#comparing the two so. so. chewing on the lore basically

[rivilu]

Ayre is so stupidly a Healer is actually incredible. Something something, raised and having had to flee the underdark, the trauma along the way, the following the God of the oppressed, living and breathing altruism because it's the only reason he's still around. Helping anyone that ever needs to be helped, also taking on some bardic education so he can heal not only the body but also the spirit.

It's just! It's about the idealistic do-gooder being simultaneously young and slightly naive , but also having seen enough death to have ghosts in his eyes!!! It's about pressing on despite it all BECAUSE help is needed!! And helping is not just a goal but a reward!! Does anyone hear me!!!

#oc: ayre #not tagging anything else im always anxious about talking about ocs hh #but i love this guy sm #if i were REALLY self indulgent (i am) i would also plan a sort of multiple tav au (i have done so already) #because frankly if you put him and Alfhart in the same room you get. something! #sibling dynamic with spice probably ndjsj #it's very interesting to think about because While Ayre's biggest character motive is being altruistic- #Alfhart's is more so that he immensely values freedom. like they have immense overlap but some subtle differences here and there that makes #comparing the two so. so. chewing on the lore basically

[raintailed]

Im Cooking lore

Namely, headcanons about batflies, owls, and northern vultures

Batflies are weird bug/bat/bird things. They have both an endoskeleton and exoskeleton (though their bones are lightweight and fragile). They only have four legs and 2 wings (earth insects have 6 legs and 4 wings, by default).

Batflies are important pollinators! They can also be pests, since they can chew into walls to build their burrows (whose entrances are protected by spiky structures).

Their mouthparts are weird - they have a sort of split beak, and the upper/lower portions can move apart. They also have small teeth in their mouths.

On the right is a concept for giant mothflies, a species found in the northern regions. They're larger, fluffier, and have nocturnal habits.

Both of these species are considered primal fauna, though their genomes have been contaminated by hybridizing with modified individuals. This is likely why they are able to chew through metal.

Owls are a creature i made! This is a rework of them.

They're distant relatives of batflies and are basically if bugs evolved into birds. Most of their exoskeleton has been reduced, with their mask being a remnant of it.

Owls are roughly slugcat-sized and are important to the ancients that once inhabited the northern regions. Owls were bred and trained for falconry. Their mask became a symbol of hunting; this symbol spread south along trade routes, and was incorporated into the design of both vulture species.

This is also a primal species.

And then! Northern vultures! The story goes that the rough vulture concept was executed by two different groups of bio-engineers, resulting in two species of "vultures" that had similar behavior but very different anatomy. Northern vultures are heavily based on the genomes of owls.

Northern vultures have a similar head shape to real-life bearded vultures.

I'll have to figure out the situation with the machinery on the backs of northern vultures. Perhaps it's technically part of the exoskeleton, and is basically organic machinery? Also, expelling gas is less important for northern vultures than it is for southern/vanilla vultures, since n. vultures have wings that provide much more lift.

Just like with owls, losing their mask is a serious injury for northern vultures. It's literally part of their face! Of course vultures are upset when their mask gets taken!

Finally, a comparative anatomy thing showing the differences in body segments between batflies, owls, and northern vultures. Limbs and wings aren't shown for visibility.

Like earth insects, these animals have 3 body segments: a head, thorax, and abdomen. In batflies, these segments are distinct, and the abdomen holds many of the internal organs.

In owls, the abdomen is reduced, so the thorax holds more organs. Owls also have one fewer limb pair. The trend seen in owls continues with vultures.

Note that the body segments are more defined here than they actually are. They also probably aren't as... strict?? As what insects have, so they could be divided into sub-segments that can move independently? I have no idea

#raintailed's art #raintailed rambles #rain world #rw #rain world headcanons #headcanons #species #hehehe. bird :] #tw blood #long post

[pickledpascal]

Bewitched

Chapter Five: Collar Full

Warnings: SMUT !!! beau is the bottom (obvi)

Word Count: 3.8k

Bewitched Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was right after Winter Break and Kiera was up early to try and make Dalia some breakfast before she went back to school. One of her safe foods was toast with peanut butter so Kiera could always rely on that if she didn't want to make anything overly complicated. 

So she made two perfectly toasted pieces of bread and slathered them in a layer of peanut butter. Kiera took a bite of hers once Dalia’s was finished. 

“Did you know that, in Texas, if you take a cowboy hat off a cowboy and put it on your head, it means you're basically married?” Dalia appeared out of nowhere. Kiera got used to it. It had been a phenomenon since she could walk. 

Kiera set Dalia’s plate in front of her on the counter. “No, kiddo. I didn't.” She smiled softly. 

Ever since meeting Beau, Dalia had been obsessed with finding out everything she could about him and Texan traditions. Kiera was convinced Dalia was teetering on breaking her rule of not eating ethically sourced meat just to try the barbecue. That was until she realized they'd likely never travel to Texas. Dalia didn't like planes and she hated being in a car for more than a few hours. Kiera was glad Dalia was younger when they moved to Montana or else it would've been an even worse nightmare. 

Dalia dug into her toast, pursing her lips as she chewed. “You should do it to Beau.” She said before taking another bite. 

Kiera rubbed her forehead. Dalia had also been intentionally trying to get her with Beau. Not that she needed any help. In fact, it was a little funny. 

She took a sip of coffee and sighed. It wasn't her favorite cafés coffee but it'd do. Kiera wasn't going since she was able to work from home today. There was no need to leave the house just for coffee unless she was going into the office.

“Maybe I will.” Kiera smiled into her mug. 

Dalia didn't smile but her eyes held a sparkle of mischief and pride. Maybe one of her plans would work. For once. Her mother was so keen about what went on in her head that Dalia thought she had some sort of mind-reading power sometimes. 

Kiera took Dalia's plate and washed it along with her own. “Wanna get a ride to school or take the bus, sweetie?” She called over her shoulder.

“I'll take the bus.” Dalia responded. 

Kiera could hear her shifting, probably to get her backpack. Dalia was still very short. Especially compared to her mother. Kiera believed she'd be five-eight by her pre-teens. Now, though, Dalia stood at about four-five.

—----

Not knowing whatever possessed her, Kiera thought it would be nice to invite Beau over for lunch. For a surprise. She completed her work earlier than usual and she knew Beau had a lax day at work so his deputies wouldn’t mind if he had a particularly long lunch break. She hoped. Kiera wasn’t so sure about Jenny. 

She didn’t visit the precinct often. The very thought of being in a room full of cops made her skin crawl. But when Kiera did visit, the blonde was attached to Beau’s hip. Every room he was in, Jenny made sure to be in it with him. Kiera wasn’t jealous. She knew Beau loved her and her only. He was hopelessly in love and everyone could tell. That’s why Jenny tried to butt into every conversation Beau and Kiera had, sat at the edge of his desk a few times, and even offered to go out with him for drinks. Drinks were ultimately turned down to have dinner at Kiera’s house as he listened to Dalia talk about mythological creatures or whatever kind of lore she was obsessed with that week. 

“Hey, darlin’! I got sandwiches from that diner you—” Beau’s words were cut off at the sight of Kiera sitting with her legs crossed on the couch. He nearly dropped the two boxes of food he had in his hands.

Kiera herself looked normal. Oh, except for she was in nothing except for black, lacy lingerie. Her hair was in its naturally straightened state but it looked so different against her exposed skin. Beau had barely even seen her exposed shoulder. Seeing all this new skin made him feel like a Victorian man who caught a glimpse of a woman’s ankle. He noticed the small silver piercing on her belly button. So his suspicion was right. Kiera did have piercings elsewhere beside her face and ears. The new question became if she had one in a lower spot.

Kiera had to suppress a laugh at Beau’s reaction. He was like a deer in headlights. She took the food from his hands and set it on a nearby table before she tapped on Beau’s cowboy hat. He had a few he rotated through. This one was a deep brown color that had a black sash wrapped around the base of the crown. She smirked at Beau as she took it off his head and put it on hers. Beau swallowed thickly, wide-eyed as he watched the movement. 

“Hey, cowboy,” She smirked as she wrapped her arms around Beau’s waist and pulled him close. Kiera pressed her lips to his. That was all it took to unfreeze him. His arms found their way to her neck as he leaned into her lips. “Missed me?” She pulled away with a breath.

Beau chased after her lips. “You have no idea,” He breathed as he tipped the hat back for better access. As if he had a moment of clarity, he stopped himself while Kiera got her lips acquainted with his neck. “Darlin’—fuck—I still have work.” He reminded softly. The reminder was for himself. He knew if he ended up in bed with Kiera he wouldn’t want to leave.

“I know,” Kiera whispered into his ear. “But I think the sheriff is entitled to have a little break every once in a while.” She pushed Beau’s jacket off his shoulders as she sucked a few bruises onto his neck. Ones that he wouldn’t be able to hide with any kind of shirt or jacket unless he wanted to invest in a scarf. 

Kiera might be a territorial lover. She wanted Jenny to see them and hopefully get the message Beau wasn’t hers for the taking. 

Beau let out a low whine, only spurring Kiera on more. “Darlin’, we need—” He drew in a sharp breath as Kiera bit underneath his jaw. “Your bedroom?” 

It had been so long since he had sex. He wasn’t the type to have one-night stands or friends-with-benefits kind of relationships. He wanted to do it right with Kiera. Not on her couch, which was comfortable, but not nearly as comfortable as he imagined they would feel on her bed. 

She must’ve forgotten about that part, a little too lost in desire. Kiera pursed her lips as she took Beau’s hand and guided him up to her room. It was the first time Beau had seen her room even after the countless times he’d been to her house.

The room wasn’t too different from the rest of the house except for the black walls, a few handmade dreamcatchers above her bed, and the velvet drapes over her windows. Without the lights on, Beau imagined it would look a little horrifying and hard to navigate. However, with a few nicely placed lamps that emitted warm light, Beau knew he’d love to get his brain melted by Kiera. If that’s what she wanted. 

Beau would do anything as long as Kiera wanted it. 

Pulling Beau back into reality, he could feel her fingertips underneath his shirt. He helped her take it off, pulling it from his head as Kiera’s hands spread across his stomach. He didn’t realize just how big her hands were until that moment. Her hand lifted to his shoulder as he turned in her arms.

“Your whole body is freckled.” Kiera breathed, admiring the dots on his shoulders as if they were stars in the night sky. Among the freckles, she noticed a few tattoos she had never seen before on his bicep and chest. She honestly didn't expect Beau to be inked. She'd ask about those later. 

Her hands lowered to Beau’s belt. Her dark eyes flicked up to his. “Little help?” She didn’t have much experience unbuckling the kinds of belts Beau wore—he nearly always had a hefty silver with a Texas Longhorn engraved on it. 

Beau chuckled softly as he unbuckled it with ease and slipped it from his jeans with one hand. He dropped it as Kiera dove in for another kiss, cupping his face as she stepped forward. He stepped backward. The back of his knees met the mattress, causing him to fall with her on top. 

“Shit.” Beau breathed while Kiera wasted no time to work his jeans open. The cowboy hat hung onto the edge of the bed once it fell from her head.

Kiera let out a small laugh, “That’s the first time I’ve heard you swear, cowboy,” She slid his jeans off his legs with ease before she crawled back up his body. “You should do it more often.” She whispered into his ear.

Beau couldn’t respond, afraid of what would come out of his mouth if he did. So he opted for another, deeper kiss. Kiera let out a small noise of satisfaction against his lips and Beau tried his best to memorize it. He didn’t know when this would be able to happen again. 

He had quite a few dreams of what it would be like to have sex with Kiera. Some of them ended up with him in the shower with his dick in his fist as he imagined fucking Kiera. Or sometimes, the other way around. She was fairly open about her genitalia with him. Likely because she thought he’d care and end their relationship. He didn’t care. Not in the way Kiera thought he would.

Kiera rolled over so she was on the bed and pulled Beau over her lap so he straddled her waist. He let out a surprised noise at the movement. “Now this is the position I want you in, cowboy.” She hummed. Her bra was discarded and Beau didn't have enough time to admire the new skin as a hand slipped under the fabric of his boxers on his thigh. 

Beau sucked in his bottom lip as he lifted his hips to take off his boxers. He was so desperate for Kiera that it almost made her laugh—if only she wasn't just as desperate for him. Her hands immediately went to his hips once he was fully naked. He devoured Kiera's lips in a hot kiss as his hands roamed all over her body. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Kiera sighed against Beau's lips, pulling away. “I know you need me but,” His lips almost stuck out into a pout. He didn't feel like waiting. “You need to be prepped okay? Especially cause this is your first time.” She reasoned softly.

Beau watched as Kiera opened the drawer to her nightstand to grab some lube. “What makes you think this is my first time?”

The face Kiera made at the comment needed to go in a museum. She quickly collected herself and replaced her expression with a smirk. “Well, you haven't had me yet? Now have you?” 

Beau swallowed thickly as he shook his head. In the back of his mind, he was aware of the bulge he was sitting on. It was hidden underneath the lace of her underwear. He ground his hips down on it to get a better feel. Beau’s legs tensed slightly. Even covered, albeit thinly covered, he could feel how big she was.

“Rethinking your choices?” Kiera asked softly.

Beau shook his head. “No. I want you inside me. More than I did before,” He admitted. “Please. I—” He was cut off by a lubed finger pressing inside him. He didn't curse but he was surprised, the wind knocked out of him for a second. 

“Continue. You were on the verge of begging,” Kiera smirked, pressing a kiss to a newly formed hickey. “I liked it.”

Spurred on by her words, Beau let out a soft whine as Kiera added a second finger to stretch him properly. “I need your cock, darlin’, so fucking much.” He wanted to move his hips against her fingers but her spare hand kept him in place. She was strong and he wouldn't be surprised if she could press him up against a wall and have her way with him. “God, fuck!” Her fingers curled in just the right way. “Fuck, I've dreamed about this.” Beau sighed. The words left his mouth before he could think about them. 

Kiera cocked a pierced eyebrow. She added a third finger that made Beau let out a soft whimper. “What did you dream about? Can't just leave a girl hanging, sweetheart.” She teased.

“I-I imagined,” Beau took a deep breath as Kiera moved her hand so her fingers could thrust in and out of him. “Your cock inside me. M-Making me feel amazing,” Trying to remember his dream was getting hazy, too caught up in what he was feeling. “You were deep. You bent me over my desk. Pulling on my hair. You tried to keep me quiet. You–fuck!–even gagged me with a scarf for good measure. I—ah—had a long shower thinking about it.”

Kiera hummed softly and leaned upward to kiss Beau. He had a feeling she would keep that in the back of her mind for later. “I like that idea too,” She removed her fingers but before Beau could whine about the loss, she cut him off. “Take off my underwear, sweetheart.”

