Ineluki, we are calling
as our women one day called.
Prince, our cries are harsh with hatred
and our hearts are turned to stone.
We would face now any horror,
we would stand who fled before.

Ineluki, we are calling
as our children one day called.
Prince, our hearts are cold within us,
and our souls grow sharp as steel.
We would take for ours the fire:
we would burn who burned before.

Ineluki! Lord, we hail you!
Wake, o Prince, from thy dark dreaming,
Rise, retake thy iron sword.
We are weak no more with anguish,
we are stilled no more by sorrow.
Prince, our hearts burn high with fury,
and our hands are hard with hate.

Ineluki! Do you sleep yet?
Here we bring your arms before you,
Here we lay them, at your feet!
From your long sleep wake and lead us,
Rise, o Prince, loose hell and tempest!
Ineluki! Wake, and lead us on again!

So I really disliked Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn, and periodically remember the fact. Why does no one write the kind of elves–or elves at the civilizational stage–where they’re full of fire and vinegar and giving all kinds of merry hell to Others. If you’re that worried about writing them outside the Tolkien template, all you have to do is make them Fair Folk instead…

Definitely not a recipe blog: cornbread with stuff

Oven to, uh, IDK, 375ish. (F)

  • 1 cup cornmeal
  • 1 cu….eh, close enough, flour
  • 1 tbsp….come on, seriously…baking powder
  • salt. Yeah, just go for it. You might try taste-testing the combined dry ingredients to see if it’s good enough. Just make sure to observe all proper aceptic procedures whilst so doing.
  • 2 tbsp brown sugar

Combine dry ingredients, and then add wet ingredients.

  • 1 cup buttermilk  (aka: greek yogurt)
  • 1/2 stick butter or margarine
  • 1 egg
  • vegetables of choice, chopped (I use bell peppers and onions, primarily. Someone more heat-tolerant might add jalapenos)
  • cheese of choice (such as: that $1 bottle of fake Parmesan from the discount grocery)
  • meat or meat substitute of choice (assuming that the fake bacon lasts long enough to be added to the recipe, that’s the best choice.)

Actually you should probably add the add-ins before you add the buttermilk, eggs, etc. Anyhow, mix and bake immediately. It’s extremely good with salsa and scrambled eggs.

Random protip: collapsible silicone baking dishes, when no longer hot, can be collapsed to serve as a plate.

Fandom News: Wait, what? Edition


I probably should not find it amusing, but I find it rather amusing that Sarah J. Maas’ work has finally been decisively and meaningfully placed in it’s rightful category: “shameful,” “morbid,” “patently offensive,” and “[…]taken as a whole, [b] lacks serious [c] literary, artistic, political, or scientific value.”

That being said, banning books is rarely a good idea. Almost the entirety of my preferred genres (scifi and fantasy) were barred from my mother’s house during my youth. The only thing this accomplished was make me and the siblings get very, very good at smuggling and hiding them. A sufficiently determined kid will be able to read whatever he or she wants, and if they want to read (honestly) a badly-written YA fantasy romance novel, then fine.


Apparently, and unless this trailer is fake, some absolute moron has decided to remake that timeless and much-…..liked…classic of 80s fantasy cinema, Willow

I SPY: NO Madmartigan, NO Sorsha, NO Eborsisk, and one elderly woman with a sword. UGH. OH AND NO PICTSIES.


– Not allowed to flip off customers if I recognize their car on the road.

– Not allowed to flip off customers’ facilities as I drive past them.

– Not allowed to flip off state troopers.

– Even if I am already driving the speed limit.

– Sadly, no one else is interested in your pivot table.

– It’s a really cool table, though, it has slicers and everything.

– No species of cosplay may be combined with workwear.

– The above rule does specifically apply to: The Matrix-type sunglasses, Hellsing-type sunglasses, and any kind of broad-brimmed hat.

– Time spent sitting in a Walmart parking lot, contemplating life choices, does not count as work time.

Repost: Overheard in class

“Yeah! I used to be all, ‘aww, there’s a cute widdle baby bunny, let’s adopt it.’ Now I’m like, ‘DIE!‘”

“So then I pulled the splinter out with a pair of hoof trimmers and didn’t think about it any more for a while. Yeah, until I got sick.”

“Hi bud!”
“She’s a girl. So she’s a babe, not a bud.”
“Oh. Um. Okay.”
{from the next room, ten minutes later}
“Hi there bud! I mean babe. I mean whatever.”

until now

Talon Marc had ruled for thirty years. For ten years, he had despaired of a heir to follow him; for twenty, had denied. Still a young man, then, he had ridden home from campaign, to find a bier and cradle both filled, and word come from that elf-woman whose breath named each royal child: Your son will destroy the thing you have made.

All word of his marriage was stricken from the records, and his sister’s son named his heir in that hour. His own son he sent to be fostered, his daughter to her mother’s folk–themselves disgraced and in low state. For years he had not seen either.

At one time, he sought terms with certain tribes of the Pastless. Being no fools, they had asked surety. Talon Marc sent them his young son as hostage. He had considered it good value then, for that treaty bought him two seasons of growing time, and corn from the river valley they would have grazed their ponies in had fed his people for three.

He had sent for his daughter only on his death-bed; his son had not come back again, til now.

The Shadow Magazine #171 – Death Ship

shadow_magazine_vol_1_171The difference between The Shadow and many another hero is that, even when he does trip over his cloak hem and, for instance, end up getting his ass handed to him by a group of unexpected Japanese jujutsu masters, he recovers, lays plans, takes precautions, and is completely in control whenever Round Two starts–and thereafter.

