#technically not but similar circle for reach

[sisterstims]

nameless producer (source)

#♟ #tw flash #tw flashing #tw eye strain #tw motion sickness #tw glitching #animecore #webcore #flash warning #flashing images #fast gif #vocaloid #technically not but similar circle for reach

[mollysunder]

Lunari Heritage in Zaun

This is gonna be a reach, but from the little we've seen of Vi and Jinx's mom and younger Silco, I'd guess they were both from the same ethnic group.

In a place like Zaun, where the people are left with scraps, any piece of jewelry sticks out. Vi's mom and Silco are both wearing similar pieces of jewelry. Silco's bracelet could likely be fitted as a necklace since it twice wraps over his wrist. Neither are wearing anything of high quality, but the necklace and bracelet in their respective pictures seem decently maintained if not worn. That's when I thought, these are probably heirlooms.

In fact they looked pretty similar too, but in smaller scale of the princess's own pendants. I wouldn't bring this up if it weren't for the fact that Piltovans prioritize elaborate art-deco aesthetics, the more elaborately geometric the better (Councilor Shoola). So you would assume even the simplest jewelry would be a square pendant or a straight line. But no, big plain circles, and then I remembered we saw that before, on the princess Ambessa killed. Big bronze circles.

And when we look at young Vi , you notice that she's wearing jewelry too. A simple necklace with a green (it looks green) gem. And I realized that the princess's necklace was also adorned green gems.

I'm pulling from scraps, but it's interesting that small things these Zaunites have to adorn themselves (though not for long with the time skips) are similar versions if not simpler version's of the princess's.

At first I thought this meant that many of the cast were actually of Ionian descent. But then in the Princess's scene a thought kept coming back to me, "Why is Mel wearing purple?". Mel, a skilled diplomat from a young age, typically wears the main colors of the nations she hosts and is hosted by. White for Piltover, Black for Noxus (Ambessa), and always with her signature accents of gold. So if Mel followed her mother to Ionia ,where green is a culturally significant color, why purple? It's because Mel and Ambessa weren't in Ionia, they were in Targon fighting the Lunari.

The Lunari are Rakkor tribal people in the Targonian region who worship the moon, and are persecuted for it by the Solari, the religious order that worships the sun. While technically Mt. Targon is influenced by Mt. Olympus and Greek mythology aesthetic, that's more the case for the Solari. Overtime the Lunari aesthetic has been mixed it's originally nomadic culture with East Asian influences. The prominent colors of the Lunari happen to be turquoise, silver, black and purple. It was such a little thing to remember but it made me see connections I hadn't thought about.

Suddenly everything starts to connect. The bronze coins represent the 3 moons that exist in Arcane's Runeterra. How do we know there are 3 moons, because the Valdiani piece Jinx stole was depicting their planet. In the Valdiani there are 3 orbits circling the Earth, meaning 3 moons (or satelites). Now the engraving on the gold of the princess's necklace makes sense, because it's supposed to resemble the gates at the peak of Mt. Targon. The pendant itself is shaped like the mountain with the gates fitted at the top.

Frankly, it works for the Princess to have been Lunari and waves of descendants of the Lunari to arrive in Piltover and end up in Zaun. In Arcane, Piltover was created as a safe haven to escape the Rune Wars 200 years from the start of the show. Even after the Rune Wars ended the shipping port has likely seen waves of migrant labor and refugees from the ongoing crisis that occur in Runeterra (*cough*Noxus*cough*). It's likely that many of the current generation of Zaunites are of mixed heritage of the various fleeing people's.

It creates a whole new dynamic of the ways in which Piltover's laws, their Ethos, strips the people of Zaun from their identity and reducing them to tools for the mines. Magic is inherently a part of religious ceremonies and religion in general in Runeterra, especially for the Lunari. How do you practice your religion in a place that has banned the means by which it's conducted? There must have been more people like the Lunari who didn't have a problem with their magic, their problem was that they were being persecuted.

The remnants of family keepsakes brought over as communities fled were clung to as best as possible especially as they had to let go of part their spiritual identity. But even that doesn't seem to have lasted either. Vi doesn't keep her necklace, her mother is dead, so lost is her necklace, and we never see Silco wear his bracelet. They could have been stolen, or at best, hidden for safe keeping, maybe Enforcers get suspicious at the hint of mysticism and suddenly they want to talk.

Finally, maybe a little less related, it is interesting how prominent Piltovans and Zaunites take on day and night aspects. The sun shines over Piltover at their best, begins to set at times of uncertainty. While in the cover of night with moon above, the strongest Zaunites strike hardest. One more thing, it is interesting how Arcane's Jinx has taken on darker tones of purple rather than stick with neon pink. I always have to go back and look at a reference to remember that her pants are purple-er than I recall.

Update: I wanted to include that the large doodle Jinx made on her cup actually looks similar to the Lunari's sigil. And the sigil remains on the cup into the timeskip, also the center moon is made smaller within the crescent like in the necklace. I also noticed Jinx's cup later has more violent bomb imagery around it.

#arcane #lunari #zaun #silco #vi arcane #jinx arcane #mel medarda #there's a lot to think about #for everyone including mel #piltover #arcane theory #arcane meta #arcane speculation

[ghostingaces]

We Need To Talk About Glass | 141 x Reader/Oc

Synopsis; There’s something not right about the rookie

Warnings; vague horror themes and foul language

Notes; Glass is technically an oc but I don’t mention a name or physical description in this, even though she has one, is because this is kind of like a screen test for her. The only description so far is she's tall, Irish, and has plale eyes. This au is also inspired by this and this which I absolutely adore. This is my first piece of writing on this site so I hope you enjoy.

Its also only Price and Ghost for now. It’s a bit rough. Part Two here.

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━ 一

Most of the file before him was blacked out.

Rows upon rows of dark lines stared back at him as he flickered through the manilla folder, crime scene like photos of bloodshed tacked to pages after pages of mission reports. Occasionally the repetitive drivel would be interrupted by a disciplinary report, but those were drowned out with commendations.

“No picture?” Prime hummed as he flipped back to the first page.

“No Sir” The Irish Ranger in front of him answers. He's a tall man, bald with keen green eyes, and the rookies former CO. Lieutenant Byrne. A respectable and very capable man. A man who’s knuckles had been bone white on the file when he handed it over, green gaze refusing to flicker over the pictures he had probably seen dozens of times already. He had probably lived through several.

Price cast his gaze back down to the first page of the rookies file. Her name was simple and easy to remember, but distinct enough to suit her stature. He read it twice again just to make sure that it stuck though.

 He rubbed his eyes as an uncomfortable itch overtook them.

“Infiltration, demolitions, interrogation, guerrilla warfare..., Jack of all trades aren't you...” He read over the callsign inscribed on the page “Glass”

The figure in the corner nodded. A scratchy voice echoed from behind the balaclava “Yes sir”

He had barley noticed the woman when she had walked into the briefing room behind Lieutenant Byrne. Draped in all black and of a similar stature to the man, she had seemed more of a shadow then person. By the time Price had realised she wasn't just an apparition, she had retreated into the dark like she belonged there. 

“Before you're cleared for active duty you'll run some sims with the team” He explained. He settled his gaze on where he thought her eyes would be but could only see the shimmer of something staring back at him.

“Yes Sir”

“Even after that you won't be let out on the field for a while, not until you sim scores are perfect. Any objections?”

“No Sir”

“I expect perfection for my team, no room for mistakes.” Price stood from his desk and circled it slowly so he could sit closer to Glass (what was her name again?) and stare into the depths of the shadows that covered her “Understood”

There was what he perceived as a nod “Yes Sir”

“Good.” He grunted before reaching out to the other ranger for a grateful handshake “Lieutenant Byrne, thank you for the introduction but I can take it from here”

“Of course Sir” The irishman smiled aloofly has he shook the captains hand, grip firm, before stepping back closer to the woman “I’ll be out of you hair by the morning.”

Captain Price nodded with an amicable smile and watched as Byrne stepped closer to the woman who had moved to face him. They spoke in hushed voices, a flush of cold sweat gathering across the mans bald head, and what sounds like him snapping out a small ‘behave’ bounced around the room before he moved briskly to the door.  It open with a scream of rusted hinges.

“Good luck Sir” Lieutenant Byrne smile tightly and shut the door behind him.

Good luck?

Price watched him go, head turned towards the door, before looking back to Glass.

She was closer than before.

A lot closer.

He could make out the structure of sharp bones under the black balaclava, high cheeks and an almost roman nose, as well as tired pale eyes that seemed to look perpetually glassy. He looked away when the itch returned. John huffed, callused hands rubbing his eyes softly, and watched in his peripheral is Glass continued to stare.

When the ache subsided, he offered a hand to shake “Welcome to the 141″

The corners of her eye crinkled every so slightly and he caught what looked like a smile in her dead eyes “Happy to be here Sir”

He could feel the ice of her skin through her gloves when they shook hands. Something distinctly wrong settled in his chest as he stared into her almost fake looking eyes. (Iris too glass like, pupils to much like a void)

What was her name again?

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━ 一

There was something wrong with Glass.

Something almost artificial, something uneven in the way she walked. Something doll like in the way she turned her head.

Ghost, the paranoid man that he was, noticed it first.

Noticed the lights that flickered when she walked into the room, a figure that wasn't her appearing in the shadow, before the bulbs would return to their usual florescent glow. The woman didn't seem to notice (or she didn't care) and was content to to carry on with her day. Ghosts eyes would follow her though, catching her gaze in the mirror she walked past. (He knew for a fact all the mirrors in her room were covered)

Her reflection would linger a moment while her body walked on.

Every instance of wrongness was so quick.

Too quick, like she was teasing him. 

Daring him to say something.

He never told anyone he saw it happen

She made attempts to be normal. Well versed on most topics, she held up conversation easily (if you could ignore you own voice echoing back at you occasionally) but her gaze seemed to pierce through you. Glassy. Fake. Eyes more lifeless than the taxidermy deer head his father hung above the mantle.

He’d watch her for the rest of the day. 

He'd watch as she stalked from room to room, lingering in the back, ghoulishly pale eyes fixated on the people that milled about, as if waiting on one to walk off alone so she could follow. Stalking like a predator, like something hungry. 

People had been going MIA recently 

He’d never seen her eat, never drink, never seen a sliver of skin that wasn't the greasepaint covered flesh around her eyes. Hands constantly bound in leather gloves, tall body locked away in layers of black fabric and body armour. However, in spite of the heavy boots she wore, her steps were basically soundless. She moved like smoke.

“Keep sneaking up on me and I might shoot you” He had snapped one day, tone playful but a genuine threat thinly veiled in his words. He wasn't comfortable with her at his back, not with the knife always on her belt.

Glass has simply laughed, the sound as grating as nails on a chalk board, before she slinked off to to bother Soap or linger in Prices shadow, knife hilt glittering like polished gold.

A Celtic cross was carved into the handle.

A similar gold one hung from a thin chain around her neck, weathered with age and handling, but meticulously cared for.

Soap had asked is she believed in God when he first saw it dangling around her throat, polished gold blindingly vibrant against the blood and black of her tac vest. The chain was short which made the sigil sit right on her breastbone, right above rows of magazines waiting to be used.

Glass had chuckled hoarsely, like she thought having faith in something was more of a desperate joke more than anything else, before spinning a painful vague story about a grandmother and family heirlooms.

Ghost new many people in the service who believed in one god or another, he knew how important it was in a job like this to have something to hold onto to ground yourself when the bullets started flying and bodies dropped around you. Knew it was better to have anything than to let horror of the job eat you alive.

But Glass?

He knew no god could help that creature.

#call of duty fanfic #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mctavish x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #141 x reader #call of duty original character #Cod oc; Glass #Glass tag #shattered tag #call of duty oc #cod oc

[pitinthelanepages]

me gustas tu

summary: juan likes airplanes but he likes you more. based on the song 'me gustas tu' by manu chao.

pairing: juan manuel correa x reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: warning! smut, fluff and a bit of angst

a/n: i have been working on this oneshot for the past 7 to 8 hours. please show this lots of love! asks or comments are really appreciated. love you all!

