Age of the Geek
Rook | (Amatuer) Concept Artist | Real-life Nerd | 18 | Agender | SF Bay Area
Just humor me for a sec and pretend I know what I'm doing.
pourcela asked: "Oh fuck, oh FUCK." Sailor and Lure.
"I find it truly charming that you’re swearing in time with the waltz, but you really need to focus on getting your footwork to follow suit, Thompson."
She scowled up at him. “This is stupid. And useless. I bet no one even waltzes anymore. Fuck.”
"It is but a building block for some of the modern stately dances. This is essential for securing your alias."
"As many merits as I’m sure being an uncultured earthling has—"
"—I’m afraid you’ll need to part with some of those quaint habits of yours for a little while—"
"—if we want this endeavor to succeed. This one’s very important, you kno—tenSJI!"
The two stumbled to a halt, her with a smug grin and him with a very sore foot.
"And what does—" she worked the Kraken word over in her mouth for a moment, "—tenshi mean, may I ask?”
He scowled at her, and replied dryly, “Fuck.”
pourcela asked: Anubis and Sakmet. "Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them."
"And how could I?" came Sakmet’s sharp reply, his heels digging into the floor as he whirled on his sister. "It’s not as if I can tell what they’re saying! I never could, Anis, and I’m sick of being looked at like that for breaking rules written in some language I can’t speak."
She grew quiet, idly finding the nearest rail to lean against, and he could tell that she was frustrated with him. The twins could always tell. “And so you think the best thing to do is try to make monkey noises back at them? To practice this little song and dance until they stop calling you names?” She combed a hand through the platinum hair she kept just long enough to cover her eyes and gave him a harsh look.
"I can’t keep watching them get to you, and you’re letting them! You could just … tune it all out." The look in her eyes was the one that always seemed to scare people, no matter which twin wore it, but between the two of them it was as natural as a smile. "Just as easily as I can. You know that."
He did, she could see that much, but the knowledge only seemed to make him sad. He sank back into the rail himself, unclenching a balled first to study the singed scrap of expertly-woven Ray fabric he’d been holding.
"But who else can we listen to, now?"
"Each other." She wasn’t looking at him, but her voice had dropped to the same somber tone his had fallen to. "They would want that."
steveboscomi asked: okay okay Midlink "It's okay to cry..."
"Sh-Shut up," Midna sniffed.
He shut up. He sat on the knoll next to the enigma-shrouded imp. Zelda indicated she knew who Midna was, but gave no other hint of her character.
Yet she gave plenty hit to her own, when she sacrificed her form to save Midna from the light.
And now Midna was all and she…she was nothing. The Princess was no more.
Midna worried her lip like her rogue fang didn’t hurt. She stared into the setting sun and her fingers dug into the soil, pulling up grass by the fistfuls.
Link swallowed. His eyes fidgeted back and forth. His gaze settled on pebbles, then grains of sand, then the trails of sidewinding ants.
After a pause, Midna abruptly threw the roots in her grasp toward the horizon with a shriek. He winced and drew back. He didn’t know what to say.
“Why did she…?” Midna demanded, banging her balled up hands against the ground once with a sharp thud. A puff of crows flew from the trees; their cries failed to answer.
"The Princess…of an entire kingdom, and she…for a cursed imp…?!”
Her head fell against her chest and her next gasp shook. Link took a deep breath and covered one of her hands with his.
She looked up. Her eyes squinted, murky with tears against the glare of the sun.
"She gave the greatest gift she had," he replied quietly, "for the only person she knew could save us all."
Midna’s eyes grew wide and her jaw fell slack—only a split second before she grit her teeth and screwed them shut again.
Link caught her against his shoulder without being asked. He combed her hair with his fingers while she clung to his tunic and sobbed.
"Look at me - just breathe, okay?"
"Look at me - just breathe, okay?" Their own voice was shaking so badly they hardly got the words out, but Quen didn’t seem to be in a state to notice.
Instead the shaking teenager slumped against them, his face buried against their shoulder as they held him close with one hand and kept pressure on the wound in his side with the other.
His breathing was still ragged, half with pain and half with barely suppressed sobs, but it did eventually even out, deepen slightly. Enough, at least, for him to mumble the a quiet, “Dad …” into the fabric of their shirt, the word a mournful and choked whimper.
They couldn’t find a reply, not past the tightness in their throat. “You just … hold on, alright? Just hold on for a little while longer.” It sounded more like a plea than a reassurance, but it was all they could managed for now. Failing twice in one day wasn’t an option.
Do you think every president goes through a awkward first few weeks in office when they’re not sure when’s the right time to ask if aliens are real or not?
- "I just really need to have you here right now."
- "Didn’t you see what I did?!"
- "Oh fuck, oh FUCK."
- "Please come get me."
- "Where are you?!"
- "I’m coming, just sit tight!"
- "Look at me - just breathe, okay?"
- "I can’t breathe!"
- "You don’t have to stay."
- "It’s all my fault."
- "It’s all YOUR fault!"
- "Don’t fucking touch me."
- "Please I just… really need space right now."
- "I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere."
- "I’m gonna be sick."
- "Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you… ?"
- "I’m sick of being USELESS."
- "You’re not useless."
- "Shit, are you bleeding?!"
- "Please, put it DOWN."
- "Shh, c’mere…"
- "It’s okay to cry…"
- "Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them."
- "I’m not cut out for this."
- "Just leave me ALONE."
- "Please listen to me-"
- "You can trust me."
- "Don’t trust me."
- "What happened doesn’t change anything."
over the hills and far away, a misty mountain hop. photos by michal karckz
circumhorizontal arcs photographed by (click pic) david england, andy cripe, del zane, todd sackmann and brandon rios. this atmospheric phenomenon, otherwise known as a fire rainbow, is created when light from a sun that is at least 58 degrees above the horizon passes through the hexagonal ice crystals that form cirrus clouds which, because of quick cloud formation, have become horizontally aligned. (see also: previous cloud posts)