The Shadow is a proactive and dominant hero. He doesn’t take orders, he gives orders, and expects them to be obeyed; he does not seek advice; he gives it. And if he’s never, ever, the underdog.

So! As can be inferred, The Shadow starts this book decidedly off on the wrong foot: sneaking up on the site of an experimental speedboat (the Barracuda), a brunette gets the drop on him, as do several thugs with rifles; then the jujutsu masters burst in from the rear and (what makes it funny is that he’s noted to be definitely smarting about this later) beat the crap out of the guy who is extremely used to diving into the midst of a clump of thugs, “arms sledging.” Adding still further insult to injury, brunette, boat, and disreputable soldier of fortune disappear into the Pacific waves; and adding further injury the boathouse explodes, trapping The Shadow in its depths as it collapses. This all happens by chapter two, by the way.

And here’s another difference between The Shadow and other heroes. The Shadow doesn’t ever get rescued. Now, of course, there have been times when he has been content to stay put and wait for his agents to come haul him out of the spike pit; but those are times decided by policy and/or crippling injury. The Shadow is never outmatched by the villains, and when circumstance places him at a disadvantage, he uses his keen wit and untiring brawn to mitigate that disadvantage, and then reverse it. The Shadow usually firmly has the upper hand in conflicts, a status most heroes aren’t allowed to have in the first place. He does lose that upper hand periodically, but when he does, he gains it back through his own effort rather than authorial fiat.

In this case, this involves just barely dragging himself out of the rubble ahead of the rising tide and crawling back to shore under cover of darkness. It’s some time later before Lamont Cranston, somehow looking none the worse for wear, returns to his hotel and consults the newspapers to find out what has been going on.

The Barracuda has taken to piracy. The prime suspect is its inventor, a Commander Prew, who resigned from the Navy to escape a court-martial and whose intentions in marketing the boat are considered suspect. Among the suspects: the Japanese not-at-all-official envoy, Ishi Sotoyo, to whom The Shadow pays a discrete visit….only to find that his Cranston guise has been made and, worse, that he’s been expected. (Sidenote: there is not one, not one singular instance in the 171 books so far in which The Shadow, making an entrance with an ominous loom, a .45, and a cackle, does not immediately have the tables turned on him by someone approaching from the rear. You’d think the man would learn to keep his back against a wall, or something.)

Still, the Japs being a civilized people, a civilized and mutually informative discussion is had with Sotoyo, after which he intends to betray The Shadow, and also after which The Shadow leaves him tied up with his own belt. The result is that the Japanse are highly interested in the boat and its soldier-of-fortune ersatz captain (Felix Sergon) but definitely not to the extent of causing open trouble with the American government. The Shadow also gains a lead on Commander Prew’s financial backer, who has been in hiding. He’s already dead; but we get, in payment for some of the humiliations already dealt him by the totally-not-ninja squad, The Shadow materializing out of the darkness in their very midst as they creep through the apartment, delivering an awesome whispered warning, and then fading back into the black without a sound.

The next step is locating Commander Prew himself. It turns out there are two Z-boats: the Barracuda and the smaller, lighter, Lamprey. Although helped by covert signals from the brunette (bet you forgot about her) being held captive on the Barracuda, the Lamprey is unable to make contact with the Barracuda after an initial search, but The Shadow susses out that the now-completely piratical Sergon will likely be going after a Japanese ship hauling five million dollars in gold bullion. He joins this ship as a passenger, and pays a visit to Ishi Sotoyo, purely and solely for the opportunity to revengefully return the indignity paid to him at their first meeting:

Across the cabin, a man was seated by a desk. His back was turned and his huddled
position made it difficult to judge his height. The Shadow quietly closed the door, then took a chair of his own. From beneath his cloak, he drew an automatic; with the same move, he let his cloak slide from his shoulders. Peeling off his gloves, he removed his hat.
As Lamont Cranston, he sat with his .45 leveled right between the shoulder blades of the
man by the desk.
The hardest part of The Shadow’s whole endeavor was to attract the man’s attention. He
wanted to do it to a degree of nicety; to excite curiosity, rather than alarm. Slight scuffles,
shifting of the chair— neither seemed to work. It was not until the tone of seven bells came
vaguely to the cabin that The Shadow had the perfect opportunity.
The man in the chair looked up from his book. Momentarily diverted from his reading, he
heard the slight stir that The Shadow made. The man looked about, came halfway from his
chair in his surprise. He froze in that position when he saw the automatic.
A whispered laugh came from The Shadow’s fixed lips. He relished this situation. It was a
complete reversal of one that had been engineered at his own expense. He had not
forgotten a certain night in San Francisco. Nor had the man from the chair.
That man was Ishi Soyoto.

Dude, you petty.

Anyhow, the Barracuda located, the Lamprey takes up the chase. There are hostages–not to mention a brave and loyal brunette–to be rescued…

Rated: Hot sub-on-sub action, woah.

…or spoken….

“–and if you think M’s deal takes a long time–”
“Actually for M, it doesn’t take that long. We go, we count, she glares at us, we leave.”
“Sounds about right.”

“So we’re gonna see R–”
“Oh, R.”
“Oh, you know him, then?”
“I know he’s a dick.”

“J…I knew J. In another lifetime.”
“–a hot mess.”
“That whole family….”
“–is a hot mess express.”

“So in The Witcher–I don’t think you’ve seen The Witcher–”
“Oh I have watched all of The Witcher. Give me alllll the Henry Cavill shirtless.”