#Spherical Weaving

[blanketorghost]

Octomer Baby Development: A guide for new parents (Part 1)

Parenthood can be as fulfilling as it is challenging, and for new parents, this may seem like a daunting task to make. But with the help of this handbook, you will be walked over all there is to know about the newest member of your family and how to take care of them.

PHASE 1—THE EGG:

0-2 months:

The egg has just been laid. Roughly about the size of a bead. Though coloring may vary, most octomer eggs look transluscent with a bright colored center, in which the embryo is located.

Unlike octopuses, octomers only lay one or two viable eggs per mating cycle. This greatly increases their life expectancy as their digestive system no longer shuts down inlieu of producing viable eggs. Octomer eggs, like most marine life eggs, are extremely fragile and squishy. Parents often create a small nest out of weaved kelp, sea cucumbers, and soft live coral. These are not only meant to cushion the egg, but the toxic tendrils of the live coral help protect their precious offspting from predators.

Another difference to Otopus eggs, is their shspes. Since Octomer eggs aren't hung on the ceiling of an underwater cave, they lack that telltale teardrop shape most octopus eggs are known for, instead taking a more spherical form.

3-5 Months:

On this stage, the egg is about the size of a ping pong ball. Eyes and a mouth start to look visible and the embryo's body starts to develop the octomer's signature 8 arms. Though poor, their sight and hearing will develop and the embryo will start reacting to sounds and light. It is recommended parents start talking to the egg to incentivize development.

It is common for octomer parents to carry their egg around in small pouches or bags so the embryo can be stimulated by outside sounds and light fluctuations at different sea levels.

5-7 months:

Most of the octomer's body is fully developed at this point and sex can be determined by the lack or prescence of a hectocotylus. The outer membrane of the egg also starts to lose color and become more fragile as the embryo absorbs more nutrients. The egg is about the size of a billiard.

At this point, it is not recommended to move the egg, as it could possibly harm the delicate shell and cause premature hatching.

7-9 months:

After absorbing all the nutrients from the egg, the octomer baby is expected to pip and hatch around this time. The outer layer is expected to be completely transluscent as all nutrients have been absorbed, and instead all coloration has been transfered to the newly hatched baby.

At this stage, their chromatophores aren't fully developed, and as such, most octomers at this stage only have light pale coloration alongside freckles or marks reminiscent of their specific species. Octomer babies have also not developed the ability to create water jets, and due to their small size— around the size of a baseball— can be swept by ocean currents. This is why, most octomer babies will be constantly in the care of their parents up until they've reached 24 inches or 61.4 cms in size.

#art stuff #twisted wonderland #fanart #azul ashengrotto #doodles #twst azul #ghost rambles #this has been in my mind for a while... #just an excuse to draw babyzul for like 100 times hehe #also i saw this adorable pic of babyzul being finger-sized and I thought that was SO CUTE?? #twst

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.

Nexus index.

On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule. 

Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on. 

Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on. 

This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you. 

Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time. 

… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead. 

“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out. 

You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.

“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?” 

Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums. 

“Looks like we’re due for a visit.” 

“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.” 

“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.” 

“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.” 

She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.” 

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife. 

Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet. 

“I’ll take your input into—” 

A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. 

“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.” 

You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity. 

Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling. 

You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock. 

The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise. 

“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”

Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another. 

“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?” 

The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment. 

The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time. 

Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work. 

“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”

“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside. 

“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.” 

He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter. 

He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…” 

“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.” 

A white ring forms around his pupils. 

“You… will?” 

“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?” 

The ring goes from opaque to solid. 

The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself. 

You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web. 

One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume. 

Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold. 

You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.  

The taut link between you falters. 

Straining…

(He’s reaching into his pocket). 

Fraying…

(His hands wield a sharpened implement).  

Until it snaps. 

The subjugated lunges at the subjugator. 

You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure. 

Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one? 

This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—

Metal clashes against metal. 

The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out. 

This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Don’t bother,” is all he says. 

He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it. 

Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you. 

“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.” 

So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress. 

If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities. 

Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving? 

You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern. 

There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon. 

“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face. 

Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.

“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.” 

By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force. 

Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt. 

A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.” 

The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.  

The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed. 

During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife. 

It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss. 

You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo 

“Absolutely not!” 

An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed. 

This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried. 

“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?” 

You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.” 

“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.” 

“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.” 

You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse. 

Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.” 

“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.” 

“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.” 

You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.” 

“Try 70%.” 

She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t. 

“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.” 

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.” 

As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels. 

“What does this intel cost me?” 

“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?” 

“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.” 

The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness? 

“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.” 

“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.” 

…

…

…

“What?” 

Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications. 

To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end. 

“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.” 

She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.” 

How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent. 

You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you. 

“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?” 

For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less. 

“A gift for a friend.”

Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony. 

There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall. 

Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.

“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.” 

An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again. 

“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.” 

Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…” 

Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent. 

“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.” 

Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts. 

“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.” 

Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.” 

He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path. 

You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?” 

“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.” 

You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.

“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain. 

Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue. 

“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.” 

His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”   

You purse your lips. It’s a fair point. 

“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.” 

Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.

“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.” 

Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed. 

“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.” 

Your eye twitches. 

This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space. 

“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative. 

You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist. 

Your heart stutters. 

There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide. 

Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble. 

When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then. 

You will the thought away. 

Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself. 

He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…” 

There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away. 

You find yourself leaning in closer. 

He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance: 

"Show me what it's like to die." 

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

[rubysunnday]

can we always be this close

requested by anon: Congrats for reaching 6k!! I feel like such a proud mom, i've been following you since you had around 2k and you deserve this so much!! Could i please request a jesper x reader fic with the fake dating trope?

summary: from strangers to friends, friends into fake lovers, fake lovers into lovers

Kaz held a piece of paper out to Jesper. "Here's your invite."

Jesper took it between two fingers and flipped it over, unfolding it to its full size. "Mr and Mrs Leonard," he read, his brow furrowing.

"Oh, why do we have to be married?" Y/N grumbled, snatching the paper from Jesper's hands.

Jesper tutted, trying to snatch it back. Y/N slapped his hand away and, reluctantly, Jesper backed down.

"Because I need both of you for this job and it was easier to have one invitation than two," Kaz replied. "Now, here's the plan."

"Jesper and Y/N, you two are going to pretend to be guests of Van Delnik. Once inside and the party has started, one of you will cause a commotion."

Surrounded by big skirted dresses and expensive champagne, Y/N had never felt so out of place. She gripped Jesper's arm tightly as they walked through the corridor to the giant spherical ballroom.

"Ready?" Jesper asked, lowering his voice enough so that only Y/N could hear.

She nodded. "Yep."

"Inej, you'll be disguised as one of the maids. Once you see the commotion, head to the roof. I'll meet you up there."

"What are we stealing, again?"

"We're not, Jesper. Inej and I are staking out the building - Van Delnik is hiding his treasures somewhere and I for one want my DeKappel back."

"It wasn't yours in the first place, Kaz."

"Semantics, dearest Inej."

Y/N took her arm from Jesper's and took a step to the side, bumping into one of the men nearby. When he grunted and turned to tell her off, Y/N pretended to stumble, knocking the man's champagne glass onto her, and fell into Jesper.

"Sir, watch where you are going!" Jesper exclaimed, standing Y/N up on her feet. He dramatically whipped out a handkerchief and started dabbing at Y/N's chest and the bodice of her dress.

"Your wife bumped into me!"

"Because he tripped me up!" Y/N replied, pointing at a random man nearby.

"Once Inej and I are on the roof, we'll go in through the side window into Van Delnik's office. Jesper and Y/N, you need to give us at least ten minutes."

"I think we can manage that, can't we wife?"

"Oh, I am going to regret being married to you."

Once the commotion of who had tripped and spilt champagne on Y/N had calmed down - she'd managed to convince the men it'd been their fault - Jesper had whisked her away over to the buffet tables, out the way of the crowds.

"Saints, this chicken is to die for," Y/N muttered. She licked her fingers, wiped them on her skirt and picked up another piece. "I need the recipe." Y/N wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Saints my face is a mess."

"I think it looks beautiful," Jesper replied, smiling at her.

Y/N returned his smile.

"How do we know you're done?"

"Trust me, Y/N, you'll know."

The entire ballroom shook as something exploded outside the doors. Glasses wobbled and smashed onto the floor. People screamed. Guards rushed forward from their hiding spots.

"I guess that's the signal," Jesper muttered. "Now to get out of here."

"Where do we meet you?"

"Out the front - you'll be one of the many screaming guests if all goes to plan."

Jesper grabbed Y/N's hand and she clutched on tightly as they joined the throng of people trying to get out through the double doors. They both held on to one another, determined to stay together and not be split up by the crowd.

Once they'd squeezed through the double doors, the crowd spilled out into the street. Some ran away, some stood their, overwhelmed and shocked. To the right, a fire burnt away inside s store room, flames licking the glass of the windows within.

"Found them," Jesper muttered.

He pulled Y/N to him and they moved through the crowds, weaving over to the left and away from the fire. Kaz and Inej had both changed into servant uniforms and were blending in with the shrubbery and shadows.

"We were spotted," Kaz said as they walked up to them. "The bomb wasn't the plan."

"Oh, we thought it was," Y/N said. She absent-mindedly ran her thumb along the back of Jesper's hand. "Do we need to go?"

Kaz shook his head. "No, we'll wait -"

"There they are!"

Four heads shot up and turned sharply to the right. A disheveled looking guard was stood on the steps, pointing directly at them.

"Yes, we need to go," Kaz amended. "Meet at Black Veil."

As the Stadwatch and Van Delnik's personal security began to come at them, the four of them split up. Kaz and Inej going one way, Jesper and Y/N going the other.

Y/N gathered the numerous layers of her dress skirt and ran down the cobbled streets, wind blowing through her hair, tearing it out of its intricate up do.

