the Order of the Phoenix itself).

It's not the best atmosphere to be living in, for the obvious reason that there's a war on.

A key:

Jon (Jonathan) Smith: the Ninth Doctor. Of an age with Jacques.
Johnny (John) Smith: the Tenth Doctor. Two years older than Jon.
(it's a family name!)
Rose Tyler and Ianto Jones--same names as usual, even if their backstories are a bit different.


"And you haven't seen him?" Rose was frowning. "I don't like this."

"Maybe he's just...out." Jon's voice was light, but the crease between his eyebrows betrayed him. "You know how he is--always liked his nights out--"

Ianto shook his head. "He was meant to be coming straight back. To the Muggle shops, to Diagon, and back. That's it." He stared down at his hands: useless. Completely useless. "I should've been with him."

Rose shook her head immediately, reaching out to take his hand. "You couldn't have known."

"There's a war on," Ianto said. He pulled his hands away and stood, trying to resist the urge to pace. He ended up moving haltingly toward the kitchen and then turning back. "I shouldn't have let him go alone."

It had seemed so easy, yesterday. Jacques had been grinning, teasing him as he checked his pockets. He'd at least seemed relaxed, switching in and out of French and daring Ianto to keep up until the younger wizard rolled his eyes and started speaking in Welsh--which he could do far too quickly for Jacques' limited knowledge of the language to work.

"Going to miss me?" Jacques had asked, just before he left. He'd sidled up close, eyes dancing.

Ianto had rolled his eyes. "Not a bit."

Jacques gasped. "So cruel! You know I think the world of you, mon ami--mon cher ami, mon--"

Ianto shoved him, grinning. "Just go to the shops already, you prat." He'd marched Jacques to the door with a hand on his shoulder; there, the grin faded. "Come back in one piece."

For a second--just one second--Jacques' fingers had brushed his cheek. "For you--I will."

He'd been out the door before Ianto could catch his breath long enough to roll his eyes, jogging down the stairs with a cheery wave and a grin.

And then he hadn't come back. No word, no sign--nothing. He was just gone. Ianto had already checked for him in several places, had even sent an urgent letter to his parents in case for some reason he'd got it into his head to go to France. Nothing had worked.

Sending a note to Rose and Jon had seemed like a good idea at the time. He'd been pretty sure they were around, for a change--both were working for the Order of the Phoenix, had tried to get him and Jacques to join as well--and, well, if Jacques wasn't with them, then...they might have a better sense of where he could be.

"I really don't like this," Rose said quietly. She looked up at Jon, nervously twisting the thin gold ring on her left hand; he looked back more seriously now, his ringless hands shoved deep into his pockets. "We're gonna look for him, right?"

Jon nodded. "'Course. Can't just let him vanish." His eyes flicked to Ianto. "We'll get him back."

"Yeah," Ianto said. He took a breath. "I'm coming with you. I should have--"

"No." Jon stepped forward, shaking his head. "Keep looking, but stay safe."

"He's my best friend. If you think I'm going to--"

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Jon demanded. "I bet you haven't. Rose and I'll go. We're a good team. We'll find him, and we'll drag him out of whatever mess he's landed in. But you're going to be smart, and stay based right here, so there's someone to back him up if he gets out on his own and comes back with company."

"Or injured, you mean." Had the walls here always been so, so shabby? He'd thought it was a nice enough place, or at least bearable, but right now it just looked dull and pointless. They should have found something better, maybe in a different city--maybe then Jacques wouldn't have-- "You want me out the way and here in case by some miracle he--"

"I want you staying safe," Jon said sharply. He ran a hand over his hair, a habit he'd picked up from Jacques, who'd picked it up from someone else in turn--Hart, possibly, and wasn't that an unsettling thought. Whatever the two of them had been throughout school, it wasn't friends. "Can I be frank?"

Ianto jerked his head. "Can't stop you."

Jon met his eyes. His gaze was the sort of intense that almost made sense of how strongly Jacques had been drawn to him in fifth year--almost. Ianto could never completely see the appeal, even if he respected what he did--and, worse, what he was in another universe. "If he comes back to find you've got yourself killed, he'll go spare."

"If he comes back and got himself killed, I'll go spare," Ianto retorted.

Jon grinned; Ianto narrowed his eyes. "You're a right pair, you are. Look, me'n Rose--we'll get him back. Whatever condition he's in when we find him, we'll get him back. You stay here. Keep writing to people, keep checking places he might've gone in the Muggle world--"

"Couldn't Rose--?"

"I'll be busy," Rose said. She motioned to Jon. "Someone's got to keep him talkin' sense."

