A mortician in need of a leash.

dismater: grotesquery: unicornsaurusrex: The Ultimate Skull...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 11:44:59 -0700

grotesquery:

unicornsaurusrex:

The Ultimate Skull Wedding Cake | EAT YOUR HEART OUT

This is kind of gross and I LOVE it

John, it’s decided, we have to marry.

artissimo: d’artiste: Character Design

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 14:16:09 -0700

artissimo:

d’artiste: Character Design

Well, if any of you are going to be in Colorado for the next ten weeks, I’m staying here for...

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 09:40:13 -0700

Well, if any of you are going to be in Colorado for the next ten weeks, I’m staying here for work.

If you ever call me that, I will smack you. You know better.

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 21:56:02 -0700

If you ever call me that, I will smack you. You know better.

I can only aspire to be a fraction as badass, but I do...

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 21:29:29 -0700

I can only aspire to be a fraction as badass, but I do appreciate it.

90sjamz: Only Happy When It Rains | Garbage

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 20:33:23 -0700

90sjamz:

Only Happy When It Rains | Garbage

Death of the Inutterable Lurker [NY Raid]

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 19:20:56 -0700

Death of the Inutterable Lurker [NY Raid]

quallsquest: Big Barda sketch by Adam Hughes

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 18:25:22 -0700

quallsquest:

Big Barda sketch by Adam Hughes

What are your thoughts on Hannibal so far?

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 18:05:00 -0700

It’s not my new favorite show or anything, but I find enough elements of it interesting to keep watching. I had been watching Defiance, which I’ll get back to when I finish this last Hannibal episode, but while the cast and setting of Defiance seem tailor-made for my interests, something in it’s been slightly lagging for me.

The Women of Hannibal Clockwise: Dr. Alana Bloom, Beverly...

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 16:30:26 -0700

The Women of Hannibal

Clockwise: Dr. Alana Bloom, Beverly Katz, Phyllis “Bella” Crawford, Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier, Freddie Lounds, Abigail Hobbs.

Went to Denver Pride today with a few work friends. Had an awesome elk burger and heard some great...

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 15:56:45 -0700

Went to Denver Pride today with a few work friends. Had an awesome elk burger and heard some great music. Fun times.

artissimo: Exploring Character Design

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 15:11:23 -0700

artissimo:

Exploring Character Design

I started watching Hannibal just for the hell of it and I take comfort in the fact that the FBI...

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 21:50:24 -0700

I started watching Hannibal just for the hell of it and I take comfort in the fact that the FBI seems to be using the same crappy Blackberries as the one I have for work.

At The Meridian 3/?

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 21:40:54 -0700

Previous chapter is here.

—-

[2077 CE]

Shiala raised the lathal just in time to block Musahir’s strike. Biotic energy rippled through the wooden staff as they both started to struggle for a firm grip on the weapon. With a grunt of exertion, Shiala channeled a surge of power into her hands, the resulting burst sending the other commando flying. She went on the offensive, closing the distance between them in a few quick steps.

The red-marked matron recovered in seconds, swinging both her legs in a brutal gesture that took Shiala out at the knees. Limited to grappling with her lower body thanks to the staff, Shiala tried to lock down the bulk of Musahir’s weight, only to get an elbow driven into the pit of her stomach. The pained gasp that followed was the only opening needed for her to lose her grip and feel the lathal pressed against her throat, thrumming with energy.

Letting her arms fall slack, Shiala took a moment to catch her breath.

“Athame’s bloodied shield, Musa,” She began once most of the ache had faded, “you’re the dirtiest fighter on the continent.”

The other commando chuckled, bouncing to her feet before offering Shiala a hand. “Only because we’re sparring. I’d be kicked out of any lathal competition on Thessia.”
“It’s because you’re a marine.” Shiala smiled broadly, taking the staff in hand to examine it. “No training that out of you.”

“You don’t hold it against me, do you, Captain?” Musahir returned the grin. “Is there something wrong with the lathal?”

Running her thumb down the length of the wood, Shiala frowned. “There’s a crack in the center.” She glanced up. “And even if I was still a captain, I wouldn’t be yours. Unless you found an ounce of sense and joined the army.”