"Split up," Jesper said, letting go of her hand.

Y/N darted right as Jesper went left. The pursuing guards stumbled to a halt and then quickly spotted them and their plan, splitting up themselves and chasing after them.

The street lamps had been left on in this bit of town - a sign of the rich who lived there. They could afford to burn the oil. Y/N saw an open public garden to her left and quickly pushed open the small iron gate and ran inside, the trees obscuring almost all of the street light. She ran through the bushes and the trees, the heels of her shoes sinking into the damp ground.

Eventually, she emerged out the other side. Y/N glanced behind her as she came out onto the street and ran into someone.

"Oh, saints!" Jesper exclaimed, his hands catching Y/N's waist and pulling her forward and into him.

Y/N put her hands on his chest, stopping her face from smacking into it. "I thought you'd gone the other way!"

"I did, it looped to here!"

"Oh my -"

"There they are, shoot them!"

Jesper grinned at her, taking her hand in his. "And off we go again."

They broke out into a sprint, running down the street once again. Bullets began to ricochet off the floor and the walls around them as the private guard began shooting at them.

Y/N giggled, the adrenaline running through her. Her laughter cut off abruptly as something hit her back and side, a searing pain shooting through her entire being, She stumbled forward, Jesper's going around her waist and holding her up.

"Ok, ok, come on," Jesper said, looping his arm through Y/N. "We need to keep going, Y/N, I'm sorry."

Y/N groaned in pain, pressing the palm of her hand against her side. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to breathe through the pain.

At some point, they lost the private guard - Y/N wasn't sure when - and entered Black Veil Cemetery. Jesper was on auto-pilot, walking down the headstones until they reached the mausoleum.

Jesper and Y/N all but fell through the doors and down the stairs, startling person who was already inside.

"Saints," Nina swore, her arms reaching forward and catching Y/N as she fell forward, her legs folding beneath her. "What happened?"

"What do you think happened?" Jesper muttered, all but ripping the buttons off his jacket in an attempt to get it off. "Kaz and his ridiculous plans."

"I'm fine -" Y/N cut herself off with a yell of pain as Jesper pressed his jacket against her side.

Nina sighed, tutting to herself. "I'm -"

"Not a healer, we know, Nina," Jesper and Y/N said together.

"Alright, saints," Nina muttered. "Come on, down the stairs."

Somehow, Jesper and Nina managed to get Y/N to her feet and down the stairs. Together they lifted her up and onto the empty tomb that often became a table.

"I'll be back," Nina muttered, guiding Jesper's hands further over Y/N's side. "Try not to die."

With a bustle of skirts, Nina disappeared back up the stairs, leaving Jesper and Y/N alone, in almost complete silence.

"I'm sorry," Jesper whispered.

Y/N looked up at him. "What for?"

"I... I don't know, it just feels like my fault because I came back to you and they followed me and -"

"Jes, breathe," Y/N said softly, placing her left hand on his cheek. Her thumb trailed over his skin gently, catching the few tears that managed to escape his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He dropped his head, breathing in deeply.

"Talk to me, Fahey," Y/N said, putting her hand under his chin and gently lifting it up until he was looking at her. "I'm listening."

It took him a moment to gather himself enough to speak. "When I was young, my mother tried to help this little girl. The girl had been poisoned and my mother, being grisha, went to help. She drew out the poison from this girls body into her own - saving the girl's life but ultimately killing her.

"This... you bleeding out on my, frankly, rather lovely jacket and coming close to dying it's just..." He sighed, shaking his head. "It just brought back those memories."

Y/N nodded. "I get it." She paused. "I'd miss me too."

Jesper laughed. "Nicely done."

The sound of Nina returning gave them both precious seconds to compose themselves - even though the heartrender had probably sensed something was going on.

But Nina didn't say a word. She walked in, moaning about Kaz, and shooed Jesper away, demanding space to work.

Jesper didn't leave. He helped Nina get Y/N out of her corset and held the hem of Y/N 's shirt up. He held her hand as Nina began to heal the wound. It didn't hurt as much as a needle would have done, but it still felt uncomfortable and weird. As soon as Nina was satisfied, she patted Y/N on the shoulder and disappeared back up the stairs, muttering something about Kaz and a knife.

"Do you think -"

"No," Jesper said, "no I don't think she did."

Y/N looked up at him, smiling. "Would you -"

"Of course."

Jesper picked up a roll of bandage. He moved closer to Y/N and she shifted, letting him standing in between her legs. They'd been in this position numerous times before - but it was only ever flirting and only ever for a job.

But now, something had shifted between them. A new understanding had emerged - one that could only have happened when someone came close to losing the other.

"My hands are cold," Jesper warned.

Y/N nodded, smiling. "It's fine."

Jesper's fingers brushed against her side and he held the bandage firmly against the wound. He then unrolled the bandage and wrapped it around Y/N's middle, keeping it tight. Y/N leant against Jesper's shoulder as he fiddled with the bandage behind her back, resting her head against his.

"You know," Y/N began, her voice soft, "I really enjoyed pretending to be your wife tonight. Even if it was just pretend."

Jesper stood up, having finished tying the bandage. He looked down at her, his legs brushing against hers. "It doesn't have to be pretend."

Y/N felt her heart skip and her breath got caught in her chest. "No," she said, reaching a hand up and combing her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. "It doesn't."

Jesper lurched forward and pressed his lips against Y/N's. The force of Jesper's kiss meant that she had to brace herself against the tomb with her hands, barely catching herself before she fell backward completely.

"Is this ok?" Jesper asked, resting his forehead against hers.

Y/N could feel his breath against her skin. She opened her eyes, immediately getting lost in Jesper's gaze. "It's perfect."

She leant forward and pressed her lips against is neck, trailing down to his shoulder. Jesper pushed her back and Y/N let her arms fold down until she was lying on the tomb, Jesper on top of her.

"I really hope Nina has had the common sense to go outside," Jesper muttered, resting his head against Y/N's chest.

"Either way," Y/N arched her back as Jesper pressed a kiss against the side of her neck, "she will do soon."

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #fic #fanfic #six of crows fic #shadow and bone fic #jesper fahey #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey x reader

[emira-addams]

Hazbin Hotel - Odette x Velvette - Juliet and Juliet in Hell

Chapter 01: Drunken Demons and Dancing Devils

Velvette tilted her head back.

Clouds of light, formed from hundreds of sparkling stars, adorned the deep red night horizon of hell with their scintillating shine. Drawn by magic, Velvette stared up at the far end of the horizon, up at the spherical shape of the heaven that towered above all their heads and hell. The milky soft glow of heaven was shimmering, its brilliance a blur.

Blazing flashes of laser light cut the horizon into thousands of chunks, chasing the stars and the reigning night away as the ground seemed to shudder beneath her feet. The bass of the deafening music made the surrounding air vibrate.

The Vees' lavish mansion was filled to the bursting with guests, drunken demons and dancing devils. Valentino was having a party in his honor after his latest films had won every award in every category at the annual film festival.

A satisfied smile graced Velvette's black lips as she hastily weaved her way through the dense crowds. Spotlights colored the makeshift dance floor in the living room a somber shade of red, while blue strobe lights flashed through the stuffy room.

Long shadows danced along the walls in euphoria. White fairy lights and glittering garlands wrapped along the chrome-colored railing of the open gallery, an illuminated disco ball spun under the ceiling and balloons hung everywhere. A fog machine added to the chaos. Huge speakers stood at the sides, music blared at full volume and the low infernal sound of the bass was earsplitting.

It smelled like a pungent mixture of cheap spirits, sweet smoke and salty sweat.

People were lounging on the expensive couches in the living room, laughing and chatting with each other. Kissing couples propped up against the walls, shoving their tongues down each other's throats and groping each other. An imp drew a straight line of suspicious white powder up his nose from the smudged glass of a hand mirror. As Velvette passed him, he held out a plastic bag to her with a grin, but she rejected it with a polite smile.

A number of different dishes had been set out on a long table. Fresh fruit was piled on top of each other and a chocolate fountain stood between white porcelain and several pastries. Some guests stuck fruit after fruit onto a wooden skewer, while other sinners dipped their bare fingers into the liquid chocolate.

Velvette quickly grabbed a handful of fruits and a cup filled to the brim and retreated to a corner with her phone in hand. Here and there she snapped a photo, every now and then she sipped the liquid in her cup and let her eyes wander over the party. Vox and Valentino performed the strangest and most soppy dance number, a truly embarrassing sight. Velvette's lips cracked into a smirk as she recorded the moment for eternity and the entire internet of hell with a snapshot.

She was just about to head back to the chocolate fountain when someone caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh, shit..." she swore and managed to choke, some of her drink landing on her dress. "What's Carmine's fucking daughter doing here?" Velvette sneered, her face scrunched in irritation. "I swear, just the sight of her spoils my mood..." She quickly drained the last liquid from her cup, squeezed the plastic and marched with quick steps towards the bright blonde girl in the lab coat in the doorway. The floor shook under the soles of her boots as Velvette pushed her way through the dense crowds. Her eyes glistened with a mix between gloom and glee, her thoughts blurred between the neon lights in the wonderful feeling of immortality and melted like caramelized sugar. Her whole body tingling, while the effects of her drink kicked in.

Outside of a cautious glance exchanged back and forth within an Overlord meeting, Velvette had never shared a single word with Carmilla Carmine's eldest daughter, as Odette held her mother's opinion and Carmilla Carmine felt a very strict and stern disapproval towards the three Vees, especially Velvette, a disapproval towards their outrageous behavior and lack of respect as well as their irresponsibility and cocky self-confidence. They were silly brats who starved for attention at every given opportunity.

Velvette wanted to have some fun with her...

"What are you doing so far away from your home and your dear mommy? Are you lost?"

"What do you want from me?" asked Odette when Velvette approached her and blocked her path. She grimaced sourly.

Velvette attempted a wide grin. "Tell me, sweetie, how many times would I theoretically have to fuck you before I get a discount for your mother's weapons?"