Ianto ran a hand through his hair, wishing for at least the twentieth time that he hadn't picked up the habit himself. "Right." Send the pureblood around to make house calls in the Muggle world--or, worse, telephone calls. No way for that to go poorly. "If you're not back in two days--"

Jon shook his head. "Give us a week."

"A week?"

"A week," Jon said firmly. "Hope we won't need it. A full week before you do something stupid, though."

Ianto crossed his arms, realizing too late he'd picked that up from Jacques as well. Was there anything in his life that hadn't been influenced by him by now? They'd only even been proper friends since Ianto's fifth year...which was admittedly quite a while ago, now. "I never do anything stupid."

Jon snorted. "Nice try, mate--knew you in school." He clapped Ianto on the shoulder and then looked over at Rose. "We should go! Get our things in order, figure out a place to start--"

"Yeah," Rose said. She came over to kiss Ianto's cheek. "Be safe, yeah? We'll bring him back."

Ianto nodded. "Maybe the pair of you should become Aurors, when the war's over."

Rose grinned. "Nah--when the war's done, I'm taking Johnny and moving as far away as I can get. Not like he won't have found somewhere interesting by now, all the traveling he's been doing..."

"Best be off," Jon said. He was already moving for the door; Ianto had the impression that he couldn't wait any longer to start looking, and was suddenly, fiercely glad of it. "Rose--"

"Yeah." She joined him, and smiled gently at Ianto as Jon opened the door. "We will find him."

Ianto nodded. "I'm sure you will. Take care."





For the curious, a (brief, incomplete) Hogwarts House key:

Gryffindor:
Gwen Cooper (a year below the Marauders)
Jacques Bonnefoy (three years above the Marauders)
Rose Tyler (half a year younger than Jacques by my notes)
Possibly Kevin (Jacques' year, still needs a surname--this is the translation of Jack's childhood friend who he...talked into joining a war with him and got, in short, killed. In this universe, he was killed by Death Eaters in the year before Jacques and Ianto joined the PPC).
Martha Jones (a year above Jacques)
Donna Noble (same year)

Hufflepuff:
Ianto Jones (a year below Jacques)
No one else from DW/TW, apparently. Weird.

Ravenclaw:
Owen Harper (Ianto's year)
Toshiko Sato (I have yet to figure out what year)
Johnny Smith (aka Ten, two years above Jacques)

Slytherin:
John Hart (tell me you're surprised. Look me in the eyes and tell me this is a surprise to you. I'll wait.)
Jon Smith (aka Nine. Went there primarily because he asked out of curiosity, and regretted it as Voldemort rose higher and the blood politics really got going. In fifth year, he loudly insulted his housemates over it in the Great Hall, and ended up with detention--and, after serving detention with Jacques (who definitely didn't get detention for this exact purpose), a new friend.)


Also: Suzie Costello is around somewhere, possibly not at Hogwarts at all, John Hart--well, we'll leave him for another time, and of course the Master's around--his name is Harry Saxon (though he'd really rather people called him Harold), and he's Johnny's sworn academic rival. They have quite a bit of fun, even if they disagree a bit when it comes to morals. In research.

Also also: where's everyone from Classic Who? They're around! Never fear. They're just a bit older! The Smith family is incredibly full of them, though they're definitely not all brothers. Presumably, all the companions are around as well. I do have a tentative description of how the Smiths are all related, but apart from that, I'll just leave you with the tidbit that the Three and Delgado Master equivalents are old friends of the inexhaustibly bantering type. That Master is quite likely Saxon's uncle (or father?) and Johnny and Harry probably met a few times growing up.

(Also also also: why, yes, this universe's Ten and Rose have gotten married. Yes, this is, in some ways, a happy AU. Yes, in other ways it might possibly be worse than canon. And yes, I did have a lot of fun creating this!)

~Z

Ce’rana of Borune smiled slightly as she finished drying her face, hanging the washcloth back on its little ring. It always was nice to be clean again, even if it was only some parts of her.

This time, however, she did not immediately turn and exit the bathroom. She took a moment to turn to the set of hanging shelves next to the sink; something towards the back had been bothering her in its nonidentifiability since she’d noticed it. Given the lack of dust, it was obviously either new or frequently-used, and she really saw no harm in keeping up with the various things her partner used.

Her eyebrows raised slowly when she picked up the black tube and read the label. Wordlessly, she stepped out of the bathroom and walked over to Alex’s half of the RC, extending it to him when she reached him. “Alex? May I ask what this is?”

He glanced at the tube for an instant, then paled slightly and looked back at the book he was reading. “Never seen it before in my life.”

Ce’rana blinked. Now that was an unusual reaction. “Are you certain? Because whatever this is, it is certainly not mine, and if it is also not yours then someone else must have been in our bathroom very recently.”

“That could be it, you know.” He shrugged, quickly turning his attention to his book in the vain hope that she would drop the subject.