“Give it here.” Musahir extended her hand.

Shiala tossed the staff over, watching as the younger asari summarily snapped the weapon in half over one knee. Sparks fizzled from the cracked center, proving her suspicions. With the way biotic energy was channeled through the wood, a break in the middle of a sparring match could mean terrible injury.

“I’ll toss it in the incinerator when we go back inside.” She said.

“Too bad the priestesses didn’t plant any l’at trees in the earlier season.” Shiala said, stepping onto the stone path to the garden. “We could carve another.”

“Maybe you could, country maiden.” Musahir fell in line behind her. “I never learned to cut that wood straight.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Shiala’s smile returned. “You should. It’s quite relaxing.”

Muted grunts and shouts filled the air as they turned the corner into the main body of the garden. The rest of the unit, save for a perimeter patrol, were practicing throws and grappling on the grass. They were only ten feet from one of the fountains - symbolically left dry for the winter - but Shiala hiped they remembered twenty years before when a pair had tumbled into a hanar light sculpture gifted to Benezia. Aethyta had given them an unusually harsh lecture on how painstaking the creation was to have made.

Her eyes immediately sought out the matriarch, who was under the curved white roof of a rotunda. A datapad was perched on the extensive swell of Benezia’s stomach, brow knit as her fingers flew over the projected keyboard. The violet linen shift she wore was stretched tight, although it had been bought only the week before. Even with the estate’s environmental controls holding back the bone-deep chill of winter, Shiala saw Benezia shiver. She could be sweating a moment later, subject in recent weeks to the whims of hot and cold flashes. The matriarch had refused hormone regulation beyond the standard supplements over concerns of aggravating her condition, but it was still fairly miserable.

“Goddess, that child’s taking its time.” Musahir said, drawing Shiala from her thoughts. “Winter’s nearly over.”

“Better late than early.” Shiala frowned. “Mind the lathal, Musa.”

Turning over the broken pieces in her hands, Musahir nodded. “I’ll say a prayer over the fire for the girl, too.”

Shiala watched the wrestling a moment longer before her feet carried her to the platform below the rotunda. Benezia’s focus wasn’t broken as she took a seat, still intent on writing. A moment later the matriarch stiffened, grasping at her stomach. Pain flickered through sky blue eyes before they settled on Shiala, her lips curving in a faint smile.

“She’s been giving her opinion on my work all morning.”

“Like any proper teacher’s daughter.” Shiala let her palm rest on the matriarch’s forearm. Benezia’s skin felt cool and firm to the touch. “Are you cold, auma?”

“It’s better than the hot flashes. I can’t concentrate when I feel taken by fever.” She gestured at the datapad, displacing Shiala’s hand. “And this writing is useless. Diplomats from High Command are asking my opinion on conflicts I’ve only read about, to judge politicians I’ve never met. The temple wants me to interpret some of Janiri’s writings for the upcoming holiday so they can give matchmaking advice.” Benezia couldn’t conceal her faint disdain for the latter task. “I’m…cut off from everything.”

“It will be weeks at most, if not days.” Shiala leaned back against the bench. “Farizah’s been keeping the hospital up-to-date. They’ll be ready for you anytime.”

The original plan for a home birth had been scrapped with Aethyta’s departure, making the topic a sore subject, but there were only so many ways she could offer comfort as the date came closer. Benezia had to be one of the most important people in her life, but Shiala had taken to heart her father’s stern lessons when she cried or showed anger as a child. She was supposed to be composed, disciplined. When others around her had trouble keeping control, she tended to buckle down, but Benezia wasn’t a fellow soldier to be forced to snap out of it. Instead she found herself offering her hand, having to hope that the matriarch’s fingers entwining with hers meant the gesture helped.

“I’ve decided on a name.” Benezia said softly. “I know it’s tradition to wait until she’s born, but I can’t seem to think of any other.”

Shiala managed a small smile. “I’m sure it’s fitting.”

“Have you ever-” Benezia hesitated. “I apologize. It’s a very personal question.”

Confusion knit the commando’s brow. “With all respect auma, I live in your home and eat at your table. Everything I do is to protect you and your house. Personal and professional are nearly one and the same.”