Eagerly, Beau did as asked. Like he expected, Kiera was large but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. And the piercing on her tip—that made his mind reel with anticipation. He wanted to know how it would feel. Thankfully, he was about to know. He licked his lips at the sight of her completely bare. Completely bare and underneath him. The rise and fall of her chest, her parted lips, her dark eyes that somehow looked darker, her hair that somehow still looked immaculate and not tousled. She looked perfect. 

Kiera lifted Beau's hips and let him slowly sit down, her cock slipping inside him. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment as she bottomed out. Yeah, that piercing was a welcome addition. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, reveling in this feeling. Beau couldn't remember the last time he had done something like this. He just knew it had been a while. A long while.

“That's a good boy.” Kiera murmured, caressing his hip bone with her thumb. She still couldn't believe the miles and miles of freckled skin Beau had. Every single inch of him donned the little dots. Some were more apparent than others, bigger, and darker while others were more faint. 

Beau’s thighs clenched underneath Kiera's touch at her words. “Fuck.” He breathed softly.

Kiera looked up at Beau, a bit surprised he liked her comment. She wasn't sure he'd like that. In fact, she didn't think he'd like to be the bottom in the equation. That wasn't to say she would always top but from the way Beau was looking at her, she had a feeling he enjoyed this a lot. 

“You wanna ride, cowboy?” Kiera’s hands moved to capture Beau's so he could balance correctly. And so he had something to hold onto. 

Beau licked his bottom lip as he looked down at Kiera. “I think the song goes: save a horse, ride a cowboy. Not save a horse, get a cowboy to ride you,” He teased softly, only making her smile wider. “But I think,” He rolled his hips and her lips dropped open. “I can make an exception.” 

Kiera's jaw tightened as she looked up at Beau, squeezing his hands as he started to move properly. He couldn't believe his eyes. Her dark stare. It looked like she would eat him if she could. And the small blemishes across her skin. Her strong hands. The muscle in her arms and abs and her light, feathery noises just—God. It was all so perfect for him. She was amazing. Everything he could have ever asked for. 

“That's it,” Kiera breathed, eyes scanning Beau's body until they fixated on his blissed out face. “So good, sweetheart.” She wanted to feel up his thighs more but she knew Beau would prefer holding onto her hands like a lifeline instead. Maybe next time. 

Beau couldn't help the noises coming from his lips. His brain felt like it was on fire and his body felt wonderful. The aches in his muscles didn't matter. Chasing his high did. Chasing his high on Kiera's dick was the best part of it. Her cock, her bed, her house. He wanted her to own him. He didn't voice it. His lips were too caught up with whimpering and moaning with each drop of his hips. 

He couldn't help but feel like this was everything he had ever wanted. And more. 

Kiera adjusted her hips slightly so her cock drove in a different angle. The angle was perfect to hit his prostate. Beau let out a sudden, loud moan at the change. Certainly more. 

“Fuck! Ah–Kiera—” Beau choked on his own words. He felt like he couldn't breathe. His lungs were screaming for air. “Fuck, baby, I—” He didn't register what he was saying. Words just jumbled out of him. 

“You wanna cum, sweetheart?” Kiera asked. She was more collected than Beau but he was still able to hear her harbored breaths and soft, pleasured noises. She was just intrinsically less vocal than he was. Beau let out a low whine, lips slightly ajar as he nodded. “Use your words.” 

He nearly choked on air. Beau had to collect himself while Kiera stared at him with a knowing look and a ghost of a smirk on her face. She knew how she affected him. “Yes,” He finally said, “Please, baby, fuck—” Kiera bucked her hips upward and forced a moan out of him. “Please! I-I need you. Need to. Fuck—so bad.” 

“Need to what?” Kiera challenged softly. She set Beau's hands on her stomach and moved hers to settle on his hips. Fuck next time. She wanted to hold his body.

“Need to—ah—cum on your cock!” Beau moaned, losing any restraint he had left. He turned into a common whore. He couldn't care less. He was focused on Kiera and the way she felt inside him. 

The delicious drag of in and out. The feel of her hands on his body, her fingers digging into his skin. He wished she would be able to leave a print there to remind him of her while he was by himself. A reminder of who he belonged to. Who he loved. 

Fuck, he loved Kiera. 

Kiera pulled Beau down until he was a few inches away from her face. “Then do it.” She pushed her lips against his in a fierce kiss. 

He moaned against her, leaning into her touch as he felt his orgasm build and build until he came. The tension in his body released and he had to do everything he could not to just collapse on top of Kiera. She pecked Beau's cheek and then peppered a few kisses on his jaw. 

After a few moments of painting, Beau looked up at her. “You, uh—You didn't cum.” He swallowed. Beau still felt dangerously hot. But he also is a courteous lover. He could still feel Kiera hard inside him. He also knew she was close. There was a look in her eyes, her bated breath, the way she held onto him like a lifeline. 

“I didn't,” Kiera confirmed. The edges of her lips threatened to form a smile. “Do you wanna change that?” She asked in a whisper. Her hands lowered to rest on Beau's thighs. And he wasn't sure that his brain could malfunction more, though it did. 

Beau nodded wordlessly, his bottom lip jutted out. He was sore, but not terribly, so he pushed himself up to straddle Kiera properly again. “C'mon, darlin’, I wanna feel it,” He breathed as he rolled his hips. She let out a sharp breath. “Please, darlin—” His voice was slipping more and more into his native Texas accent. He was plenty sensitive after he came. “I need a reminder of you, fuck!” He whimpered as she thrust her hips into his. 

“That's what you want?” Kiera asked lowly, licking her teeth. For the first time, Beau noticed a metal bulb on her tongue. 

His mind was too busy reveling in pleasure but the sight was tucked into the back of his mind for later. His throat pushed out an “Uh-huh” as he rode her, thighs tense and sore and he knew he wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for a while but he couldn't have cared less. 

“Ah—fuck!” Kiera hissed softly, head leaning back into her pillow as she came. She drew in a shaky breath as Beau relished in the feeling of her inside him. 

Beau breathed heavily, his mouth was dry as he looked down at Kiera's blissed-out and sweaty face. He knew he didn't look much different. He brushed a hand through her hair while her hands ran up and down his thighs. The touch was maddening. And almost made him want to go again. 

Almost.

“I'm hungry now… thanks for bringing food.” Kiera hummed softly, leaning up to bring Beau into a kiss. 

——

Beau stepped into the County Sheriff's department, hair a little messier than this morning but otherwise he looked the same. Minus the cowboy hat he wore earlier. 

Mo met him as he neared his office. “Have a good lunch?” He asked smugly before he got serious, “We got an update on the Neighborhood Killer.” He handed Beau a file as he followed him into his office. 

Going into work mode, Beau flipped open the file on his desk and sat down. He hissed and immediately stood back up to notice Jenny came into the room. She looked at him weirdly. He coughed as he glanced down at the file. 

Another murder. Near Kiera too. 

Beau pursed his lips. He really hoped Kiera was safe. He didn't want Kiera to be in danger. He tried his best to reassure himself that nothing would happen.

-------

taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

taglist open here !!!

#oc #oc: kiera styx #my ocs #big sky #jensen ackles #big sky s3 #big sky fanfiction #beau arlen x oc #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen smut #tall goth girl x tall bisexual cowboy #big tittied goth girl x bisexual cowboy #bisexual #transgender #transfemme #trans #trans women #jenny hoyt #mo poppernack #poppernack

[hartage]

I need more lore on that very attractive Fletcher Jennings (taly)

a bit of a rundown of talyllyn (no. 1) for you :)

- his name is huw jennings, but he honestly goes by ‘talyllyn’ more than he ever goes by ‘huw’. he probably thrives off the ego rub

- he’s 29 years old physically, 159 years old technically. (24 september 1864) i could get into my lore about how they age, etc. but i feel like that could all be compressed into one giant post.

- however! speaking of an ego rub, though talyllyn is old af (turning 160 this year!) he still has a bit of a ‘princely’ manner in how he carries himself. i think a lot of people would think him to be humble like his rws counterpart (skarloey), but i think the fact that he ran nearly continuously from 1865-1945 is a little bit of a flex if i do say so myself. he wants to be celebrated for that, wouldn’t you?

- he’s got a crazy rivalry with the other engines on the railway, and chewed dolgoch out over the fact that he would rather buy ‘replacements’ (no. 3 and no. 4) from the corris than give him a full overhaul (like dolgoch and the volunteers could give him a complete overhaul with 50 GBP, but i digress)

- talyllyn has a lot of old victorian mannerisms. if you enter his room it’s like a time warp, a bit of nursing home core honestly. an old iron bed, floral prints, trinkets, the whole grandma gamut.

here’s a quote from railway adventure that i feel like is really fitting of just…no. 1

“…like everything else about the railway this room had remained firmly rooted in the Victorian age; it made no concession whatever to the 20th century, was not in the best state of repair and looked as if it had not been spring-cleaned within living memory. One end of it had been fitted up as a booking office with a long counter, a ticket cabinet and a ticket date stamping machine. This last was of the early pattern on which a change of date type can only be effected with the aid of some pointed instrument such as a penknife, and where the ink ribbon must be periodically wound back by hand.”

- according to railway adventure by LTC rolt (my main ref for no. 1) whenever no. 1 first arrived it was bouncy and wild due to its “horizontal motion” which makes me feel like he’s a lot more brisk than dolgoch.

- huw talks fast, and is a lot more charismatic. he goes “yup… indeed…aye…” in conversation while dolgoch goes “isn’t it?” and “mhm.”

- pre-preservation i feel like that no. 1 was the ‘preferred’ engine. it’s more a headcanon for me rather than fact, but i feel like the reason why no. 1 had so many overhauls in the past compared to no. 2 was because talyllyn was the one who ran better after all of the ‘teething troubles’ were fixed.

- to me, even though the two are quite old, there is still a rivalry between dolgoch and talyllyn to this day. think a big brother vs little brother rivalry. the ‘i know better’ role, y’know?

i think that’s basically all i have now. it’s kind of funny bc no. 1 is actually the least developed of my narrow gauge humanization ocs, (that’s a mouthful) but please send more asks if you want to know more!!

#trainalt22 #ttte #talyllyn #hartrambles #hartshistory #no. 1 talyllyn jennings

[starrysupercell]

UwU the rest of the outline at per request. @lumpy-veev (still unfinished but it's okay! This should be thought of as a rough draft.) 💙

🦝 "RaR 3" or "Breaking Point" 🐍

It would be an unofficial Brawl, which is not allowed, but it happens, and what can you even do?

I see the two as basically ignoring each other's presence upon finding out that the other is there. Of course, as much as they won't admit it, it's making them think of. Everything.

This leads to even more on edge tense atmosphere whenever they would cross each other's path, because even if it’s a big park, you can only avoid someone for so long, especially when you happen to have common associates. (the Coworkers, Tara, etc.)

It doesn’t help they have growing animosity and take every little thing personally for every interaction.. and it’s only been a month or two.

Rumors begin to pick up around the park-- Just a little chatter at the bar. Just a little observation that those two sure have something between them huh? The gossiper is shushed, because did you forget who runs the place? his connection to Byron?

Luckily, the bartender didn’t seem to hear. He was busy cleaning glasses. The topic’s changed. customers continue to come and go.

One who arrives is Piper, who sits down at the bar. It’s busy, so she waits patiently for Barley to get her usual. (he’s good at that.) He sets down a coaster and the glass in front of her, but instead of a greeting and bustling away this time, he sticks around.

“Byron is well on his way to becoming a topic of interest around here...” he tells her.

She leans forward with a smile. “What have they said? And who, for that case?”

He explains what he heard, and omits the names.

Piper thoughtfully considers this. She had noticed this, but hadn’t chalked it up to a personal history, just conflict of interest. (byron was well off, belle was a thief. he would be cautious) Now that she knew, she wanted every drop of intel.

“I can talk to him. we wouldn’t want our dear coworker being talked about, do we?”

“I do not.” Barley replied, tipping his hat to bid her goodbye as he steps away to another client. He lets Piper take care of this, because he likes letting people come to him if they want to talk, and he feels that Byron would have already approached him if that were the case.

~

So, it’s another one of their patented teatime tête-à-têtes.

Piper skirts around the issue before dropping the news of whispers about the two.

But Byron doesn’t humor the topic, and refuses to talk about it.

Piper cheerfully pokes at him. “Crossed paths? Did you know her before the Park? maybe previous business associates? She robbed you, but you had good insurance, and one day she tricked you? Ooh~ Former flames-?"

And then Byron stands up and is about to leave wordlessly until that last suggestion processes bc if he doesn’t clarify now, ugh that’s gonna be what Piper thinks is plausible (kind of, bc he gay af) and he does NOT want that to be a thing.

“She’s a relative,” he says with so much distaste before he leaves that Piper is even more intrigued. but at the same time, there’s something that tells her she shouldn’t fan the fire any further.

they’ve had their share of back and forths, and it’s been a blue moon since something had gotten him so upset that he just up and leaves.

she drops it, and as the #1 gossipmonger of the park, the hushed whispers of “mystery between byron and belle?” is completely stamped out with a dismissive attitude and several “Really? I didn’t notice anything.”

If Byron really and truly didn't want this around the park, she'd honor that.

~

Of course, with QD Edgar on occasional trips with the Gang, that’s the biggest connection the sibs have at the moment.

The first time Edgar name dropped Byron, Belle froze and listened to 2.47 more seconds of the teen's rambles before telling him to get a move on around camp and quit yapping.

Edgar didn't notice this first time around and grumpily went about his way.

But I'm sure there's one thing or another that makes Edgar talk about his dad manager again, and one thing that will really piss Belle off, is comparison.

Tara, who notices the shift in mood, puts herself in between Edgar and Belle and swiftly soothes things over. She suggests getting on with the plan they have (already knowing what Belle will respond with).

"heist cancelled," Belle states, rearing up Elodie and galloping away from camp. (She usually winds down on her own after celebrating a big heist, but never before-- and never had called it quits at that.)

Edgar is put off. Tara muses that it's nothing he could help...

On her own, Belle just contemplates everything. Hours. It brings up familiar memories of being up on the rooftop with her head buried into her arms and knees feeling terrible.

Except now she's more than grown, with her share of things to be proud of and great memories she forged on her own. She's not curled up on herself anymore. She's staring to the long distance of the desert-- her home-- traveling with ease.

That stupid rooftop section of her life is nothing more than a fraction of her well-lived life.

It doesn't make her feel better.

Yet another thing Byron ruins for her without even trying.

She needed a drink.

~

Not wanting to head back to her camp for the night, and not in the mood to try nabbing some good drink, Belle simply walks into the bar and orders something.

Barley treats her the same as any Brawler, despite what he now knows about her.

As far as he was concerned, she came in there as a customer. And as long as she paid, he saw no problem in serving her...

She drinks quietly, and he keeps an eye on her intake.

And eventually, just like with any other customer with something heavy on their mind and enough drinks, words flow easier.