Me gustan los aviones, me gustas tú (I like airplanes, I like you)

More often than not, people harbour a fear of airplanes, even if they claim they don’t. For some people, the lack of control that they have on the plane and the lack of understanding that they have on the technical aspects of flying plays a big part. For other people, it’s the fear of height or enclosed places that plays the part. As for Juan, it’s quite different. 

As he looks out the window of the plane he is in, he finds himself absolutely captivated at the sight of it soaring through the white fluffy clouds. People often do not see the positives of being on a plane, but he does. There's something breathtaking about being thousands of feet up in the air, watching the world below him pass by him just like that. He feels a sheer sense of freedom wash over him, making him feel freer than ever. 

He turns to look at you, who's dozing in the seat next to him, accompanying him to one of the races after finally being to take time off from your work. He finds his eyes trailing across your features. From the curve of your jawline to the way your lashes touch your cheeks, from the blush that takes over your skin due to the air blasting from the air conditioner above you to the delicate slope of your nose. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight, as if he is falling in love with you all over again.  

He thinks of how lucky he is to have you, how you make him feel free and happy in a way that no airplane ever could. And yet, there's a strange similarity between the two of you. Both airplanes and you have the power to take his breath away, make him feel free, give him a different perspective of life, show him the world in a new light and make him appreciate experiences he never did before. 

He reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, and you stir, eyes fluttering open.

"Hey," you say, voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," Juan replies, his soft gaze boring into yours. "I was just thinking about something."

You rest your jaw on your palm, facing his side. “Hmm? What is it that you’re thinking about?”

“I was thinking about how much I like planes.” He answers, completely facing you this time. 

You chuckle but can’t help but let the confusion take over your face as your brows furrow. “Huh? Where is this coming from?”

“I was just thinking about what I like, you know?” He adds, sighing before clasping your smaller hand into his. He begins to draw circles on it, sending shivers down your spine.

You feel like teasing him. “Hmm, I see… so you like planes more than me?” 

Juan shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. "No, no. I like planes, sure. But I like you more."

A smile takes over your face as you reach out to take his hand with your free hand. “I like planes, too,” you say. "But I like you more, as well."

Juan feels a rush of warmth spread through his body, and he leans in to cushion your soft lips with his. The kiss is soft, sweet, full of tenderness and affection. He knows that there are many more flights in his future, many more journeys to take and new horizons to explore. But as long as he's with you, he knows he'll always feel like he's flying.

Me gusta viajar, me gustas tú (I like to travel, I like you)

Both of your careers took over your life more often than not. You having a demanding job in the field of public relations whereas him having to train during free time when he wasn’t racing didn’t help his case either. However, when you two finally had time to spend with each other without having to stress over work, Juan insisted on travelling. So you did. You didn’t think much before planning a trip to Budapest. 

That is how you found yourself with your boyfriend, hand in hand, walking through the streets of the city that has people in awe. It isn’t any different for the two of you. Both of you are gaping, as you take in the breathtaking architecture and vibrant energy of the city. The streets bustling with ordinary people and countless tourists like you. 

As you walk, you can't help but admire the grand buildings that surround you, each one more beautiful than the other. The intricate details of the historic buildings, with their colourful facades and elegant balconies, leaving you speechless. 

Juan squeezes your hand tightly, as if he can feel your amazement. He chuckles at you before pointing out some of the city's most iconic landmarks, like the majestic Parliament Building and the ornate Fisherman's Bastion.

As you two cross the Danube River on the Chain Bridge, you feel a sense of wonder wash over you. The stunning views of the city from the bridge are unlike anything you have ever seen before. Your clasped hand, though smaller, squeezes his every time you felt a jolt of excitement pass through your veins at the sight you are witnessing before you. 

Juan feels his heart beat faster as he looks at you. He notices the way your eyes light up the entire time with excitement and wonder as you walk through the beautiful streets of Budapest. The warmth of your hand in his fills him with a sense of comfort and happiness that he has never known before.

As he takes in the breathtaking architecture around you, he can't help but feel that it pales in comparison to the beauty of the woman beside him. He begins to think of the time you moved to a new country just to support him in his dreams of becoming an F2 driver, leaving your stable job with much higher pay behind, just for him. He thinks of how you took in loads of work home and worked overtime whenever you could just so you could take time off to travel with him to races he felt more anxious about. He remembers all the late nights and early mornings you spent by his side, cheering him on and helping him train when he felt like giving up.

Juan's chest tightens as his mind drifts more and more into everything you have done, just for him. He knows that he wouldn't be where he is today without your unwavering support and love. He thinks about all the moments you have shared together, the highs and the lows, and how you have been there for him through it all.

As he tugs your hand and pulls you close, he feels a wave of emotion take over him. He looks into your eyes and feels his heart swell with love and gratitude. He knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, exploring new places and experiencing all the beauty the world has to offer, together.

"I like travelling," he whispers, his voice filled with passion and sincerity. "But I like you more than any city in the world. No matter how beautiful it is." With that, he pulls you in for a tender kiss, his hand slowly cascading from the nape of your neck to your back and finally to your waist. From the point of view of a passerby, both of you sharing a passionate kiss in the middle of a city as beautiful as Budapest, is a sight to behold.

Me gusta la mañana, me gustas tú (I like the morning, I like you)

Me gusta el viento, me gustas tú (I like the wind, I like you)

Juan and you are woken up by the sound of wind howling outside. The gusts of air passing through the open window causes your hair to fly about and land on Juan's face. Juan instinctively wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. "Good morning, beautiful." Juan whispers.

"Good morning.” You reply, sleepily. You snuggle into Juan's embrace, savouring the warmth and safety you feel in his arms. Juan's strong arms wrap around you, and you feel secure and loved. 

The wind outside intensifies, causing you to shiver. Juan tightens his grip on you, rubbing your back to warm you up. "Are you cold?" he asks, concern laced in his voice.

"A little," you reply, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

Juan pulls the blankets up over you, covering you both and trapping in your body heat. "Better?" he asks, grinning.

You nod, smiling back at him. "Much better."

As you lay there, wrapped up in each other's embrace, he leans down, softly pressing a kiss on your forehead. "I love you," he whispers, his husky voice filled with tenderness.

You blush, feeling a surge of warmth spread through your body. You tilt your head up to look at him, meeting his gaze as he leans in to press his lips gently against yours. 

You feel Juan's hand run through your hair, cradling your head to deepen the kiss. You respond to him, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair as you pull him closer. As the gentle kiss turns into a tug of war as he tugs at your bottom lip harshly, you feel one of his hands untangle from your hair and move to your waist, where he grazes his fingers softly yet intense enough to cause you to jerk in his embrace as it tickles. 

Your breath hitches at his action. “What are you doing?” you gasp, pulling away, the lack of air causing your chest to heave up and down faster, trying to catch up on it. 

“What do you think I am doing?” He asks, not answering the question, seeming intent on teasing you as you witness a smirk taking over his face. 

You roll your eyes. “It’s ticklish.”

“Well, that’s the point.” He whispers and before you could respond, he pulls you into his lap. Your front pressing onto his. You could feel his heartbeat against yours. His hands trail on your back, soft and ticklish, sending goosebumps through your body. 

You run a finger from his chest to the hardness of his abs, his breathing getting ragged in the process but before you could continue any further, he traps your wrists in his and begins to pepper kisses from your jaw down to your neck. Your skin flushes and you find yourself closing your eyes at the sensation, soft sighs leaving your lips. 

His lips soon land between the valley of your breasts and licks it before moving to find your nipples, trapping one between his teeth. You groan at the pain that shoots through your system. He flicks his tongue around one of your nipples, the coldness from being wet making it hard, the pain making it sensitive. He does the same to your other nipple before moving down to your stomach and towards your core.

The moment you feel his warm breath against your core, you know what is about to come. He grips your thighs and rests them on his shoulders, his eyes locking onto yours as he sends you a look that, you’re sure, makes you even wetter. He bites his lips, staring at your core with a look of such concentration that makes you anticipate what’s about to happen more than ever and then, he dives in. He licks a stripe before using two of his fingers to find the soft bud and when he does so, successfully, he doesn’t wait. His mouth encloses in around the bud, making you let out a cry. 

As if something in him is switched on, he is no longer the passionate man he was just a moment ago. His mouth shows no mercy as it ruthlessly sucks into the pits of your core. One of his fingers soon enters you and joins in with the rhythm of his mouth. You begin to feel tears streaming down your face as you gasp more and more loudly for air with time, having a hard time breathing at the lack of mercy he was showing you.

You finally let out a loud cry when you feel the bundle of nerves giving up on you, reaching the point of ecstasy. Hearing a breathy chuckle, you look down and send the man who did this to you, a chuckle. “Very funny.” you huff, rolling your eyes. 

He laughs, looking amused at your annoyance as he climbs back up on the bed like he didn’t just commit an act of sin. He wraps an arm around your frame before bringing you closer to him so he could rest his head on your chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, your hands raking into his hair, feeling his scalp.

He hums at the feeling, eyes closed, looking peaceful as ever. “Going back to sleep?” he murmurs.

“Are you serious?” you poke at him. “I am not done with you.”

He turns his head to face you, his eyes are crinkled with mirth, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You what?” There is a teasing tone in his voice that you could sense.

You furrow your brows in annoyance. “Who do you think you are? What is funny?”

He sits up, giggling that soon turns into a full blown laugh. “Oh my God, baby… I know you are tired. Let’s not lie.”

“So you mean, you are taking a break for me? No way.” You say refusing to back down.

A grin takes over his face. “Yes, absolutely. You got that right.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, a smile too sweet taking over your lips. “You know what? I’m gonna get you.”

“And what are you gonna do?” He challenges, smirking. 

“You underestimate me.” You say, before lunging towards him.

But Juan is quick to dodge your playful attack with a laugh. He jumps out of bed and darts across the room, you being hot on his heels. You chase each other around the room. While you’re struggling with the duvet wrapped around you, he darts out of the room and down the hallway.

You finally catch up to him in the hallway and find yourself collapsing on the floor with him, catching for breath. 

He looks at you, his gaze softening at the sight of you being happy. You raise a brow at him, wondering what’s in his mind.

He shakes his head, smiling. “I like mornings like this, you know? Bright and windy.” 

You hum, agreeing. “It’s beautiful to wake up to such weather.” 

“But, I like you, more.”

Me gusta soñar, me gustas tú (I like to dream, I like you)

Me gusta la mar, me gustas tú (I like the sea, I like you)

Juan stands at the altar, his heart pounding in his chest as he waits for his bride to walk down the aisle. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air-conditioning in the church. He adjusts his tie nervously, his eyes scanning the crowd of guests, but he can't find you. He begins to feel a sense of panic rise in him, but then he catches a glimpse of you in the distance. You’re breathtakingly beautiful, clad in a white gown that flows down to the floor in a soft, elegant cascade. Your hair is styled in loose waves, framing your face perfectly. As you walk towards him, Juan feels a rush of emotion. It's as if time slows down, and all he can focus on is the woman in front of him.

As you reach him, Juan takes your hand and guides you to the altar. He can feel your fingers trembling slightly in his, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. The priest begins the ceremony, but he is barely listening. His mind is lost in the moment, in the way the sunlight is streaming through the stained glass windows, casting a rainbow of colours across the church. He's lost in the way your eyes are fixed on him, full of love and trust. 

When the priest asks Juan to say his vows, he feels his throat tighten. He takes a deep breath and begins to speak. He tells you how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. He promises to always be by your side, to be your partner and best friend. He vows to support you in all your dreams. As he speaks, tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He's never felt so vulnerable and exposed.

Finally, the priest pronounces you husband and wife, and Juan feels a wave of relief wash over him. As you kiss, the room erupts into cheers and applause. 

But then suddenly, the scene fades away to the sound of sea waves crashing onto the shore. He blinks blearily, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. He finds himself on your lap on the beach, and the sound of the waves has become part of his dream. 