"Never!" Odette replied as she studied Velvette from top to bottom in disgust. "As long as I'm in my right mind, I wouldn't even dream of it..."

"Really, you wouldn't? Too bad..." Velvette pouted. "Hey!" she shouted angrily when Odette tried to push past her, completely ignoring her. "May I know the reason why you're crashing this fucking party and being pretty fucking rude to the fucking host?"

"Excuse me..." muttered Odette nervously. She cautiously adjusted her glasses and plucked at the hem of her lab coat. "But I'm looking for my younger sister..."

"You have a sister?" Velvette played dumb, but then she noticed Odette's worried face. "It was just a joke, I’m sorry... But why would your younger sister be at my party?"

Odette sighed sourly. "Clara snuck out of the house. I have to bring her back before Mother notices our disappearance."

Velvette burst out laughing, but when Odette rolled her eyes in annoyance, she grew silent again.

"Clara!" Odette tried in vain to scream against the volume of the music.

Stunned, Velvette slapped her forehead, then took the desperate girl's hand. She immediately intertwined their fingers and felt Odette's sweaty palms. "Come with me, you dumb fucking girl…" she demanded of Odette as they made their way through the crowd.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you to find your sister!”

The two of them found Clara near the chocolate fountain. A cup in her hand and a hypnotized face set, she clung to every single slurred word that came from Valentino's lips. A cloud of pink haze hovered over their heads as his tongue traveled up her arm.

"Oh, for fucking sake!" Velvette shouted, quickly letting go of Odette's hand. "This can't be real now..." She pounced on Valentino, grabbed her colleague harshly by his fur collar and pulled the clamoring moth away from Clara before his tongue could wander any further. "Are you fucking mental, Val?" she snarled furiously and shoved him away.

"Hey… Calm down, Vel!" Valentino defended himself. He snorted, wiped the dust off his robe and raised his hands apologetically. "I was just having a little fun with Carmine’s daughter. I didn’t think you would mind…," he claimed, shrugging his shoulders. "This girl could have been the next leading lady in some of my movies. I would have made her a star, any worthless freak in hell would have known her name," he gushed before leaving Velvette and heading back to Vox.

Velvette scowled at the moth, while Odette quickly pulled her younger sister into a relieved and smothering hug.

"O-Odette? W-What... What are you doing here?" babbled Clara. Clumsily, she tried to free herself from her worried sister's arms, but her balance swayed precariously and Odette and Velvette had to support her.

"I came to save you before our mother finds out that neither you nor I are in our beds in our safe home sleeping..." Together, she and Velvette dragged her sister back to the door.

Velvette casted a worried look at the clock. "You must hurry..." With every passing second, the light from the stars faded more, soon the night would be over.

"Thank you for your help!" Saying goodbye, Odette pressed a quick kiss to Velvette's cheek, the next moment she and her sister were out the door and gone from the party.

"Y-You are welcome..." stuttered Velvette, wide-eyed. She stared after her with a stunned stare as the heat rose up her face and the blush gathered in her cheeks. Suddenly, her heart began to do wild somersaults in her chest. “Fuck…”

Chapter 02:

#hazbin hotel #my writing #ao3 #juliet and juliet in hell #velvette x odette #odette x velvette #duette #carmilla carmine #hazbin carmilla #hazbin hotel carmilla #rosie #rosie the cannibal #hazbin rosie #hazbin hotel rosie #odette #odette carmine #hazbin odette #hazbin hotel odette #clara #clara carmine #hazbin clara #hazbin hotel clara #velvette #hazbin velvette #hazbin hotel velvette #the vees #hazbin hotel vees #carmilla x rosie #blooming gun #veldette

[hra-official]

Hey Bates

When does it all start?

- A concerned listener

Causality is not a chain, but a weave; only linear in one direction, spherical in another and hyperbolic in another yet. What you might call 'starts' - assuming they even exist - recursively and fractally regress from whatever region of time you're trying to pin down: it's a fool's errand to seek them. Have you ever played 5D Chess with Multiverse Time Travel? That's a serviceable analogy, except infinitely many moves have already been made, infinitely many parallel universes already exists, and losing one king doesn't end the game. If you're not like me, you're stuck playing with normal chess rules, but even if you can't see the other permutations of your pieces, they exist and are as real and as much "you" as the one you perceive. My current associates have that understanding at least, even though they came at it by conceptually different reasons. My point is: just focus and play to win. Death is an end, but not the end.

#lancer rpg #lancer ttrpg #lancerrpg #lancer #lancer dydimos

[sparxemberflame]

Fuckin'... Aabria Iyengar.

I am... In awe. I am delerious. I am chomping at the bit. I just... Fuck!!

So. Past two weeks/episodes Especially. Watching/listening to Burrow's End and Worlds Beyond Number back to back is an Experience. Having 2 seperate shows that contain Brennan Lee Mulligan, Erika Ishii and Aabria, in my ears telling me different stories 2 eps at a time is an absolute blast (shoutout to Lou, Jasper, Isabella, Rashawn, Siobhan and rest of cast and crew on both shows too you're awesome! Not the focus of this little outburst.)

Anyway it's GREAT. Highly recommend both shows and there are parallels I'll get into elsewhere, elsewhen. But.

This is an Aabria Iyengar specifically fucking Stan post.

You have made me feel so many overwhelmingly cool, awesome and intimate emotions and ideas that I can hardly begin to explain them. For some reason the only fucking thing that comes close is this. Silly but sorta deep thing about my favorite snack (shout out to snack gang) a Ferrero Rocher:

Aabria,

Shall I compare thee intricate weaving of characters and narratives to a Ferrero Rocher?

I shall. For this is no poem or any such writing of iambic pentameter. It is at best a floundering simile.

You have a way of creating characters and stories which much like a certain confectionary treat when unwrapped contains such an immense blend of texture and flavor. Each instance containing a wholly unique configuration of features bound together in perfectly imperfect unity. Not wholly smooth round but spherical oozing with points of uniqueness sticking out all over.

But yet if you dig just a bit deeper. There's this. Shell. Not a Barrier as it might first seem. But an Obstacle. A Challenge of sorts. Put there not to deter you but to provoke a moment of reflection. I think of Suvi and her refusal to process or be truly vulnerable in most situations. I think of the intricate power-structures of Last Bast and the Hint of this Wall that something Richer. More interesting, more honest and lovingly crafted lies Just Beneath.

This shell. Which you'll find is litterally Wafer-Thin. Should you ask the right question. Follow the right narrative thread. Bite into it with your teeth.

That curiosity is. Always and forever rewarded. With a richness of flavour and care that feels like a hug, like understanding, like being, at last: Home.

It is easy to get lost in that and yet even in this sea of what I can only call love. You find it. The Core. The hazelnut. A moral. Or a question, or a consequence. Something to once again think about and bite into.

And you realise. Once you've finally reach it that this core. This secret. Was Always Obvious. It was Sprinkled. All atop the very first layer. Litterally poking out. Each and every goddamn feature sticking out. Every chopped up uniquely distinct feature.

Was made up of the same material. Was the Core The Whole Time. Visible to the naked eye. But now having experienced the whole show. The whole treat. It is gone.

But its nourished you. The treat nourishes my body. The way Aabria tells stories nourishes my very soul.

Thinking back on many stories told that core in plain sight is often about Family or Love and the relationships between. Far from an uncommon subject in stories. But something about it. Something about the unique way Aabria does it in not just one but seemingly every story and character she creates. Its fantastic, its familiar and it... I can't describe it any other way than that it fills me with elation, jubilation and a deep sense of belonging and the implications therein drives me absolutely insane.

It's with my hat off, eyes sparkling in adoration and my heart full that I say:

Thank you Aabria Iyengar for telling these stories, for bringing these characters to life. They have changed me and many others forever and have and continue to drive me to create my own stories and campaigns for many years to come.

#Aabria Iyengar #worlds beyond number #burrow's end #dimension 20 #dungeons and dragons #phew that was even longer than I thought it'd be #rant #AND SHE LOOKS SO HOT WHILE DOING IT I CAAAAN'T #no but seriously she's amazing. They all are and FUCK I really gotta make this BATTLEMAP FOR TOMORROW'S SESH #ADHD is hard y'all

[indigovigilance]

Gavin Finney revelation #8

Douglas and Neil wanted the minisodes to be as visually different as possible, stylistic, photographically, and with lighting to make them their own things that stand out.

Photographically: used a different lens system. Present day used spherical lenses (normal camera lens like in your phone).

Minisodes used animorphic lenses. Around the 50's cinema was looking for a new angle and so developed the cinemascope with a wider cinema ratio (~2.39) but it squishes. The cinema projector then unsquishes everything. So the image looks different. It makes things blurry and vignetted.

IN Edinburgh, went for a foggy gothic style.

In Uz, they used religious paintings and "The Ten Commandments" filming from low angles as inspo. Most of these scenes were shot against greenscreen.

1941 is the height of film noir

In post: you can put film grain back on top of the image, so they did.

