titusnowl: (fight for the splendour)
Warhammer 40k original characters: Fireteam Errant Valour, a unit of the Imperial Guard roughly equivalent to a squad of Army Rangers.
Warnings: character death

Read more... )
titusnowl: (Default)
OK GUYS SO I NEED - ++NEED++ - TO TAKE A TRIP TO MARYLAND IN OCTOBER, OKAY? WHICH MEANS I NEED TO RAISE ABOUT $300 TO BUY ROUND-TRIP PLANE TICKETS. IF ANYONE WOULD LIKE TO COMMISSION SOME CROSS STITCHES OR JEWELRY OR SOMETHING FROM ME, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.
titusnowl: (new york city)
So my grandmother has to go in for surgery tonight or tomorrow, they're only giving her a 30% chance of survival. I'm fine and I'm not too worried because she's always been stubborn & she'll probably stubborn through this too. Just thought I'd post so you guys would know what's going on in my life and be forewarned if something happens and I end up having an emotion some time this week or something

i am SO SICK of finding this kind of shit out by accident when my sister posts it to her facebook wall though, jfc
titusnowl: (mad bolshevik)
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I AM SO PISSED OFF RIGHT NOW

So my acoustic guitar needed new strings like HELLA BAD like I'm talking one of the strings had the fucking wrapping uncoiling off it it was that old and shitty because I don't take care of my babies like I should and shit right

So I go to Mundt Music and there's a 2-for-1 on Ernie Balls and hey I like Ernie Ball strings I use Super Slinkies on my bass and the Earthwood packaging looks hella authentic I'll get some and then grab a set of Super Slinkies for the electric while I'm at it

And they have four different widths and I'm not sure what to get so I get the second-to-the-smallest because I don't want to get something that's too wide and snap the neck of the damn thing nor do I want to get the smallest ones and then find out that they're too small because I prefer the sound from thicker strings, right

WELL FOR ONE THING APPARENTLY THE OLD STRINGS WERE SPUN OF FUCKING GOSSAMER AND DREAMS BECAUSE EVEN THE LIGHT ONES I GOT ARE WIDER THAN THE OLD ONES

BUT HERE'S THE PART THAT PISSED ME OFF

AFTER THE LABOR-INTENSIVE AND HIGHLY ANNOYING PROCESS OF GETTING ALL THE STRINGS ON I FINALLY GO TO TUNE IT
AND AS I TRY TO TUNE THE LOW E
THE FUCKING BRIDGE PIN POPS OUT
AND I TRY THREE TIMES TO FIX IT
AND THE BRIDGE PIN KEEPS POPPING OUT
AND EVENTUALLY THE FUCKING BRIDGE PIN'S HEAD BROKE OFF
I'M SO MAD
SO MAD
SO MAD

AND THE STORE IS CLOSED NOW SO I CAN'T GO GET A REPLACEMENT PIN

NOR AM I SURE HOW TO KEEP THIS PROBLEM FROM RECURRING WITH THE NEW PIN ALTHOUGH HOPEFULLY JUST GETTING A NEW PIN WILL HELP BECAUSE MAYBE THE PIN WAS WORN OR SOMETHING SINCE THIS IS A V OLD PIECE OF SHIT GUITAR AND ONE OF THE PINS HAS BEEN REPLACED ALREADY
titusnowl: (fight for the splendour)
I need to hire a ghostwriter for fight sequences. Also it's incredibly hard to write Warhammer 40k fiction if you can't write fight scenes for shit. Also also it's hard to write 40k fiction if you can't bring yourself to write kinda purple. I feel like my lede graf in this thing I'm working on is RIDICULOUS but I might be oversensitive to purpleness in my prose. (The bits I've posted about Fimimunda are ridiculous. This is unrelated to them and is in fact part of my Ridiculous World-Building Project That Came Into Existence Solely To Justify My Chemical Romance's Black Parade Uniforms)

THE PARAGRAPH IN QUESTION:
Flarelight fell in intermittent stripes through shattered holes in the great stone wall; fragments of stained glass still clung in places to what was left of windowframes, pouring patches of color onto the scene below. The building had once been a transit terminal; now it was a charnel-house.
HOW CAN PEOPLE TAKE THEMSELVES SERIOUSLY WRITING THINGS LIKE THIS