She doesnt use names, and keeps terms vague. Speaks angrily of her parents. Calls the brother a "dumbass of a pushover."

Now, it isnt like he associates Byron as a (pardon his french) 'dumbass' in any way, but it's the way she uses it that makes Barley connect the dots. The tone wasn't as bitter. Almost fond. Almost.

He lightly prods for a little bit more insight, and she gives up a little more as she drinks.

Unlike the other two members of his Trio, it wasn't in his nature to gossip, so this would stay between them.

Barley listens, because that's what she needs right now. Not advice, not interjections or lectures or deflecting the subject. Just someone to listen.

Eventually he cuts her off before she gets too inebriated (and probably causes trouble.)

{I AM going to write this scene out in depth. And cry while doing so.}

~

On the other side, after the season and back at the Gift Shop, Edgar is 🤔🤔 over that incident. He considers talking with Colette but 1) she's as mad as a Colette could be at the fact that he hung out with the NEW BRAWLER and TARA and didnt bother getting her ANYTHING. and 2) tbh she's a blabbermouth.

Byron does his regular check of the shop that day. Making sure Colette hasn't run off and Edgar isnt sneaking a nap.

He welcomes Edgar back from his little trivial loot and shoot games.

While Edgar hadn't even thought twice about it before, he recalls that when he had told Byron he'd be working at a different section of the park (namely with the new Brawler, Belle) he had acted just as dismissive.

Like yeah, there was your usual "old man doesn't get the teens" shenanigans, but Byron had never belittled his interest in anything before. Calling his involvement in the season a 'trivial game' sounded... personal.

He outright asks Colette if Byron was acting weird.

Any snippiness that Colette may have had for 2 minutes diminishes when there's a chance to talk with her favorite person in the world that she's seen little to none of for two months, AND about her favorite topic: Brawlers!

She spills everything she knows, because despite Piper's efforts, theres no secret a Brawler can try to keep when shes around.

She didn't find out everything of course. But she knows that there were questions involving Byron and Belle. Piper hushed it up, so for sure there was something.

Edgar nods. "Totally. I think she was close to rippin' my head off once. I brought up Byron once and she was ready to chew me out." (in case i didn't make it clear, Edgar picked up a slight drawl because of belle)

"Cool!" Colette exclaimed. "..I mean, not the rip your head off part. But that is cool too. I meant do we have lore on our hands?? That nobody ELSE knows!!?"

Edgar shushed her. Byron is in his office but the shop wasn't really sound proof.

......cue shenanigans from the Coworkers trying to figure things out in their very amateurish ways compared to Piper by "sneaking" around and "nonchalantly" trying to get him to admit something.

Byron knows they're up to something, and humors them until realizing the topic when Edgar tries bringing up the Goldarm Season.

He shuts them down even faster than Piper.

Of course, instead of deterring them like her, he just confirms their suspicions. Colette and Edgar are "o yeah we are def going to get to the bottom of this."

~

So, it's plan B! If they even try asking Piper she throws them for such a loop and leaves them so bewildered that Colette even forgets to ask for anything she could keep, and Edgar didnt realize she gave them nothing to work with until they're already out the door and down the street with cake pops in their hands.

So, Plan C! ...Barley.

It's hard to find a time to go there, since it's busy when they get off work. And Barley always seems to be at one place or another....

So the kids choose the perfect time (roughly midday), and just wait for the perfect day... when Byron comes in and checks the shop, then decides on his own that they could handle it for the rest of the shift and leaves them to it.

When the stars align, the teens wait until Byron is out of sight, and close up the gift shop. Their plan is to head to the bar... and maybe try and get something out of Barley..... not much of a plan, but they don't realize it there.

They make haste, running to the bar, because time crunch (when/if complaints start rolling in.)

Bursting through the doors of the Bar, Barley gives them a look. "Don't.. do that, please."

Colette apologizes enthusiastically, and urges Edgar forward. "Ask him! I'll keep watch!"

She hops over to the door and peers through it periodically.

Meanwhile, Edgar is stammering because he didnt plan anything to say, he expected Colette to talk to the robot.

"If you two think I allow underage drinking, I most certainly do not, no matter what Penny says." Barley warns.

"Uhh, no it isn't that. ...Umm. do ya know... well, you would know about Byron, and not Belle, I guess. But they've been acting weird lately, and we want to know why."

. . .

Barley pauses in consideration.

Options and questions flood around his mind, and he still had no answer.

Wonders if he should even mention Belle's visit some time ago, or the fact that he knows more in depth about it than Byron would care for, or that if Piper found out he knew more than her, and then told these two over would she be offended? ....Actually, in that case, why was he considering telling them anyway? Well, if they were interested in the topic for genuine reasons...

Edgar doesn't even know what to do either. Barley's not saying anything.

Colette squeaks, and scrambles from the door. "Edgar!! Any luck here? Because we're out of it over there!"

"What?"

"I think I see Byron heading here!!"

Who would have thought.

this is where i kind of dropped off the outline, but to continue/wrap it up, Barley points them to the curtain that covers the back room. There's an exit there which he tells them about, but the teens stay to EAVESDROP bc they care.

Barley and Byron chat. the conversation dips into the area having to do with Belle.

Byron frowns. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to get me to admit something, Barley. I can understand Piper, but you?"

"Me?" Barley asks. "Sir, you know I never mean harm."

"..." Byron stares at him unconvinced. "If Piper did put you up to this, you can tell me."

"U.. Believe it or not, I am among others in this park who care about you, Byron."

"...." wouldn't that be nice. But Byron believes him. My bad. He humors his coworker for now. "Fine." And asks for a drink.

Barley gets him his preferred one. [Lol I'll come up with it eventually.]

They talk. Barley finds out a little more. But just a little bit. Byron... it isnt like he has practice talking about ☆~feelings~☆

The teens listening in leave before too long. Colette is like O.O;; and Edgar decides that all they wanted to know was the relation between Byron and Belle, and they got that.

She agrees, and they both leave through the back door.

Byron didn't get as drunk ofc, it's still his working hours. Just enough to loosen up a bit and get through mild robot therapy.

After his leave, Barley sees him off, and then goes to check in the back. They're gone and he has a brief "oh, thought they would have gotten the hint to, listen in. Oh, well."

[There's one more event, involving the Coworkers interacting with Belle one last time, but still unplanned <3 it leads to the meet up and the fight... somehow though. I'll release that when I think of it.]

I can also see Piper being ":0 you knew before I did? And didn't tell me? You're mischievous, Barley!" In a very light hearted way at the very end.

Barley frets ;;; "I am not!"

#Brawl Stars #Townsfolk Trio #Belle #SCT #Coworkers #My Outlines

[strangefable]

OTP questions - #7!

Uh. This got a little long. Also, this basically is those spoilers I was worried about before, but hell with it.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

The door opened and Lore flung herself through it, crying out in delight. “Nonie! I’m here! Oh, Nonie! At last!” She threw her arms around a woman with dark hair and a darker complexion than her own. She was taller and broader, but she carried it well. Max was surprised; they looked nothing alike. They were both beautiful, he supposed, though he found it hard to believe anyone compared with his captain.

The newly unfrozen woman squealed with delight of her own as she turned into the captain’s embrace. “Lore! Oh my God! Lore! Are we really in Halcyon? They keep telling me what happened, but I don’t want to hear it from anyone but you!” They danced about, shouting and talking over one another, all exuberance and joy. He didn’t think he’d seen Lore smiling that wide or laughing this loud ever before; she looked so damn happy, it made his heart ache. He smiled as he watched them. He leaned against the wall and let them have their long-awaited reunion uninterrupted.

It was at least twenty minutes before the captain seemed to recall anyone else was even in the room. She glanced over her sister’s shoulder and caught sight of Max; she looked slightly surprised to see him. She smiled at him and beckoned him as she turned her sister about. “Nonie! This is Max. He’s… he’s my vicar.” She bit her lip, chewing it in that nervous way she had. “Max, this is my sister, Leonora Jameson.”

The other woman stepped forward and held her hand out toward him. “Call me Nora.”

He blinked down at the proffered hand. He glanced at Lore questioningly. She groaned at him. “You shake it, Max. It’s an Earth thing. Nevermind. Just… I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without him, Nonie. He’s…” she trailed off, chewing her lip again. It seemed more than enough to tell her sister all she needed to know, however.

Nora narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to one side, studying him. “Hmm. Not bad.” She glanced at her sister, then back at Max. “Yeah, I see you, sis. Don’t even play! You better tell me the details later. And you,” she turned and pointed an accusing finger at Max. “You best be better than the last one, or I’ll turn you into a science experiment of my own design.” She leaned close and glared as hard as she could. She was much more formidable than Lore had made her sound. He decided he rather liked her. “I’m not going through any of this again. No one’s hurting her ever again, got me?”

Max blinked and leaned back slightly. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I would treat her the way that bastard did? Because I have a whole fucking list of words for that asshole, Miss Jameson, and none of them are pleasant. And they’d all come with my fists pummeling him into pulp, might I add.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m quite protective of my captain.”

Nora laughed. “Oh, you got you a real humdinger this time, didn’t you, Lore!?” She nudged her sister with an elbow, all grins and waggling eyebrows. Then she turned her megawatt grin on him. “I see you’ve done a real number on her, huh? Never seen her this quiet!”

Lore was blushing, though she was doing her best to hide it. Max stepped up beside her and wrapped his arm firmly around her waist. He kissed her cheek. “You’d best not get used to it, I’m afraid. I find I’ve to work rather hard to keep her quiet for longer than two moments at a time, myself.” Lore’s elbow slammed into his ribs right on cue. She glared at him, but the twinkle in his eye disarmed her immediately. She rolled her own eyes, then leaned more closely into him. “Ah, proving a point, are we? Ever the contrarian, Captain.”

Nora was grinning again. “Yeah, I think I like this one.”

Max gave her a haughty look. “Not as much as I like her, I assure you.” He tightened his arm about the captain’s waist so fiercely, she let out a small yelp, then slapped him, though it had no real sting to it.

Nora tossed back her head and laughed too loudly for Lore to have a chance at getting a word in edgewise in retaliation. He’d have to remember to thank her for the reprieve later. Though he knew he’d pay eventually. He always did. He pressed another kiss to Lore’s cheek, even as she scowled at him.

#answered #my writing #lore jameson #nora jameson #the outer worlds

[generalfoolish]

We Go Together

General Dameron!AU

Chapter 1: A Welcome Party of One | Chapter 2

Rating: General for now! It gets more spicy later, and I’ll update accordingly.

Summary: OC character starts flying with the resistance, and happens to meet General Poe Dameron. Eventually, they'll do more than just talk and badly flirt.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my fic from AO3, and I wanted to add it to my master list. It’s a work in progress! Also, we deviate a bit from the actual story of the sequels, but I try to stay pretty close to the lore of the SW universe. 

The explosion burned too bright against Darial’s eyes. The darkness of space enveloped the blinding whites, and glanced sharply against her radiation shield. A red laser shooting from the wreckage jerked her back to life; and in seconds she was maneuvering away from the burning ship behind her.

Dary heard the crackling in her ear piece, and she breathed deeply to steady herself. The casualties would be many. They were increasing ten-fold after each mission. This re-con had gone sideways, fast. She cursed under her breath and banked a hard left against a Tie Fighter shooting near her rear. Her eyes followed the green beams coming from her own X-wing, and smiled when they found their mark.

“Green Two!” The static garbled the words, but she made her call name out.

“Green Two responding,” She grimaced at her own croaky voice. She needed water, and badly.

“Green Two, disengage. Pulling back.” The words were more chewed up this time, her commander getting lost in the static.

“Pulling back, Green Leader.”

“Settle for Base.”

“Base bound, Green Two off.” She eased off the thrusters and checked the nav. Deftly, she punched in the coordinates for Ajan Kloss, and rolled her neck as hyperspace engaged.

She had enough time to glance around and see her team doing the same, before she was flung into the dazzling rush of white jets of light. She could never get over hyperspace. The urge to jerk out of the tunnel, she realized dimly, had never gone away either. Dary knew that the only reason she preferred hyper was that space was too inky black for her comfort. In her years as a pilot, she had never found comfort amongst the stars. She was always unsettled in the darkness, and felt uneasy in the absence of any celestial bodies.

“Something to keep my mind off the dead, at least.” She murmured to herself. In the brightly lit cockpit, there was nowhere to hide those dark thoughts. Her orange jumpsuit glowed, nearly reflective, as if to prove her point.

The nav system started beeping, and gave her the respite she needed to ignore the deep seated survivor’s guilt building in her stomach. She punched a few buttons, flicked a few switches, and dropped out of hyperspace. She found herself laughing, and wished flying was as easy as dropping out of hyper. She nosed her X towards the green moon.

Dary hadn’t had the opportunity to see Ajan Kloss yet, and she had heard it was a beautiful moon. The landscape rushing up to greet her after her descent into the atmosphere was a welcome sight. The rumors weren’t true, though. They left too much unsaid. The whispers of a jungle had missed the devastation of how mesmerizing the moon was. It was so alive, that Dary felt a sob stick in her chest. She shook her head slightly, and focused on the landing pattern.

“Green Two, requesting landing.” She breathed into her mic; still moved by the beauty of the greenery around her. A welcome sight after days of barren space.

“Green Two, welcome home. Head to bay 4.” The gruff voice told her. She was glad to hear Basic in a friendly tone, and never happier to get rid of the undertone of urgency or panic. She docked down in Bay 4, and noted that it looked like every other bay in the resistance, before switching her engines off.

The astromech popped the radiation shield for her, and she pulled her helmet off.

“Thanks R6.” Dary smiled warmly at her droid. He beeped in response. She left him for now, and knew he was in good hands. The Resistance loved their droids, and pilots doubly so. She had left her helmet in the cockpit, and climbed down the ladders a mechanic had pushed, over after she had touched down. The mech was nowhere to be found now, and she decided not to take it personally. She wasn’t anyone special, and the mission had been a failure to be sure. Plus, she didn’t know anyone on this moon. She rolled her eyes at herself.

“What? You expectin’ a welcome party, Dary? A full roll out?” A hardness settled in her chest, and she screwed her eyes up as she jerked the zipper of the flight suit down. She had just stepped out of the suit, focusing singularly on her muddy boots, when she heard the throat clearing cough come from behind her. She turned slowly, making a mental note to clean her shoes later. She was annoyed. She wanted to cry in the shower. She wanted to find her new quarters.

“Yes?” She was sharper than she meant to be, but she was tired.

“Yes, sir.” He said, a smirk dancing on his lips. She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t echo his request. “Because I’m Poe. General Poe Dameron.” He continued, and she realized he had expected her to know him.

“General Dameron!” She exclaimed with as much forced enthusiasm as she could muster. “What can I do for you, sir?” She asked, snapping to attention. Her flight suit still bundled around her boots. He dropped his smirk.