"Technicolor 3 strip" was emulated in color

Film weave was also re-integrated

All of these methods were used to distance these scenes from reality

~~~

Hell used more muted colors

#good omens #the ineffable con

[jorvikzelda]

What did Star Stable not want us to see?

…At least not yet.

(In this post, I present the portal room’s murals in the order they are seen from right to left, as this is the order one will walk past them when going to them either from the steps to the portal or directly from the portal room’s entrance. Concept art from Viktor Porse Schalin’s website.) I suspect Tumblr will mess with the image quality, so here's a link to the high-quality image of the murals.

This image, the first of the murals from right to left, is not broken even in the portal room. This image lets us see a few things more clearly, though. A few figures with long, white hair are present—those are the only people seen wielding staffs. The figure leading the caravan has the longest hair and is also wielding the brightest glowing staff. At the back of a caravan is a figure carrying a large backpack and wielding a staff which does not glow.

The white-haired figure in the bottom left seems to be facing smaller objects lying on the ground next to its staff, which is not glowing. It is reaching its arms towards and being watched by a white-haired figure holding a glowing staff, though this staff glows weaker than the one being held by the figure leading the caravan.

The second image shows two white-haired figures both carrying staffs; one not glowing and one glowing brightly. The figure leading the way here seems to be the same one that led the caravan in the first image. The other figure is carrying a large backpack.

In Fort Maria’s portal room, a corner of this image is broken off. That corner shows the crown of a giant tree. Its leaves resemble the rays of light surrounding the figures’ staffs and some of the goods, a small spherical object being held by a small tree, and one of the portals in the first mural.

The third mural seems to be a map, presumably of Jorvik’s Primeval Trees.

In Fort Maria’s portal room, three large pieces of this mural have broken off. The bottom left piece depicted part of an image of tentacles coming out of what looks like stone and water (waves can ben seen right below the tentacles). The bottom left piece depicted a small tree holding a sun-like spherical object surrounded by rays of light, much like the other small trees in the mural, with a stone path leading up to it. The top piece depicted three things: the top of a tree bearing heavy resemblance to the Wildwoods’ Sentinel Tree; a heavy meteor shower; and something that looks like a portal situated next to a hill with trees growing on it. The trees could be either spruce, fir, or pine.

Image courtesy of Jorvikipedia.

The final mural depicts three large trees.

In Fort Maria’s portal room, this mural is by far the most damaged: the centre third of the mural has been completely broken off. The missing part of the mural provides a clear depiction of the third, central tree, which bears a resemblance to the smaller tree in the second image. Below the tree is a large, circular glowing area—perhaps a portal. Across the glowing area from the tree stand two white-haired figures. The one with the longer hair holds a brightly glowing staff and stands in front, facing the tree. The other figure is carrying a large backpack and holding a staff which does not glow, and is looking slightly away from the figure in front and the tree. These appear to once again be the same two figures that appeared in the first and second murals.

With all of this in mind I am still confident the intended order to initially see the murals in is right to left (which is also supported by the increasing amount of things and weight of the things missing from each mural when read right to left). However, I think the story of the murals is to be read and understood in the following order:

4. The two figures, a leader and their follower, depicted discovering a great source of power—a Primeval Tree.

2. The leader and their follower journeying along the Weald Weave, the paths between the Primeval Trees, and charting it out.

3. The map of the Primeval Trees and the Weald Weave that was subsequently made.

1. The pathways have been deemed safe and are now an important mode of traversal and transport. Large-scale exploitation, if you will.

Now, one might assume these murals depict the Vala, and that could very well be the case. It’s just… I don’t remember ever hearing about the Vala coven’s large-scale transportation of goods through the Weald Weave, which they treasure and guard very dearly. Therefore, I raise a different theory. One I think the people of Tumblr will like very much.

The leader and the follower might be Jon Jarl and Gunnar Thrymson.

Or it might not. Even if it’s not Vala, maybe it’s early Druid settlers?

Either way… I can’t make that part with the goods transportation fit in with the Vala.

Things I can’t quite figure out:

- In-story, why are the murals broken? Why some more than others?

- Purely from a game developer “they shouldn’t see this yet” perspective, the meteors have to hold significance—look at how deliberately they were cut out. Why? In what way?

- In the first image (right to left), who are the two people on the bottom pathway? They’re facing each other, and the figure on the left is even reaching its arms out towards the other figure. Take a look at their surroundings as well: the portal and the stone structure make the place they’re in strongly resemble Fort Maria’s portal room.

#sso #z talks #ssoblr #star stable online #star stable #sso theory #it’s half past midnight I uhhhh am gonna sleep now #started doing this at like 10:30 #haven’t written one of these in a while. feels good man feels good

[taraa-dactyl]

Expedition

Read part 1 here -> Aftermath

A/N -> sorry this took so long I am violently depressed and started uni but anyways heres part 2, the plan for this fic is to have around 8 chapters (which could change as I go).

Please feel free to leave any feedback I would love to see what I can work on:)

Summary -> You're struggling with finding your place among the people following your actions during the war, feeling the scorn of the Omatikaya clan your only solace is reluctantly befriending Jake Sully as you both navigate how to find your place within the clan.

Pairing -> Jake Sully x Reader

Word count -> 2.7k

The moist pandorian grass sways and pulses beneath your feet as you trek through the forest in the early morning light. Flecks dance in the daylight that shines and break through the trees that tower over your form as you weave and dodge the fallen tree trunks and roots that spiral through the ground. 

Though you grew up on Pandora you had never really appreciated the wonders of your planet, never having a chance to stop and breath in the fresh air swirling around you, always training and fighting, moving from one conflict to another with no rest. There’s a slight pang in your heart as the realisation dawns on you, but you're quick to move on from the thought. 

You hate to admit it but Jake was the main reason you had spent so much time outside of the camp, busying yourself with random wanders through the forest. Finally getting to explore your home due to his carefree and curious nature that persuaded you to go along with his daily adventures.  

Your days since rejoining the Omatikaya clan had been a haze, you had drifted from each group of clan members looking for duties to fill your day and frankly- to give you a purpose. Since you were prohibited to hunt or even train you tried your hand at weaving, which had been dreadful according to the woman who led and trained the group. You even attempted other artisan practices like pottery and building for the clan, but similarly, it wasn’t one of your strengths.

Which led you to waking up at the crack of dawn to join the gatherers, they tasked you with an easier role of collecting fruit for the day's meals. Your satchel was situated close to your person as you scaled a thick tree trunk, eyeing the deep purple cycloid ribs of Yovo fruit that glistened in the sunlight.

You felt like a kid again traipsing along the moss covered branches, the burden of conflict no longer on your shoulders, and whilst your nonchalant attitude was a welcome change, you knew it wouldn’t last and you would eventually crave the adrenaline that hunting and fighting brought you.

The pads of your fingers grasped the juicy fruit and plucked it from the stem it was dangling from, after filling the bag to the brim you couldn’t hide the smirk from stretching across your face when the urge crossed your mind. You’re quick to bite into the fruit prepared to devour it whole before you're interrupted by a gruff voice calling out to you. 

“I’m not so sure you’ll be a gatherer if the fruit doesn’t make it back to camp with the way you're going at it.” You weren’t usually caught off guard so easily but you can’t control the slight blush that heats your azure skin. 

Jake stands at the base of the tree, a lazy smile gleaming up at you as you take in his form, muscled arms gripping his hips as he cocks his hip to the side.

“Can I give you a hand with making it one less Yovo?” His lids are almost closed as he looks up at you due to the sunlight from behind you blinding him. You’re almost ethereal as the warm light draws his eye to your strong figure, the muscles and tendons visible on account of years of fighting. 

You lazily toss the spherical fruit the large distance between the two of you, and as Jake’s acute canines tear into the skin, juices roll down his chin and pool in the crevices of his chin. You can’t help but feel embarrassed by how captivated you are by the simple action of eating, how have you been so easily distracted since your return to the clan? You had prided yourself as a seasoned warrior that was levelheaded in even the most confrontational situations and yet you found yourself constantly on your toes when observing the Olo’eyktan. Despite his blunt nature he still radiated charm and was considerate of others, somehow the violence of war against the humans hadn’t deteriorated his boyish personality. 

The smirk on his face turns into a knowing grin and you had decided then and there that he was quite annoying, with all the smirking and prolonged eye contact he sent your way. It’s like he knew your inner turmoil about the lack of restraint you had found yourself recently dealing with, that you were struggling with finding your place among the clan when your allegiances were still with Tayrangi. 

You drop to the grass in a crouch, despite the large distance between the branch and the ground your landing is almost silent. You wade through the long grass until you’re a foot away from him.

“How much do you remember from before you joined Tayrangi?” The question throws you off guard, you can’t remember the last time you had actually delved into your time in the Omatikaya clan.

Besides you barely knew Jake, was it worth it reopening the wound in front of the man? You figured you didn’t have many other people to confide in let alone be your friend, save for Neytriri who you hadn’t spoken to much since your arrival but was probably the closest thing you could call a friend since you had grown up together.

You sigh quietly to yourself before gaining the courage to speak. “Well I was Omatikayan until about 8 years old, the sky people had been on Pandora for around 23 years, the humans were growing more bold, crossing into our territory and definitely were not peaceful. I was expected to join Tayrangi, to train like a true warrior in preparation for the inevitable fight. My childhood is hazy before my training with Ikeyni.”

“Why is that? I thought the Na’vi pride themselves on being pacifists?” His confusion is almost endearing as his head cocks to the side, there's a childish curiosity in his golden eyes.

“Maybe so but before the humans arrived, we never had a reason to fight as we are generally peaceful. But since the humans had started colonising we trained more for combat rather than for skill.”