He sits up, rubbing his eyes and taking in his surroundings. The waves are gently lapping at both of your feet, and the sun is beginning to set, casting a warm glow across the horizon. He looks over at you, and feels a surge of warmth in his chest. He likes dreaming, but he likes being here with you even more.

"Sorry, I must have dozed off," he says with a sheepish grin.

You laugh and playfully push him away, "You were snoring! I thought you were going to keep me up all night."

Juan's heart races as he finds himself staring at your face, still beautiful even in the sunlight. He realises he likes the sea, but he loves you more. 

¿Qué voy a hacer?, je ne sais pas (What am I going to do?, I don't know)

¿Qué voy a hacer?, je ne sais plus (What am I going to do?, I don't know anymore)

¿Qué voy a hacer?, je suis perdu (What am I going to do?, I’m lost)

Juan sits alone in his apartment, staring blankly at the television. He doesn’t even know what is on the screen, his mind running a million miles with thoughts of the upcoming race. He has been training tirelessly for weeks, leaving him with no time for anything else, including you. 

His apartment is surrounded by silence. He used to love this place, relishing the peace and quiet it offered after a long day of training and racing. But now, the silence is suffocating.

Without you here, the place feels empty. The thought of going to bed alone tonight makes him feel a deep sense of dread that he can't shake off. He's never been one to feel lonely, but now it's all he feels. He knows he has to focus on his training and upcoming races (even though that’s all he has been forcing him to focus on for weeks), but he can't shake the feeling that something is missing.

Juan tries to fill the void with constant training and preparation for the upcoming race that fills him with anxiety, but it's not the same as having you around. The joy he once felt in his sport is now replaced with a feeling of unease. The sound of his car engine revving used to bring him excitement and adrenaline, but now, he doesn’t know what to feel anymore.

He sighs deeply, realising that he has been pushing you away. You have tried to be understanding of his busy schedule, but he knows that he has been distant and unavailable. He misses you terribly but doesn’t know how to balance his passion for racing with his love for you. He knows it’s a terrible habit of his but he can’t help it.

If he is being completely honest, he misses your warmth and your laughter, the way you could brighten up his day. He misses your touch, the way you would rest your head on his shoulder and whisper words of encouragement in his ear. He misses your smell, the way you always smelled like lavender and vanilla.

Juan realises now that he needs you more than he ever thought he would. He can't bear the thought of going through his days without you. The loneliness he feels is too much to handle on his own. He knows he needs to make time for you, to make sure you know just how much you mean to him.

As he sits there alone, the realisation hits him like a ton of bricks. He can't keep living like this, with you being just a distant memory. He needs to find a way to make it work, to balance his love for you with his love for racing. He's not sure how, but he's willing to try.

Juan stands up from his seat, determined to make a change. He'll start by calling you, apologising for his absence and promising to make it up to you. He'll find a way to make time for you, even if it means sacrificing some of his training time. He knows now that you’re worth it.

As he steps out onto the balcony, the sounds of the city start to fill the silence. Juan takes a deep breath, feeling a newfound sense of purpose. He may be an f2 driver, but he's also a man in love. And he's willing to do whatever it takes to keep the love of his life by his side.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 writing #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #f2 fanfic #f2 fic #f2 imagine #f2 writing #juan manuel correa #juan manuel correa x reader

[atamascolily]

Notes on Walpurgisnacht's mandala

I realized something interesting last night - Walpurgisnacht's mandala is drawn in the same style as her countdown signs. It's just difficult to see because normally her body is in the way, but you can clearly make it out in this shot from the "Prologue in Heaven" sequence in episode 1:

For comparison, here is what her countdown signs look like. As you can see, the little circles on the outside with the pattern that reminds me of a peacock's tail are present in both imagines.

The next ring in on the mandala appears to be spirals that could be a stylized 6 or a 9, or a stylized hurricane.

The third ring has something that could be stylized runes--my guess is 'Walpurgisnacht', which the Puella Magi Wiki says is written in the countdown signs--but I have not been able to confirm that yet. And at the center is a stylized flower, from which a dark triangular shadow appears to issue.

(I have so many questions about what is going on in the "Prologue in Heaven" sequence and why it was included in the first place, but we'll leave it at that for now.)

By the way, the technical term for these signs is "film leaders"--they were inserted into the film to give the projectionist time to thread the projector. Once the countdown reaches the end, the film would often switch to a test image known as a "China girl" for color calibration. Is that what we're seeing in the Prologue, and that's why the colors seems to fluctuate for a moment? I don't know, but it's interesting to think about!

You know who else gets countdown signs? Homura! Here's one that the animators added to one of the recap movies immediately after a new scene where she walks through a skeletal forest:

These have the same basic form as Walpurgisnacht's but are not as elaborate, and take the shape of Homura's shield. Note that they also have the similar spiral pattern as the second layer of Walpurgisnacht's mandala, too.

Both Walpurgisnacht and Homura's countdowns also have stuff going on the background--very stylized, ornate drawings that resemble nineteenth-century European engravings. Homura's also has cogs and gears, which are a recurring visual motif, while Walpurgisnacht's includes a star-shaped sigil that looks an awful lot like that of the Law of Cycles (minus the wings at the base):

Here's a version of Homura's countdown from Rebellion, with a better look at the surrounding marks. Unlike Walpurgisnacht's, these are much less elaborate, but the ones at the compass-points take a diamond-shape, just like Homura's soul gem.

Note also that these move in time with the ticking of a clock--this is a time-keeping device, after all.

Just for fun, here's the Law of Cycles version, which combines elements from Walpurgisnacht's mandala with the circus pennants that Walpurgisnacht's familiars use to drag her along in the original series:

The obvious question for me is why Madokami has so many symbolic motifs from Walpurgisnacht--yes, we saw her absorb the witch at the end of the original series, but why use so many of those attributes, especially when Walpurgisnacht herself does not appear in this movie? What exactly is their relationship?

So what does this mean? I mean, I have my own theories, but for now, it's certainly interesting how much Walpurgisnacht and Homura (and Walpurgisnacht and Madokami) have in common, and these are details I hadn't noticed before. It will be interesting to see what, if any of this, is expanded upon in Walpurgis no Kaiten...

#puella magi madoka magica #walpurgis no kaiten #homura akemi #meta

[blondiest]

mello isn't dead: neallo edition

hi! to accompany my rec list mello isn't dead, a small collection of post-kira fics in which mello either survives or comes back from the dead, i am going to list out here the works that i have which fit this criteria <3

my only one, my smoking gun

[part 1 of our love is god]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 4/4 | words: 3.3k

For as long as he can recall, he’s ached over Near. It wasn’t always like this, though; he didn’t realize he wanted Near until it was too late to actually have him. He should be grateful, really, because he’s been able to linger here after death, and that’s more than he deserves, but God, Mello would give anything to kiss him just once.

heaven is a place on earth with you

[part 2 of our love is god]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1.4k

There is no blood or body of Christ, no priest and no pews, but it’s here and now that Mello finally rediscovers a long-lost sliver of faith. Hands on Near’s hips, Mello lowers his face and presses his mouth to Near’s soft abdomen. “I love you,” he murmurs, head bowed and eyes shut as if in prayer.

i know i’m gonna lose you (but god, i don’t want to)

[part 1 of together (always)]

rating: E | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 3.5k

Near’s bedroom— her tidy little suite in her untidy little makeshift headquarters in a high-rise hotel in Tokyo— is lit only by the shine of the city and the glow of the moon. Because the moon is full and because the city is bright, Mello can see her perfectly. Every little hair on her arms and legs catch the light as she sheds her soft, simple bra. The only thing Mello has taken off so far are her gloves. -- In which Mello rings in 2010 with some good old-fashioned lesbian sex and a minor emotional crisis. prequel to it's you and me, that's my whole world.

it’s you and me, that’s my whole world

[part 2 of together (always)]

rating: T | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 3.5k

Once she reaches the first floor and steps out of the elevator, Near hears a voice floating down the hall. It’s a woman’s voice, so it must be Lidner, but the pitch of it and the cadence of speech seems painfully similar to the way Mello talked, even without being able to hear the actual words. The closer she gets, the more it sounds like her dead lover, and Near curses how cruel her mind’s tricks are. She has to grit her teeth and breathe in deep to get herself to push through the door into the main office, feeling almost nauseous with grief again already. A blonde woman in a red winter jacket stands with her back to Near, but she turns when the toy in Near’s hand clatters to the ground. Mello’s eyes are tired, underlined by dark circles, but she grins. “Hey, Near.”

starry eyes sparking up my darkest nights

[part 1 of you got your eyes from the stars]

rating: T | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 930

Near has a nightmare on the flight back to New York after the end of the Kira case; Mello, still tipsy off of the red wine they served in first class, is unexpectedly tender.

fireworks somewhere far away

[part 2 of you got your eyes from the stars]

rating: T | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 2k

It’s the fourth of July. Or, rather, it’s still the fourth of July in the United States, which is where they live, but they’re in Madrid at the moment, so technically where they are it’s the fifth. It’s not hard math to figure out what time it is back home— it’s a little before six in the morning here, so it’ll be a little before midnight in New York. Somewhere on the West Coast or in the Rocky Mountains, though, there are fireworks going off. That’s what Near is thinking when Mello kisses her for the first time.

early arrival

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1.5k

It’s one in the morning and Near is wide awake, talking to Mello in hushed tones as the other passengers sleep soundly around them. According to the small screen on the back of the seat in front of him, they’re more than halfway through the flight, but it’s far from almost-over— it will be another three hours before they touch down in London.

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me

rating: T | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 975

The snow angels are, in all honesty, an excuse, a shameless attempt to get Near alone, to talk with him away from all these fucking people. He didn’t expect so many of their classmates to come back to Wammy’s for the holidays, but maybe he should have— after all, he hates this place, and yet here he is, half-drunk and dragging his ex-rival-turned-ex-something-else out into the cold.

#meronia #my writing

[wombatwisdom]

Thoughts from the Gather Conference

I want to take some time to engage with some of the speakers from the Gather Conference. I do want to share my thoughts with others, but mostly I'm doing this for myself. Also, my thoughts are based on my recollections of speeches I have only heard once and do not have the text to review, so everything is my paraphrasing and interpretation.

-------------------------------------------------

Charlie Bird and Allison Dayton spoke one right after the other on Day 2 of the conference and whether intentional or not, their messages paired nicely.

Charlie's address, entitled "Resolution through the Gospel of Christ" focused mostly on dispelling the myth of having to choose between being a child of God and a member of the LGBTQ+ community. He believes that the idea of needing choose is a lie and one that is held onto by traditional thinking. His call to arms was to actively choose both, be a child of God who is out and proud.

Allison Dayton's speech, entitled "Enlarge the Place of Thy Tent", was focused on reaching out to people in the "wilderness of life" and invite them into our tents. She was clear that the tent in her analogy is not the Church as an institution but rather the personal tent of our lives. She said, quite clearly, that we cannot do much about the church's policies of inclusion, but we can invite everyone into our circles of love regardless.

-------------------------------------------------

Potentially controversial take here, so fair warning.

To the outside observer these talks seem a bit toothless, especially when looked at from an activist lens. Enlarging circles of love and being out and proud children of God on their own seem like harmless and lackluster. If you are looking for monumental change, will either of these acts actually accomplish that?

I'm also not sure Charlie or Allison have alterior motivations here, they may not be actively trying shake things up, but my Machiavellian little soul can help but see something deeper going on here.

The church is often times miles behind when it comes to social change and obvious activism hardly ever results in much more than name calling. True change in the church comes from those in minority groups gradually carving out acceptance and many many many meetings with those in power. And since most of us won't sit in counsils with those in control, we must settle with carving out acceptance.

Here is where Charlie and Allison come in. There is something transgressive in what they are saying while still remaining technically within the doctrines of mormonism.

Charlie's approach feels similar to Harvey Milk's in the 1970's. Milk's philosophy was that everyone should be out in all walks of life to show that "average people" knew someone in the LGBTQ+ community. This was controversial at the time and still is now, but I can see the appeal of this approach. And I personally think there was some success in the normalization of a very specific type of "queer person" in the mainstream.