The Dryad thought for a moment. He obviously recognized it, and just as obviously didn’t think that she knew exactly what the term ‘Hair Dye’ meant. She leaned down slightly and smiled, raising the tube slightly so she could compare it to his hair without him necessarily noticing. “Alex, are you entirely certain this is not yours?” she asked sweetly.

“I’m positive it’s not mine.” He didn’t look up, hoping that if he ignored the tube long enough, it would go away.

The tiny agent straightened again. “In that case, I will be holding onto it to ensure that it is not lost before it can be returned to its owner.” She bit her tongue for a moment to avoid spoiling her game. “I trust this will not be an issue?”

“You could just put it back… please?” He glanced up at her again, still hoping that she would drop the subject.

Ce’rana blinked. That wasn’t his usual tone for when she was bothering him about something. “Is it something expensive, then? I would think it would be better to keep it somewhere safe in a case like that,” she said a moment later, struggling to keep up her ruse of cluelessness.

“If you put it back, then whoever owns that will know where it is.” He was running out of excuses.

“Yes, but it might fall and be lost, given where it was.” The Dryad had to bite her tongue again to keep from just saying what came to mind next. “And if this individual will be continuing to leave things around, perhaps we ought to speak with one another and set aside a space to be leaving said things so they do not get mixed in with ours, as this did.”

“Rana… just put it back.” He really wanted to stop this conversation before it got worse. “I’m sure that it would be fine where it was.”

Ce’rana couldn’t keep her smile from growing wider. “I will if you tell me why this color matches the majority of your hair so well, Alex,” she said innocently.

His book closed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She leaned down again and tapped his nose with the tube. “I may have never personally touched it, but many of the ladies at court were perfectly willing to change the color of their hair to match some fashion or another. As a result, I do know what the term ‘hair dye’ means, and even if I did not, I do know what dye is. The shade of black indicated by this container matches your hair almost perfectly - likely a minute difference between this and the dye itself. So, I repeat my question: why is it that this matches your own hair so well, Alex?”

“It doesn’t match my hair, see? I’ve got a brown streak.” He grabbed the offending streak of hair and held it out to show her.

Ce’rana raised her eyebrow at him. “Historically speaking, one of the more common fashions to recur was to have most of a woman’s hair be black, but have a single white streak left in it. Your argument proves nothing to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It would be entirely plausible for you to dye every bit of your hair save for one streak, or to dye just that streak. However, seeing as I know you hate that streak, my closest guess would be that you have been attempting to cover it with dye.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” He sounded less like he didn’t know, and more like he was just wishing she would buy it.

She tapped him with the tube again. “None whatsoever? Assuming I would believe this, whom is it that would have left this on our shelves among your things?”

“I will literally pay you to stop talking about this.” He pulled out a bar of chocolate.

Ce’rana immediately dropped the tube into his lap, took the chocolate, and walked back to her side of the room. No Tolnedran could resist the allure of the word ‘pay’, and no Dryad would resist so much chocolate for something so simple.

Alex gave a small sigh of relief, then picked up the tube and took it back to the bathroom. Ce’rana heard the sound of a sink turning on and chuckled to herself as she broke one of the little pieces off the bar. Even if she hadn’t gotten him to admit it, she’d still gotten all the answers she’d wanted and more.

Daily Life Over at The Wake

As part of one of the few routines he had been able to grasp in the past three months, Bobo found himself just outside of the Southern District's humble Welcome House, staring into the mid-distance, waiting. The sky was calm, the trees and grasses hummed softly with Life... and Nita had no idea he was here.

Well, in the bigger scheme of things, she knew he was here, in the City of Change, and he knew that she knew, and in some small way that put him at ease. Nita had become a constant - or, from another point of view, had become a constant again - and to a potentially-disquieting extent he was loathe to change that-

"'Stihó!", came the greeting, and the other, newer constant, came into view. Only months' worth of practice allowed the Umbreon-embodied peridexis to suppress his groan.

/Dai, Nautilus,/ he returned, breaking off his attempt at meditation to properly greet the embodied Aeon-slash-City.

/A Vaporeon, again? Haven't you grown tired of that form?/

Nautilus - for he had taken on the shape of a Vaporeon this time, possibly so they'd be more equal in height, merely shook his head and grinned.

"Like how you would ever tire of getting to spend time with Nita?"

That line drove Bobo to fix the other with a Look.

/You're here to train me, not tease me,/ he strained, walking over to Nautilus' side stiffly.

"And I'm not free to do both?" Without prompting, Nautilus reached out and lightly pawed one of Bobo's ears; a quick bout of reflexes brought them out of the "Vaporeon"'s physical reach.