“You’re Green Two, right? Ardan?” His voice had lost nearly all traces of the humor from before.

“Yes, sir.” Dary answered quickly, not wanting to get into real trouble. She held his eyes for a moment, before stooping to grab her flight suit. “How can I help you, sir?” She asked genuinely, folding her suit as she talked. He smiled again, and she couldn’t help but notice he was that much more handsome for it. He was slim, but muscular beneath his loosely fitted button up. The light material really made his tanned skin glow in the bright sun.

“They tell me you saved a lot of lives doing something very dangerous and very reckless.” Her mouth fell open, and she snapped it shut with enough force to rattle her back teeth.

“Sir, I was taking calculated risks to ensure that my fellow pilots made it back in one piece.”

“You were outmanned and outgunned, why would you try to take down a Starfighter alone?”

“I reasoned that if I were successful, then it would be a great advantage for my team.”

“What if you weren’t?” She couldn’t read him, and so she tried pleading her case earnestly.

“Then I would have done everything in my power to make sure that I at least bought my team a few minutes for a retreat.” She swallowed painfully; her throat was tight and dry.

“Good work out there today, Ardan. That kind of honest fighting is how we’ll win.” He took her by the shoulder, and simply held it for a moment. It wasn’t lost on her that his palm devoured her shoulder, and engulfed her more than she thought possible. His words filled in her a sense of pride, and her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Thanks, sir.” She squeaked out, and immediately regretted how she sounded. He only smiled, and opened his other hand in a gesture. He swept his arm back, indicating she was to move that way, and somehow her brain registered the signal and started walking. Her steps felt as clumsy as a newborn banthas.

“Have you been to the base before?” He asked, his hands swinging lazily by his side. She struggled to match his long stride, although he seemed to be moving at a leisurely pace.

“No, but the view flying in was something else.” She told him, shyly moving her hair behind her ears.

“It always reminds me of Yavin.” He told her, a small smile lifting to his eyes.

“I’ve never been,” She admitted freely, “It must be lovely to be comparable to here. Is Yavin another base?” He chuckled a little, and studied her face.

“I was born on Yavin, but it does have a...rich history involving resistances. Look, not to be forward, but I was on my way to dinner. The brass has me doing some drills at an unbelievably early kriffing hour, and so I plan to turn in early. You can say no, but you’d be doing me a pretty big favor. We don’t get a lot of new faces, especially pretty faces. Whaddya say, take another risk?” He laughed, and any doubts she had were gone. If it was inappropriate, surely he wouldn’t ask.

“That sounds lovely.” She told him before she could reconsider. Her eyes trained on her boots as they walked forward. She didn’t know how her boots had gotten so dirty. There isn’t mud in space, she breathed out her nose in a sort of snort laugh, and caught Poe’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Something funny?” He asked, amused

“Just...well it’s dumb, but my boots are filthy. No idea how, I’ve been in space for days. No mud in the cockpit.” She told him aimlessly, the words falling out easily. She couldn’t help it; he was impossibly easy to talk to. He grinned at her, nodding along.

“Forget being clean. The first rule of the Resistance is to be as dirty as possible, but also you must always be absolutely presentable.” He laughed, pointing a finger at her in a menacing way. She liked this. She hadn’t really fit in on her last post.

“Let me stash my suit,” She managed between laughing fits. His stories were coming more freely, and the long walk to the end of the terminal was almost over. She jogged to a locker and found her code name. Green Two. Impersonal, but perfect. Especially, she grimaced, in the heat of battle. It was a precaution, just in case the First Order happened to tap the comms. She stashed her suit quickly, and turned on her heel to find Poe just waiting for her. Patiently, he was watching her. Her breath caught, and before she could let that color her face she forced her legs to close the distance between them.

“Hungry?” She groaned.

“So, what happened after you got caught?” She asked, picking up the last thread of conversation easily, as they started the last leg of the walk to the commissary.

“Well, what you need to know is how to confuse a bageraset--I escaped, of course.” He shrugged, throwing her a smirk. She could smell the stew now, and knew that it would be just edible. Her stomach growled in anticipation, though. Which earned her a shoulder nudge from her companion.

“Starving, actually. I wasn’t joking about being in space for days. All I’ve had are those dreadful ration bars.” He laughed in response.

“That won’t do. The food here isn’t as bad as some of the posts. The cook is trained, so he does alright.” He opened the right side of the double swinging doors with one arm, and gestured her in with the other. The bustle of the canteen hit her right away.

Laughing, yelling, eating, drinking, and just a general buzz of life. She normally prefered the quiet, but the energy was contagious. She turned a quick grin to Poe before ducking past him.

#poe dameron #original character #poe dameron x oc #idiots in love #Star Wars oc #star wars #sequels #eventual smut

[dlamp-dictator]

Allen Rambles about Episode 6

Man... I’m just never going to actually talk about anything in a timely manner, am I? Every time I say that a Rambling is coming I get distracted and talk about bad anime, other video games, or I draw my OCs for a months on end and forget all my drafts exist. 

And since Children of Ursus... dense, to say the least, I’ll just finish up this draft of Episode 6 and hopefully get on some kind of proper schedule for October... hopefully.

So, Chapter 6 came out... month ago, and I’ve been meaning to talk about for some time. Honestly, I have more criticisms than praises for this episode, but there are a few good points worth talking about. 

But first, as usual, a synopsis.

To keep things simple, Episode 6 focuses on the joint operation between the Hong Kong Lungmen Guard Department and the Rhodes Island Pharmaceutical Company. After Episode 5, Rhodes Island finally rendezvoused with Ch’en’s detachment in Lungmen and the two groups come up with a game plan to take out the Reunion troops in the city. Ch’en focusing on the slums and a few key locations while Rhode Island takes out the commanders, namely Frostnova, Faust, and Mephisto. 

That’s the basic summary of things, but things go a little deeper.

The Story

A looong while ago I said Code of Brawl contained the best and worst aspect of Arknights. Episode 6 really shows what can be bad about it. 

Okay, I’m being a little unfair since this latest Episode just pails in comparison to 5, but it’s still a little disappointing. My main issues are the disjointed story arcs and the attempted at humanizing Reunion, but before I get to that let me just go over all the little things first, just so I can clear the air of all the nitpicks and not accidentally make a 500-word segment about minor things. With that said...

Small Things that Only Bug Allen

Blaze gives Greythroat shit for reasons that seemed to have happened off screen. This makes her seem really catty (pardon the pun) toward Greythroat for no reason aside from assumed slights and weakens Greythroat’s later character growth as we don’t see her show hatred or prejudice toward the infect, not in the same way as Ch’en in Episode 2-ish.

The Doctor’s role as a self-insert really harms more scenes than helps. A lot of moments where they’re the focus feel flat since they don’t have a real personality to play off of. Just for example, imagine if Amiya was trapped in with Frostnova instead of the Doctor, I could see a much stronger chance to characterize both characters in that situation.

Gavial was mentioned several times in this Episode and didn’t get any dialogue. How dare you not give Gavial screentime.

This Episode has proven that Amiya is canonically a 14-year-old loli and in charge of a total not private military company, no I swear, those soldiers are just for CC and special ops don’t think about it too much Silverash is just a CEO of a company stop asking questions. 

This isn’t a story complaint, but 6-16 was a bitch to get through. The randomness of Frostnova’s AI combined with that high damaging AoE attack just kills it for me (and half my units).

And while on gameplay, Stage 6-17 was really dumb and its only redeeming value is a free Originite Prime. I get the narrative point of it, but it’s still dumb.

Okay, so with the small stuff out of the way let’s hit the big issues, starting with...

The Disjointed Arcs

So... this Episode wanted to explain Frostnova’s backstory, explain Mephisto and Faust’s backstory, introduce GreyThroat and Blaze while giving them a character arc, further Ch’en’s character arc, humanize Reunion, do world-building on Lungmen society, reveal a political conspiracy of Lungmen that dates back years before the main story, kick-start what I pray isn’t a redemption arc for Mephisto (that’s a Rambling in itself), hint at Crownslayer’s backstory, hint at Talaluh’s  backstory, and possibly reveal some stuff about Ursus.

And folks... that’s too much for one Episode to handle.  

Compared to Episode 5, which just focused on Ch’en and the LGD, this was just a mess, there’s no two ways about. They were trying to do too much and front-loaded a lot of the important bits toward the end. I really wish they only tried to do two or three things on that list instead of 10 things. Arknights has a bad habit of trying to tell too much in the limited time it has our attention. Episode 4 was guilty of this, elements of Operation Intelligence was guilty of this, and even Code of Brawl has hints of this issue too by trying to hint at Mostima’s backstory while giving Bison and some other characters an arc. I get that they’re trying to lay the ground work for future events and story points, but this is really just too much, at least for one episode.

But speaking of things that are too much...

Humanizing Reunion

This is what really grabs my goat. I’m conflicted on how to feel about the attempt to humanize Reunion and add grey morality to their role as antagonist. My original draft had said this was a bad thing, since Mephisto is so cartoonishly evil any attempts at redemption feel flimsy, but... I think it could work. 

The main issue of trying to humanize Reunion is that our introduction to them was Mephisto, who is so far down the moral spectrum that it’s impossible to think he or the faction he represents are redeemable. However, characters like Faust, Skullshatterer, and Frostnova are much more reasonable/understandable in their motives. Skullshatterer is ruthless to his enemies, but kind to his soldiers, and his ruthlessness is really only on the battlefield. Faust is essentially Mephisto’s leash, and just tries to reign in his evil while protecting him. Frostnova just wants to have a home for her Yetis and doesn’t care what side she has to join in order to get it, though she has her doubts about Talaluh. 

This is fine by itself, but due to all the evils of Mephisto and the cruelty he’s done to Rhodes Island, Lungmen, and Ursus, it makes it really hard to see Mephisto as the exception instead of the norm for Reunion’s methods. It makes Faust’s death and Mephisto’s devastation of it feel flat since, frankly, the brat’s cocky attitude got his friend killed, and he’s just getting what he deserved. He’s killed and tortured too many for anyone to really feel sympathy toward him. When even Amiya calls Mephisto a bastard, there’s really no redemption, and while Episode 6 doesn’t try to redeem I’ve seen enough anime to know they might try and make it broken state seem more sympathetic than it should be.

Which leads nicely into Frostnova, who’s arc was done very well by my standards. While I personally think giving her solo time with the Doctor was more detrimental than helpful, it worked well enough to show she wasn’t a monster like Mephisto. It gave us some time to understand the motivations of the Yeti Squad and sympathizes with their goals of finding a home, gave us a nice hook for when Patriot comes around in full after being teased in both Episode 4 and Operation Intelligence, and if this Episode only focused on that I’d say it was a good story over all.

But... Episode 6 wanted to also hint at so much more that it was suffocating. I’ll at least say that Ch’en’s segments were fine and move on.

Gameplay

I’m going to keep this as short as I can since the story section was the big thing I wanted to talk about. However, there are a few things I want to mention in terms of the game.

6-7 was probably the best chapter in the game so far. I loved how they gave you an team already with most of them at E2. It was a great way for people without GreyThroat and Blaze and test them out. It let you see how some Operators you might have ignored perform at a higher level. It gave you a hint at where you should be at the point of this level, and the for the lore nerd it gives us a good idea on how an official team is structured for high-level missions. I’d love to see more missions like this in the future where they give you a ‘canon’ team already and have you work out the puzzle of who goes where and when.

6-16 is probably the worst. Frostnova having high stats and a second stage I understand, but so much of that map relies on getting around the randomness of what tiles she knocks out and praying you can survive her massive AoE attack in her second phase. My entire team was E2 Level 30 and it took me over ten tries to 2-star that stage. I was using a guide too. A lot of that map revolved around just praying Frostnova didn’t bonk out certain tiles or praying that her AoE attack didn’t randomly proc at a bad time. There is way too much left to chance on her stage.

General Gushing

I think that’s enough critique, let’s get to some happy stuff and talk about the things I enjoyed.

Blaze’s cattiness aside, I liked her a lot. She’s confident, she spontaneous, she’s... basically a rowdy housecat. Seeing more elite operators would be nice so Rhode Island feels like an actual force with some power and order and less ragtag.

Ch’en character arc is shaping up nicely, her barging into Wei’s office to chew him out gave me the largest grin.

Amiya’s whole speech to Wei was just great as well, really reminds you she is the top executive of Rhode Island for a reason... despite being a 14-year-old bunny loli.

Everyone mildly talking about Gavial makes me really curious about seeing her speak and act in the story. She seems like a feared woman to be sure. I’m we’ll be getting her event somewhere down the line.

Faust and Frostnova’s death, as forced as they felt, were genuinely sad and made me feel something. It gave the series a bit more weight to it.

Speaking of, Faust and GreyThroat had some pretty nice parallels, both Crossbowmen fighting for causes they’re initially apathetic toward save for a very small handful of people. Mephisto for Faust, and Amiya for GreyThroat.

“She jumped down?!” “She jumped down...” Best exchanged in the game so far.

Like Code of Brawl, save for some of the bullshit maps that just spammed the strongest, hardest-hitting units (yes, I do mean 6-5) I found a lot of the maps required some creative thinking. Despite this Episode needing E2 units, my E1 Vigna was the MVP of most stages. Ethan as well, as I didn’t have Manticore at the time and his damage of time skill and AoE damage really made those chokepoints work.

In the Future

As always, I don’t like the idea of fixing something that’s already out, but asking for future changes seems reasonable. To that end, I hope Episode 7 is focused on only 2 or three characters with little distraction. Episode 5 was great not because it focused on a fan-favorite character, but because it was a solid character arc for that one character. So far we have Ch’en and Amiya getting ready to maybe stop a war between Lungmen and Ursus, so let’s focus on these two characters. Amiya maybe finding out that Ch’en is slowly becoming Infected and helping her come to terms with that. Ch’en revealing her past to Amiya and the two connecting over losing so many close to them due to Oripathy. The two standing up to the political corruption of Lungmen, shoulder to shoulder, as women that refuse to see another life lost due to the indifference of a city’s politics.

And no bullshit maps like 6-5 too.

Anyway, that’ll do it for me. I’m... off to write some more essays and get a queue going. 

#arknights #your dictator is speaking

[xenosgirlvents]

Phoenix Rising: Implications for the Ynnari plot - or, the ongoing issues of GW's clear lack of interest in the Ynnari as a meaningful faction and their low effort to give them a workable narrative as a result.

(This grew to be much larger than I thought it would be. Initially I only wanted to put the spoiler parts beneath a read-more but now I've put the whole thing under a read-more because it grew too large. So, warning, spoilers below...after a long period of no spoilers first.)

Let is begin by doing something of a recap:

For all the sound and fury Gathering Storm brought with it, and 8th Edition brought with it as a result, only 4 significant changes.