Charlie's proposal directly confronts the belief that some Mormons hold that the LGBTQ+ community is somehow not part of the Momron community. Or that we shouldn't be. And I do think that being out, at the very least, would force people to recognize we exist and we are unavoidable.

Allison's approach is different but reaches a similar outcome (and can be practiced by Allies and LGBTQ+ folks). By encouraging people to expand their circles of inclusion she is subtly disrupting the status quo in Mormonism. Ultimately she is proposing a grassroots movement, first of love and support, that if grown large enough might force larger change.

-------------------------------------------------

Now again, this is my inference and thoughts. And both of these approaches are very quiet forms of activism that don't ask for very much and deliberately indirect. This is, if it is anything, the long game.

I think I wanted to share this because often this type of advocacy is either dismissed entirely by critics or is easily missed by those looking for it as the advocacy is implied rather than stated.

At the end of the day, advocacy in this space is controversial, difficult, and messy. And while imperfect--i think that there is at least hope to be had. Because even if change doesn't come, Charlie's and Allison's visions will still be vital in building community which is always needed.

#gather conference 2023 #queerstake #long post

[vukovich]

It is technically time to open Peculiar Prompts to celebrate a milestone... but... I decided to prompt myself. So here we go.

--

Pret, prat. Tallywhack.

It was fencing practice again, one of Harry's more loathed cross-training exercises for duelling. At least with the boxing, Robards let them land real hits. The worst, though, was Turkish oil wrestling, because the only other Auror in Harry's weight class was Draco "Good Show Today" Malfoy.

Plenty of other guys got boners during those training sessions, but Harry was pretty sure he was the only one who'd ever surreptitiously blown his load in his pants. At least he hoped he'd done it with some measure of surreptition. Surrepition? Surrep... Syrup... tits... on...?

Anyway.

Fencing was still plenty irritating. He ended up paired with Malfoy half the time, which was bullshit, because Malfoy had started formal training with a sword when he was four.

Harry danced on his toes, dodged what he thought was the whipping tip of Malfoy's foil, realised he'd been faked, and got slapped in the ribs.

"Point!" Malfoy spat. He reset his stance, glancing behind himself at the wall. It was covered in dark blue padded mats.

"Come off the wall," Harry said, and took a step to the side to square up across the centre mark. "You always do that."

Malfoy just shrugged and stayed stubbornly in place.

"Why do you do that?" Harry asked.

"Even things out for you, Potter. Lord knows you've never challenged me when my back wasn't to the wall." He held his foil aloft, the point aimed at Harry's face. "Hate to break the streak for you. It'd be sporting of me to add a sink, really. Maybe a snivelling ghost for ambiance."

"Oh, that is it!" Harry spun to the side, lifted his foil to his shoulder like a javelin, and hurtled it at Malfoy.

Harry had a split second of horror, because neither of them could reach their wands faster than the airborne sword would meet Draco's face.

It flew, its middle wobbling and warbling, until it slammed tip-first into the wall behind Malfoy's ear. Padding puffed out of the wall like a spit take. The middle of the blade sang like a struck saw, and the handle swung in a lazy circle.

The metal and leather handle tapped against the meat of Malfoy's shoulder, then wavered its way up his face. Slowly, as the blade settled, the handle worked out a slow, ambling path up the side of Draco's cheek, then back down.

"Red card, Potter." He clicked his tongue twice. "Red card, indeed."

An embarrassed flush raced up Harry's neck, not only at having lost his temper so easily, but also... mostly... because the handle and pommel of his foil were similar in size and shape to his cock. And so the sight of it lazily stroking Malfoy's cheek, as if was working up the courage to slip between his lips, was just rather blush-worthy.

"Malfoy, I- I'm-" Harry stammered.

"No need," Malfoy said, soft and low. He leaned his cheek against the bobbing handle, holding it still. "Not the first time you've blown it in this gym, is it?"

Malfoy's voice was a purr. He let the handle of the foil come to rest against the hollow of his cheekbone. Harry's entire body ran hot.

Malfoy turned slowly, offering his lips to the handle of Harry's foil, to leather strapping still wet with the sweat of his palm. His lush, pink lips pressed against it, and Harry gasped.

"You're a rather poor performer in nearly every exercise," Draco said, briefly pulling his lips from the leather, as if he'd only grudgingly come up for air.

Harry's words lost speed in the back of his throat. "I am not," he said weakly.

Malfoy hummed, and the foil's blade shivered. So did Harry.

"I-" Harry started. "I beat you in tennis last week. Forty-love, even."

Malfoy hummed again. Harry let out a little moan, but Draco didn't seem to notice. "I was playing wrong-handed for a bit of sport."

Harry thought about it for a moment. Malfoy had served out wide that day. "You bastard."

Malfoy's smirk turned into a grin, and he ran his stretched lips gently against the handle. Harry watched as his face softened, first, his cheeks, then his eyes, and then his lips tenderly grazed the leather.

"There are other games," he said, quietly enough that only Harry could hear. "Better games." He dragged his lips down, down, until they grazed the bulge of the pommel. "To see who's the bigger man."

Harry's voiced exhalation of "Yeah?" meant 'Please' in every language.

The tip of Malfoy's tongue slipped out between his teeth, and he caught Harry looking. He smirked, pulled it back in, and let his lips spread around the side of the pommel. Harry gaped at him, slack-jawed, wide-eyed, and pants straining.

Malfoy's teeth showed, and he let the warm, damp leather lodge between them. Sharp, sharp teeth, the handle caught in them like a bridle bit. Malfoy's jaw tensed, and Harry gasped. His hand darted to protect his groin, but his other hand caught it mid-transit, making him look at ease, but suddenly.

Malfoy bit into the leather just enough to make a mark, then eased the handle from his mouth. "Don't worry, Potter. Bite inhibition is a part of good breeding."

Harry stammered three different replies, then gave up.

Malfoy plucked the foil from the wall and carried it to Harry. His eyes flicked to the locker room, then back to Harry, then back to the locker room.

"En-garde?" Malfoy asked, stepping closer.

Harry didn't have a reply beyond his thundering heartbeat.

Malfoy licked his lips, standing toe to to with Harry, but a half-head taller. Like a challenge issued, he said, "Pret."

Harry glanced at the restroom door. His chest was heaving, but he tried to hide it. He could make it to the showers. He could run that fast. He could make it past the sinks, around the corner. He wasn't faster than Malfoy, but he was more nimble, and-

Malfoy leaned down to his ear, snapped his teeth, and hissed, "Allez!"

And Harry ran.

--

#peculiar prompts #drarry #fencing

[chromiusmixin]

{First Awakening || Sweet Cap’n Cakes fic}

{Characters -> Chromius, Axion (Writers’ OCs)}

{A glance into Chromius’ earliest days, just after being constructed by the computiran, Axion.}

====================

In the midst of a laboratory with clean, snow-white walls, decoured in neon-blue lights, the droning sounds of machinery, and the sound of a set of speakers pumping out lo-fi music…

A computiran dressed in a white lab jacket is wrapping up construction of his latest commission work. A curiously-designed musical bot with a focus on hexagonal shapes, decorated effectively head to toe with LED lights, even going as far to span the entirety of its legs. For its vision, a high-spec camera lens smack in the middle of the speaker rim, capable of near-gigapixel resolution and equipped with augmented reality integration.

Securing one last plate of metal into the bot’s chassis, and slipping in some additional small metal pieces into the screw slots to prevent them being accessed at will without special tools…

“...Finished at last. A whole two weeks worth, and edging close to three. The requested files have been transferred, your cooling system is confirmed working, and debugging hardware says you’re ready to go, bud.” The computiran muses to himself than anything, given the construct’s powered-off state. There was only one thing to do now, and its life would begin. The computiran reaches for a gray remote with some backlit buttons and a built-in microphone, placing his thumb onto a speaker button, and through this…

“Chromius, power on.” The computiran speaks, remote held just a bit away from his face. Soon, the low whirring of fans, and the light sloshing of water through an internal liquid cooling system. The LEDs decorating the rim of Chromius’ speaker head soon light up white, circling around and around, in similar manner to some computer loading icons. Then, their lights dim out once more for a short moment, and before anything else can be said- the bot sits up on their own, lights shifting to a full rainbow palette. They move their head around, examining the sights in their immediate vision. Then a few twists of their feet, and self-examining their hands.

Then, the bot sees the computiran in front of them, becoming almost as still as a statue, conveying a blank slate more than a proper emotion. Before the computiran can inquire on anything however, he finds himself halted as the bot speaks.

“Hello. Who are you? Where am I?” The bot inquires, leaning in just a bit to get a closer look at he who has constructed them, much as it’s against their knowledge for now. The computiran draws a smile onto his monitor, nodding. There seems to be no error, as far as he’s concerned. Chromius has awakened without issue, life bestowed upon them proper.

“...I would say ‘hello’ in return. I am Axion, a computiran. You sit upon my work desk in my laboratory, where life is given to each and every construct I create. You are my latest construct, a musical bot with great potential. May you recall your name to me, then?”

And much in line with Axion’s expectation, the musical bot would respond in proper, placing a hand on their chest.

“Chromius. You’re Axion, and this is your laboratory, as you said.” Chromius responds. To Axion, Chromius seems to be about on-pace with most of his other constructs. A bit unnatural sounding on the get-go, but within time, he’s certain the bot will come to develop a personality proper. Ambitions, goals, desires, and a passion for all things good- just like with his other works, he’s got hope in Chromius.

“Indeed. Correct on all three answers. Can you leap off the desk you’re sitting on?” Axion asks of Chromius, taking some steps away from the desk. Seems now they’re being tested, slow and steady being Axion’s approach.

“This is to test your movement systems on a basic level. This should require no effort, I promise. If you can make it over here, then there shouldn’t be any technical problems, and we can continue on.”

Leaning down to see the floor below them, and scooting themself just to the edge of the desk, Chromius hops off with little effort, landing on the ground just fine. Rather than taking the next step with a simple walk however, Chromius opts for a speed-walk instead. This pleases Axion, whose display now draws a checkmark.

“You’ve already got the hang of this, then. You’re catching on at an above average rate. I can see it then, I believe you may have a lot going for you, Chromius.” Axion speaks, expression returning to a smile with closed eyes, as he gives the musical bot a nod. In response, Chromius displays a full set of green lights- seems they’re happy aswell!

“You said we’d continue after this, right? What are we doing next?” Chromius inquires, returning Axion to the subject matter at hand. He scuttles over to his right just a bit, retrieving a clipboard with his usual checklist for fresh-off-the-table constructs.

“Well, we’ve evaluated that your core vital systems are functional. You’ve shown to perform above average as well, most of my other constructs aren’t usually quick to get a move on,” Axion chuckles at the idea. Logically, it runs through his mind that Chromius might be his finest work yet- and given circumstances, he would hope so.

“So I’d ask you some questions to get to know you more. If you could entertain yourself with whatever you’d like, right now, what would you choose?” Axion inquires, ready to write down the bot’s answer. Chromius’ lights shift yellow, ready to answer full steam ahead!

“Let’s watch a lighthearted action film!” Chromius speaks in a beaming manner, prompting Axion to quite literally draw forth a smile onto his face, with another light chuckle.

“Good enough, we’ll stop with the one question for now. To the entertainment center, then.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

Axion log - “Chromius, Day 1”

Chromius is coming around rather quickly. Within the first hour, a fairly neutral personality with no real identifying characteristics to make them stand out. Just the hour and two after, Chromius grew to enjoy action films, usually of the ‘parental guidance’ [PG] age rating. It didn’t take long after before they started to become curious of the other means of entertainment within the room. Before I knew it, I was supervising Chromius around the audio equipment and instruments, the free-use personal computers and the available video game systems. Next thing I knew it, me and Chromius were locked into fierce combat in a high octane racing game, and fun times were had. Inevitably however, my power supply was reaching critical levels, and I had to escort Chromius to their bedroom, whereupon they were quick to get a good night’s rest.