And then my little fireteam of ELITE GUARDSMEN spend the whole thing swearing at each other and smarting off on the voxcasters because I can't maintain srs
titusnowl: (Harper's Jig)
Xanon was of House Vulpin in a village named Balneum: a place of sulfur-smelling springs, in the southern fringe of the hill-country. He had the fair hair and pale eyes of a southerner, but spoke with an accent soft and burred like a northerner's. He was an emotional man, given to poetry, and he took leavings hard. When they went skyborne he wept silently and unashamed. The true southerners - there were none in the unit Annie'd been given sergeantry of, but plenty surrounded them in the hold - looked down their long thin noses at him; the northerners closed ranks around him defensively. Southerners, they muttered amongst themselves, held themselves too close and high: not that they would shed tears in public, personally, for that sort of display was a private thing, done at the hearth, but to look at the southerners you would think a man couldn't have any feelings at all. Annie offered his arms to Xanon - then still a slight-built little thing, 15 years behind him, like the rest of them - and let the young man's tears salt his shoulder until his weather cleared.

They all shared their tears after battles, and Xanon's gift of words brought songs for fallen comrades: thus did they speak farewell to their friends' spirits, to keep them from feeling lost and alone when they died on those strange foreign worlds.

Xanon's sorrowing at leavings returned when they left their temporary home, where he had found a woman he called wife, and she had given him a child he'd named Xia. All of the men who wanted women had found them there, and for few was it an easy leaving, but again it was Xanon whose tears fell in plain air. Annie opened his arms again - this time taking into them a larger man, for Xanon had grown broader and heavier though not much taller with the years - and thought of his own woman, Carli, and the swelling beneath her shirt when they spoke their private farewell.

There were plenty of southerners in the centuria by then, but they had all become brothers, and one man's emotion gave pause to none. Annie's far-northern accent was as familiar and homelike as the crisp, sharp-voweled enunciation of the deep south spoken by some of the men: they were all Fimimundan; and skyborne, their home was in each other.

Of the southerners who became Annie's nephews, noteworthy was Simon, of House Iagus in Aquine, a great city. He'd found he had a natural talent for speaking to the spirits of machines, adjusting to their acquaintance and use long before any of his comrades. By now all were accustomed to it, and could laugh speaking of their early days of puzzlement at every new thing: and think what our mothers, our fathers, our sisters would say if they came to these ships, then! But Simon had known the machine spirits longest and learned to know them best, and had even spoken in friendship with the strange men or once-men who made themselves priests of those spirits. It was to Simon you went with a recalcitrant rifle, or a question of working some new machine. Annie had less talent than he, but he enjoyed the company of the machine spirits, and they two could speak of them together. Simon would have liked life on Nadys-21; to make the acquaintance of the servo-skulls would have pleased him immensely. Annie would have a great deal to tell of, if they could speak again.
titusnowl: (typewriter keys)
The name of the village was Boragerwix, with the X pronounced SH, of course, and the meaning of the name was North Farmhill. A very generic name, and one that came in a set: there was Meragerwix to the south and Oxagerwix to the west and of course Oragerwix to the east, and that was all of Agerwix that there was. Agerwix proper was a city, a few miles away and a bit southwest of center, all of them built on natural hills covering a good portion of the countryside. You could just see the beaconfires of Agerwix from Boragerwix, and of Oragerwix if the air was clear, but Oxagerwix was further off, out of sight even in the still, leafless, water-pure skies of early winter - it wasn't a perfect square, the figure drawn by those villages. It was because they were so far north that the towns were called wixes; that was a native word, something tribal. The closer you went to real civilisation the fewer Whateverwixes you'd find, although the names of places in the north still held descriptions, villages called by the names of landmarks; in the south the cities had proper names like people, which was of course the right way to do things, to honor the spirit of the place.

The name of the house was Lupus, presumably because the place where it was built was where someone had seen a wolf once, or because a wolf had visited, or at any rate wolves were likely to have been involved. It couldn't have been any time recently. There were still wolves, but they stayed away, deep in the woods and fens. Once in a while in the winter you could hear them howling, although that might be the tribespeople, some of whom wore the skins of the wolves for warmth and, according to the stories told to children (children who weren't your own, so you wouldn't be bothered when they couldn't sleep that night), sometimes turned into wolves - taking wolf-shape to attack the settlements.

