#I could be using that petroleum for power instead

[arolesbianism]

I've been chipping at a new oni save recently and I have to say I have gotten way less ambitious with my teleporter planet over my past few saves. In a lot of my earlier saves Id dive right in there, but nowadays I find myself ignoring the teleporter for a good while before dipping in to set up some basic utilities there before leaving again and continuing to stall lol

[oneatlatime]

Haybending

I got bored today and started daydreaming. The results:

In Bato of the Water Tribe, Aang haybends. Obviously he airbends a bunch of hay, but let's dig into haybending a bit.

As I understand it, Hay is a bit of an umbrella term for a bunch of animal fodder-producing plants, which means that haybenders bend more than just one plant; they can bend a bunch. That implies that they are bending what plants are made of rather than a single species or genus of plants. Hay is made of cellulose. Cellulose is what (I think) practically all plants are made of, and there are some bacteria that deal with it (?) as well. Biology class was a while ago.

What things are made of cellulose?

How about natural fibres? Cotton, hemp, flax/linen, burlap. (Not animal fibres or petroleum-based ones.) A cellulose bender could therefore bend all natural textiles (and blends so long as the natural content is over some percentage threshold, but I have yet to see evidence of petroleum or plastics in Avatar). It would certainly be useful in a fight if you could make your enemy's clothes trip them up/detain them. Everyone wears clothes made at least in part of fabric. Unless you rock the all leather look or just never wear clothes, you'd have no way of protecting yourself from a cellulose bender. Imagine the wedgies. Imagine how much easier it would be to put clothes on squirmy toddlers if the clothes were on your side.

What about making textiles? Would a civilisation that could cellulose-bend even bother inventing the loom? Imagine the heights of artistry that would go into cloth where each and every thread was conducted into place individually and simultaneously. I bet they could produce cloth while holding their threads floating in the air. A bender wiggles his fingers and what look like piles of tangled thread soar into the air and arrange themselves into a paisley-patterned button-down. Can you imagine the quality of tailoring you could accomplish if you had power over individual threads? Would you even invent sewing or tailoring if you could shape each individual piece to fit, then join them without seams? Can you imagine the implications for embroidery?

What about paper? Would a cellulose-bending civilisation ever invent ink? They could bend cellulose into paper, then instead of writing/printing text on paper, they could bend the cellulose in the paper into the shapes of the letters. Might not be faster than regular writing, but certainly more economical than how we currently produce braille books. You could literally throw the book at your enemies. Bend whole libraries.

Wood is made of cellulose too. Wood houses, carts, ships, bridges, all would be manipulable. Wooden shaft on the enemy's spear? Tie it in a knot. Woodcarving would be possible without tools. Who needs carpentry when you can bend a house out of a forest? Could you bend a bowl out of a tree and then put it back after dinner? If your cart had wooden wheels, could you propel it? If you're camping in the woods, could you bend a grass or branch hammock and then put it back the next morning? Could you obscure your tracks?

Can you imagine what a beast a rope-bender would be in combat? Canvas is made from hemp or cotton; a sail-bender could ground a whole fleet of sailing ships. A seaweed bender could ground propeller ships. You could knit without needles, crochet without a hook, open the curtains without getting out of bed. You could weave a basket on the spot, so long as you're near grass. Near-infinite biodegradable packaging at your fingertips. You could juggle coconuts without touching them.

And what about applications on plants that are still living? For more benign uses, imagine shaping your garden with a wave of your hand. Make vines climb trees, tree branches go where you need shade, weave elaborate living fences from shrubs. You could make a tree grow in the shape of a chair, then cut it down and use it in your dining room. What about forests? Could a cellulose-bender make a forest get up and walk? If you needed to move your herd to a different field, instead of a sheepdog or a cattle drive, could you just bend the wooden fence with the animals still inside and shuffle it to new ground? Hunting would be easy - just spot what you want to kill and then turn all the surrounding grass into snares.

And this isn't even touching the implications on agriculture.

[aita-blorbos]

Aita for accidentally causing aliens to wipe themselves out?

So, I made a project, basically, starting from establishing basic binary math and using that to encode more advanced math, and eventual basic physics and chemistry, I made a tungsten monolith covered in symbols to try to teach aliens how to skip over the whole disastrous chemical fuel(I.e. petroleum) phase of development as quickly as possible and get nuclear power.