“I didn’t know that, I learn more about the people and grow a new respect for them with every custom and tradition I learn.” He’s reverent as he says it.

He breaks from his thoughts and snaps his head back to you. “Wait, so you were quite young when you lived here? That's perfect because I am still relatively new to Omatikaya and am always exploring to find new places near camp.”

You're confused about what he is saying before he snatches the satchel out of your hands and dashes toward the camp, which was quickly turning into more of a village as they built hammocks into the canopies of the trees.

Your protests fall on deaf ears as he focuses on leaving the satchel with one of the other gathers that had returned early, and excuses you from your duties on the basis of it being ‘Olo’eyktan business’.

Your eyes are almost wide, anxious because of his use of status to get you out of your daily duties, this would not go over well as you are new to the clan but also looked down upon due to your actions during the war, “You know you can’t just do that? It’s not fair to the others if I’m not pulling my weight and they have to pick up after me.”

He whips around and that stupid cocky smirk is stretched across his face once again, “Weren’t you just about to finish? You have the rest of the day free before you have to prepare dinner.” 

His attempt at reasoning doesn’t quell your anxieties. “Well yeah, but I’m still new at this, I should be available for any extra work.” 

His shoulders slump and arches his back walking with bent knees as he tries to showcase his displeasure of voicing your worries.

“Oh my god, just c’mon, I’ll take you to my favourite spot I found in the first week I was here.” He’s almost whining and quickie grabs your forearm to drag you outside the camp where the Ikran colony have swaddled around a large rocky alcove they have taken a liking to.

You try to settle yourself because you can’t help but focus on the feeling of his rough calloused hand tightly gripping your arm, it’s almost the size of your entire forearm.  

“You have an Ikran right?”

You walk past him to pet and scratch under Ta’ra’s chin. “This is Ta’ra, we bonded when I joined Tayrangi, as everyone there is bonded with an Ikran we work together for fishing in the depths of the ocean and dive off the backs of them.”

He comes up next to you and asks if he can pat her as well, you take a moment before reluctantly agreeing but warn him to give her space if she shakes him off.

HIs large hands run along her neck feeling every bump and grove on her skin, his eyes flicker back to you next to him as you both admire Ta’ra’s beautiful colours.

“That must take a lot of skill, I can barely balance on Bob when it’s windy let alone near crashing waves and other animals.”

You can’t help the furrow of your brows as you pause before your question. “Who is Bob?” The name is foreign on your tongue as there is no word similar to it in Na’vi.

He nods his head over to the dark blue and teal Ikran that slowly stomps closer to Jake.

“O-oh, Bob?” You can’t contain your judgement as you speak.

“Yeah I’m not too great at the naming thing.” He has a bashful smile that he tries to hide as he walks closer to the beast.

You yip loudly a sign for Ta’ra to dive off the ledge, her mighty wings unfold and glide in the wind which whips your hair wildly. A call echoes from behind you and you're startled by Jake’s Ikran swooping closer and closer to you which makes you dodge him as he flies into your path. He lets out a loud chuckle and banks quickly to the left, as you follow in suit.

The flight itself is reassurance that you have someone you can depend on, Ta’ra and you had been bonded since you were both young and had been inseparable since. Not merely an Ikran and not a pet but your companion which resembled closer to sisterhood.

You both feel comforted through Tsaheylu, finally getting time to yourselves to bond with each other without the pressures of training or war. Jake and Bob are further ahead of the two of you, gliding through the flocks of smaller winged animals that duck out of the way of them.

Jake’s back muscles ripple as he changes grips on the reins and repositions himself on his haunches. Your attention falls on his large feet on the handles, an extra appendage grips the bar and it reminds you that he was once a skyperson. You have a newfound respect for the man, he worked to become one of the people and became the legendary Toruk Makto. You wish you could have seen him ride Toruk because the clumsy and boyish Jake that you see in front of you was the opposite of the stories. He did not fit the role of the Toruk Makto who you heard legendary stories of, mutterings passed around campfires and told to children during bedtime stories.

Your thoughts are pushed to the back of your mind when you arrive at a cliff overlooking a valley where various animals wade through the tall grass and a pond gurgles nearby. You land near the edge of the cliff, removing your braid from the animal as you stalk to the edge in a daze. The view is picturesque, you would have never guessed something so beautiful would have survived anywhere near the humans touch at Hell’s Gate.

Behind you Ta’ra and Bob pounce on each other, play wrestling along the rocks as Jake watches you from a few paces behind. When you turn around to face the taller man he’s taken aback from the soft look in your eyes, one he had yet to see. He reaches out with an upturned palm and his lips part as if he was going to say something, he stops himself before he can voice his thoughts.

He brushes past you to sit on the edge of the cliff, his strong legs dangle over the side, the distance from the ground is highlighted from his view. You’re hesitant to join him as there is very little room along the edge, the brush and bushes overgrown making only a small spot available. Nevertheless you settle against his side and stare out at the view. 

“Places like this don’t exist on earth, it feels like a dream seeing it right in front of me.” He offers up after a beat of silence.

“What is it like, on earth I mean?” You still stare forward, watching the water ebb and flow in the pond.

“Lonely. It’s dull, a dying planet with no green and most of the animals are gone.” He mourns for his home planet, despite nothing being there for him anymore he still feels tied to the place where Tommy and his parents had been present in his life.

A hum escapes your throat and you voice your thoughts, “No wonder you wanted to come to Pandora.”

He’s quick to interject, “I didn’t plan on it, my brother the scientist died before he was supposed to come here, so I took his place in the science program and was shipped over here, was in way over my head.” He has a faraway look in his eyes by the end of his sentence, lamenting the loss of his brother and his struggle at the beginning of the Avatar program.

“And somehow became Toruk Makto.” You supply. He parrots it back to you with a chortle.

You can’t contain your curiosity when you question him. “What was it like- riding a Toruk?” 

“Freeing,” he sighs a soft smile on his lips. “Knowing you’re the biggest in the sky, nothing can touch you. I felt like I finally had a purpose among the people.”

As the eclipse nears, the two of you decide to head home, surprised by how quickly the day had slipped away. Hours of talking about your lives and exploring the terrain.

You hadn’t seen Jake since you both returned to camp, you joined the gatherers to help prepare the clans meal. Women chattered and laughed around you as they shared stories of the day and their families. The laughter rang hollow in your ears as you felt your isolation from the others. When you finally push your anxieties down and meet the eyes of the people around you you’re met with either cold stares of inquiring looks, the alienation you've felt since returning to camp prominent.

When dinner is served and the children are served you finally get your meal that you had a hand in preparing, you squat near the outside of the circle not in the mood to have prying eyes on you. You keep your eyes on your meal, your haunches acting as a barrier to the world around you as you dip further into the space between your legs. 

More people gather around the circle, filtering closer to you. You shuffle over as a little girl occupies the spot next to you, digging into her food. You watch out of your peripherals as she glances over at you and does a double take, she’s quick to tap you on your arm to get your attention. 

“You are the warrior, yes?” Her eyes reflect her innocence, she’s one of the few people who didn’t look at you in disgust or disappointment, perhaps she didn’t know what you had done. You’re hesitant but eventually nod. 

“They told us stories growing up, about the mighty warrior sent to save the clans.” Save the clans. A pang throbs through you. 

“Luaya! Come now.” A gruff demanding voice barks in front of you, the large man storms over, yanking the girl up by her upper arm. 

“What did I tell you?” He questions the girl, sending a scathing glare towards you before hauling the child away. You resigned yourself to spending the rest of your days as an outsider to the people.

#fic #writing #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water #jake sully x reader #jake sully #taraa-dactyl

[sundaypenacony]

⋆｡°★ [5] Thoughts about the new leaks - Part 2

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ WARNING: This post will talk about a lot of story leaks and character leaks in general. This post will talk about an analysis I did before which mentions a religious cult named "The Family" by David Brandt Berg which is known for SA but besides that, it is also known for, abuse, shunning, religious discrimination, conversion therapy, ritual abuse, child abuse, etc.

Credit to StepLeaker for the leaks , the_chanels and blednay

⋆｡°★ Story Leaks

⋆｡°★ Storyleaks P1

Isn't the Trailblazer having so much fun...! As always!

I am just lost who the heck the "Clock Boy" is supposed to be... Also Watchmaker is interesting to see... I do wonder what the hell is going in this leak, I wonder if this is a kind of "dream" that is happening, because why would Sampo turn into that but also why would Sampo attack Trailblazer out of nowhere?

⋆｡°★ Dream Hotel

Also what could the Dream Hotel exactly be? Well I tried to look into on of the Relic setsnamed "Penacony, Land of the Dreams" where one of the relics is named "Penacony, Land of the Dreams" which I assume is the hotel the leaks are talking about.

Okay so, reading the description of the relic does give a little bit more information about what this hotel may be.

It is mentioned when entering the hotel the scenery gradually becomes more and more incredulous and it feels like one has been lifted by silk how other quests may even walk on walls and defy gravity. This is also mentioned in the leak, how the Trailblazer is floating. They than go on to mention things that are very different to what it is originally.

Then the most important part is mentioned: "They were never awake, but are instead witnessing Penacony's true nature in a dream - a place where time stops in a neverending dreamscape." When they enter the hotel they are under the rule of The Family and how some quests who have suffered a lot of pain come to this hotel to soothe their worries and wounds.

Afterwards, they go on to mention the past of this hotel and how "the thread that weaves the dreams comes from reality" which suggests a connection between dreams and real-life experiences and how the fabric of our dreams, the imaginative and often surreal scenarios we experience during our sleep, is influenced by the events, emotions, or situation we encounter. The dreams are shaped by our experiences in the real world.

Than something else they mention is how the Hotel used to be an IPC (Interastral Peace Corporation) prison where countless inmates were relocated to salvage the overflowing Memory Bubbles for the Garden of Recollection. "People repeated their endless toils until their bodies were as heavy as lead, but their souls became as light as bubbles. At some unknown point in time, the small cells cut off access to reality, but people's consciousnesses became linked in dreams. In the midnight bell, that shared dream seemed so real, reflecting the sheer hypocrisy of reality."