__________

“Chromius, Day 2”

Chromius had woken up rather early today. So much so that the morning sun hadn’t risen, the time of waking was 6:00 AM. Some generations back, musical bots were not designed to feel as broad of a range of feelings as auditorians can, but we’re past those times so as to make living as authentic as it can be for them. Suffice to say, Chromius had also woken up in a less than enthusiastic mood. Sure enough, me and Chromius had a bit of a dispute when I had taken my usual demeanor in regards to the effects of poor sleep hours. This was remedied half an hour later when the two of us paid a visit to the kitchen, whereupon I offered a classic breakfast meal. The meal in question, scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon. Surpassing usual expectation, Chromius suggested I put the eggs and bacon on some slices of bread they had seen. They were insistent on calling it the ‘Sunrise Sandwich.’

Though unorthodox for me to integrate the ability to consume food into a musical bot of such design, they seemed happy to enjoy tasteful delights such as their sandwich. They were even moreso glad to take glasses of water, provided I cooled them using the world’s magic resource. Muse, it’s far too early for me to explain it to them yet. For all of their existence, they had only heard video game background music drowned out by various sounds and the droning ambience of this very establishment.

Speaking of video games, I had introduced them to more mind-oriented brain teasers. As others would call them though, puzzle games. Lucky I was then to have a game that was more a compilation of two games. Two different falling tile puzzle games, one where rows must be filled and one where matching-colored pieces need to be connected to create chain reactions. Chromius caught on at an astounding rate, and was quick to outperform both me and maximum-level artificial intelligences powered by the games. Chromius is truly remarkable.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Then came the third day. Though day two was just about as smooth sailing as the first, despite a slightly less pleasing morning, perhaps that was an omen for hardships to come. Chromius wakes once more, just after the morning sun’s rising at around seven in the morning. For the first time, their mood lights, usually green, yellow or the default rainbow… were instead blue. Chromius just sat there at the edge of their bed for a good ten minutes, arms crossed as they hunch over, looking down. Another two minutes pass before Axion welcomes himself into the musical bot’s room, after which he’s on alert in response to Chromius’ unusual demeanor.

“Chromius, what ails you? You can talk to me.”

No dice. Chromius just turns away, not making the slightest of sounds. Thoughts process within Axion’s mind, and pretty quickly at that, as he formulates possible answers in regards to the current situation. Either way his mind goes though, his next outward move is to sit himself on the edge of Chromius’ bed, next to the bot.

“Chromius, again, what ails you? I must know, it appears to be bothering you quite so, and I’d get to the bottom of resolving this.” Axion persists with getting something out of Chromius, who slowly glances over to Axion, stating something that would confirm the worst has come.

“...I never got to see them. Not even once…” Chromius speaks, dreary as they have ever been in their life up to this point, lifting their legs back onto their bed, assuming fetal position. It would appear Chromius has realized and recalled something within their memory, something that is undoubtedly haunting them more than anything. It’s as Axion feared, much against what he had hoped for his construction. Thus, he comes up with some suggestions that he would hope to use to stir the robot out of their deep emotional chasm.

“Why don’t we try to play another video game? Would you perhaps enjoy watching another…”

Before Axion can finish that second suggestion, or anything else for that matter, Chromius pulls their blanket back onto themself, shifting onto the side facing away from Axion.

“...Not today… I want to be alone.” Chromius requests of Axion, to where the computiran attempts to converse against the idea.

“This is troubling you so, and deeply so. I would try to…” Cut off once again by the musical bot.

“I doubt anything will help. Please leave me alone, Axion.” And before the computiran can try to speak any further words, the lights on Chromius’ speaker rim fades to an off state. Sleep mode before he could get out any other words. Against his dismay, Chromius is taking it much worse than he would have predicted. Yet, despite his pleadings all those weeks ago, he was shut down on alternatives. This was what was asked of him, and he had rolled with it, what may be one of the toughest to deal with decisions he had made in his life.

And both he and Chromius were suffering the consequences.

“...I let them do this, despite the pre-emptive separation it would have implored. They were persistent, and yet, I didn’t push any harder than what I had that day. Chromius… I’m sorry.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

Axion Log - “Chromius, Days 3 - 5”

Chromius has been silent for at least ninety percent of the time elapsed since that encounter, and three fifths of that time spent in sleep mode. The few times Chromius would speak, naught more than short sentences would be parsed through their sound driver. Rarely were they feeling it for a full conversation, let alone any activities, sometimes even opting out of self-care. Though it would be the moral option for Chromius to know their parents in some form, I should have considered this. There’s no doubt about it, I have messed up in neglecting to tell Chromius earlier, and these are the consequences of my negligence.

This is a rare moment in which I have felt significant guilt. Thus, did I try to just drop my shoulder joints just a bit, and converse with Chromius. Not as a tutor or instructor, but a caretaker, with the scientifics and acts of training put aside. If anyone can show Chromius that things are going to be alright, who else for it to be than the one who constructed them?

On Day 5, after sundown, I had invited Chromius over for a harmless movie night, hosted by an animated film. They were unenthused, as fate would have it, thus did I try to strike a conversation and vent their feelings out. They had a lot to say, and seemed to want to express the same tear-drenched sorrow that Auditorians express under great plight. Thus did I do what parental figures would- comforting them, reassuring them, and giving them a much needed hug.

Next I knew it, only ten minutes later did Chromius opt for sleep mode once again, while resting on my side. This is… the most affection I’ve felt for a creation of mine since my duties began.

<><><><><><><><><><>

…Shortly after the journal’s written for the night, Axion sees himself back to the selfsame couch that Chromius had zonked out on, giving himself a night’s reprieve, staying by Chromius’ side. Whatever comforts the other bot in such troublesome times, he would do. What that translated to, was returning the favor and leaning on Chromius’ own side.

It was the least Axion could do, is be there for them.

…

Eventually, dawn breaks, and out of the two bots, Chromius is the first to awaken from sleep, finding that they’ve opted to use Axion’s lap as a pillow. As for Axion? Leaning way back onto the couch, still as a statue. This wouldn’t do though- far as as Chromius was aware, Axion’s a very busy man, and he needed to wake up, and this prompts Chromius into poking him.

“Ugh. I’m up, I’m… hmm. Chromius?” Axion speaks, just a tad confused.

“...O…. Oh. Um… s… sorry… just, thought you had, um… stuff to do…” Chromius speaks, seeming more sheepish than anything. That mattered not though, Axion merely shook his head.

“Not to worry. Today’s an off day, my workspace is closed today. I have some other matters to attend to today, some… you-oriented matters.” Axion speaks, which only served to confuse Chromius. What the heck was that supposed to mean?

“Me oriented? ...Axion, what does that mean.” Well, Chromius had him there. Axion mocks a throat-clearing sound.

“Oh, that is to say, I will be focusing on you today. This whole scenario, I can see it with every transistor of my being. You’re struggling on an emotional level, greatly. I… I mean to apologize about not informing you of your parents’ decision earlier. I didn’t think I could make it come naturally… and, it was the first case of my dealing with such a scenario.”

Chromius’ lights shift blue. Oh, right… the parents. The ones that they never got to see, and they’re now being confronted about it. If they could, they’d shed a few tears, but they just go quiet for a solid minute, before speaking.

“...’Least you said it eventually. Axion… why’d they leave before I ever got to see them? Why would they do that?! What good did that…!” Before Chromius could finish, Axion places a hand onto their left shoulder.

“...I would try to explain their motives. For what little time I knew them… it sounded like they were struggling. Whether or not it was poor foresight, they found themselves unable to coexist with you while also keeping what is to be your home in possession. The last I understood from them before that fateful day, they had placed all your hopes in you, that you would make them proud. They gave up their lives, so that you may have a fighting chance for your own.”

Axion soonafter found himself sitting down, coming down with remorseful guilt. Chromius’ parents can word it like that all they want, and however true it might be- still, he thought there could be another agreed upon option.

“They didn’t want you born into a life of misery. A life with no roof over your head. But…”

In the midst of his words, Chromius sat down next to the computiran, derailing his little dialogue. He glances over, to see Chromius scooted quite close to him.

“...You tried, Axion. I can tell. I’m not gonna kill you over it. If I know a thing from breaking down like I have… I’m sure you get it too.” Chromius sighs, leaning onto Axion. Took the words out of his mouth, he’s left speechless for a good, hard minute before he can come to his next idea. Maybe now was the time Chromius got to see what was outside. Not out of this room- but the building as a whole. If there was a time for Chromius to see the world they inhabit, it was now.

“Chromius,” Axion glances at the musical bot, “Come with me.”

The computiran speaks, once more pushing himself out of his seat, taking Chromius’ left hand before an objection could be made. Just like that, Chromius was being led down a path through the building they had not yet trekked through. Eventually, one last door, and Axion opened it up.

The air of the outside world breezes inward, brushing against the two mechanical beings. Outside, the morning sky that Chromius had never seen before, azure in color. Furthermore, accompanying the sky- an unnatural, green grid pattern slowly scrolling across the skies.

This was it, this was the world Chromius inhabited, and this was their first glance at it. The sky keeps the bot’s attention, their camera-lens eye fixated on the grid pattern spanning down to the far-off horizons.

“...” Silence from Chromius. They could only continue to look at the sky above and beyond, and likewise for the cityscapes far in the distance, and the bits of nature accompanying them.

“...This is the world I inhabit. This is what my parents wanted me to survive in. To live in. To one day live a far-reaching life, even. But…” However, what would’ve come next was interjected by Axion. He had a feeling of what was to come.

“But how?... This is precisely why your parents wanted your very body to be one with great potential. From what I gathered: They wanted a child who has potential to greatly exceed expectations. The best that they could’ve resulted with. I have a feeling you’re quite special, Chromius. You just have to prove to Cyber World that you are what you can potentially be.”

Chromius looks straight ahead, no longer up at the sky above. They’re left to explore their thoughts, and are very much doing so. Axion nods, giving Chromius the time they need, sitting himself down on the grass just off to his side.

…A few minutes pass.

“...Axion. I’ve decided for myself. Maybe my parents cared after all. No- in fact, they did care. I don’t think I can entirely agree with their rationale on how they handled things, but- this is the world they would’ve wanted me to have a good impression from the get-go.” Chromius speaks, now harboring just a bit better the mindset their parents had. A nod from Axion would assure the musical bot that this was the outlook he had hoped to see.

“You’re ready to start your life in earnest then, I take it? Your parents left you a nice home, what they told me. You have the information in your database to take care of basic necessities already, but once I drop you off at home, Chromius… I won’t be readily available anymore. What adventures follow, will be for you to figure out.” Axion details, awaiting Chromius’ answer. A moment to process the thought, and then, an answer.

“...I’m ready, I think. If you and my parents believe in me, then I should believe in myself. I’m a bit scared, but- I think I can make this work.” Chromius confirms. Axion takes this as confirmation, standing up and extending an arm to his creation.

“Well then, this is where your journey really begins. I’ll take you to your home, and no fears. If you need help at any point, I’m usually one call away.” The computiran offers. 

A moment of hesitancy, as Chromius verges on a second though, pulling back an arm, before a determined nod, and taking Axion’s hand.

…Some hours pass. It’s partway into the afternoon before Axion is leading Chromius out of his headquarters, up to his method of transportation. A four-wheeled automobile, or- you could just call it a car. The car is lined with multiple strips of neon lights around the vehicle, multiple exhaust pipes and wheels seemingly made to handle almost any terrain type.

“Open the driver and passenger doors, A-810.” Axion speaks, the car actually following through with his command, much to Chromius’ surprise, who jumps back in shock.

“Be not afraid, Chromius. It won’t hurt you, promise.” Axion speaks, to which Chromius is able to drop their shoulders. Guess multiple machines such as this… thing, may even be talkative. Regardless of being told the car wouldn’t hurt them, they’re a bit hesitant at first to hop in. Once inside, the interior is equally as fancy as the outside, moreso even. The nicest seats one could ever claim, a dashboard that looks like it moreso belongs on a ship, the interior lights- it only drove further home the kind of world Chromius lived in. A world significantly developed.

Soonafter, Axion is seated, and the doors automatically slide closed for the two.