Well, these aliens developed the tools to decode this thing way earlier in their development than expected, and way before they had figured out the whole ‘mutually assured destruction’ thing.

It did take them a bit to figure out how to make a bomb, I only told em the theory of it and a design for a thorium based power plant as well as a fusion plant that would have been harder to make.

After they figured out the bomb, well, we had people who hadn’t yet seen what their worst impulses could do given weapons to sterilize a planet. They were in the middle of a long war when their first group figured it out. The war ended three months later, some of the biggest cities were gone. The survivors of the first one figured out what happened, and a defector taught them about these weapons. They had lost so much that they simply sought vengeance, another war broke out. This time no big cities survived, neutral parties were assumed to be enemies because the first war had wiped out the radio communication infrastructure. And the resulting several dust clouds blotted out their sun.

Basically, I tried to make sure another species didn’t get stuck with the whole ‘people in charge of chemical fuel tried to stop better options’ thing that almost wiped out mankind, and instead they figured out how to make nuclear weapons way too early, and wiped themselves out.

[pamphlettyr]

Ok, i don't want to be shitty to the people who like solarpunk (it's a beautiful vision to imagine, and if it gets you caring for a better world enough to do something to make it happen, that's incredible), but we're looking at a video that's just "Elon Musk stan's tradwife JO fantasy" After all: All the labor is automated except the stay at home wife'. but what's more fascinating is that converting the charity to say commons is a massive misunderstanding of how the commons work, and forgets the way that women are expected to participate in unpaid fundraising and food banking activities for their communities (or as part of a bourgeois sensibility they engage in charitable organizations) and they have to do this *because the commons are denied to us* This video is selling you the future the capitalists are promising to pay with the blood of palestinians, ukranians, kurds, queers, jews, muslims, and whoever else is next on the chopping block, as well as anyone who says their world isn't good enough.

the magical tech is made of renderite, and it's ecofash with the serial numbers filed off and not solarpunk in any capacity, that's why petroleum products are proudly in the ad. Captialism is selling you magic again. The potion that will make your breath fresh, the sneakers that give you an aura of cool, blinded by the beauty of our weapons we vest ourselves in fantasies of the world we'd live in if we could just accept the fact that they're going to kill us or enslave us all if we don't start doing something to make the solarpunk happen, and just go and care enough to make and defend the commons anew, every time they have to stomp it all out is a time when their forces are spread more and more thin, and we keep making more until there is no more force to spread. just care enough to change your behaviors, and if you don't know how care enough then learn, and if you don't know what kind of changes you need then learn, and no matter what you learn keep in your mind that people are trying to sell you on half measures trying to get you to sit still as they continue to plan mass murder and technarchic bureacracy instead of reducing the burning, which is the only thing that will reduce the impact we're having. i could tell you i watch on youtube (shaun, folding ideas, sophie from mars, andrewism) who i read ( non-fiction: david graeber, marshall sahlins, deleuze and guattari, fiction: ursula k leguin, kim stanley robinson, iain m banks) but giving you homework wouldn't get you any closer teaching you how to change your behavior, just activating the passive reflex of getting homework. Nothing is going to teach you to take the lessons of caring kindness, or the material dialectic of biosocial power seriously if you don't already do, and no reading list will make you go out into the world to save lives and create joy. this edit created joy, but how about we, who found joy in watching it, find ways to make heat and cold shelters, and gardens and forests of food so that we can save lives.

[kforbesy]

Words I wish I wrote, stories I wish I told - Part 1

In my experience, nothing ever wraps up in a neat little bow. There's always loose dangling threads and things left undone. For a variety of reasons (which I'll touch on), there's a couple of research ideas that I never got the chance to execute in, but I'm unable to completely move off of or put away. They just keep rattling around in my head. So I'll throw them here and maybe sometime I'll be in a position to return to them or someone else might be able to take the concept.

Concept: Embedding sustainability into sport infrastructure standards

When it comes to sports and sustainability, the venue is often a troublesome aspect. In North America, it's typically funded by a combination of public and private funds, it sits as a monolith in a field of parking lots, it requires vast quantities of power: electricity to power it, petroleum to fuel the vehicles that transport fans, staff and athletes to and fro. Depending on the sport and location, this arena, stadium, field or park may also sit vacant and unused for swathes of time.