"So maybe that's why your house is named Lupus," one of Anacreon's friends put forth. They two were sitting in the shade, under the deep-holded doorway with its wide-winged aquila carved into the lintel, discussing the wolf-shape story which had been told to them by Kleiton's older brother the night before. "Your ancestors were wolf-people who settled here." He looked hopeful that this slight upon Anacreon's lineage might spark a fight. Kleiton had lost the last tussle they'd had, and was keen to even the score.

"My ancestors didn't build this house," said Anacreon, unruffled. "My father's father came here from the south with the Fourth Legion. That's why we have light eyes. If anyone's family came from wolf-people it's yours. Your brother's been sniffing around my oldest sister like a dog, anyway."

"He has not been, either, you slanderer," came Amelisa's voice from inside, shrill. Anacreon flinched slightly; the wrath of women was a terrible thing to raise, especially when the woman was one of his sisters, both of whom were well-praised hunters who would not hesitate to lay a trap for a younger brother just as for a washing-bear. 
titusnowl: (fight for the splendour)
wake up in the mornin feelin kinda shitty
grab my gun im out the door gotta defend some city
before i leave do PT and some jumpin jacks
cuz the emperor wants me swole n i might not come back ( ._.)
carapace on our tor...soes
camo on all our clothes clothes
xenos blowin up our homes homes
droppoddin, chimera full of grunts grunts
pullin up to the front front
hold up gotta smoke a bllluuuuuuunt
dont stop make it pop gonna blow some xenos up tonight ima fight til i see the sunlight tik tok on the clock but the battle dont stop no
aint got a care in the world but got plenty of fear
aint got no money in my pocket but im already here
now the nids are linin up cuz they think we look yummy
but we hit em with our flashlights cuz gettin et would be crummy ( ._.)


<@owltiem> shiiiiiit i'm drawing a blank on the next few lines
<@owltiem> until the commissar shut us down down
<@owltiem> commissar shut us down
<@owltiem> commissar shot us *record thing*
<@owltiem> instead of the record dying
<@owltiem> there's just
<@owltiem> a gunshot
<@owltiem> still
<@owltiem> that's most of the song
<@owltiem> i think i did okay
titusnowl: (fight for the splendour)
so i've been trying to watch game of thrones
and by trying to watch i mean i've downloaded all the episodes
and i burned the first five of them onto a dvd
and i put the dvd in the dvd player that can do avis
and i had it on for like
an entire day
(or anyway five hours)
only i'd already seen the first fifteen minutes of the first episode
back when hbo put that online before the premier as a kind of a teaser
so that meant that for the first fifteen minutes i was like
pft i've already seen this
and unfortunately for me there was no loud klaxon announcing
NOW WE WILL BEGIN TO SHOW YOU THE PART YOU HAVE NOT SEEN
so during those 15 minutes my attention wandered
and it never really came back
and every so often i'd realize it was still on
and think shit
i should go pay attention to that
but at that point i'd already missed out on a lot of the actual plot
so my understanding of game of thrones is as follows:
possible spoilers although you will never know whether i'm remembering them correctly or not unless you've already seen it and then it's not spoiling you anymore. i call this a parodox )
titusnowl: (Kincaid's stolen donkey)


Alfie did not enjoy his car ride.
titusnowl: (god save the queen)


I AM NEVER WORKING WITH METALLIC THREADS AGAIN
titusnowl: (Harper's Jig)
THE MAIL CAME, I CAN RELAX NOW.

I need to finish the Gaudy Thing, but I have a headache. Maybe a couple hours off won't hurt and I'll still have time to finish it before I go to bed.
titusnowl: (Kincaid's stolen donkey)
AUGH. I know the mail never shows up until after 2:00 but I'm still going to spend the entire day checking out the window and stressing.

And the copper thread I'm using for this Gaudy Project is pissing me right the fuck off.  If this fucking tinsel won't stop unwrapping I'm gonna have to do a murder or something.  I'm working in six-inch lengths to give it less time to throw a joe and it's STILL fucking itself up every five stitches.  This blinged-up bitch better be appreciated by its recipient.
titusnowl: (mad bolshevik)
Man I am just one stressed-out ball of fuck-up today.