“We leave at once. We should be there in about thirty minutes.” Axion states, before the vehicle is on its way, driving in a fully automated manner.

…

<><><><><><><><><><>

Axion Log - “Chromius, Day 6”

My last day housing Chromius had come. It had taken me some time, but they were able to find their footing despite tangled emotions. Another construct is off to live its life now, but to say this is the end of my time with Chromius is a significant stretch. I doubt this to be the last I’ll see of the musical bot, and perhaps even just the first of my interactions with them. There’ll no doubt be multiple hurdles that’ll see them back in my place, and I welcome the idea. I’ve been compassionate about my previous creations, but Chromius, they feel like a special case. For a little while, it felt like… having a child I could call my own. Father-son type interactions I had not felt this closely since my waking days.

Chromius, you might have a lot on your shoulders, and at first, things may seem hopelessly tough. However, I believe you’re going to do some truly remarkable things, and most importantly: I believe you’d make your parents proud.

Good luck, and best wishes, Chromius. Make me proud. Make the Cyber World proud.

<><><><><><><><><><>

#GUYS NEW FIC #chromius literature #sweet cap'n cakes #scc #scc oc #scc au #literature #fanfic

[lazinesswrites]

I read this amazing Cody-centric wing-fic by @meebles, so now I'm thinking about Clones with wings, and - because I'm me - specifically the Bad Batch with wings.

What would their wings look like? The regs' wings would all be identical/very similar, of course, with the individuality mostly showing in dyes and so on. But the Batch with their mutations will likely have different wings too.

I want Crosshair's wings to be similar to the ice vultures', for obvious thematic reasons, but also because vultures tend to hang around in high places, whether that's sitting in a tree somewhere or circling high up in the air, waiting and watching. Good sniper traits. I don't think we really get to see the vultures in the show, but I assume they're white/grey, to blend in against the snow and ice and white/grey skies. Good colors for Crosshair.

The rest will be under the cut because this got away from me a little (a lot).

For Tech, I'm thinking common kestrel wings. I don't know if kestrels have any particular behavioral traits that would fit Tech, I mostly just like their colors for him. I did read a little bit, though, and what stood out to me was that the kestrel has multiple hunting methods - it does the usual bird of prey thing, of circling around on an updraft over open land and diving for its prey, or sitting on a fence pole or in a tree or even a bush and jumping on a mouse or whatever that gets too close. The thing it does that's maybe less common is that it will also skim across fields, very close to the ground, to pounce on anything small enough for it to eat. And maybe I'm reaching a little here, but that seems to me like a very resourceful bird which is also a very competent flier, and I figure that does fit our Tech very nicely.

I do kind of want to pick vulture for Tech too, if just to match his twin, but. I like the kestrel better. I mean, just look at it:

For Wrecker... Maybe something like a white-tailed eagle? Because. Big. And good at fishing. On a more angsty note, I'm thinking whatever happened to give Wrecker his iconic scar/cost him his eye, it probably also damaged his left wing. Maybe not enough to ground him fully, but enough that flying/steering would be harder for him, which is at least part of the reason he's still scared of heights.

Hunter's wings would probably be pretty similar to the regs', maybe a tiny bit smaller. I'm thinking something like the New Zealand falcon, or kārearea. Bird of prey, dark brown, fairly simple coloring (though still very pretty). According to the NZ Department of Conservation, there are three ecological forms of the kārearea: A large, pale 'eastern' falcon; a smaller, darker 'Bush' falcon, and a 'southern' falcon that's somewhere inbetween in both size and color. Perhaps the regs' wings are more like the eastern/southern ones (left image, I think), while Hunter's are more like those of the bush falcon (right image)?

Disclaimer: I actually know fuck-all about these birds, only what I've just read - if I'm mistaken about the identity of these birds, I blame the sources, which should all be linked in the images, though tumblr is tumblr.

Echo doesn't get his own picture (sorry, Echo) because he's a reg, technically, so he has wings like the left one above. I... am not sure what happened to them in that explosion, or his time on Skako Minor. Probably not very good things. Maybe his wings are just heavily scarred/damaged, maybe they're gone completely. Maybe he's got prosthetics for one or both of them?

(I'm just now realizing that the Clones having wings would mean some things on that mission to Skako Minor - namely, the escape from the techno Union's facility - would turn out slightly different, since they don't need those flying reptiles to get away when they have their own wings. Though maybe they still do if at least one (Skywalker), and maybe two or three of the people on that team can't fly (Echo, Wrecker). I'm well aware them having wings would completely change the mission to Eriadu in the TBB s2 finale, what with them being able to just. fly over there. and away again. Even if they do use the sky-rail or whatever, for Wrecker and/or Echo's sake, Tech would still have his wings, so... All's good.)

Omega also doesn't get her own image (sorry, Omega) because while she's not a reg, exactly, she's an unaltered Clone, which means... Well. I'm not actually sure what that means. I suppose that depends on whether Fett had wings, or that's something the Kaminoan's added? I'm gonna go with the first one, because I like that better. The Kaminoans may have changed things about the wings, but Omega will still have wings, because Fett did too. But that also means she'll have wings identical, or at least very similar to the regs' (left img. above), though maybe she'll have lighter feathers, to match her lighter hair. Also, since she's still (physically) a child, she'll have wings that look more like the immature/juvenile falcons', which means... less spots and stripes? I think? I'm not sure.

I'm also not sure when this whole thing changed from 'idle musings' to 'full-blown headcanons' but it certainly happened. Let me just go back and add a read-more somewhere. Alright, that's done. I'm not really sure if I'm actually gonna... do anything with these headcanons. I do really like the concept of meebles' fic, though - showing different relationships through the grooming and preening of wings - so maybe I'll write something a la that at some point, just for the Batch instead of Cody. Maybe some hurt/comfort about what the Empire does to Crosshair's wings while he's a prisoner? And how he has to learn to trust people near him/his wings again, and how his brothers help him heal, both physically and mentally.

If I do ever write something about all this, I'll make sure to link back to meebles's fic as the inspiration - and in case you missed it up top, or just don't wanna scroll all the way back up again (that's fair, this got rather long), here it is again: and the stars, like a loved one by firelord_zutara on Ao3, also known as meebles here on tumblr. Go read it, you won't regret it.

#Star Wars #codywan fic rec #Star Wars: The Bad Batch #TBB headcanons #TBB wings au #Clones with wings au #TBB Crosshair #TBB Hunter #TBB Wrecker #TBB Tech #TBB Omega #Clone Trooper Echo #birds #birds of prey #to the people still waiting for me to answer their WIP Wednesday ask: I'm sorry; I promise I will get to them #words are just annoying atm #I say; having just written how many words about clones and birds and bird-clones? idk I'm not counting them #if there are any mistakes in here I'm sorry but its 1am and I'm very tired so I'm gonna go to bed now #enjoy?

[jfs-worldbuilding-and-art]

Cosmology of Aerrhea Part I

The cosmology of Aerrhea is very different from that of Earth, the world, the sun and the very laws of the universe are sometimes wildly different from that of our own universe.

The World

The world of Aerrhea is a cylindrical shaped one opposed to a globe like Earth. The cylinder is an oceanic world, it has no landmasses, only a deep ocean whith a bottom that is basically bedrock, which is very similar to the bottom of our own oceans by having hydrothermal vents spewing minerals into the water. The world spins around its own axis with no axial tilt, this movement makes the islands get arranged into island rings. Six of these island rings exist, each one with its endemic fauna and flora. The rotation of the world combined with the low pressure zone created by the sun also creates a central, unending storm. One notable fact is that if (somehow) something reaches the border of the cylinder it will not see it or fall out of the world, in fact it will not even realize that it has reached the border as it will wander into the exact opposite of that border, the other side of the world.

Diagram showing the main aspects of the world

Due to the Sun's size and luminosity being far lesser than that of our own Sun its light starts to fade away because of the gases in the atmosphere or the water, creating colder and darker regions in the world that are further away from the Sun.

In the ocean there is the Epipelagic Zone that is the highest layer of the ocean, it is highly productive because of the sunlight that reaches this area, making the process of photosyntesis possible by autotrophs.

The second layer is the Mesopelagic Zone where only 1% of the light given by the sun actually reaches this layer until it fades away, photosynthesis is already inpossible here but yet life is abundant as the animals here feed on the marine snow that falls from the epipelagic zone and from the sky.

The Bathypelagic Zone is completely devoid of light and very little life resides here, the ones that do eat marine snow too.

Finally, the deepest part of the ocean is called the Abyssopelagic Zone where surprisingly, there is an abundance of life due to the marine snow that is deposited in the bottom of the ocean who serves as food for "grazing" animals in the seafloor. Marine snow is not the only primary resource here though, hydrothermal vents are very common here and they are the base of the other 50% of the ecosystems in this oceanic layer. The hydrothermal vents spew tons of minerals in the water that are used by chemosynthetic bacteria to produce energy in a similar way to plants and other autotrophs, these bacteria are the primary producers of this ecosystem and so they serve as food for many other organisms.

Diagram showing the rings of the world and some of their characteristics.

A Similar thing happens in the surface.As mentioned above the sunlight gets dimmer the further away you get from it due to gases in the atmosphere that scatter the light, making the furthest archipelago very cold and dark. Here are some traits owned by each ring:

Archipelagos:

Bifröst is the first ring of the world, named after the Bifröst bridge from Norse mythology that is a burning rainbow that connects Midgard(earth) to Asgard(the realm of the gods). It was named in such way because of how this ring(technically a circle) is the brightest and wettest ring as it is the closest to the center of the world and thus closer to the sun. It is also home to the World's eyes.

The second ring is called Silat, named after the Silat bridge from Yazidi religion that simbolizes the connection and crossing over from the profane earthly world and the sacred, esoteric world. The ring is named like this because it is the second ring of the world and so it connects the hot, wet and luminous center to the colder, drier and darker rings.

The third ring is called Chinvat, named after the Chinvat bridge in Zoroastrianism that separates the world of the living from the world of the dead. Named so because as the third ring it is the midpoint between the lighter and darker rings of the world, similarly to the bridge's role.

The fourth ring is called Sirāt, named after the as-Sirāt bridge from Islamism that is the bridge where every person will pass trough during the judgement day, the damned falling from it onto the hellfire and the saved going to paradise. This ring's naming is similar in reason to the Chinvat ring.

The fifth ring is also named after a Nordic bridge, Gjallarbrú which is a bridge that leads to Hel, the underworld in Norse paganism. Such name is in reference to this ring's proximity with the last ring of the world that is cold and dark. Gjallarbrú is one of the coldest and darkest rings of the world, here photosyntesis is unviable and so the trophic chain is ignited not by plants but by bacteria.

Finally, the last ring of the world, Niflheim. Named after the world of primordial ice from Norse culture, which is fitting for this ring due to its intensely cold temperature as it is the furthest away from the sun. Just like Gjallarbrú it is too dark for photosyntesis and curiously, the native life is, actually native. The organisms that live here are not Earthen organisms but rather life originary from Aerrhea.

#worldbuilding #art #illustration #fantasy world #fantasy art #fantasy #fantasy maps #fantasy worldbuilding #cosmology #my art #my post #my writing

[airplanned]

Silence. 3

Table of Contents....Chapter 1...Chapter 2

.

The next morning, she rose with the bells before sunrise, groggy from her late night.  The idea was that they would be mid-prayer when the sun rose to crash in bursts of brilliant color through all the stained glass.  Sometimes, when she was very tired, this would happen, and she would think to herself, "I'm doing it!  I'm doing it!"

But she wasn't.  It was just the sun.  Rising.  Like it did every day.

Link slid into the seat next to her, wearing dark circles under his eyes and the gray, loose tunic of all the acolytes.  Sitting together, they looked like a matching set, offering each other smiles.  But she made a point of keeping her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Using hand gestures to communicate was not technically forbidden.  In fact, they did something similar when working: asking someone to hand you something, to help you lift something, to help you find something.  But the conversation on the roof had gone beyond that in a way that was personal and specific and not about the necessary functioning of the abbey.  They had not dedicated their time to the Goddess.  Although it was not against the letter of their vows, it was certainly against the spirit.