The return of Primarchs as the primary agents of the narrative, subsuming the story into their own personal narratives as they did in Horus Heresy as clear symptoms of GW's continuing efforts to model 40k off the Horus Heresy and neglect aspects of the setting that do not resonate with the Horus Heresy fandom.

Primaris Marines as an excuse to make Space Marines even stronger because, apparently, GW will not be satisfied until a base Space Marine is slaying the Swarmlord.

The Cicatrix Maledictum as a stakes-raising threat with mixed results due to, as usual, GW's unwillingness to actually follow through and have the Imperium significantly, visibly, affected by loss, leading most of the threat of the Cicatrix Maledictum to be reduced to simple offscreen 'many worlds are threatened...somewhere...out there...by someone’ but almost never anything of import, or if something of import is threatened (Baal, Vigilus, Ultramar) the Imperium still wins and thus creates the same enduring pattern of the Imperium's consistent victories undercutting any sense of tension.

A brief intermission. Astute readers will have noticed something at this point: "Wait, doesn't every single one of these points ONLY impact or deal with Chaos and the Imperium?”

This is, of course, correct. An (un)intended consequence of 8th Edition has been to shove Xenos even further from the narrative than they have ever been. There was, however, in all of Gathering Storm, a single plot development that did impact the Xenos factions, one group of them at least:

The stirring of Ynnead, Yvraine's emergence as their prophet and the formation of the Ynnari as a movement to unite the Aeldari behind an actual, credible, chance at success for once.

In all this there was one chance at Xenos having agency, being important to the narrative. Sadly it was undercut in the very same book it was introduced to and reduced to serving primarily as only another vessel for further Imperial development. I've discussed before how enormously depressing, as a long time fan of the Ynnead plotline, it was to watch it's culmination end up having almost no import beyond buffing the Imperium.

It was gutting. It also continues to be gutting as GW and BL show little to no interest in ever developing the Ynnari at all beyond ‘the people who brought Guilliman back,’

I've said before the plot arc of the Ynnari was badly established from the get-go. To explain for those who do not know: Yvraine's Ynnari movement has only really one goal, something known as the Seventh Path. This is meant to be a method by which Ynnead can awaken and defeat Slaanesh without requiring all Aeldari to first die and join with them. Key to the Seventh Path is the gathering of five Croneswords, said to be the chewed off fingers of the goddess Morai-Heg. With the five Croneswords combined the Ynnari would be able to complete the Seventh Path, Ynnead would awaken, usurp Slaanesh's hold on all Aeldari souls, and the living Aeldari would not all need to die first to achieve it. 

This is not a terrible plot. It is a bit to much like an RPG Quest for a story geared mostly towards war, which explains why the Ynnari seem perpetually so small-fry and insignificant, they have no real motive to gather a major army and engage in major wars when their entire motive and cause is simply a series of fetch-quests. Still it is somewhat workable, particularly if rather than becoming their own faction the Ynnari are only intended to be a small group of flavourful characters you can add to any Aeldari army to give some variety.

However, sadly, GW again seems to have decided to shoot themselves in the foot. For in the very book where this motive is created the Ynnari gather every single Cronesword but one successfully. One does not need to be a student of literary studies to no why, in a setting that can have no definite end till the company's profit margins slip, having 4/5 of the objectives the faction needs to complete it's very reason for existing isn't a good thing to do. It majorly stymies the Ynnari's capacity for plot advancement as now every single quest and adventure they do relating to their core motive has to end in failure.

And this is what we've seen. Every single major book about the Ynnari relating to their objective always results in the Ynnari coming no closer to achieving their goal. It always ends in the Ynnari, usually, creating their own problem, getting their people killed, for no actual advancement of their cause. Unsurprisingly this is very unsatisfying to read if you invest in them and, as a result, has the side-effect of leaving people uninterested in the Ynnari as they seem, since raising Roboute, to simply never actually meaningfully impact the setting in any manner.

There were potential work-arounds on this matter, but that'd be a lengthy story so I won't go into it now. Suffice to say that it was poorly handled.

Then came the drought. Despite being introduced two years ago as one of the few major developments of the Gathering Storm, and despite being the only significant Xenos plot advancement since the tepid advancement of the Ghazghkull Supplement, the Ynnari simply...vanished. For two years, as 8th was hammered out, the Ynnari were almost completely gone. Barring two books from Black Library, they ceased to appear in codices almost completely and received virtually no attention. Come May there was an Index Xenos, the first and only so far, in White Dwarf dealing with them but...this turned out to literally only repeat existing fluff, adding not a single new piece of lore, unlike the comparable Index Astartes, and then largely served only as a nerf for the Ynnari due to their rampant success and domination of tournament scenes at the time. Basically: the only significant attention the Ynnari received in two years added no new lore and purely existed as a mechanical nerf.

The results of this are plain to see: though the Ynnari have left a mark mechanically on the game of 40k, mostly in the form of fervent hate for their ridiculously overpowered meta, their lore and fluff impact and role in the fandom is vanishingly small. For the only significant Xenos development of the entire last two years the Ynnari have almost no presence in the fandom and almost no interest in them. There is a single aspect of the Ynnari that has resonated among the wider fandom and crystallised and it is the nauseatingly cliché; ‘Yvraine's a girl so she has to have the hots for Guilliman’ angle of any female character helping a male main character ever. 

Now it should be clear: Xenos have a minute reception in the fandom even at the best of times. How many stories, pictures or memes do you know of Ghazghkull? Nazdreg? The Phoenix Lords? Lelith Hesperax? Any of the Necron characters? There are probably more fanworks of a single Space Marine Chapter than all Xenos fan-material combined.

So the Ynnari failing to make any impact of note, any major breakthrough, and then being left by GW to simply wither away into insignificance is indicative of the Company's unwillingness to actually support or make an effort to make a Xenos faction or character group important. 

Primaris Marines had a cold reception but were supported by waves of miniatures, stories which established the likes of Felix, and now already 6 Special Characters in the space of 2-3 months. By contrast the Ynnari triad have never even moved past being sold as a single box group, and they’ve received almost no further support at all. The Ynnari were the one chance for Xenos importance in 8th Edition but they landed poorly and then were for almost two years simply abandoned by GW to rot in darkness and apathy.

This brings us, at last, to Phoenix Rising and Blood of the Phoenix. Touted as a major shake-up, part of a series that would make the likes of the 13th Black Crusade look like a border scuffle, this was, seemingly, finally the chance for the Ynnari and the Aeldari at large to advance. It brought with it the marginal updates of some parts of the Asuryani’s atrociously ancient Aspect lines and the first plastic Phoenix Lord (of course whilst the Space Marines got no less than 4 of their characters redone in plastic in 2-3 months, no such luck for the Phoenix Lords). 

I don't need to go into too much depth on how this book simply failed. To put it in brief: it's marketing was very bad. It stressed the idea of a consistent plot, of a 'Phoenix Rising and Falling’ arc and of being a pivotal watershed for Aeldari lore, a new step forwards. Honestly the marking it so deceptive it's angering. Jain Zar and Drazhar's miniature previews were touted with slogans of ‘A Phoenix Rises’ and ‘A Phoenix Falls’, the preview video trailer involved a Shadowseer granting a human a psychedelic vision of Jain Zar and Drazhar in which she chants the same.

None of this happens. None of this matters. In Phoenix Rising not only do neither Jain Zar or Drazhar 'fall’ or ‘rise’ in any meaningful way but the two characters are almost completely exogenous. Jain Zar makes two small appearances of a couple of lines and Drazhar makes one single appearance to fail in a mission and then vanish from the storyline. 

What it turned out to be is 20 pages in which a select few items from the Codex Craftworlds timeline section: the Three Sisters, Alaitoc's attack against the Necron, Alaitoc avoiding a Daemon Prince, Iathglas, Fracture of Biel-Tan and Death Masque were simply repeated and given a page or two more information to lightly flesh them out. The only significant introduction of new lore it brought with it is an escalating series of attempts in Yvraine's life which always failed but always saw Yvraine fleeing with her army defeated.

Things were even worse for the Drukhari who got all of a page-and-a-half fleshing out their 8th Edition fluff in incredibly lazy and sparse detail.

Overall the book is far more valuable for the rules than the lore. The lore largely serves as a companion to the Craftworlds Codex which lightly expands on it. I feel particularly sorry if this is all the Drukhari are getting as well, as they were majorly side-lined in favour of the Asuryani and Ynnari in this book.

But then what of the Ynnari? This book was finally a chance for them to shine again, to move forwards again, to maybe diversify their plot, to expand on their culture, how they've grown, their influence, significant figures, battles, achievements, losses, how did they manage their alliance with the Imperium etc. etc. etc.

To put it bluntly there are a LOT of questions about the Ynnari that could use answering. To put it even blunter the book answered very little other than giving the Ynnari a large heaping new losses. Indeed, throughout the book, Yvraine and the Ynnari lose and retreat from practically every single battle till the final one.

The book does not look good for the Ynnari in terms of doing little to flesh them out and giving them very little in the ways of success. This is particularly galling since the book is, on it's back, stated to be about Yvraine, but within the book Yvraine does almost nothing ever but react to numerous attempts to murder her by losing and running away.

But what of the Ynnari's plot? Their narrative arc? Their agency? Sadly here is where we see, again, GW seemingly double down on making the Ynnari plotline inherently something that is hard to write or care about. 

The final Cronesword is now revealed to be within Slaanesh's Palace. This, for all intents and purposes, and as stated explicitly by the book, means mass suicide is now the only option the Ynnari have for awakening Ynnead. 

The narrative arc of the Ynnari has gone from: complete 4/5ths of their objective - vanish for two years from all relevance - return and instantly find out their entire objective has already failed.

For the only major Xenos protagonists at the moment, the only major Xenos narrative arc, it is a poor, awful, shitty fucking way to end things with a sad whimper.

This lack of a clear motive or narrative is shown in the book itself. Though Phoenix Rising is mostly just a recap and fleshing out of some Asuryani timeline fluff, the thread connecting it, the single story that can be found in it, is per the blurb of the book meant to be: Yvraine is trying to unite the Aeldari but Shalaxi Hellbane is hunting her.

The problem comes in the fact that because the book reveals the fifth Cronesword is now beyond Yvraine's reach, and this is known to Yvraine, by about the fifth page, the book doesn't actually have a plotline of Yvraine uniting anyone. Yvraine's plotline in the story is literally just; Yvraine runs like a headless chicken from one fight to another, always losing, makes a small team of mostly ladies, and then finally on Iathglas beats Shalaxi. But there is no expansion of their motive or agency. Yvraine is a purely reactionary character in this, always a very poor hallmark of a protagonist, who achieves nothing other than reacting to Shalaxi Hellbane's attempts to murder her. The only agency Yvraine exerts is to gather Jain Zar, Lelith Hesperax, a Solitaire, the Visarch and the Yncarne to help her fight. But even this ends up self-defeating because of that group the Visarch and Yncarne are always on her side, and thus no agency is needed to gain them, Lelith Hesperax has no plot involved in securing her aide, she just appears at the final battle, the Solitaire is recruited by a pair of side characters with Yvraine doing nothing and Jain Zar takes all of a few lines.

The result is Yvraine spends almost the entire book exerting no agency and simply losing and losing and losing till finally she reacts to Shalaxi and the final battle and wins. The less said on how ridiculous that final battle is the better, I will make a write-up about that event alone later.

So; the Ynnari motive has a bridge dropped on it, they receive little further expansion, Yvraine is an almost purely reactionary protagonist who exerts almost no agency, no Phoenix of any sort rises or falls, and Jain Zar and Drazhar are near completely exogenous characters to the story. 

Still. The final section of the book could at least have done something by using Yvraine's triumph over Shalaxi Hellbane as a metaphorical 'rise of the Phoenix’ by showing her taking command of the joint Aeldari forces their through this victory, showing how Shalaxi Hellbane's attempted assassination actually only strengthened Yvraine's position by giving her a moment to show the Aeldari the merits of unity. A clever writer would have tapped into the Aeldari's nature for prophecy and manipulation to even reveal that the likes of Eldrad and Yvraine had actually foreseen this and allowed it to transpire as it did, costing lives, but giving Yvraine a stronger hand among the Aeldari than ever before. This would at least give some credence to a name like ‘Phoenix Rising’.

But, alas, the final battle is Iathglas. The primary narrative thrust of Iathglas is that ‘Aeldari are dumb’ and the specific takeaway the Aeldari take from Iathglas is not that they should work together but, instead, it increased mistrust and disunity among them.

So what is the coda then? The final take-away from this book then appears to be largely one serving to show the Ynnari as a failed movement who do more harm than good, inciting more intercine conflict, failing to achieve their motives and agendas, and lacking the power to do almost anything other than flee from their foes.

After reading Phoenix Rising only one question really remains: 

What Phoenix Rose?

From what I can read there was no moment of ascendency, of rising from the ashes, of hope blazing into life from despair at all, not narratively, not for a character, not as a theme. If anything the theme of the book is; the Ynnari have already lost before they began. This is honed in by the atrocious ending of the final battle: Shalaxi is defeated through the combined efforts of the Yncarne, the Visarch, Yvraine, Jain Zar, Lelith Hesperax and a Solitaire...and then reveals that what took them all to beat was but a tiny fraction of Shalaxi's fullpower, revealing that apparently even if the greatest luminaries of the Aeldari join together under the Ynnari they still don't stand a chance against Slaanesh’s minion. This is a microcosm for the book's message: Even if the Ynnari unite all Aeldari they still don't stand a chance at escaping Slaanesh. 

The result is that for Aeldari fans, and Ynnari fans in particular, this ending is simply morose, dreadful and offering nothing to look forwards too or any Rising Phoenix to latch on to.

I said before that I worry the Rise of the Ynnari book series is over. It's been a year and a half now and there has been no noise about a potential third instalment. But, reading this, seeing GW's angle on the Ynnari, I understand why now.

What could a third book be about? The Fifth Cronesword can never be acquired. Now that the Ynnari know where it is they can't even have silly adventures looking for it and failing. What can their narrative arc or motive be? Books about them trying to convince all Aeldari to commit suicide? That's not a narrative thrust anyone cares for and since the Ynnari clearly don't have the military power to rival any of the Aeldari factions they cannot turn into a ‘kill them all’ faction at all. 

So...what do you do?

Games Workshop, seriously, what do you want Aeldari fans, Ynnari fans, to take from this? That we should just give up hope of ever achieving anything in the lore?

Since Death Masque I've been wondering, I thought it was just me, but I seriously do begin to wonder now, why does Games Workshop specifically seem to hate the Aeldari so much in the lore? More than any group the Aeldari are consistently, narratively, crushed, beaten down, and have their every effort failed or stymied unless said effort bolsters the Imperium.

Why is this?

I don't know but it is beginning to seriously depress me.