I'm glad I 'm such a listmaker.  Helps keep me on track.
titusnowl: (aquaman)
DO YOU WANT TO CATCH SOME FISH?
DO YOU WANT FISH BADLY ENOUGH...
TO
DO A MURDER?


The new foolproof way of getting MORE FISH FOR YOUR BANG!
Forget spending hours on a boat in the middle of the lake!
Forget trying to stuff bears into jars!

Just
THREATEN YOUR FRIENDS!
 
Send for our FREE pamphlet!

OR WE'LL KILL YOU
titusnowl: (mad bolshevik)
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

rrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrr

i'm fucking sick and yes that makes me make noises like somebody having trouble getting a chainsaw to start

dont you fuckin judge me

No srsly tho

I went from "eh a little bit sniffly but that's normal" to "oh my god I literally cannot breathe *HURRRRRRRRRK blows out huge wad of nasty yellow snot*" literally overnight (I'M SURE YOU NEEDED TO KNOW SUCH DETAILS)

And, like, actually sick too. Like the kind where you're just run down and tired and awful. Spend the whole damn day in bed with Justin's laptop and a roll of toilet paper to use for tissues (note to self, make Jen go get some of those kleenex with the lotion in 'em before my nose falls off). Jen in her role as Team Medic (being she works in a pharmacy and all) has been cramming pills down my throat that alleviate the symptoms... a little... for an hour at a time. Like I take 'em and I don't feel like I'm any better but then I can tell when they wear off 'cause suddenly I'm worse.

And emperor's tits I am a massive fucking whine-ass baby when I'm sick. You don't even know. Neev knows 'cause she was there
online
listenin to me whine

FUCK I hate bein sick
titusnowl: (duel)
BATTLE OF SPIDER BATH PART 2: THE AFTERMATH
=OR=
A SHAKESPEAREAN SPIDER DRAMA


Went in bathroom. There is a second, smaller spider in tub. It is already dead, drowned in a bit of water that didn't drain out. This was not there when I battled Shelob. A widower, unable to carry on alone? PERHAPS.

I show no remorse as I nudge the corpse down the drain.
titusnowl: (fight for the splendour)
THE BATTLE OF SPIDER BATH, 6TH MAY 2011. IMPERIAL FORCES TRIUMPHANT.

Huge fuckoff spider in bathtub. Like, Australian style, huge fuckoff spider. Had the kind of legs that looks like it can jump. I hate jumping spiders. Francis does not hate anything as much as I hate jumping spiders. I can handle a spider that doesn't jump. I can allow a standard, small, non-jumping spider to live; they take care of other pests and are generally polite enough to stay the fuck out of sight. I cannot suffer the jumping spider to live. At the same time I'm kind of terrified of trying to kill them, because I have a distinct memory of the time we discovered that my father's lean-to shed was infested with wolf spiders, I tried to step on one, and it jumped onto my leg and ran over my body. No. That is not okay. That is never okay.

So I was faced with a quandary. Cannot suffer spider to live. Afraid to attack spider. Justin's asleep in next room, but I can't wake another dude up just to stomp a spider for me. Had to man up. It is a quirk of my psyche that when I have a hard time talking myself into doing something, being given a direct order to get that thing done enables me to overcome my fears. Couple of friends obliged in giving said order. Manned the fuck up about it, just as keikaku.

Wanted a ranged weapon, as no matter how manup I am, I will not attempt to step on a spider that might be a jumping one if there's any other way around it. Best thing I could find was the metal baseball bat I keep next to the door. It's flat on the end, I could poke with that.

First blow, spider moved. Pulled bat back, spider was dangling from it by length of web. On bright side, wasn't jumping! Still, not yet dead. Swung spider around to get it directly behind end of bat, flattened bat against inside of tub. Retracted bat. Spider on tub, but still trying to crawl away. Third blow finished him.

Metal bat on inside of tub: incredibly noisy. Am amazed Justin managed to sleep through it.

Feels simultaneously anticlimactic and accomplished. All that drama for one dead spider.

Corpse barely fit through the thing in the drain.

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titus n. owl

February 2015

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