“That doesn’t mean I have the right to pry into every aspect of your life.” Benezia sighed quietly. “I was going to ask if you ever intended to have children.”

Shiala shook her head. “Fifty years as a matron has yet to convince me. My mother was only a little older than I am, but she had my father’s lifespan to consider. I haven’t had any partners since I was with the Irregulars, much less a bondmate.”

It was Benezia’s turn to smile. The matron was nothing if not frank, in nearly all aspects of life. “Then where does your future lay?”

“Here, until you find yourself not in need of me.” Shiala said.

“That could be over three centuries, providing little changes. You would be a matriarch by the end.”

“Has that stopped you from having a daughter and calling?” The matron asked, although the question rang rhetorical. “When the time comes, I’ll confront it.”

Another flicker of hesitation crossed Benezia’s face. “And this, here, is enough?”

The seed of doubt in the older asari’s voice verged on heartbreaking. A hundred questions sprang to Shiala’s mind - why did Aethyta leave, why are you having this child - but she held her tongue on every one.

A strange sound, like water droplets falling on stone, drew her from the sudden surge of frustration. Green eyes focused on the fountain, which was dry enough to gather dust, and then outside the walls of the estate. It was too cold to rain. She frowned before glancing downward, confirming her final suspicion.

“Your house has given my life meaning for almost a hundred years, auma, as has every lesson you’ve offered me.” Keeping her voice even, she gently squeezed Benezia’s hand. “And I believe your water just broke.”

Abject surprise was rare to see on the matriarch’s face, but it arose in full force when she looked down, tugging the barrier of her skirts far enough out of the way to see.

“Goddess, it felt just like a shiver.” Benezia blinked, momentarily at a loss. “We must—”

“Yes.” Shiala stood up, gently releasing the hand entwined with her own. “Nika, get the acolytes!”

Sprawled on the grass as she was, it took a second for the commando to leap to her feet. “What? Why?”

“Because they have a birth to attend.”

Shiala’s words immediately stirred the unit to action, with Nika bring up her omnitool to warn the foot patrol and interrupt the atanmas’ private meditation. Farizah emerged almost immediately, unlocking the private port to allow access to the estate’s skycars. She rushed to Benezia’s side, paying little attention to the soldiers that were hurtling past her.

“Auma, are you—” The normally collected priestess looked slightly flushed, mouth tensed in a moue of concern.

“I’m fine, Farizah.” Benezia stood slowly of her own accord, refusing both hands that reached out to offer assistance. “I think that she finally grew tired of my complaints. Could you please…see that a towel and another skirt make it into my car?”

“The bail-out bag is already in the first trunk.” Shiala said to the hurried matron.

Farizah quietly sniffed. “It has a change of clothes and a medical kit. You make it sound like we’re going to war.”

Shiala thought mentioning the scan-proof pistol she’d tucked into the bottom liner was ill-advised.

“The only battle will be making sure we have her at the hospital before the media finds out.” She said aloud.

“Your point is…unfortunately taken.” Farizah frowned before turning on her heel and quickly cutting through the garden to the front of the house.

Despite the jumbled start, the rest of the preparation passed in an efficient blur. With the car loaded and a few quick calls made, Shiala climbed into the driver’s seat of the leading vehicle, swiping her omnitool over the console to start the engine.

Benezia leaned back in her seat, skirt drawn out to cover the edges of the towel. It always took a split second for Shiala to ensure her ascent was slow; she’d organized enough sudden evacuations with the Irregulars that immediate instinct was to go from parked to five hundred and hope the shuttle held together.

“Are there any messages you want to send?” She asked a few minutes later, waiting for a signal to flash before accelerating and popping into a lane of midday Serrice traffic. It was tempting to forward diplomatic clearance codes to traffic control and pass into the emergency lane, but Benezia seemed stable enough to last a less breakneck drive. The move could also draw quite a bit of attention, if any reporting VI had a tracker on their plates.

Benezia shook her head. “I’d prefer nothing went out until after the birth. Even one message could provide the basis for speculation.”