(as an aside, Alan Cross had a great little segment on his Ongoing History of New Music show, about how reunion tours for popular bands from 20 years ago, etc, exist, in part, because stadium and arena owners need to find ways to fill their venue when their primary tenant is not there, and for a litany of reasons, like streaming music, the decline of conventional media, and dispersal of disposable income, we're not creating music stars the same way we were 25 years ago)

These venues often suffer from one other calamity: they typically have a short shelf-life, with some research pointing to them outliving their usefulness after roughly 25 years.

None of these dovetails nicely with a team's or league's committment to "Go Green". So in the absence of changing that entire lifespan of a sport venue, could we instead push them to incorporate more sustainable innovation into venue creation and design?

My thought here was that leagues should implement sustainable benchmarks as part of their overall venue standards.

Imagine the impact of the NFL coming out and saying that all new NFL stadiums are required to draw 20% or more of their electricity needs from renewable sources. Maybe there'll be more solar panels on stadium roofs, like in Philadelphia. Or parking lots covered with solar panels.

Or MLB requiring that new ballparks need to support 40% of their capacity travelling to the game through mass transit and enforce maximums for parking lot spaces.

This could all be taken a step further an also include a roadmap for venue renovations (all venues in 10 years will draw at least 12% of their electricity from renewable sources?).

Now that would require some alignment across the board of governors of the individual leagues, who are naturally the owners and operators of the teams and, often, the venues as well. But it would go a long way to prove that league-wide sustainability initiatives aren't just wallpaper as teams fly around the continent, and a full-house on the weekend pulls more power than some small cities.

So if the leagues are reluctant, what if this becomes part of the quiver for municipalities who are providing public funds. There have been cases with cities and states playing a bit of hardball as the funding sport infrastructure doesn't always offer the promised economic impact, that the tax earnings and the glossy entertainment district never really comes to fruition.

So could a city tie their funding to also advancing broader municipal goals for sustainability, such as mass transit or providing power back to the grid (such as those solar panel covered parking lots).

Anyway, this never really turned into the report I hoped it would. In today's political landscape, it probably presents as a bit of a landmine, and even prior to the past six months, calling into question the sustainability initiatives and commitments of leagues was a bit of a non-starter.

But every time a new facility or renovation is announced, or a locale like Climate Pledge Arena is lauded, I wish that these approaches were mandated and not just glossy nice-to-haves.

[astralshade]

Candle magick is a great way to practice your spellcasting and doesn’t require anything more than a candle and your intentions. By harnessing the power of fire (the element of transformation) candles are used to bring change.

The basic principles of candle magick are:

Set a clear intention – why are you doing this spell and what do you want the outcome to be? Be positive and specific, for example “I want $500 to pay my rent this month” is much clearer than “I need more money”. Intentions are best set in a single sentence. Be realistic, avoid making wishes and be careful not to interfere with free will.

Imagine what the outcome will look like – meditate on how you will feel when your goal is achieved. Picture yourself handing that rent money over to your landlord or jumping for joy when you get the phone call offering you your dream job.

Concentrate your thoughts on the result – don’t let your mind wander into a negative mindset. Focus purely on manifesting your desired outcome. A good tip here is not to think about how it will happen, instead keep your thoughts fixed on the end result.

What candles should I use?

There are many different types of candles available to purchase. Some of the most popular and common ones on the market are tealight candles, votive candles, taper candles and pillar candles; there’s also paraffin wax, soy wax, palm wax and beeswax candles to choose from.

Paraffin is the most common material used to make candles, however, being a petroleum by-product, they release harmful, toxic fumes when burnt. A safer alternative is soy wax or beeswax. A medium-size taper or votive candle is usually best for spell work. Large pillar candles can take too long to burn for short spells, especially if you need to burn it all the way to the bottom to complete the ritual, but are ideal for multi-day spell work.

It is crucial that you only use new candles during your magickal work, never repurpose candles you have burned before. Candles absorb the energy around them so used candles will still hold the energy that was present during their previous use; this could impact on their effectiveness.

What are the colour associations?

Colours have their own unique energy. The green growth in Spring brings a feeling of fertility and abundance; red has a powerful and passionate ambience.