/There's more than one kind of freedom- and our time here is limited, whether you like it or not. What style are we in today?/ he asked, in a rush to change the subject, because time was limited whether he liked it or not as well.

Not because he'd mentioned Nita. Not at all.

"Well, I was going to make it card dueling, again, but-" Nautilus jumped in the air, and didn't quite make it all the way back to the ground.

"Race you to the clouds?"

Bobo smirked. /I know you like being flashy, but I'll admit this sounds novel. You're on./

Not wanting to waste time, he focused on his own set of invisible stairs, and pounced.

How about this for an improvement?

_______ watched as she stripped it of everything useful for his tradecraft, even finding the secret compartments containing his deadliest poisons.





For bigger context, here it is in the paragraph.

The young woman dressed as if she just left a cloister nodded and retrieved the pack. Zevran watched as she stripped it of everything useful for his tradecraft, even finding the secret compartments containing his deadliest poisons. This sister bore watching. He subtly checked for the things he carried on his person. All gone. His estimation of her changed to artisan.

I mean, when you're trying to talk about all of something, you have a few options as far as words to use, but all of them basically serve the same purpose as "all" and would be just as potentially problematic.

A lot of the time (not always, mind) you can just drop the "all" entirely. You could say "she stripped it of his lovely potions" and "all" is, to some degree, implied. However, if you want to emphasize that all of something is involved, then you really have no choice but to use a word like "all" or "every".

Personally, I think that this is just one of those cases where an editing system gets it wrong. They're very useful tools, up to a point, but they have their limits and should always be augmented with a solid understanding of grammar and the meanings and connotations of words. Just the other day, my autocorrect tried to get me to say "the place were the boy stood" instead of "the place where the boy stood". I still use it; it's caught something I missed plenty of times. But I don't accept everything it says as fact.

It's good that you're watching out for these things, but I don't think "all" is a problem word.

I can't say I've heard of "all" being a word to avoid before, but thinking how I'd write the sentence differently, perhaps you can be more descriptive with it. Replace "all his lovely potions" with "every glittering vial and philter" or some such.

IMO, the issue you'd really be fixing isn't with "all," but with "lovely." (I HAVE heard that adverbs are often not your friends.) What's lovely about the potions? Tell us that instead.

But that's just my take on it. {= )

~Neshomeh

I think it depends on how far the bootleg tries to stray from the source material- with the rule of thumb I'm going to give being thus.

"Is this game trying to *become part of* the source material, or *copy* the source material?"

For instance, if a Pokemon bootleg were labeled "Slap Ball Monster Pocket Go" and tried to sell itself as a clone of a Pokemon game, I wouldn't think of that as trying to usurp the canon of the game- it's merely copying from it. That isn't going to harm the canon in any way.

However, if a Pokemon bootleg were labeled "Pokemon Pirepearl Alpha Rite", and at least made a passing attempt to place itself in the same world as Pokemon (say, having at least a few prominent canon Pokemon in the game) then yes, I would consider it a "fan"fic-esque entity trying to assert its influence on the canon- and *then* the original characters (say, fakemon) could be recruited. (Note that for Pokemon in particular, 3rd-gen bootleg games of this nature were usually hackroms put on a cart and sold without the consent of Nintendo OR the hack-maker. And hackroms typically are pretty much fanfics in video game format.)

Unoriginal canons are still canons.

You put a lot of thought into this. G'job!

-Twistey

I really like the little details, it really gives personality to the scene instead of it being just another room. All of the lines also converge to the appropriate vanishing point, so that is good as well. However, Constance seems to be falling over, mainly because her left hand seems to be missing when it should be holding up her upper body.

Anyways, here is mine. NSFW if a shirtless guy counts.

New Tales of Hieronymus – The Stubborn Knight
or Let an Image Replace a Thousand Words.

HG

But I wanted to share this old work of Nesh's that I liked.

Bonus: Leofric is a name that Nautilus went by at one point... >)

Also, those are rather nice hands you've drawn, there. ;)

It very much feels like we're in the room, as well, which is nice.

I love all the little details in your picture. It feels like every time I look at it, I find something new about it. :) Now I kind of want to see a family portrait with her, Dafydd, and the kids...

As for my own art, I think I might have shared this before? Ah well—I haven't drawn anything else recently, so I might as well include them. They're showing up as pretty huge in the preview for some reason, so apologies for just putting in links instead.

Anyone who's read the wedding interlude for Ix and Charlotte will be familiar with this one.

Aegis, Silance, and I have been in a D&D game as of late, and this is my tiefling fighter, Trouble Belspira. No fancy color to her, just a sketch I did on the designated space in her character sheet.

Lastly, some of my WoW characters. Well, one of them is my mom's, but same difference. Here's a gallery link as well so they're not taking up the entire screen.