It amazed Shiala how long the pregnancy had stayed off the radar. After centuries of working with only weeks of reprieve, no one had found it particularly unusual when Benezia retreated from public affairs for the last two years. For every hundred contacts the matriarch had across the galaxy, she invited one to her household, and that tended to be for very private, complicated business negotiations.

Friends were few and far between, much less ones that visited often enough to notice the slow swell of Benezia’s stomach. Those the older asari held closest in her heart were older mentors, many of which had passed away recently. In her first thirty years with the household, Shiala had attended a staggering number of funerals.

“Of course.” Shiala kept her eyes focused on the highspeed lane in front of her. It was maddening, pretending nothing had changed.

She and Aethyta had spent a month planning logistics and contingencies, updating the plan after key points in the pregnancy. The irascible matriarch was supposed to be driving the first car, telling anecdotes from her own experience with childbirth to make Benezia smile and remember how to breathe. Shiala had never seen an asari birth, not since the poorly aging vids in school. She’d seen girls arrested on the streets of New Alara, and killed on an operation in Chalkhos. No one had ever left a child in her care, not when her youth was spent conditioning and going to the temple.

“Shiala.” Benezia’s voice broke through her thougths. “Our exit.”

“Goddess.” She hissed through her teeth, immediately changing lanes and making a sharp turn just on this side of legal. “My apologies.”

“There’s hours yet.” The matriarchs’s mile was weary, but genuine. “I fear the skycar may end up being more comfortable than my hospital bed.”

“If they’d let me install a bomb sensor in that too, I’d breathe a little easier.”

It took a moment for Benezia to catch Shiala’s muted smile, but the ensuing laugh eased some of the tension inside the car. The commando’s sense of humor could be baffling at times, but it heartened her to know the younger asari still made the occasional attempt at a joke.

After landing on the back port of the hospital, Shiala sent an alert to Benezia’s physician and let the unit fall out. Farizah took the bag out of the back and followed them into a side entrance. It was only a minute later that Dr. T’Rali emerged, immediately walking up to the matriarch and clasping her hands.

“Lady Benezia.” She said. “I just got your message.”

“Nitya, please.” Benezia offered a serene smile. “The formalities aren’t necessary.”

“You put me through medical school and spoke at my graduation.” Nitya returned the smile. “Old habits die hard.”

“Someone with your talents deserved a patron.” Benezia let out a slightly shaky breath. “And now I can reap the rewards of it, since my daughter is suddenly so determined to come into the world.”

“Your bed’s been made ready. Just follow me.” The younger asari glanced at Shiala. “A room’s been set aside for all of you to wait. Only immediate family’s permitted.”

“Except-” Shiala began.

“Except in case of emergency, Ms. Na’tar. You’re still her contact.”

A trio of nurses dressed in dark green uniforms emerged from the hallway, two of them immediately moving to escort Benezia from either side. The third stopped in front of Shiala, painted lips curving in a broad smile.

“I’ll take all of you to the conference room.” She said, holding a datapad tightly to her chest. “It’s right down the hall.”

Shiala nodded; a gesture was all it took for the other commandos to fall in line. Farizah took point, asking the nurse a few pointed questions about Benezia’s accomodations before they passed the threshold. It was a sizeable meeting hall, with a polished oval table as a centerpiece and over a dozen chairs. A small kitchen was tucked against the back wall, furnished with steel appliances and a well-used coffee dispenser atop the counter.

Farizah set the bag on the table, briefly mystified by the sound of a faint clunk inside. Shiala silenced a soft hum of amusement, brow knitting in confusion when the nurse pushed the datapad into her hands.

“What’s this?”

“Structural plans of the hospital.” She said. “Lady Benezia indicated you might have an interest in looking at them.”

Shiala looked down at the datapad, unable to completely mute her surprise. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” The nurse smiled again. “Just make sure to give it back to the front desk when you leave.”

After a moment’s pause, Shiala settled into the seat at the head of the table and began poring over the plans, highlighting exits and tactical weaknesses. She frowned at a floor-to-ceiling window located near where patient records were kept; any saboteur who knew a proper biotic lift could easily bypass an entire floor of security.

The other commandos milled around for an hour or so before Musahir struck up a conversation about the Serrice Slicers and the Nos Astra Comets game the night before, immediately igniting a passionate argument about a controversial foul. Hessa intervened with a scathing litany on the skyball referee at the game, a flush darkening the maiden’s cheeks when her tirade was over.