In the Link Rope (which will also be mentioned more about later), they go more into the IPC past of the big metropolis. They mention how the IPC sent a huge number of prisoners to the Asdana star System in an attempt to stop a catastrophe from spreading. There, people reclaimed memoria, gradually becoming lost between fantasy and reality. The spherical work chambers in a vacuum became an unforgettable "memory" for the prisoners. When others who regained freedom went to discover the dreamscape, the cages went along with them and they mention how they instead of trying to destroy the inescapable nightmares, they embrace it and add "colour" to this place.

Then they go on to mention how The Destruction stopped the IPC and how the Trailblaze "connected this frontier to the other stars" which probably implies how they did an expansion of exploration beyond localized area. And then The Harmony (Xipe) was the one to establish and encourage peaceful relations.

After this happened, they erected a myriad of skyscrapers and rebuilt it into a metropolis that is a new place for dreamers in search of wealth and opportunities and the best place for those who want to search for indulgence and pleasure. And the rest of the text greatly emphasises how they don't talk about the past.

We also have the Link Rope of this set named the "Penacony's Dream-Seeking Tracks" which talks about how only people who "stay and dream" are considered to have officially arrived at Penacony. Now I wonder how many people have gotten stuck there...

They talk about the Spheroids which are the main transportation in the dreamscape metropolis and guide guests around every place of the city. BUT! They also mention how the vehicles are actually imprisonment cages and how they were originally used to lock up prisoners.

Also, they start to mention some places in this metropolis named the "Moment of Daybreak", "Moment of Scorchsand" and a stadium called the "Moment of Stars".

"In the present, the fast-moving colorful Spheroids moving all over Penacony and the slight reverberations coming from within them... are all quietly hidden in the light of the dream city, blending in with the ambitions and laughter, like a land of dreams where time forever stands still."

⋆｡°★ Storyleaks P2

Well now that we know what this Hotel is and that we have more info about Penacony we can continue!! I feel like what the Trailblazer at the moment is experiencing is sort of a dream, but I do wonder how much of this is actually a dream and how much isn't.

A couple of characters are mentioned after this and for people who are unware of who they are here is a list!

⋆｡°★ Firefly / Sam

Firefly or also knows as Sam is a leaker character for Honkai Star Rail who is a Stellaron Hunter. They were the one to go with Kafka to recruit Blade and held Blade down to give Kafka the time to convince Blade and went with Blade and Kafka to recruit Silver Wolf.

In the story the will reveal they're Sam by saying:

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hide it from you, I just... I just wanted to get to know you as 'Firefly' instead of 'Sam'. Wil you forgive me? You will forgive me, right?"

It is also mentioned that she is frail girl who is searching for the meaning of life.

⋆｡°★ Archeron

In leaks it is mentioned how she comes to Penacony as a Galaxy Ranger and attend the Family's banquets. She later reveals her true identity as an Emanator of the Void. She is an IX emanator of Abundance, a "Self-Annihilator" born out of nothingness with no memory or past, wielding a sword that cuts off the path of life. (cough Sigma kinnie ok bye)

She is described as a cold and silent intergalactic ronin, an ascetic imperial maiden. She has embarked on a lonely journey for vengeance, but still seems to have goodness in her heart.

⋆｡°★ Black Swan

She is the memo keeper of the Garden of Recollection. I think her voice line leaks explain it better than what I can say really. It is mentioned how she cannot get into trailblazer memories.

⋆｡°★ Adventurine

Adventurine is an employee of the IPC Strategic Investment Department. He is a coworker of Topaz and it mentioned how Diamond (their boss) has given him a major project involving Penacony (wow how surprising IPS cannot stay away huh).

⋆｡°★ Robin

Robin: A leader of The Family - a faction aligned with the Path of Harmony on Penacony. She appears in the Dreamscape as an agent of Watchmaker - the true master of Penacony - and sends invitations to members of all the families to attend a banquet on Penacony.

She also has some insane powers that she uses to get people to join The Family, like holy macaroni see this. Also it mentioned how she wants to eliminate Watchmaker so...! Let's say she is NOT loyal to them.

⋆｡°★ Storyleaks P3

OKAY YES- Now we are back to the story leaks! Sorry, I had a lot to explain first before we could really get into it. The trailblazer is at the hotel mentioned above and is basically really experiencing all the effects of this hotel. I do wonder how Watchmaker got into this... Especially when they make such a big connection between real life and a dream and how much life influences dreams.

At the arrival of Penacony, I feel like they were getting used to the weird gravity thing in the Hotel and then meet Robin and Sunday (<333 theeeemmmm explodes). There was also another leak of voicelines between these three:

"Robin: Are you all right?

Trailblazer: I seem to be seeing hallucinations…

Robin: Haha, this is normal for people who enter "dreamland" for the first time.

Sunday: It seems that this guest isn't used to the change from reality to the dream world. Don't worry, this kind of weightlessness is common among travelers who are new to the dream world.

Sunday: Robin, please help our friend better adapt to this dream.

Robin: Leave it to me.

Robin: It's okay. Just relax. It'll be over soon.

Robin: "Breathe in." …… "Breathe out." ……

Robin: You are now in complete control of your dreams, {NICKNAME}—welcome to Penacony."

So this is the part where they get introduced to Penacony.

Now for the part where they mention Firefly having a teardrop in the corner of her eye, I feel like this is something that happens later after certain events that I cannot predict, sadly,,, Trailblazer is I think getting some kind of dream again that does resonate with reality.

And well than! Firefly and Archeron get into a fight...! GREAT! I feel like Archeron, as how is mentioned, does have a kind heart so I feel like she may be protecting the Trailblazer because they know about them being Stellaron Hunters, though I am a little unsure about this claim.

And than Black Swan just drags the Trailblazer away! GREAT! Like they aren't having enough already lol. Blackswan is the one that is the memo keeper of the Garden of Recollection. I think they do have something to do with the IPS because of the entire "prison where countless inmates were relocated to salvage the overflowing Memory Bubbles for the Garden of Recollection". Hence why Aventurine is there, who literally WORKS for IPS and got a job for the Penacony from his boss. I do feel like it has something to do with the Garden of Recollection but absolutely the past of the hotel and Penacony in general with the IPS.

THAN! Look at that! Robin's fake death! Which confirms this event all took place in World 3 where Robin performs her own death in order to force out and eliminate Watchmaker...! Dang the puzzle pieces are really connecting now...

The story feels a little chaotic at the moment and there absolutely some parts between the leaks missing.

⋆｡°★ Light Cones Leaks

Baptism, ah, here I go again back with my Christian references.

Okay, so the emphasis on cleanliness and the idea that "truth eludes impurity and can only be approached by purity" resonates with the Christian concept of moral purity and the idea of being cleansed of purified thoughts by repentance. Christianity often talks about living a righteous life, how the lightcones talk about how the idea of truth is approached through purity is probably them saying how like in the Bible maintaining moral integrity and avoiding behaviours is considered sinful. Furthermore, the concept of purity and truth is found in passages in the Bible like for example in Matthew 5:8 "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God".

⋆｡°★ Chinese

I DON'T KNOW CHINESE ENOUGH TO BE ABLE TO TRANSLATE THESE WELL ENOUGH BUT I DO READ SOME THINGS ABOUT PENACONT AND THE GARDEN OF RECOLLECTION SOBBING

I will try to translate these some other times and get more into it, but I cannot promise good translations because my Chinese knowledge is very very limited.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ THANK YOU FOR READING!

#hsr

[foxssleeplessness]

Codywan fic recs in honour of Kenobi airing

An Accidental Expression (of Love) by kj_feybarn (5531 words), Gen

Summary: “Anakin,” Obi-Wan called out, unable to stop the alarm from coloring his tone. “Don’t—”

Anakin, heedless of Obi-Wan’s half-given warning, reached out and grabbed the strange spherical ball that lay on the altar in the middle of the room.

“—touch that,” Obi-Wan finished with a sigh.

Beside him his Commander let out a huff of air that could have meant any number of things, but that Obi-Wan translated as his Commander’s ‘I can’t believe I’m the only person here with common sense’ huff.

I LOVED this fic!! It is a bit on crack, but gods is it well-written. There is implied Waxer/Boil, which I hate, but getting over it is really easy. Worth every words.

an ice cream-covered screaming hyperactive thought by adiduck (book_people) (9863 words) Gen

Summary: Cody is fairly certain he is not going to get his security deposit back.

There are three new stains on his carpet, and a patch by the door has been roughed up enough Cody’s pretty sure the weave’s come loose. The door itself has scratches in the paint all the way up to the door knob, and the curtains covering the windows on either side of the door are shredded, showing the metal grating over the transparisteel on the street side. The caf machine, the dish rack, and the soap dispenser are all in a collapsed and soapy heap on the floor. Cody’d managed through reflexes honed by war to save his favorite caf mug, but had sadly lost two of his plates and a bowl before he’d managed to wrap the perpetrator in three towels and shove the whole bundle up against a shoulder.

The towel bundle, very put out by this turn of events, is yelling.

Again, LOVED it. I absolutely adore accidental animal adoption and this fic is it. It's covered in fluff and chaos, but boy is that chaos beautiful. I'm begging you to read this fic, please.

Take A Chance On Me by Treetart (6021 words) Teen and Up

Summary: Eventually five chapters with different stages of Codywan.

Amazing! Beautiful! A kriffing piece of art! I reread this fic everytime I can and I never get bored of it. It's a big fluffy blanket when life is a cold and unforgiving winter.

when we see each other by notquiteaghost (580 words) Teen and Up

Summary: When is the war going to end, she asks When we see each other, I say.

It takes just over five months, for Rex to find him.

Tatooine isn’t a place anyone ends up for good reason. No one asks where he came from, what he’s doing here, what his name is. He spends as much time alone as he can.

“Someone’s asking after you,” Annileen says, on his seventh visit to her compound, as he’s bundling his wares onto his speeder. “Mando, I think. Didn’t tell ‘em shit, but they knew a lot already.”

Obi-Wan thinks, foolishly, of Cody. This close to Huttspace, it’s still Mando armour before it’s trooper armour, the war a far off thing very few people care to know about but bounty hunters a constant.

It’s not Cody. He would have sensed Cody. Cody shot him out the sky.