Her stomach sunk as she realized that she would need to meditate on this.

Luckily, it was time for meditative worship!

From the corner of his eye, Link watched her, following her actions so he didn't do anything wrong.  That was normal for his first day.  His first month, really.  It wasn't as if there were a guide book, and it wasn't as if she could tell him everything he should do.  He would have to figure it out from quiet observation.  He would make mistakes, and it would humble him, and everyone would show compassion, and he would learn he was welcome.  He was loved.

When it was time, she clasped her hands together under her breast, lowered her eyes, and prayed.

You know better than to break your vows like that.  You're supposed to glorify Hylia in all things.  How did hiding on the roof show devotion?  How did telling someone all your selfish problems make you a better person? Why you were sent here is in the past and there is no point in dwelling on it save to better yourself for the future.

So why did you do it?  You don't need a friend; you need to focus.  You were not just being kind.  You were being rebellious on purpose, and that is so far from the divine.  No wonder you've never amounted to anything.  No wonder you can't harness the Goddess' power.

You need to do better.

You cannot wallow in a malaise.

You cannot flirt.

Link sucked in a sharp breath beside her.  Disturbed from her thoughts, she peeked open one eye to find him gaping up at the Goddess statue, his eyes wide and horrified, his hands clutching at his tunic over his heart.

Her hand on his shoulder startled him so badly that he caught the attention of a few other acolytes, who peeked open their own eyes to watch him.

She couldn't mouth the words or offer him a questioning thumbs up with everyone watching, so she just tilted her head and looked concerned.  Was he alright?

He blinked at her too many times, as if coming out of a trance.  Then his head snapped back around to the Goddess statue, which he watched expectantly, his shoulders tense as if the huge statue might reach out a giant hand and crush him.

Then the moment passed and he breathed a sigh of relief, dropping his eyes and looking shaken.  He offered her an embarrassed nod and hunching lower to avoid the stares.  

He was hearing voices.

Before pulling her hands back into position to pray, she squeezed his arm.  

You're doing nothing wrong showing kindness.  In this situation, Hylia couldn't possibly hold against her.

Or maybe she could.

Yes, the Goddess definitely could, because Link scooted slightly away from her.

Okay.  Okay.  If she felt disappointed with such a mild rejection, it was a sign that she was wanting too much--attention, friendship, a distraction.  Those were all bad and unnecessary.  She needed to clear her mind and start again.  With less emotion.  

She took a deep breath through her nose, held it, then released it through her mouth and brought her mind to something simple: a series of numbers, each one formed by adding the two before it.  She visualized it like a rectangle the grew larger, adding a square onto the side with each addition, and then rotating, and then adding a square again.  Growing.  Growing.  Just as the depths of her spirit could grow.  Just as her sense of the world could grow past herself, past the boy next to her, past the abbey and Hyrule and her problems.  The numbers grew steadily onward.  

She settled into that.  Into the clarity, the simplicity.  Into her place in a long series.  Perhaps the Goddess would smile on her.

Beside her, Link's shoulders slowly softened.

.

Chapter 4

#Zelda #my fic #Silence AU

[tieflingkisser]

Gaza’s Famine is Underway

Three months ago the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC) process (the official process for assessing famine risk) issued an urgent warning: the entire population of Gaza was “at risk” of famine, and over half a million people were already experiencing famine-level food shortages. Last week, the IPC upgraded that warning, projecting that famine in Gaza is now “imminent.” 1.1 million people, half the territory’s population, are in IPC Phase V, the highest level of risk. Yet the IPC process stopped short of declaring an active famine. So is famine in Gaza looming? Imminent? Or already happening? Here is a quick rundown on how to understand the new projections. Bottom line up front: available evidence strongly indicates that famine is getting underway in Gaza. The window to “avert” it has closed, and the focus must now pivot to containing the damage. As prospects for an enduring cease-fire remain pessimistic, tens of thousands of lives, perhaps more, hang in the balance. 

How are Hunger Crises Measured?

Humanitarian language around famine tends to be cautious and highly technical – and sometimes difficult for people outside the field to decipher. Humanitarian professionals use a 5-phase scale to characterize the severity of food crises, similar to better-known systems like the hurricane early warning system. And like the hurricane warning scale, the famine warning system produces highly rigorous forecasts built on decades of experience and research. A formal declaration of famine (typically made either by the affected country’s government or by the United Nations) hinges on reaching Phase V on the 5-phase IPC scale, specifically once a crisis has breached three quantitative thresholds. Breaching one or two of these thresholds is enough to characterize a population as Phase V, but a formal declaration typically requires evidence that all have been surpassed:

Hunger: At least one in five households facing an extreme lack of food, meaning that their daily consumption consistently falls far below minimum daily nutritional requirements.

Malnutrition: At least 30% of children under 5 are suffering from acute malnutrition.

Death: At least 2 people per 10,000 population are dying per day from starvation or related health problems.

In humanitarian circles the December warning from the IPC was the equivalent of projecting that a Category V hurricane is headed for the Florida coast. But outside of humanitarian circles it had far less impact. The warning prompted no fundamental change of direction from the U.S. or Israeli governments, and received limited media coverage. The devastating Israeli military offensive continued apace, and the volumes of aid allowed into Gaza actually declined from mid-January through February.  This lack of reaction reflects a major drawback of the IPC system: it makes the data threshold for a formal famine declaration so rigorous that famines tend to be declared only retroactively, after extensively vetted analysis. And up to that point the language remains heavily caveated, sometimes diluting the ensuing public and diplomatic reaction.  This is somewhat by design – famine is a powerful word, and there is an understandable impetus to ensure it is not thrown around loosely. But this conservatism ultimately undermines the usefulness of the IPC scale by making it too slow to confirm when famines are getting underway. By the time a famine is officially recognized, it has inevitably been underway for quite a while already and is already killing many people – a fact that is not widely appreciated by global political leaders. In the case of Somalia’s famine in 2011, for example, half of the mortality is estimated to have occurred before the formal declaration was made. Which brings us to Gaza’s situation today – still short of a formal (retroactive) declaration, but with conditions worsening rapidly and mortality beginning to accelerate.

Deciphering Gaza’s Catastrophe

Notwithstanding the hedged technical language of the official IPC forecast, Gaza’s famine is no longer “imminent.” Its impact is now being felt. If the December IPC forecast was telling us that the hurricane was 50 miles offshore and barreling towards the Florida coast, the new IPC forecast is telling us that its outer bands are making landfall as a Cat V.

[keep reading]

#free palestine #palestine #news

[danpuff-ao3]

...

HOW ON EARTH DID I WRITE A WHOLE ASTROLOGY READING FOR HARRY FRIGGIN' POTTER AND I MISSED THE GRAND CROSS IN HIS DANG CHART???? WHAT IN THE UNHOLY HELL???? FRIGGIN' MUTABLE GRAND CROSS OH MY GOD. HELLO SOURCE OF EXTREME TENSION. HELLO. I MISSED YOU SOMEHOW. IN THE MESS THAT IS THIS BOY'S LIFE.

Ahem.

So. Apologies for screaming. It was that or putting my head through a wall. But anyway. So...do you see the giant red square in the below image?

THAT is a Grand Cross. And Grand Crosses are...yikes.

Grand Crosses are made up of 2 oppositions and 4 squares. So...basically it's entirely made up of very tense aspects. (You can skip to the section titled "Getting to the Point" to bypass a bunch of technical nonsense.)

Technical Mumbo Jumbo

Oppositions are signs that are in the same polarity, the same modality, but different elements. So...the fixed earth sign and the fixed water sign are in opposition, the cardinal fire sign and the cardinal air sign are in opposition, and so on. On the circle they're opposite each other. You can think of oppositions as being either a tug of war or a balancing act. There is a lot of good potential, yes, but generally it's potential reached after a lot of work. I like to think of oppositions as being too similar and too different at once. Therein likes the tension.

Squares are signs that are ninety degrees apart. Opposite polarities, but the same modality. The mutable air and fire signs will square the mutable water and earth signs, and so on. Generally, you will see the signs in the same polarity having more chemistry and compatibility (i.e. fire & air, earth & water), so it's a somewhat different struggle from an opposition. Prone to conflict, squares.

The Placements

In Harry's chart we see...a lot going on.

Saturn: Virgo at 24 degrees and (rounded up to) 1 minute

Venus: Gemini at 25 degrees and 36 minutes

Moon: Pisces at 29 degrees and 34 minutes

Neptune: Sagittarius at 20 degrees and 9 minutes

I mention the minutes because Harry nearly had a Grand Trine, too, and it took me too long to check the minutes and seconds haha. I should have considering if there was a Grand Trine, it would be barely. Similarly to how the Moon and Neptune are pushing on that 10 degree orb.

The Aspects

Virgo Saturn opposition Pisces Moon (5 degrees out)

Gemini Venus opposition Sagittarius Neptune (5 degrees out)

Virgo Saturn square Gemini Venus (1 degree out)

Virgo Saturn square Sagittarius Neptune (4 degrees out)

Pisces Moon square Gemini Venus (4 degrees out)

Pisces Moon square Sagittarius Neptune (9 degrees out.)

Mutable Signs

All are in the mutable modality. Mutable signs are changeable, malleable, adaptable, flexible. The mutable signs mark the end of a season, and thus: change. Gemini marks the end of spring, Virgo marks the end of summer, Sagittarius marks the end of fall, and Pisces marks the end of winter.

Getting to the Point

Basically...our boy has...challenges.

Face, meet palm.

There are a lot of areas of stress and tension. Grand Crosses are grand challenges for the native to overcome. They can build strong characters, but great character doesn't come without a price.

Looking at the planets involved, we see great sources of stress in his emotions and subconscious (moon), his relationships and interests (Venus), feelings of responsibility and morality (Saturn), and his ideals and dreams (Neptune.)

Think about it. Harry has a great destiny! He has a responsibility to the world (Saturn), and to stand by his principles (Saturn), but it isn't his great dream to play hero (Neptune.) In fact, the Sagittarius Neptune gives a sense of wanting to roam and be free, but he is shackled to his fate.

Then look to the moon and Venus. Difficulty between his emotional needs and his relational needs. Specifically there is a great inner need for love and affection. There is a great emotional and comfort value in being loved. Which is a big ouch on a good day but a bigger ouch when you can see why this might be. He grew up without any love or affection at all. (I will not elaborate because my eyes are already watering.) There is a tendency to jump too quickly into making connections. Which, think about it...while Ron ended up being a great friend, they were joined at the hip pretty much from the get go.

Moon and Neptune squaring is a sense of getting lost in dreams. ("It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.") Pinning too much of an emotional stake on hopes and beliefs. A strong emotional connection to one's ideals. This can indicate unrealistic goals, dreams that stay out of reach, being disenchanted by reality. I can imagine Harry dealt with a lot of this quite young and probably found himself crashing back to earth time and again by those relentless, merciless Dursleys. But there is a very strong, powerful sense of idealism here, not only for the aspects, but the sign placements. Sagittarius is all about philosophy, and Pisces is all about higher power and spirituality. Both are very idealistic signs. Sagittarius searches for wisdom in experience and connection and adventure. Pisces has a deep inner wisdom born of intuition and empathy, and a sense of what is beyond. (Pisces as the oldest sign of the zodiac, closest to the next life, and connect that to Harry as Master of Death.)

Saturn and Venus?? Yikes. This indicates an issue in giving and/or receiving love. (I'm not crying, you're crying.) Blockages in relationships. A need to learn to love oneself and find self worth before getting involved with others, lest they end up in very miserable relationships. This can indicate awkwardness in social scenarios, and a great fear of rejection. There can be a sense of needing to "earn" love and affection. This can also look quite serious, and an inability to let loose and have fun. For Harry, this can indicate earlier life, when he wasn't really allowed to be happy or have fun. Then, later on, while there is probably more room for pleasure at Hogwarts, this is sort of hindered by his sense of duty when it comes to the war.

Moon opposition Saturn...actually, let's do that one last.