#warhammer #Warhammer 40k #Warhammer 40000 #40k #eldar #aeldari #xenos #ynnari #asuryani #yvraine #ynnead #shalaxi hellbane #slaanesh #phoenix lord #asurya #drazhar #jain zar #drukhari #gamesworkshop #games workshop

[fraudulence-paradox]

5/25/16

        I had a dream about her last night. One I’ve had before actually. For some reason I’m in K----y’s house and her mom tells me she’ll be right out. Her voice is normal, but somehow I can tell something is wrong. I’m just never sure what. The backdrop is all wrong too. I know I’m in her house, but something is wrong. The whole scene makes me uneasy. It may be the impossible geometry of how we’re standing on muddy dirt, even though I’m sure this is her living room, it may be how K----y always just appears, like the birthing of an orc, out of the shadows, likely from the mud, but this is where the dream always goes awry. I remember a text I received from her a few years back (in real life) where she told me that she’d gained some weight and didn’t want me to see her (I don’t really believe this—and even if it were true, I don’t think it would matter to me—but it stuck in my head somehow), but lo and behold, here she is in the dream. I think this is my subconscious’s way of making it okay that I’ll likely never see her again, because when I do in my dream she’s always hideous. In the particular dream I had last night, she is tall, and pear shaped. Shirtless, for some reason, but where there were well-proportioned breasts, there are scars, and clumps of cellulose. Her entire torso looks like a chewed up pile of pale gum. There are scars covering her. Stretch marks, and what appears to be evidence of a mastectomy. This monstrosity, perched on top of two proportionate, yet asymmetrical legs, which appear to be made of only cottage cheese, and opaque flesh-toned trash bags, as if someone filled two empty bread containers with different amounts of milk, and let them sit in the sun for days, until they finally became rancid enough to solidify and support the weight of the monstrous torso. Yet on top of this mess is her face, normal; untouched.

           At this point in the dream I still want what I presumably came to her house for. I want to have sex with her. With it. It disturbs me, but I wouldn’t say I have no idea why my brain makes this. I think it has something to do with our incredibly bizarre, wonderful, and first relationship.

           K----y was my first real girlfriend, after the whole Kr---- fiasco, it was nice to find a girl who wasn’t as manipulative, and seemed to really care about me. I was her first boyfriend too, which meant neither of us knew what to expect. K----y was my first everything. First kiss, first fuck, first hand holding. Our first kiss was in a movie theater, where we went to see The Lorax, our first date. I was 15, she was 14, so neither of us could drive. I remember her father picking us up, D--- I think his name was. He was a really cool guy. I don’t know if the stories he would tell while we were driving were true, or meant to impress or intimidate me. But they worked. Quite honestly, I would be absolutely fine with becoming like him. He seems to have done everything in the world. He has a job doing something secret for the government, I’m not sure what. His cover is that he’s a psychologist for the military, but I think it has something to to with government torture techniques. K----y told me once that for a year, while he was stationed in “Florida”, he kept telling her and her family about these cool lizards he kept seeing. K----y later learned that these lizards were only native to [redacted]. He was likely speaking in some sort of code to let his wife know where he was without officially breaking his clearance. K----y also told me once, that she had a distinct memory of being at the natural history museum with him around 2008, looking at dinosaur bones, when he received a call. It’s nature was regarding [redacted] being declassified, and how he and a lot of others may be in the public eye for something in them. I’m not sure if the papers were ever made public, but I put the pieces together.

           D---- R-- played piano, but only knew how to improvise, played Anne Frank’s father in his high school show, and told me that’s when he learned how to cry on command. He took K----y and me to the spy museum a few times, and told us how to best memorize your lore. He inexplicably knew Morse-code and several other ciphers by heart, and there was a lot about his life even K----y wasn’t allowed to know about. When he was young, he was heavily involved in a “ministry” that required him to cross the Mexican-American boarder several times a month to do god knows what just south of California. He also told me once that he was one of very few people in the world who knew the exact whereabouts of [redacted]. He was a sketchy dude, but in all the right ways. Basically, he’s what I hope to use my CYSE degree to become.

           But he picked us up that day, and drove us to the theater. It was my first time ever talking to him, so he didn’t try to impress me too hard. I guess he used his psych skills to deduce that the first time meeting your girlfriend’s father is intimidating enough without bragging about how dangerous and well connected you are. We got to the theater, and K----y and I took our seats. I have no memory of the movie whatsoever. Likely because I was so concerned with how sweaty my hand was, and how it was locked in hers, so I couldn’t wipe it off. Coincidentally, this was the same movie theater that several months in the future, K----y would give me two blow jobs in during a showing of Frankenweenie, but that day, I was worried about holding her hand. When the credits rolled, I knew it was time. I asked her if I could kiss her, because chicks dig consent, and she said yes. Then, we didn't kiss. We both looked at each other awkwardly, waiting for the other one to make their move, and neither of us did. We were 5 rows ahead of where future K----y would have my penis in her mouth, and we were worried about kissing before the lights turned on. K----y said, “what do we do?”, so I hit her with the suavest line I could come up with. “Well, let’s make like Nike, and.. just do it” and we kissed.

           The second our lips touched, I got a feeling a lot like how people describe meth. A huge dopamine rush that even now I look back on with envy. If kissing is a drug, it has the fastest tolerance of any of them. I’ve never felt such a rush in my entire life as I did the day I quoted a shoe company at my ex, and pushed my mouth onto her. This was really the beginning of a long string of lust filled relationships, where I chased the dragon that was that dopamine rush. I used to think about that kiss just to pass time. When I used to mow lawns with J---, sometimes in the gasoline scented afternoons I would forget about how big a hill was because I was so caught up in replaying that memory. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a physically intimate experience with anyone in the world that was quite like that moment. But I came close, and that was when I took her virginity.

           This was really the beginning of the end of our relationship, but I didn’t know that yet. From the first time she gave me a blowjob, or I fingered her we lost focus in any romance, and just chased sexual pleasure, but it what we had seemed fixable. But as soon as we started having sex, that was all we did. Really it was my fault. I kind of fucked up everything in that relationship, and I often wonder what things would be like if we never broke up, if we met at a time when I wasn’t so focused on fucking.

(Note from the future)

I don’t think I have that many regrets in my life, but if I have any, one of them is breaking up with her. It’s been almost 7 years and I still think about her at least a few times a month. Currently I’m even in a really good relationship with someone else, but I always wonder, “what if?”. I mean, there must be a reason things didn’t work out. And as the dream sequence from this entry, and future entries that will be posted will undoubtably note, the K----y I remember isn’t the one that exists any more. In my mind, she’s still the same person she was when we were dating… 7 years ago. But I know that isn’t her now. I’m not the same person I used to be, why should she be?

It’s more of a bizarre, chase for something that doesn’t exist anymore. When we first dated, we were both weird outcasts. Her, a quiet girl, sitting by pure chance, at my table in 9th grade history. Me, a weird, bombastic, eccentric nerdy guy. These days, I know almost nothing about her. I know she at one point worked at a grocery store near where I live, and I sometimes go there with the creepy, stalker, self-loathing hope that I’ll get a glance at her, but I’m not sure she even lives here anymore. The last thing I heard from her was that she was with someone she really loved; the way she talked about him made it seem like they would be married. Frankly, I hope that’s what happened. It’s what she deserves. But some horrible, degenerate part of my mind wishes that one day, I would wake up, back in 11th grade, and everything would go back to how it was. I was happy then. I was dating a girl whom no other has ever compared to, I had several close friends. I was depressed as all hell, sure, but at least then I was doing interesting things. I was in a few bands, I was at the absolute peak of my “making interesting art” phase, I even made short films all the time, and had aspirations about becoming a professional film maker. I was happy and naïve.

These days, I’m on what I consider the path to maximal happiness. I’m a Ph.D. student at a just okay university for my field, I just submitted a paper, and feel like I’m learning things at a depth I didn’t even know was possible, but something is missing. What K----y represents to me now isn’t what she is, it’s what I used to have. K----y isn’t just a girl I used to date. She isn’t a person whom I used to love, and a person whom I gave a piece of myself that I can never have back. She’s a symbol. And I know that’s completely unfair if she ever actually read this—no one wants to be someone else’s metaphor. I’d be fucking pissed if I was (well, I don’t know, maybe I’d be a little flattered that I lived in someone’s head rent-free, as they say). To me she’s a symbol of that happy, carefree time that was late high school. I was old enough to drive, but young enough not to have any real responsibilities. Maybe part of growing up is just accepting that your happiness peaked at a certain point, and there’s nothing you can do about that.

All of this is to say, it’s easier for me to personify the whole “spent youth” thing in someone I used to date—used to love—then it is to just accept it as it is. Many of the things I associate with her, I wasn’t even dating her for.  But loving her was just the most emotionally significant thing that occurred for me in high school, so it’s just what happened. I really do hope she’s happy.

When we broke up, I sent her a lengthy text message on my old keyboard-having phone. I wish I still had it, because I think it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever communicated to another human being (wow, pretentious much, [fraudulence-paradox]?). But the gist of it is something like:

 The whole universe started with the big bang

And there’s this theory that it will all end with a big crunch.

Time will reverse, and everything will go backward and everything you and I have ever done will repeat in reverse.

But then, it will get to the beginning, and the universe will start again.

So at some point, you and I will be back together, back in those first days when everything was beautiful

And even though everything happens again, and we just have to relive everything

I don’t think I would change a single thing

#college journal #journal #young love #relationships #K #regret #first love #love #breakup #breakups #story #first #relationship #girlfriend #high school #highschool #i know she follows one of my accounts #she could easily find this #i sort of want her to

[zydrateacademy]

Review: Destiny 2

It took me a while to compile enough thoughts for a proper review, and to find time to actually begin writing because I’ve been far too busy actually playing it. This will come with a minor disclaimer or two. First, I haven’t played the first game. It was on console and I’ve been on PC for a long time. Secondly, I may mention a lot of other game comparisons and there’s a reason for that. This game feels like it borrows some of the best parts of other games and stitched them together to make something great. I can’t really comment on the game’s previous story, but I hear from most players that there wasn’t much of one. Somehow I feel that this is hyperbole on their part because you can’t really have a game without a story. Even team shooters like Overwatch shoehorn some lore within their dialog or various external material. All the same, I’ve gathered that a giant alien ball gave a large portion of the Earth population immortality topped with magical powers. Not exaggerating, I have literally heard the word “magic” be used in what seems to be a Sci Fi adventure. The game proper starts off with a full on assault from an enemy faction that only had a tertiary presence in the first game. They win pretty swiftly and kick you off a tower. Your guardian loses their “light” powers and must traverse the first forty-five minutes or so of the game without the ability to resurrect. Of course that is of limited value as checkpoints are still a thing so feel free to die if you don’t quite have a handle on the gunplay.

The campaign is stated to be around six hours long and that’s fairly accurate. It felt incredibly short and it was surprising to learn about this sun-destroying device that the Red Legion created. Funny enough, that’s actually the halfway point and the exact moment where the story becomes less interesting. Before that, you hop between planets to “get the band back together”, essentially. You collect the various class leaders across the system, each with their own unique problems that you solve and get back together to help lead the push against the guys who took everyone’s light. After that, it’s a generic doomsday device that you must disable, and the campaign missions themselves feel a bit padded at times. You’re often assigned to disable something, only for it to not work so you must go destroy something else two more times before the thing actually works. The old school trope of “You cannot thwart stage one” is in full effect here folks, and you’ll likely predict what will happen to the big bad Ghaul himself long before you actually see it. Weak story aside, the gunplay is some of the best feeling in a first person shooter I’ve had in a while. At first glance the game looks and feels like a less irritating version of Borderlands, a franchise of which I love anyway like a slowly improving problem child. Enemies have large health bars and every hit you land, magical floating numbers pop up signifying your damage. Ultimately these numbers mean very little because max level players can play with level three’s and nobody can really one-shot anything except for the basics. There’s some strange autobalancing coding going on in the background, but it still manages to make sure that anyone can play with their friends regardless of people’s gear level. This includes the fact that max level players will constantly get tokens and can break down lesser gear for yet another type of turn-in token. There’s always a reason to do things and I find that it’s a great mechanic. 

The story is mostly just an excuse to get you to maximum level and have access to the tower. After that, the full game unlocks to you which is common MMO fare. It lets you dip your toes in some player-versus-player but after you beat the campaign, every planet and game mode will have a set of challenges and milestones for you to work towards and continually get your item level up, also known as a “Gearscore” if you’re a veteran of WoW. Ultimately this is where the game shines and where I typically have the most fun, because it essentially becomes a first person sandbox. No, there’s not really an open world and there’s not much to explore unless you’re hunting for Lost Sectors, secret sections of the map that typically have yield chests with better loot that will only unlock when you defeat the local miniboss. They’re a lot of fun. Each planet has this sort of “hub” area that you’ll find a few other players running around in. I figure they’re instanced with a likely player cap because I’ve never seen more than a few at a time. At most I think I saw about seven other people joining in on a public event with me, one of my favorite features of the game. Public Events are not a new concept in recent gaming history. The earliest comparison I can personally think of is Rift (2011), but I think they started dipping into MMO’s a year or so before that. It’s as it sounds, in hub areas these events will trigger down from a five minute timer to allow other people gather and prepare and it will spawn a moderately difficult boss or objective based event. They’re typically too difficult for me to solo but I’m sure other, better players can manage. By completing optional objectives you can help upgrade every event to “heroic”, which yields a lot more experience and a bit more loot. You might have to research or simply take cues from other players and see what you have to do, but if you see people shooting at that ship circling the area or slamming on this random device in the middle of the firefight - That’s probably why. Those side challenges I mentioned can be a bit fickle sometimes. Sometimes they’ll require you to kill enemies with a certain weapon or a certain way that doesn’t necessarily to cater to my playstyle. One in PvP once wanted me to make a few kills with a subclass I never used and thus had no upgrade points put into. I never got that challenges because, as per the game’s meta, there’s certain gun types or subclasses people just don’t use in certain modes. For example, nobody ever really uses the Hunter’s “Nightstalker” subclass in PvP because it’s a sort of crowd control that’s useful against several clustered enemies. In PvP that almost never happens and it would be too easy for actual players to escape the little orb that the Hunter created. 

There’s also a multitude of gun types, all with their varying clip sizes, fire rates, and range capabilities that are more useful in one mode than the other, so this typically encourages you to keep a certain ‘collection’ of things depending on what you’re playing. So far I’ve only talked about challenges and public events. I’ve found it hard to talk about what and first because there’s a lot to the game to chew through between the various updates the game will inevitably have. Of this writing, the game’s first expansion has already been announced for the fifth of December which will likely bring a whole new set of milestones, strikes, missions and most importantly, loot. I’ll try to get through some of the fun stuff you can get a hold of at the endgame which mercifully doesn’t take long to get to. Strikes are basically just dungeons from other fantasy based MMO’s. There’s not a lot to say about them, they’re ten to twenty minute encounters with a variety of bosses and mechanics you need to figure out. My least favorite so far is this Fallen boss who will constantly disappear after just a few hits and spawn these electrified robots that will limit your movement and now allow you to jump at all (and there’s a LOT of jumping in this game). They’ll also constantly damage you because of course they will. It reminds me of a survival game to be honest.