It is short, but sweet and warm. I usually hate fics shorter than 2k, but I can't stop reading this one. It's perfect for when you want a quick escape but have things to do. 10/10

your atomic god by TallNegotiations (dionova) (26 326 words) Gen

Summary:

The code of a clone is a simple thing: you were made to die for the Republic, for the Jedi. Make the most of the time you have before that.

Cody, who picked his own name, who paints his armor in simple brush strokes, whose hand has never fit anything more perfectly than a blaster grip, figures out how to make the most of it.

And maybe there's a matchmaking lightsaber somewhere in there to help along the way.

CLONES BEING WHOLESOME AND A MATCHMAKER LIGHTSABER WHAT MORE COULD YOU ASK FOR?!!

These Things Happen by writehandman (38 639 words) Teen and Up

Summary: Obi-wan Kenobi keeps promoting Cody. The promotion gets out of hand, and suddenly the balance of the universe shifts into the palm of a very competent, caffeinated man.

I'M JUST BEGGING W/ TEARS FOR YOU TO READ THIS PLEASE

Next To Me by JedimasterMegan (246 words) Gen

Summary: Lazy mornings are rare during the war, but every once in while, Cody and his general manage to sneak one in. And Cody isn’t letting anyone or anything ruin this time they have alone. (That means you, Skywalker.)

Again, really short fic but the fluff it is made of is just *chief kiss*

you're his heart, you're still here by lydiasgrace and ThirthFloor (20 933 words) Not Rated, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

Summary: Fine. Skywalker would tag along during the ship ride, sure. As soon as they got to Stewjon they’d be going their separate ways. Anakin knew they were going to the planet, not to the mountains, so maybe Cody could just drop him off at some village and then get back on the ship and actually fly to the mountains. Yeah, that would work.

Cody tried not to think of how callous he seemed. He knew Skywalker was grieving Obi-Wan just as he was, but Cody just needed… he wasn’t sure what he needed. But he was certain that he didn’t need Skywalker. Skywalker had a wife to go back to, and a Padawan who was considering working with the Order again, and two ade about to enter the world. Cody had his vode, who all needed space to learn who they wanted to be. He used to have Obi-Wan too. Now Cody was alone, and he wanted it to stay that way while he figured out what the kriff he was going to do with the rest of his life. Obi-Wan was supposed to be there to help him, let Cody share his dreams. Cody was lost without him.

PAIN BUT GODS IS THIS PAIN BEAUTIFUL AND WORTH IT. Cody and Anakin bond over Obi Wan's death, I always wanted to see them interact more. Cody finally lets himself experience and process his grief and it's heartbreaking before mending it.

Codywan Deserves Better series by HalbarryTrashcan (15 003 words) Teen and Up

Summary:

Shake it out (part 1): Since Obi-Wan's force bond broke years ago when Qui-Gon died, he has had to depend on painkillers and the Force to keep the headaches at bay. But when he met a certain Clone Commander, everything changed.

I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (Part 2): A rewrite of Season 3 Episode 9: The Hunt for Ziro.

In which, Cody actually does want to set the world on fire.

I don't have words to describe how I feel about this series. If I could print it out and put it in a historical library with the most beautiful classics, I would do it without hesitation. Halbarry is an amazing writer and I beg you to check out their other stuff if you like this one. Part 2's got a side-serving of Fox/Quinlan Vos and I love this ship too.

I wish you a good sleepless night reading these :)

#codywan fic #codywan fic recs #fic recs #codywan #swtcw #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #obi wan and cody #kenobi series #kenobi show

[kmp-modernfurniture]

A growing sense of balance and harmony enfolds us the more we observe this interior by @deka_entreprenad.

The calming effect is crafted through a sensible composition of soft neutrals, spherical forms, and dark wooden touches.

Each room displays the different variations within a white color scheme ranging from classic bright white to creamier tones with increasing hints of yellow.

A faint contrast is added with light grey stone flooring, the weaving textures in marble and oversized rugs, and with pale blue cabinetry and frames.

Thanks to these light #interiors elements such as plush seating, oversized sofas, and dark wooden flooring with matching #furniture sets can stand out as the darkest pops of color.

This also draws out attention to the smooth quality of the wood and its #minimalist yet unusual and memorable designs.

Lastly, the third theme of this #design is visible in the round carpet and matching round

#diningtable positioned under a weaving floral chandelier which reminds us of a cyclical process.

This recurrent spherical presence in the dining area complements the round #architecture of the room beautifully.

#moderndesign #designers #miami #modernhomes #contemporarydesign #modernfurniture #furniturestores #sofas #interior design miami #interiordecoration #interior decor #interiors #real estate blog #bedroom #beige tones #beige aesthetic #interior design #architectural #architecture #contemporary architecture #earthy design #earth tones #real estate #realtorsmiami #couch furniture #furniture design #miami architects #miamidesign #modern bedroom #architecture blog

[weavertali]

New year celebration with @nameaprice & @fcrgiven. Continued.

The new year revel always felt like the night sky had descended to the earth, blending with the world for just one celebration. Lanterns had been hung up in all manner of colors and constellations, great fires raised. The shadows they cast mingled, like threads in a weave.

Taliyah had smiled and laughed so much that her cheeks ached. She hadn't touched a single spirited drink, much unlike many among the gathered crowd, and that didn't help her problem of having too much to smile and laugh about; everywhere around her, drunken or not, joyful moments unfurled.

However, there were two people she desired to watch more than the others, and she'd lost sight of them as a conversation took her. This new year was merrier than in many years, as it had seen her reunited with people very dear to her; her friend who carves her own path, and the Teacher she thought she had lost. Her gaze and mind were free to roam again, and she searched the crowd-- finding the two in the most unimaginable scenario. Kissing, embracing, dancing. No doubt a little in the cups, but the joy they shared seemed genuine, if perhaps fleeting.

Maybe the Great Weaver foresaw a path for them in the coming year. Fate, like the sands of the desert, was ever-shifting.

The stoneweaver extended a finger and swirled it. With the motion, a spherical slab of earth beneath the dancing pair rotated, spinning them closer together, like thread on a spindle. She caught her teacher's gaze-- always alert, finding her swiftly, even when drunk-- and she smiled. Then, she laughed, heart brimming with love.

There was someone she desired to dance with, too. Someone she would, if she were brave enough, kiss as well. That person was far from her, somewhere in the caverns in the earth, where horrors slithered and lurked. Blocking out the party for a moment, Taliyah extended her senses to the earth, listening to its songs and echoes. Hoping to catch the swift steps and impacts of plasma barrages she knew so well.

#nameaprice #fcrgiven #Love these three. I'm so fortunate to write with you two <3 #someone please. we need a kai'sa with this trio #weaving stone --- ic.

[unfoldingrose]

Pearl Power

Key

Underlined green text = links

Pink = anagrams [orthographically, phonetically, syntactically]

Bold = emphasis

Note: Please read/listen to required links; only optional links are labeled optional

Polycystic Ovaries 

The “-cystic” in polycystic ovarian syndrome is characterized by what appears to be “string of pearls” on the ovaries. These pearls are raised follicles that occur during all women’s proliferative phase of the menstrual cycle. During this phase, oocytes begin to mature in preparation for ovulation. Because those w PCOS experience endocrine-metabolic dysfunction, the oocyte maturation process of the proliferative phase struggles to take place; lessening both the regularity and strength of ovulation. As a result, a trail of immature ovarian follicles is left on the ovary, likening themselves to small cysts- or string of pearls. This is important to understand being that “polycyst” is a misnomer. The ovaries of a person w/ PCOS is not that of someone experiencing true cysts- which are masses of tissue that form in the ovary. These “polycysts” are simply immature ovarian follicles. 

[[click ‘ALT’ in bottom left corner of picture above]]

The Lore::Role::Lure::Rule of Pearl

The Lore:

Pearl formation has been a mystery for scientists for some time now- specifically the origins of the material that creates pearls. Nacre::Mthr of Pearl. Nacre not only occurs in pearl body, but also in the inner shells of a certain mollusk families. Both freshwater and oceanic mollusks produce pearls- but water pollution and habitat loss has contributed to the reduction of natural pearls. To curb this loss, cultured pearl farming accounts for the majority of pearls in the market today. [[Side note: I correlate freshwater and oceanic mollusk population reduction with the rise of strange medical issues like PCOS.]]

Nacre gives pearls an otherworldly strength for its size, and a rainbow sheen. Material scientists work tirelessly to synthetically recreate the nano-structure of nacre. The process of nacre is key to understanding just how ancient it is. [Read 1st link in this paragraph::find and highlight ‘coacervates’ in said article::delve into coacervates:: it will lead you to proto cell life of Early Earth]. Is it possible that the mystery behind the origins of nacre is that it’s processes are too advanced/ancient to recreate? I’d say so. That’s the Power of Pearl; it is a solid form of an Older-than-Old plasmatic aqueous phase; the same liquids that created first cell life, hardened by the dance of Calcium Carbonate, Aragonite and proteins. A morsel from before, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. The reason why pearls sometimes shape themselves as tears 💧💧💧💧.

It is said that pearls are formed via the nacreous envelopment of an irritant. If something as minuscule as a grain of sand enters the mollusk and irritates the softness of its flesh, the mollusk will layer by layer overwhelm it with nacre. I see this similar to a spider weaving it’s prey, leaving behind a little pearled prey mummy to eat for later. Pearls/mollusk shells resemble the movement of silk fabric suspended in time, and comparatively spiders quite literally weave with incredibly tough silk. The difference between the mollusk and spider: the spider primarily weaves as an offense. To consume. The mollusk encapsulates as defense. To make peace of its pain.

Furthermore, throughout history there has been a fascination w finding the perfect pearl- for this reason, completely spherical pearls were favored most amongst the aristocracy of various lands. Freshwater mollusks are more likely to produce uniquely shaped pearls rather than spherical. The odd shapes are my personal favorite. As I see every person w PCOS a pearl unto her own unique iridescence, luster, origin, and shape. She simply has to realize it.

Pearls have also been associated with chastity, purity, royalty, wealth, and wisdom. It was a surprise to me, according to this article, that pearls have historical planetary associations with both the Moon *and* Venus. In my Artemisia write up, I noted how Artemisia is not only a lunar plant, but also a venusian one as well- as it is one of the main physical and psycho-spiritual menders of PCOS. 

The Lore of pearls gives us the sayings, “pearls of wisdom,” “the world is your oyster,” and the warning not to “cast your pearls among swine.”

The Role:

I am of the volition that all aspects of an “illness” exist to tell the person experiencing it a story. To tell those touched by someone experiencing an “illness” a story also. To give clues as to how to heal themselves and/or others. To mend the relationship between body, environment, mind, spirit, soul. It is vexing- the signature of a string of pearls. Pearls, being a symbol of beauty- juxtaposed with a condition that leaves people feeling less than beautiful in most cases. The strange hair growth, the unwanted weight gain, the hair loss, the fatigue, and subsequent fertility loss (SN: fertility has more to do with vitality than just producing a baby). 

What are pearls aiming to tell us? Their role? Surely more than skin deep... 

The Lure:

Cool, Random Resources: [OPTIONAL]

Pearl Exhibition

Freshwater Mussles of Midwest

List of Fresh Water Mussels in US and Canada

Ancient Oysters

The Rule of Pearl:

Characteristics of Pearl::Nacre:

- strong, yet light 

[ ^ to be strong throughout life woes, hormonal fluctuations, disappointments, trauma, karma, neglect. To remain light in the middle of it all- to let go of heavy shit.]

- resistant to breaking via compression; spreads to areas of lower pressure, whilst maintaining core tensile strength

[ ^ know where your strength comes from- and let it be unbreakable. Adapt in new ways when faced w pressure]

- transforms invaders/insults to injuries into timeless treasures 

[ ^ a strong immune system; in body, in mind, and spirit]

- beauty as a by-product of its defense mechanism

[ ^ have a defense mechanism; all life has one; let it be beautiful. Defense mechanism is not the same thing as boundaries. We impose boundaries onto ourselves; defense mechanisms are inherent/instinctual. When one reliquishes its defense mechanism because of shame, fear of being a bad person, religious morality, being told as a child that it is wrong to defend yourself- your defense will in turn, turn on you. Give it room to protect you, instead of hating it]

- fully restores its original build and mechanical strength during decompression

[ ^ relaxation, self-expression, however that looks, is rejuvenating; it restores functioning metabolic-endocrine-nervous system/synthesis. It fortifies you for those unpredictable pressures]

- light reflects from its interior surface, interferes with the light reflecting from its outer surface 

[^ the best work is internal work. The iridescence onlookers see is a result of this inner work]

- a string of immature oocytes

[ ^ the call to mature, as a woman, into and unto yourself]

In this way, those w polycystic ovaries can begin to nourish these nacre qualities within themselves as a physical, mental, and spiritual practice::praxis. I want to highlight that it only takes something as small as a grain of sand to alert::alter::altar the mollusk to begin pearling. The PCOS person carries this same sensor-tivity::sensitivity.

Practice:

cultivating the listed above

making peace w your pain

eating mussels and oysters in season, raw, grilled or smoked. Favor fruits that “cluster” like polycystic ovaries (ex. blackberries, raspberries, etc.). Allow this signature to guide you in your own way to healing yourself.

eating pears in season. See the pear in pearl.

giving thanks to the fresh waters and oceans that produce your food and jewelry.

being aware of environmental abominations in place that allow for the polluting of fresh water.

#pcos treatment #PCOS #Pearls #my words #pcosnutrition #Spotify

[transsexual-dandelions]

hey!! im gonna humor you (but also im just really interested), how’s your capstone? it sounds compelling:>

i think its SO cool and interesting but I may be biased i've spent the last like,, six months on this researching and planning and im starting statistical analysis next week (planning to do a t test several times over, if I have to do ANOVA i'll cry. I could settle for pearson correlation coefficient theyre not terrible)

(can you tell im a STEM guy through and through)

short version: i'm studying how often a pair of jeans should be washed based on accumulation of bacteria over a period of time, the project itself was conducted through seven consecutive days, being worn for a minimum of three hours a day, however I do believe this information could transfer over to "wears" instead, so instead of three consecutive days you could wear them three times over maybe two weeks and get similar results (in theory, this is inference made based on my decent amount of research)

longer version:

the whole reason clothes need to be washed beyond removing stains is because of odor. how does that odor get there? bacteria, baby! there is a large amount of bacteria residing on your skin (which is wonderful for your immune system, first line of defense!). The amount, types, and variety/biodiversity of bacteria is determined by many factors, including but not limited to pH, temperature, and moisture. how do these bacteria survive on your skin? sweat! sweat is inherently neutral and has no odor, it gains an odor as a byproduct of bacteria metabolizing it.

this odor is transferred over to clothes through the sweat, it wics into the textile and attaches to the fibers, bringing the bacteria along with it, they will just exist together for the most part, creating a malodor but nothing intense for now, the real fun part happens when the sweat dries. as the sweat dries, the solutes and compounds that the bacteria metabolize are severely concentrated, so the bacteria can access more of it quicker, giving it much more energy than it previously had access to, allowing irreversible adhesion to take place, which when built up can cause a lingering malodor, discoloration, loss of textile strength (thinning) not related to natural wear and tear,

the material a textile is made of will impact how sweat, sebum, and bacteria interact. most clothes are made with any combination of these three things: cotton, polyester, and spandex/elastane, each with different properties and attributes causing. ive read some journals/studies suggesting spandex to have a degree of antimicrobial properties, and for denim/100% cotton to have a degree of antifungal properties

cotton and polyester differ in many ways due to being natural vs synthetic, with one being hydrophilic and the other hydrophobic, different hygroscopicity, and general structure, as well as preparation for textile making. this results in different sebum distributions as it dries, polyester causing a uniform distribution with no respect for being face up/face down, while with cotton it dries into spherical droplets, face down, which could lead to implications and suggestions with and about bacterial behavior and odor formation (different bacteria cause different odors!)

the dyes used for clothes can also impact bacteria, it can accelerate or decrease bacterial growth/quantity/malodor, for example black jeans will gain a unique malodor that blue jeans may have. different dyes and dying processes can impact the integrity of the textile to begin with, such as stonewashing or acid wash which compromise the health of it, and traditional/classic indigo dye will strengthen/better it, with its natural antimicrobial properties. ultimately, different dyes will also have chemical properties that will affect how bacteria, sweat, and sebum interact and absorb (adsorb?)

jeans can have a different washing rate than say, t shirts, for a few reasons

one, denim is in reference to how the fibers are weaved to form the textile itself, a different structure means sweat and sebum (oil from your skin) will interact differently two, where and how you sweat! sure you sweat everywhere for the most part, but it accumulates and acts differently in some places compared to others, the most prominent sweating is at the armpits so it has all these processes happening quickly creating a greater need, compared to your legs where it may not be happening as quickly, if at all

so with all that background knowledge, what did I actually test?

I had a person wear the same pair of jeans for seven days, minimum of three hours a day, medium wash, indigo dye, 100% cotton. i took samples on day 0, 1, 2, 6, and 7. I could not get data for days 3-5 due to reasons out of my control, but it ultimately may not matter because there was no seemingly visible difference in amount of bacteria compared to day zero and one until day seven! at day seven it was intense, easily reaching fifty colonies per plate (two sections per day, each section gets played five times), compared to the one to ten colonies, <= 2mm on the first few days,

i predict that my statistical analysis will not show a significant difference (probably p value <0.05) until day seven, but i may be entirely wrong either way, i think its going to be very interesting!

in theory it would have applications in determining optimal washing frequency, based on a variety of factors (significant physical activity or sweating would decrease amount of time between washes) to create the longest possible lifespan of the jeans, especially with the effects of fast fashion and planned obsolescence

washing too frequently can also negatively impact the lifespan of a textile and make it degrade much quicker, and not washing it frequently enough will cause bio deterioration

I would love to do this project again another time, perhaps with more people, or exploring other %make ups, brands, and dyes/colors

#apollo answers #capstone #i love science i love math #thank u for the ask #i never get to talk about science with a few rare exceptions #i hope this was coherent theres like several base facts that need to be established that have no relation until later which makes figuring #out a natural flow order for a linear essay like this difficult #for my poster i might do a flow chart instead of a bulleted list of facts #id love to answer any questions btw !! this is my pride and joy ive been doing this since like. october.

[mbody108]

Lullaby to a Spherical Dream

It drew me in as cold hands to a fire.

Vivid visions of intricate spiderwebs of light, caressing my soul with fingers of Nirvana. Hands of silk caress my flesh, as my spirit is emancipated from it's bondage and cast out of it's shell with love. The universe before me is ever expanding, as consciousness and awareness, life and death, all knowing and all encompassing. Ebbing and flowing, I sit within it's bosom, yet I am paradoxically the bosom and the one who dwells within. Stars whispered age old secrets into my third eye, revelations of my own divinity. Ultimate truths in a tapestry of interconnected souls and vibrating matter... We.. are...one... I and you are the morning dew and the song of the bird, yet are also the sun and the emptiness of space. Frequencies of light unseen with human eyes, fill my vision with long forgotten colors. My spirit becomes the kaleidoscope of God, as all time and space merge into a singularity. A single point of light, from which all things were created and inevitably destroyed, both out of love. The light draws me into it's warmth as a mother holding her weeping child. My body seems so far away now, so insignificant, yet a universe by it's own rights. I rest in the infinite, outside of time, meditating in the hand of God. I asked "Where were you?" As if speaking as a scorned lover, and as God echoed my question I understood it was I who turned away. Where were you?... I fumbled for answers with the same creativity that was given to me BY God, knowing that if i could not fool myself, how do I stand to fool all that IS?... But instantly i knew that I walked the path that I walked through life for a reason and that reason is inter weaved through the very fabric of the universe itself.

It is as it is and I am what I am and my vision has shown me there is nothing It's not. Almost silently in my dreams were whispered words of wisdom, as the light played Let It Be to my heart and melted it's icy shell. We live each moment in endings and beginnings so this is AND is not the end. A welcoming embrace and parting is such sweet sorrow in the same breath. Hello and goodbye my beautiful friend, we'll ride the snake again.

~Agape Satori

#nature #literature