“I still watch a lot of sports.” She admitted quietly, the weight of Farizah’s questioning gaze making her quickly return to the text she’d brought to study.

Shiala continued to map out both escape and assault routes, her fingers moving over the screen in quick swipes. It was all she could do to keep her mind off Benezia. The matriarch wasn’t alone in the strictest sense, surrounded by an entire suite of doctors and nurses, but there was no bondmate, no companion to talk her through pain and breathing, to hold her hand when the comfort of simple contact was needed.

As terrible as it felt to admit, some part of Shiala had hoped Aethyta would break into the hospital to make the birth, to hear her daughter’s first breath. Benezia needed someone to share that moment with, even if she no longer expected Aethyta to be a father. The reasoning behind it all was still a mystery, for the low-boiling tension to be enough for Benezia to simply force her bondmate out. Shiala had heard the matriarchs work through plenty of arguments over a century; hell, even she and Aethyta had butted heads more than once over security matters, but it was always resolved. She respected the matriarch’s innate tactical ability and the unique perspective centuries of eclectic experience brought to the table. Aethyta also had an enduring streak of generosity and kindness, no matter how many attempts were made to hide it.

Benezia’s daughter - the girl without a name, who must have felt her mother’s tenative excitement eventually fade to weariness - would know none of it. Shiala considered how much trouble she could truly be in for forcing her way into the elder asari’s room; would security actually remove her, or would they understand? Of course, the last thing she wanted to do was startle Benezia in an admittedly weakened state, much less put anyone’s health at risk, but tightly gripping the datapad between her hands was making matters worse rather than better.

“Captain.” A voice came from over her shoulder. “Shiala.”

Musahir was suddenly in her sight; how the other commando had gotten so close without her realizing made Shiala’s brow knit in confusion. She didn’t even have the energy to refute the old title.

“Yes, Musa?”

The younger asari’s smile had an edge to it she hadn’t seen before. Concern?

“You look like you could use some air.” Musahir reached for the datapad, carefully easing it from Shiala’s iron grip. “Plenty of hallways here.”

She cast a surreptious look around the room. The other commandos were deeply involved in an arm-wrestling competition, loudly exchanging bets and boasts between them, while Farizah was leading the priestesses in a calm biotic exercise. Musahir had noticed her tension before anyone else, allowing a chance to quietly slip away without losing face.

“You’re a good friend.” She said softly.

“And you’re a bodyguard with many well-deserved concerns.” Musahir said with a broad smile. “I’ll tell them you’re harassing the nurses for an update.”

As she rose from her seat, Shiala rolled her shoulders back, feeling a knot of muscle that had grown tight and sore between them. The other commando’s knuckles briefly brushed her ribs, subtly encouraging her towards the doorway. After taking a deep breath, she walked past everyone and out of the room.

The halls were surprisingly quiet, with only a few muted omni-rings and one or two doctors conversing to break the silence. Although she walked without any particular destination in mind, poring over the hospital plans seemed to have left its own impression. Shiala found herself at the threshold of the shrine, and after a moment’s pause to listen, it was clear she was alone. As she passed through the doorway and a pair of dark, soft curtains, the cloying scent of salt and smoke filled her senses.

Candles encased in glass cups surrounded the edges of the room, their fires kept breathing by a small, ingenious mechanism. A glance to her right revealed a thick stack of cushions, traditionally meant for siarist meditation. An altar made of warm blue stone took up the entire back of the room, a statue of Athame crowning the center. At the goddess’ feet lay a few small offerings - a string of metallic beads and bundled herbs - right next to thick sticks of incense wrapped in a thin cord.

Shiala’s patience for meditation was tenuous on the best of days. She had been raised with both Athamist and siarist beliefs, thanks to the guidance of her parents. To them, the goddesses were the guardians and mentors of the asari, while siari was the message of unity they spread throughout the universe. It was simple enough to transition from one ritual to another; she remembered them all. She gently took a stick of incense and placed into a divot carved in the altar, right at Athame’s feet. A lighter beside the statue sparked just enough heat to set it alight, and Shiala took a step back.