There’s the Crucible, Destiny’s name for PvP combat. It’s run of the mill PvP with your usual zone controls, team deathmatch and even a mode that’s reminiscent of Call of Duty’s “kill confirmed” mode where you only get points by picking up a sigil from a fallen enemy; Or else let their allies pick them up and get denied the score. I enjoy it and I can sometimes get rewards from it even by losing. I’m currently working on an exotic weapon quest where you have to dismantle rare or better scout rifles, which the crucible rewarded me with one just for losing. So hey, progress! There’s also something called “Nightfalls”, which remind me of “Heroic dungeons” from World of Warcraft, but are actually more comparable to Starcraft 2′s mutator mode in their Co-Op. Every week it changes, typically with some kind of timer mechanic to make sure your team is at their most optimal. On our first week, in addition to the timer, all of our skills recharges what seemed to be five times faster. So the mutations are not always there to hurt us. Naturally it gives much better loot than their more basic versions and can be incredibly intense. Myself and two buddies from my gaming community managed to kill the boss of one with a mere four seconds left on the timer. Our first ever Nightfall, to boot. I alluded earlier to the fact that there’s tokens you get from a variety of activities. This mostly gives incentive for high level players to continue playing, as you can turn these tokens in to a variety of faction leaders for engrams (a fancy word for “loot boxes”) that typically level with you so they’re usually good to grind out.

And yes, there is a grind here to a certain degree. There’s a sort of soft cap to gear levels, I found it a crawl to get past the 260-265 hump but then slingshot past it on the game’s second week with a new rollout of milestones that wanted me to play several crucible games, complete five challenges out in the world, and a few other things. Each of them gave me 269′s and 271′s and helped me gear up a bit. At a certain point it becomes advantageous to roll multiple characters so you can do all of this more than once, padding the gameplay and turning it into a grind. There is a bit of fatigue once you hit that soft cap I will admit but it’s typically relieved by playing with friends. This goes with any multiplayer game, true enough. As mentioned I can continue playing missions with newer players, hunt for public events, or toss my scrub ass into the unforgiving ring of failure that is Crucible and I’ll always get something for my trouble. There’s never not anything to do. All this time I’ve actually forgotten to talk about how really damn pretty the game is, to boot. Most of my settings are on maximum with the sole exception of my textures, which have to be medium as to not stress my unfortunately low about of VRAM. I’ve had people smarter than me try to explain why exceeding it matters but regardless, the game is still one of the best looking things in my entire library.

There’s a lot of chatter about microtransactions in the industry lately. Yes, they are present here in the form of “Bright” engrams, which can be acquired in two ways. Obviously you can buy “Silver” which acts as a separate currency for Bright engrams. The other way is, as a level 20 you will get one per ‘level up’ as you continue to play. The flow of such is pretty slow and I typically only get one or two a day (If I’m actively playing my main Hunter) as opposed to dropping ten dollars and getting five immediately. They typically contain cosmetics, some more practical than others like faster speederbikes that will help you traverse stretches of land on planets with a bit more ease. They’re the primary source of the shinier “shaders”, or armor dyes. You can get shaders out of basic chests and other loot boxes but shaders do have “rarity” like any gear does and I don’t think I’ve gotten some of the better looking ones through more basic means. Still, the microtransaction craze does speak to a seedier part of the industry and I will admit the “It’s just cosmetic!” argument doesn’t quite hold up, but I’ll leave that for the individual to decide. I’ve already purchased some silver twice now, but that’s my prerogative. I’ll just say that the game never, not once, beats me over the head with “BUY SOME OF THIS AND YOUR LIFE WILL BE MORE COMPLETE”. They better not, after I spent the full hundred dollars to begin with. In conclusion, the game feels like the most refined collection of a dozen games I could name, like the world’s cleanest zombie. Borderlands, The Division, World of Warcraft, Rift. The gameplay constantly reminds me of other games but is the absolute best version of all of them. The gunplay will keep me coming back as I do occasionally itch for an ironsight shooter but all the current ones I have are boring or have dead communities with long matchmaking. A large portion of my gaming community is playing so I can typically play at my own pace, or get others to join me if I feel like I want my objectives to go a little quicker than usual. There’s plenty to do and it’s all up to me to figure out what I want to prioritize when I log in. For a game with this much in it, it can only improve with more content.

#Destiny 2 #Bungie #Activision #Blizzard

[pickyperkypenguin]

of mushrooms and recklessness

I ate a mushroom today.

You see, I’m from a mycophilic kind of country, so it’s a pretty normal thing, ingrained deeply in our cuisine, especially when it’s season for them and I like mushrooms. They taste great and they make a very good ingredient.

We have lots of kinds of mushrooms here, and lots of names for them. I always feel so emptyhanded, when I have to reiterate to Latin, when there is no equivalent common name for a particular mushroom in English. Oh, those mycophobes (please, imagine this said with Bobby Farell’s voice, the same way he speaks at the end of ‘Rasputin’)

But, back to the mushrooms eating – they’re a food not worth sparing a thought when they’re champignons. Grown (hah, and I’m already missing a word covering ‘the place where champignons are grown by people in a controlled environment’, pieczarkarnia) on a mushroom farm, they are as safe as they’re bland. I can eat them and not even think of Caesar or shamans of Syberia.

But then I’m sometimes offered handpicked mushrooms, and I usually stop to think. Do I know if the person who picked them knew their skill? Do I trust them and my fate today? Do I trust fate at all, because even the most experienced (and another word missing, grzybiarz, plural: grzybiarze) people who pick mushrooms are sometimes wrong, and sometimes it’s just bad luck, or the mimicry and similitude especially intense that day? You never know. And so you sometimes trust, like me, or don’t trust at all, like my mother (funny thing that it’s the only thing we’re completely reversed in the putting trust matter).

Sometimes, though, it’s not really your friend or family who offer you this autumnal gift – sometimes it’s just you who saw giant caps of parasol mushroom (kania, a homophone of milvus milvus or milvus migrans, apparently called red kite and black kite. Funny it’s also a homophone in English too) in your favourite greengrocer, and, unfortunately, forgot to ask where did they come from.

Were they picked in the forest? Were they grown on a mushroom farm? Do you even grow a parasol mushroom on a farm?

A note on a margin – how nice that parasol mushroom does have a name here. Also, the answer to the question above is: no, there are only two kinds of farms, for champignons and pleurotus, or boczniak as we call it. Boczniaki are super tasty and I love them especially.

Yesterday I was so full of energy that I made a soup, a batch of ginger ale, and baked a pie – all in a span of one afternoon, right after coming from my internship hours full of sending emails, running to the post and doing an exhibition inventory in a dark basement, and after that eating some brief meal at home and grocery shopping. So, after that, things couldn’t go to waste, ‘cause some vegetables are just not made for laying around too long, also I would like to eat sometimes, so cooking it was. I was a bit tired after all that, and I didn’t really spare much thought on how I did not ask the lady at the greengrocer where the hell those mushrooms came from.

So, that day went around without me caring about a single mushroom (also because it came out I didn’t have yeast nor sourdough starter, so I had to cease my plans that involved making some savoury pastries with champignons, onion and meat inside them, on top of all the cooking I done that day). The next day, though, which is today, to be precise, my eyes spotted two big caps of parasol mushrooms that were laying on the kitchen counter since yesterday, and I was immediately enlightened with a vision of them fried like cutlets. It’s a traditional way of preparing kanie here. Well, here as regional here, I’m pretty sure Czechs and Slovaks would prepare them the same way.

I did as I thought, and I took a first couple of bites of my deliciously looking mushroom posing as a cutlet – and I felt it tasted bitter.

Now, after all that, I read somewhere that it can happen after frying, particularly if it was an older mushroom – but then I was aware of two things: that either I prepared it wrong (which isn’t exactly correct, but I was indeed not aware that the preparation can make it bitter and that the cap I tasted was probably older, so, this assumption is much more correct) and that the lore passed by XIX century polish villagers states that bitter mushrooms are poisonous.

Now hold on a second, while I will explain: there are two kinds of my reactions to basically everything, one when I have sufficient knowledge or information, and the one when I don’t. It was the second version this time, I have never handpicked a mushroom in my life except for some puffballs growing in my backyard when I was a kid. My practical knowledge of mushrooms is exceptionally scarce. I have no idea if I would be able to identify correctly a fungus in the wild, or in the less–wild of my kitchen. I had also been blissfully submerged in thoughts and daydreams when I was preparing my parasols for cooking and my observation  of their appearance was perfunctory at best.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a pretty good photographic memory, and I can usually recall a pretty detailed visual image of things I’ve seen, even if not focused on remembering them. But when you’re trying to identify anything by its looks, it’s pretty important to catch every detail. Especially when it’s so easy to mistake between species and end up eating the very wrong one.

Why had I panicked so fast? Well, as I said, I had no experience nor sufficient data to extrapolate and reach any valid conclusion on whether or not the thing I was eating was any good, and all I had in my head were scraps of oral tradition. And as reliable and rich with experience of generations as it is, it has its moments of rapid clashing with modern knowledge. And medicine.

Of course, I immediately googled what kania can visually resemble and what can it be mistaken with, and I was just about punched in the face, because it can be – by some – mistaken with not only amanita pantherina (panther cap), chlorophyllum rhacodes/macroleptiota rhacodes (shaggy parasol), but also lepiota especially helveola and chlorophyllum molybdites (green spored parasol), and if you’re unobservant enough, with amanita phalloides (death cap).

The only one among them that is mostly just diarrhoea inducing is the shaggy parasol, and even this one is not entirely safe. The rest...? Let’s say, there was a reason why a dish made of amanita caesarea with some addition of its less friendly cousins sneaked in was a good way for ancient Romans to, ahem, get rid of their chosen fellows that hindered their businesses. And why Henry Winter was so bent on having a mushroom stew for dinner with Bunny Corcoran.

Seriously, I went from happily chewing on a mushroom cutlet to panicking about possible poisoning in about three and a quarter seconds.

After I looked and compared carefully the mental image of not yet coated in egg and breadcrumbs cap of my supposed parasol mushroom with the ominous images from the Internet, I came to a conclusion, that it is, most likely, a goddamn honest and innocent kania.

But I was not about to eat any more of it. I was too scared, that perhaps I’m wrong. As much as I hate, literally hate, to throw out any food (again, a culture thing and an uprising thing, I guess. When I compare how much more some western nations are throwing out food, I feel like I’m getting hives, cold and a rash all at once just from looking at it. One does not throw out food, unless it’s spoiled. Then you can. And better don’t let it spoil, do something with it before. Sorry, rant over) I just had to throw out on a compost pile my perfectly fine two fried parasol mushrooms. I couldn’t let my father eat it, just in case, my mother wouldn’t anyway, so, safe from that angle, and I went through too much nerves over those stupid caps. At least they weren’t overly pricey.

I have also preventively made some steps to be sure I won’t get a poisoning from all this, and let me just say, it really wasn’t pleasant. I vomit very rarely, even after excessive drinking – there were literally three of those occasions in my life and I remember every single one in a painful detail – so it’s not the favourite way for my body of getting rid of toxins, and as it comes out, despite having an upchuck reflex, it is not so easy for me to provoke actual results. Also, I tend to feel like I already died after.

But I did what I had to, and went on with my day, promising myself to stick to black tea till tomorrow. Well, maybe I will eat something for supper, I’ll see.

Why am I even talking about this?

Well, except for the want of sharing a NEar dEAth EXPERIENcE!!!11! and talking about mushrooms, which I wanted to talk about for some time, it was one of the situations when I remembered again, that I kind of want to live.

Sometimes I’m in such a floaty thinking places, where all borders and world itself doesn’t even seem real, everything is fluid and kind of bad, and kind of boring, kind of not worth anything and especially not suffering, and I can’t really remember what I was even doing here, on this earth? Was I having fun? Was I enjoying something? Was I living, really? What were my interests? Did I had any goals? Was I just drifting through space? Am I an entity with a meaning or am I a speckle that nobody would notice, if not for obvious consequences of my existing?

I don’t think of suicide. Never did, never want to. I was just thinking of not existing, and not as a thing that I would want to actually happen to me. Those are very abstract thoughts for me, those of nonexistence, more of concepts, and they occur only when I’m not sure if I am, well, whatever I am, and when I’m letting my thoughts loose and free to roam. They’re more academical in nature.

What is more personal in them, is this – I never wanted to live a ‘meaningful’ life. I can fully accept, that life might not have have any meaning (or it can, I don’t particularly care). Or that it might be incomprehensible for me. Or that everybody makes the meaning of their life, and that meaning belongs to us, the entirety of us, our identities with all our bindings and horizons that allow us constructing our visions – and that this is the way we can give the meaning to our life.

All those concepts I find sound and valid. All possible, and more of them. I just don’t really have the universal or objective truth as a valid concept in my world view. So I don’t have to believe in any of them, and I don’t have to choose. They’re all tales we spin for ourselves, or that are spun for us. Co–spinning would be a more correct term for this, I think.

The older I’m getting, the more choices I’m having – or the more responsible for them I become – I’m starting to get, not intellectually, but in my heart, the fact, that I can literally do anything I want in and with my life. With some limitations and consequences, of course, but you get the gist.

I wasn’t so sure of that before. Theoretically, I knew, but having less responsibility for myself (It was a different kind of burden, when I was trying more to appeal or appease someone who held my responsibility for me than to actually bear that responsibility) I had less choices to make. That’s the correlation, that’s the thing I’m discovering now.

So, I felt like that, even before, that I wasn’t sure if I was living. I didn’t really had a lot of situations to feel it, living the privileged and, let’s not be afraid of that word, sheltered life I did, that was reinforced with my tendency to take as little risk as it is always possible. I just didn’t, and still I don’t, make rash choices. I think all things through and through. I plan, I analyse, I extrapolate. I beware all potential dangers, I hate surprises.

I’m not spontaneous. The last spontaneous thing I did was buying a bunch of radishes on sale, even though I didn’t plan to. What a wild life.

When I had my mandatory field practices back in the first and second year of my studies, I was putting myself in a different mode – open to everything, not planning much, simply because I wasn’t able to, mostly. It was not depending on me. It was all dictated by my surroundings, opportunities and situations. I had to deal with it, there was no other way around.

And I managed. Quite well, I’d say.

I remember one of those field practices: it was an abhorrently hot July, with weather enhanced additionally by the proximity of power station, notabene influencing the whole ecosystem it was built into. The asphalt was a pan, and I was walking on it, thinking if it was possible for the soles of my shoes to be melted by the contact with the almost liquid black.