Venus opposition Neptune can indicate romantic delusions. A very romantic nature, in love with being in love, a sort of blurry sense of love. Might have imbalanced expectations of relationships; standards too high or too low. Back to that issue of big ideals and disenchantment. This sort of feeds into an ongoing headcanon I have of Harry and how he goes towards the life he thinks he should have and doesn't really question it. And how he might try to replicate the life his parents missed out on, without really fully understanding what it is he actually wants and needs. Think of his awkward "crush" on Cho, and then Ginny (the Lily Replacement.) The Epilogue is more or less what Harry thinks he should aim for, where he and Ginny become James and Lily and live that picture perfect, white picket fence, happily ever after. But his Venus is in Gemini; Gemini is too playful and charming and variable by nature. Harry realistically needs more of a challenge and more intrigue in his romantic life.

Now let's look at the Moon and Saturn. I realized I had to save them for last because it occurred to me...The Moon represents the Mother, and Saturn represents the Father. Moon opposition Saturn.

This aspect indicates fear and rigidity. Trust issues. Difficulty in receiving care from others. You know...which might happen when one was never properly nurtured in their formative years. This can indicate having had "conditions" placed on love (or even basic care) growing up, and how that colors their perception of love. There is a sense of growing up too quickly. And a sense of there being a very fragile inner soul that others don't see for the outer appearance of independence and capability. Might even be a full suppression of those emotional needs. So even Harry might not see just how fragile he really is inside.

Then you pit this very critical, perfectionistic (Virgo) sense of duty and morality (Saturn) against a very whimsical, romantic (Pisces) sense of emotions and comfort (moon.) That is a very hard jab to a very soft place. And that rigid, disciplined Saturn forms the outer shell around that gooey, wounded Moon.

I find this most interesting with the Mother/Father connection. Oppositions are a very challenging, "hard" aspect and often imply an imbalance. And there is much one can learn and grow from with this opposition, however, it's especially hard to find appreciation in this one, when I can't ignore the connection it must have to Lily and James.

Moon as Mother as Lily. Saturn as Father as James. Parents dead, family torn apart, and their loss landed him in the Dursleys' dubious care. And it is their neglect and downright abuse behind that fierce independence, those emotional wounds, that inability to let others care for him. (He has to do it all alone, it's all on him it's his responsibility, etc.)

Then they're all in mutable signs, and mutable signs represent change. Change from one season into the next. One era of life into the next. Rolling with life's punches.

Gemini is playful, charming, curious, variable. Virgo is adaptable, skilled, practical, resourceful. Sagittarius values freedom and adventure and wisdom. Pisces is whimsical and dreamy and looking beyond, into the next life. There is a restless sense to mutable signs, and resourcefulness. Virgo's need to find security through purpose and perfection. Pisces' fear of vulnerability leads to escapism. Sagittarius' yearning to learn and grow by stretching its wings. Gemini's need to try new things and meet new people and need for stimulation.

There is a sense in the mutable Grand Cross that life has beaten one down and put them through the ringer again and again, until the native was molded into someone who can tackle any and every problem. But what happens when there is no challenge left? Restlessness, remember?

And what happens to Harry when the war is won? When there are no more battles to fight?

Anyway yeah hello welcome to my Big Tender Feelings about Harry James Potter, my precious baby angel.

You can read more about Harry's astrology here. And if you're so inclined you can support my nonsense on Ko-fi.

#harry james potter #hp astro #astrology #grand square #grand cross #oh no my poor baby #wahhhh

[cee-grice]

it is blorbo thursday again and so I shall talk about more blorbos >:)

Some relevant info:

In Ethelen, the headmaster of Cielle Academy is often involved in the city's ruling as well. In fact, it's not uncommon for them to be its leader, and even if they're not, they're still a highly important figure

Besides Merridie, the other more relevant country is Edkava (where Endra is from), and it should be noted that, albeit officially being a uniformly governed country, it's split into many 'underground' districts that the government doesn't recognize on paper, but often does off it

Renowned mages are often referred to as 'Master/Mistress [surname]'

The Ladies

Clariene Silvoir

the current headmistress of Cielle Academy, going on her fifth year

(Quil's exile has also been lasting for five years....curious)

is technically an all-rounder mage, but taught mainly transmutation, despite rarely performing it herself outside of class

Quil's past mentor!! the students in the Academy get assigned mentors in their third year (out of six), but Quil got her in the first year, so they've known each other for A While

that was a huge deal, too, because already she was a favored candidate for the headmistress' spot and famously took on very few students

anyways they sure had an. Interesting relationship

will do what needs to be done and will do it with a smile

the Peak of high society etiquette

she didn't reach the top of the mage community by being nice and polite, though :)

47ish, prefers puffy gowns regardless of the occassion, has curly purple hair, likes to have gold dusting her skin, lots of jewelry

I just now realized I could have been adding quotes to these intros. fuck. anyways gonna add some to the previous ones too ahaha but here's one from her:

Mistress Silvoir hummed, an odd look crossing her face. “No… Certain circumstances arose at a later time which forced our hand.” ‘We’, ‘our’; it was always we and our with Mistress Silvoir. Not I and mine. Just in case in the future it’d need to turn to they and their.

Mela d'Alisso

Quil's mom :) :(

current matron of the d'Alisso family, cares very little about anyone outside of her immediately circle, though, lol

like most of her family, specializes in charm magic, and is frickin good at it

used to work at the Cielle Academy as a field researcher, left shortly before Quil enrolled. now works at a private institution that deals with breaking/reversing charms

married a doctor that dislikes magic (???), they're divorced now lol

her and Quil are pretty similar in character, which. considering Quil's tendency to do as he likes and not listen to anyone else, causes issues lmao

absolutely adores him, though—there's nothing as important to her as her child and nothing she wouldn't sacrifice for his wellbeing. when she loves, she Loves

hm yeah he's definitely her son lolll

I feel so bad for her it's not even funny

53ish, tall, long, chestnut-colored hair, prefers to wear earthy colors and opts for simpler, elegant dresses

quote:

"I’m not asking for anything," she said, quieter. "I’m not asking for your gratitude or consideration. If you don’t wish to have me in your life, fine. But I refuse to aid you in your suicide." "I'm not asking you to," Quil said, curt. "I know what I'm doing." Her face twisted. "Like you knew last time?"

Leanda Velion

Endra's mom :D D:

a venemagik herself, also a pretty unique one (can't say what, spoilers :((). has holographic skin because of it

the youngest of the ladies and was almost a teen mom

The baddest bitch, though

managed to secure her own district, albeit a small one, in Edkava at age 22, and the politics there are Cutthroat (she may have actually had to cut a few throats....we don't talk about that)

established a venemagik-exclusive settlement there which houses venemagiks who for whatever reason don't want to live with the rest of society/are persecuted. it functions as a safe haven for them, essentially. on the brochure, anyway lol

the younger ones refer to her as Mother, so, uh, make of that what you will

absolutely despises mages and priests

the one with the highest kill count out of the entire cast

are these two statements linked? maybe

does really care about her child, too, but has a bit of a funny way of showing it at times...

anyways, in short. goddamn Intense

44ish, short, blonde, wears simple but bright clothing (looks nice with her holographic skin :))

quote:

Leanda breathed a high, wry laugh as she moved closer to him. “Has a single word I’ve said ever stuck with you? Or are you as unteachable in life as you were in class?”  Endra bristled, “I’m not a kid anymore, I’ll have you fucking know. Stop treating me like one.” “Yes, you stand before me as an adult, yet you lack all the wits of one.”

taglist (let me know if you wanna be +/-): @writerfae, @tate-lin, @iriswords, @sternenmeerkind, @thecrookedwriterspath, @pure-solomon, @moonshinemagpie, @arowanaprincess, @scribe-of-stories, @thesorcerersapprentice, @stuffaboutwriting, @doriians

#writeblr #wwcc character intros #wwcc wip #character intros #mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry #i'm unwell sorry

[waloeders]

reunions!

prompt: ➼ “Stop smothering me, you dumbass.” “It’s to make up for the lack of hugs in all these years in your life when I wasn’t there!”

summary: sleipnir comes back after a mission and reflects a little on how life has changed because of kosmos

ship: sleipnir harbard/kosmos

setting: the hideaway (seen up above!)

notes: so i slightly adapted this prompt for sleipnir :3 its set a while after the reverie events and a few...other things. but dw abt it, its fine. basically a drabble that technically fits into the whole timeline eventually

words: 704

"stop smothering me, wretched thing." he mumbled out the last part, voice slightly muffled by a mess of black hair. sleipnir sighed, rolling his eyes at the younger mans behaviour, and slipped his arms around their waist, "must you do this whenever we are reunited?"

they hummed, nuzzling into his chest and giving him a soft squeeze. similar to his King, sleipnir was always much warmer than him, as if the aether keeping the egi alive was burning through him at every moment, churning away like a runaway train.

ryder glanced up and found what they often did when giving him affection: despite all the feigned complaining and grumbling, sleipnirs' eyes had slipped close, his head resting on their own. a soft smile had even began to settle.

"of course - it's to make up for the lack of hugs before you met me." he chuckled a little, closing his eyes as he leant back against the egi, and his voice turned to a private whisper, "besides, i missed you... i miss you every time you're away."

the lord commander snorted, quickly placing a kiss on their forehead, and pulled away. one hand remained on their waist, squeezing gently, as the other reached up to cup their cheek, making them face him.

for a moment, he held them there, eyes flickering back and forth over their features, and he smirked as they leant into his palm.

"i suppose i am fortunate then, to be missed so." sleipnir hummed, tapping their nose with his finger, "come, i am sure you have much to tell me - i understand there was some matter otto had to resolve?"

"oh, right!"

the egi resisted the urge to laugh at their chatter, as he lead them back to their shared room, arm still lingering around their waist. since the events at the reverie, being separated from ryder was rare for him - on His Majesty's orders.

and now, returning to them, he was grateful for it; time away from them, even from the hideaways' inane, daily misgivings, bored him more than he cared to admit.

at first, it had been an inconvenience, an annoyance, to be at the young man's side daily. sleipnir was always happy to carry out his Leiges' orders and did so with an efficiency that he was proud of - questioning an order had never occurred to him, but even this had given him pause.

it was only after kosmos' emergence as a separate entity to the man he knew, after that unpleasant business in rosaria and an extended mission away from them (and the hideaway) that it had struck him: he had enjoyed it. he had enjoyed 'babysitting' ryder - as the man himself had put it.

it wasn't often that sleipnir found himself surrounded by non-dominants, in the whims and goings of their everyday lives. even when he was in diplomatic proceedings with the other nations, speaking with those who were neither dominants nor bearers, it was always with men in power.

men with demands, desires, wants - wills run amok. the hideaway and its' people were nothing like them.

ryder was nothing like them.

and with the uncovered knowledge of ultima's deception, of other beings from this supposed superior species, who opposed their once Lord, sleipnir found it hard to deny that perhaps there was more to reality - to humanity, than he once believed.

"sleipnir?" he hummed, glancing down to the man caught up in his thoughts, who was staring up at him behind those familiar glasses, "lost in thought?"

"tormented." the egi joked, fingers rubbing circles into their waist, "you were saying?"

he watched as their eyebrows furrowed, concern drawing their face, but they tutted instead.

"i told cid i'd help maeve - she's that new apprentice in the kitchen - get some ingredients. wanna come hunting?"

"you have been hunting without me?"

"i can ask gav if you'd rather stay here-" ryder began to say, a teasing tone slipping in.

"i shall, of course, accompany you, love."

they laughed, nudging his side, "thought you might."

teehees a little,,, ty for readin!

#jupiter.speaks #.writing #❤️.sleipnir #👤.kosmos #> yes i created a whole new NG+ save file just to get screenshots of cids hideaway. i didnt have any saves from there 😭 #.oktorb #> this is only a little drabble kinda like my jill one. it does fit into the larger events but i havent written them yet LMAO #> um. anyway. gay ppl real? #> and always. the zantetsuken of division 🙏🙌 my fave method shdbdjndkd