For a moment, she simply breathed. Silence - true silence - was one of the rarest things to find at the estate; even in the hours before sunrise, whoever was assigned to patrol in the gardens would talk between themselves or one of the priestesses would slip to the kitchen and make a midnight snack. The colorless smoke filled her senses with sea salt and citrus as she pressed her palms together and closed her eyes.

“Sacred Athame, I seek your indulgence.” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “Come to me as the matron whose stomach swells, who bears daughters that breathe life into the world. Bless the new mother under your sight; free her from pain, heal her quickly from within. Let her daughter grow with health and happiness. Let her have her mother’s image but build her own legacy.”

Shiala stayed as she was until the incense burned to its end. Laying the remains of the thin stick by those other supplicants had left, she let out another deep breath before turning on her heel and leaving the shrine. She was nearly back to the conference room when a nurse emerged from an adjoining hall. After a few calm steps in the opposite direction, the nurse suddenly stopped and looked over her shoulder.

“Are you Shiala?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Why? Did something—”

The nurse smiled. “No. Everything went very well. Lady Benezia’s taking a moment with the girl alone, but she asked me to invite you in.”

Shiala felt herself instinctively returning the smile. The swell of tension in her chest burst, replaced by relief and the slight sagging of her shoulders. They had been rigid, like a steel frame lay beneath her skin.

“Are you sure she doesn’t need more time?”

“She seemed quite eager to see you.” The nurse pointed down the hall from which she’d originally come. “Room five hundred.”

Shiala was hard-pressed not to rush to the room, feeling an uptick in her pulse. The door opened with a soft hiss, revealing Benezia in a pale hospital gown. There was a bundle in her arms from which a tiny blue foot protuded, toes curled. The matriarch had the the girl’s face gently positioned against her chest, head canted downward as she watched the child in the depths of slumber.

She looked up when Shiala approached her bedside. Fatigue lined Benezia’s face, but there was contentment there as well, a sort of serenity.

“Would you believe she was crying just a moment before?” The matriarch asked.

“I would.” At Benezia’s invitation, Shiala sat down at the edge of the bed, near where the sheets were bunched around the older asari’s hips. “What did you decide for a name?”

Benezia pushed the top of the blanket back, revealing the small, soft nubs that would eventually become a full crest. “Liara.”

“She’s beautiful.” Shiala said. “Is…there anyone you want me to call?”

For some reason, she wasn’t surprised when the matriarch shook her head. She was, however, when one of Benezia’s hands reached out to grasp hers, gently squeezing.

“Not yet. I want a moment’s peace before everyone finds out.” Benezia looked back at Liara, who made a soft sound trying to clutch at her mother’s gown. “But I didn’t want to be by myself either.”

Shiala squeezed Benezia’s hand in turn, unsure of what to say. All the questions she had from before remained, but they weren’t frantically rushing through her mind, making her tense and worry. There was time.

Benezia’s breath slowed, the rise and fall of her chest even. Both mother and daughter were lost to sleep, but Shiala stayed awake on the edge of the bed, making sure no one else came to disturb them.

Photo

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 11:48:08 -0700

allcoveredinglitter: Karene B Concept: Jon Emmony, Lou...

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 17:01:29 -0700

allcoveredinglitter:

Karene B

Concept: Jon Emmony, Lou Stoppard

Direction: Jon Emmony

Photo

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 11:06:59 -0700

stormcloaca: theinanescribblings: “Fuck Cancer” or “Let Them...

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 11:01:30 -0700

stormcloaca:

theinanescribblings:

“Fuck Cancer” or “Let Them Eat Cake”

Saint’s Row 4, everybody. Finally a game that talks about the big decisions.

can’t wait to fuck cancer

w0rdinista: lyaazor: SPACE FRIENDS, PUT ON YOUR SPACESUITS COS...

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 10:55:00 -0700

w0rdinista:

lyaazor:

SPACE FRIENDS, PUT ON YOUR SPACESUITS COS WE’RE IN BUSINESS

…ok i’m going away now (….i thought everything about this was funny…)

Everyone, suit up. Especially you, Garrus.

Photo

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 10:38:04 -0700