I was marching on the side of the road to the next village – there were no other methods of transportation, unless one had a bike or a car. I had neither. I was in this out–of–touch state, when my mind bored to the bone with the long walk and uneventful landscape was doing whatever it wanted, and my emotional state back then was leaving much to desire, too. I was thinking of not existing again, of all its possible outcomes and consequences, in a remote, abstract way – when I suddenly noticed I was walking a viaduct without any sort of pavement, not really even a footpath. I think I missed the road sign of ‘no pedestrians allowed’, because I was so disengaged and distracted.

There were a lot of cars. Thankfully no police, though.

Then, after the string of quite fast moving cars came a string of about three or four trucks.

You don’t really think about how big a truck is in your daily life, or just how monstrous is the idea of a puny human piloting a beast made of metal and capable of killing you by accident.

I think life was on my side that day, and I was not even honked at, but I was awfully close to more–than–five ton trucks and the sheer wind, the movement of air induced by them that sort of, well, not pushed, but encouraged my body to get closer to the railing, was enough to make me vividly aware how fragile my life is, and how easily would it be not exist by pure chance.

In that same moment, I’ve had another thought.

I wanted to live, definitely. I wanted to keep my existence on this earth, as I was most certainly not done.

I didn’t really know what I wasn’t done with, or when I would supposed to be accomplished and if after that it would be acceptable to go – I just knew I needed more time to do stuff here.

Right now I’m on the path, hopefully, of figuring out what is that I actually want to do. Maybe it will somehow happen. I don’t know, I’m just so happy to know that I want to accomplish something. That I want to do something. I wasn’t really sure before, and I’m sometimes not sure now, but most of the time I feel like it would actually change me somehow – which is actually what this whole thing is about, a proof that I exist.

I hope, too, that I will find the will, the power, the willpower for it, for finding and pursuing and carrying on, and for the results – or a graceful acceptance of re-evaluation of my goals during the way, if I find it necessary.

I got yelled at by my friend at Monday, and I think he wanted to tell me about some of those things too. That it’s not about some kind of worthiness, that you can just do things. And that they have an outcome and an impact. That it can be felt.

Speaking of feeling, I felt very cared for, by the way, thanks to that yelling, because that’s how my friend shows he cares – if he finds a person worth being annoyed with, it is because he wants the person to not fucking suck and self-sabotage, as he sees their inherent value as much more. Aggressive caring sometimes really works on me, here mostly because his yelling was very constructive and I could draw useful conclusions from it.

So, concluding all that I said here: if my hitherto way of careful living did not bring me much, perhaps a change would be good, even though it won’t be easy at all, and pretty sure it’ll be painful in some ways, and that I will have to overcome a lot of my habits and maybe even things that lay deep in my personality. Basically, that some recklessness, spontaneity and adrenaline high tasks would be healthy for me, probably. Oh dear.

Maybe if I find the courage for the openness, for not being ashamed of who I am as a person, and instead I will hold my ground and make my own mistakes, decide on some things, I will feel better. This way, I will be able to own those things, and make myself –– an author.

#whatever life #mycophobia #mention of vomit #long post

[cowgirl-kunoichi]

I've had this thing in sta.sh since June last year, thought it'd be time to put it onto my account c: It's an OLD ref sheet, and I should probably get around to updating it, but this is the basics of their looks and physiology. TBA: Sun Mouse Lore; The Nine Sun Mouse Calamities Species name:  Solsouris  Zerda(soul-sooree zur-dah)

Common name: Sun Mice Home Planet: Harenam, Nieric Sector, Lyris Dwarf Galaxy

Physiology:

Sun Mice are bipedal, sexually dimorphic, with the females being, on average,  much taller and stockier than males. This is an evolutionary artifact from the earlier versions of Sun Mice, where the females generally birthed large litters to bolster the population. Over time, the litters diminished in size and now, on average, are one pup per pregnancy. All Sun Mice have incredible hearing and sight, even at night, and are equipped for burrowing and climbing. But like most long lived sapient species, male and females are varied in size and looks.

   -          Ears:  There are three main ear shapes, Wide, Narrow, and Diminished. Wide ears are typically found on Denizens of harsh desert climates; with little cover, their ears double as shade and radiate heat off of them, keeping the person cool. Narrow ears are found on mountain dwelling Sun Mice, typically utilized for hearing long distance and communicating via echos bouncing off Canyons and mountain crags. Diminished ears are a rare mutation, some believe that it was cause by interbreeding with their distant cousins, Pevits. These ears are typically found on Sun Mice which dwell in the rare, and depleting, forested areas.

   -          Tails: There are two main typical tail types. Desert and Mountain, but there are numerous variants including Thin, and Manx. Desert and Mountain are the most widely distributed tail type. They originated with two subspecies of Sun Mice, localized in their namesake, Deserts and Mountainous regions. Eventually the subspecies merged creating Sun Mice as we know them. Desert tails are long and thin, ending in a short gerbil-like puff. Mountain tails are medium length and fluffy. Thin have no puff, and Manx is the absence of a tail altogether.

   -          Variant Body Mutations: There are a number of unique mutations that alter the general outward appearance of the average Sun Mouse. To name a few, there are Dwarfism, which affects stature, those with this gene tend to have difficulty reproducing, as a full-term pregnancy would put a terrible strain on them; Sphynx, which affects the ability to grow fur across the entire body, those who have this gene tend to have extremely sensitive skin and are prone to burning more easily; and Wooly, which is the opposite of Sphynx. Believed to be a trait from another cousin species, which is believed to be extinct. It causes the person to grow thick fur, a dangerous mutation for hot desert climates, those with this gene tend to migrate around the Poles, staying in cooler regions to avoid heat stroke.

Other general features are a round face and short, pointed muzzle, and whiskers.        

Diet:

Due to the harsh climate globally, large predator and prey animals scarcely exist, leaving insects, small mammals, and dry brush as options for food. Also due to the dry ground, and limited water resources, agriculture is nearly impossible. Making hunting parties a necessity for Clan survival. Their main food consists of cooked insects and a 'chewing branch', which is a small sage limb, used for cleaning teeth after a meal, and aiding digestion.

Social:

Sun Mice don’t live in nations, but rather small communities, Clans, with several families in each. Families are called ‘Packs’, and each pack and each Sun Mouse has a purpose assigned to them. Most Packs follow their assignments generationally. If their Pack had been farmers, then they will be farmers, and their children would be too. The only exception is if a Moon is born.

Social settings are an important part of Clan sustainability, none more so than the public “bathes”. Sun Mice have fine fur, and with the absence of plentiful water, have adapted to dust bathing. Dust Bathes are buildings draped with cloth, and filled with extremely fine sand and dust. This is the place for gossip and local news to be spoken about. It is considered a social hub for most larger settlements. It is also where social grooming takes place, grooming each other helps build bonds of trust between Clan members. Strengthening their pack instincts and creating a more stable social infrastructure.

Sun Mice generally have around 3 pups per mated pair. And the responsibility is placed on both Packs to help nurture and raise them, and teaching them important life skills. Including bathing, which infants will do with glee with any given chance, flopping in the dirt and wiggling around. This practice is essential for learning proper grooming and hygiene.

Culture and Fashion:

Fur patterns vary from place to place, but, typically, they are a single solid color from a cream color to any shade of brown, with a lighter shade edging on the ears, tail and muzzle. Some exhibit spotting and even striping patterns, generally in brushland and forest dwelling Sun Mice. Stripes and Spots have become something of a modern fad among the Solid colored majority of Sun Mice, using chalks and dyes to make their own spots and stripes, increasing their chances of being adequate hunters.

Striped and Spotted Sun Mice are more likely to be part of hunting troupes for their community. This is the closest they have to an organized military. Solid colored Sun Mice are considered the serving class, a few get the chance to work under their Shaman, a very high honor.

The rarest pattern and coloration was what the Sun Mice dubbed Moon. A Sun Mouse with pitch black coloration and dark spotting or stripes was considered the most valuable and attractive coloration, as they were blessed by Night, the most beloved and graceful God in their Pantheon. The wealthy are inclined to darken their fur in this way to seem more attractive.

Clothing isn’t a large part of the Sun Mice culture. Fabric is hard to come by and only the wealthy can really afford it. For the wealthy, most cloth is worn as a wrap and shawl, occasionally they will allow their servants to wear, albeit cheaper, duller, cloth as well. But as a whole, Sun Mice are rarely clothed. Their textile engineering is truly a feat, most cloth being resistant to sand storms and immune to the sun’s bleaching effect, keeping colors vibrant, and the wearer cool. Most cloth is refined from a shrubland plant, which is incredibly versatile as food, a water source, and can grow large enough to be used as lumber, but it rarely gets the opportunity.

Music:

Music is a recreation among many Clans, with their range of hearing, instruments are designed with every flavor of sound available. The most common being drums and wind instruments, stringed instruments being introduced to them while they still traded with outside planets thousands of years ago.

Pan Flutes are extremely popular, in this way, being simple and extremely versatile. Most young Sun Mice enjoy learning how to play in their younger years. Their instruments would be amateurishly made by hand, in the beginning, then as they grow older they would learn to craft a more masterful Flute. This is considered skill building, and it is believed that they would carry this instrument with them until they come Home.

Language:

Their language, to the layman, is nothing spectacular. They seem incapable of speaking with words, but instead, utilize a complex set of vocal aberrations, including squeaking, chirping, and chattering. Their ears are more capable to pick up frequencies that are normally left unheard, and thus an entire range of their language is nonsense to most.

With the expansion of their horizons, and into the galaxy, they’ve been learning to speak with more concrete noises and sounds so imitate Galactic Common language. They speak with broken sentences and a heavy accent, and struggle not to roll certain letters such as “R” and “L”, often times switching “S” sounds to “Th” sounds and vice versa.

Their written language is completely different, using iconography carved into large stones as territory markers, and symbols for mathematics, keeping inventory on everything and making sure nothing is askew is a major part of Clan survival.

Magic:

The ancient Sun Mice were adept magicsmiths, creating and weaving magic from seemingly nowhere. Over generations, and the disappearance of their technology in the vast deserts, their magic became more domestic oriented, or manifested in passive ways. Most using magic in the weaving of their highly valued fabrics and other textiles, giving their cloth supernatural abilities.

Religion:

Due to their harsh living arrangements, Sun Mice had, early on, begun to worship their Sun, and the heat and the dryness of their hostile homeworld. They even took His name for their kind. Their worship has extended from simply Sun, but to Mountain, and Desert, and Warmth, and Night, and Starlight, and Home.

   -          Sun was described as a stocky and tall Sun Mouse, the palest, the tallest. He was the deity of Daylight and Hardwork. He was The First of all the Gods. His brother is Night.

   -          Mountain was an old female Sun Mouse, dark and unmovable. She was the deity of Challenges, Wit and Craftmanship.

   -          Desert was a thin and small Sun Mouse, young and vibrant, lightly colored with dark spotting. He was the deity of a Quick and Successful Hunt. He was the son of Sun and Warmth.

   -          Warmth was described as a brown Sun Mouse, tall and motherly, with Wide ears. She was the deity of Motherhood and Bounty.

   -          Night was the darkest and most secret of the Gods. Tall and thin and nearly ethereal, Night was the deity of Magic, Secrets, and Rest. He brings calm to the day and shrouds the world in a cooling blanket. A respite to the hot days. He was the second of the Gods. His brother is Sun.

   -          Starlight is a small child compared to the rest, She is described as very short and very unimposing. She is the Deity of Openness, Children, and Creativity. She is the young daughter of Night and Warmth.

   -          Home is the final resting place, beyond Night and Starlight. The stories say that a Sun Mouse’s journey Home begins where they end, in the desert, and they wander and wander until they find the End. Paradise, a bright, shimmering Oasis nestled in the farthest mountains that seem an endless expanse away.

Most Sun Mice households worship Sun and Night exclusively, since they are the beginning and the most important to day-to-day modern life.

Politics:

Sun Mice utilize Shamans as their leaders, both spiritually and politically. They can have a single person and their family in power for generations. Leaders are chosen based upon the Moon pattern, or as close to it as is available.

Sun Mice that exhibit the Moon gene are considered blessed by Night, and therefore more in-tune with the universe and her Concepts. They are unanimously put in a seat of power when they come of age, and their family will stay in power until the Moon gene is no longer present. Then they will put even a dark brown Sun Mouse in power until a Moon appears.

If no Moon gene appears, then the Clan’s packs will sometimes turn on each other, some turning into an all out bloodbath. Surviving members will then move on, and home that another Clan would accept them. Some fall victim to the desert, some would fall victim to the wandering automatons, some would be brutalized by other clans. Most do not survive the ordeal.

Moon’s are also said to be powerful mages, seeming to pull Concepts in many directions, manipulating and Willing the universe around them. They often live very lavish lives, being doted upon and kept safe from the harsh Sun.

Technology:

Formerly, the Sun Mice had been experienced engineers and even achieved space travel, but due to overpopulation and diminishing resources, most of their technological advances fell to the side, as the fight for the species survival was fought home-side.

Several, entire, Clans had immigrated to many sustainable planets, modern descendants of those Sun Mice may have completely abandoned their ancestors’ Religion and opted for their new planet’s.

Now, the uninhabited wastes are home to lurching, uncontrolled robots, damaged and infused with the mage-tech that had initially started them, looking for their creators who had perished thousands of years ago.

Medicine:

Medically, Sun Mice are immune to a great deal of toxic hazards which are present in their environment, such as poisonous beetles, and venomous scorpions. And they use a combination of Anti-toxins and resin from the shrubland plant to make most medicines.

Threats:

Beyond the above mentioned, another large threat, which keeps the Sun Mice alert is something called The Kraekao Eagle, an extremely large avian with a wingspan of over 4 meters. They are rare, and mostly a problem for Clans in the deep-desert, away from water sources and mountains, but they have been known to fly even further for a tastier meal.

When a Kraekao cry is heard on the wind, a Sun Mouse’s first instinct is to swiftly bury itself in the sand, entire Clans will do this in unison, leaving shops untended and their settlement seemingly lifeless. The lighter colored Sun Mice would be very thankful for their pale genes as they have a much easier time hiding.

Dark colored Sun Mice are most at risk during these attacks, as they are the most visible. But, given their unique ability to Manipulate the Universe and her Concepts, can trick the eagle into believing they are not there, by rendering the light around them stiff, and seeming like a flat shadow. Or Willing a stiff breeze to steer the bird away.

Before the Sun Mice nearly died off, and their population was large, Hunting Troupes would band together and hunt down Kraekao for sport and food, leading the Bird to become endangered. DISCLAIMER: You are not allowed to make your own.

#kunoichi draws #original species #Original Species :Sun Mice #Closed species #Long post #Ratchet and Clank