When choosing a candle, pick a colour that is associated with the intention of your spell:

Red: Passion, vitality, health, strength, courage, sexual power, lust, independence

Pink: Friendship, innocent love, compassion, nurturing, femininity, romance, spiritual & emotional healing, protection for children

Orange: Creativity, joy, vitality, fun, intellectual and legal matters, justice, business success, overcoming addiction, ambition

Gold: Money, fortune, abundance, prosperity, divination, luck, positive attitude, justice, health

Yellow: Protection, success, happiness, learning, memory, imagination, confidence, travel

Green: Fertility, money, fortune, abundance, prosperity, physical & emotional healing, growth, luck, marriage

Light Blue: Health, spirituality, peace, protection

Blue: Dream work, communication, forgiveness, good fortune, truth, fidelity, patience, astral projection

Dark Blue: Spiritual guidance, psychic ability, stop gossip/lies, ambition, overcome depression

Purple: Wisdom, ambition, power, contact with spirits, ward off evil, change luck

Brown: Earth magick, animal magick, house blessing, finding lost objects

Black: Banishing, grounding, wisdom, learning, protection, unhexing, repelling black magick

White: Purity, cleansing, peace, balance, spirituality, healing, truth

Silver: Psychic awareness, intuition, dreams, communication, gambling luck

Many witches use a white candle as an all-purpose substitute for any other colour.

When starting out on a magickal path you will learn to choose correspondences appropriate to your intentions, but the most important part of your journey will be discovering what has meaning to you personally.

What is ‘dressing’ a candle?

Before burning, it is important to build a connection between your energy and that of the candle. To do this, focus your thoughts and visualise your goal, then imagine yourself pouring your energy into the candle. While you are doing this, anoint the candle with oil; either grapeseed or essential oils are best. This is process is called ‘dressing’ a candle.

There are many ways to coat the candle, the two I find most effective are:

To bring something to you, starting from the top and rub the oil down to the centre of the candle then, from the bottom, rub the oil upwards to meet in the middle

To send something away, or remove it, start in the middle of the candle and work the oil outwards to the ends.

If you are including herbs in your ritual, roll the dressed candle in the dried herb until it is fully coated.

You may feel tingles in your hands while working on the candle or you could experience a pulsating sensation. This is the energy building up and a sign that the candle is being charged, but don’t worry if you don’t experience anything, it’s perfectly normal either way.

How do I perform a candle spell?

Keeping your intention in mind, select your candle and place it in a holder to keep it secure.

Always use caution when working with fire and never leave a burning candle unattended. Burn candle out of reach of children and pets. Always leave at least 10cm between burning candles. Do not burn candles on or near anything that can catch fire.

Dress your candle with some oil and add herbs and spices for extra energy if you need to.

Chants or incantations rise the vibrational energy and are best prepared before casting your spell. There are many chants available online or you can create your own – the most potent words will be the ones personal to you. Many spells include rhyming chants as they are easy to remember and feel powerful when spoken out loud. Remember to write your chants in your Book of Shadows.

For a bit of extra magickal help, check the lunar calendar to determine the best time in the moon cycle to perform your spell.

To bring something in cast it during the waxing phase.

To let something go cast it during the waning phase.

For full power cast it during a full moon. Basic spell

Gather your magickal items – a coloured candle and holder, a piece of paper that is the same colour of your candle, a pen or pencil, oils and herbs that correspond with your intention.

Meditate until you are feeling completely relaxed. Take a few deep breaths and release any negativity.

Repeat your chant as many times as you need to until you feel the energy of your intention filling you up. A healing spell I created in my Book of Shadows, for example, was “Skin to flesh, dark to light, bind thee with love, shining bright. Blood to bone, night to day, let this sickness fade away. With harm to none this spell’s cast free, so I say it, so it shall be.”

Write your intention on the piece of paper, such as “My body is strong, healthy and free from dis-ease”

As you are writing down your intention, imagine what the outcome will look like. Using this example, imagine your body in its prime condition, moving without pain, your skin glowing with health. Keep your mind focused on this goal throughout the ritual.

Once you have finished writing, fold the paper while still chanting your incantation.

Set light to the candle.

Place one corner of the paper into the flame of the candle so it catches fire. Imagine the candle’s power is growing, filling your sacred space. Imagine it getting bigger, swelling out into the universe to bring you what you have manifested. Hold it there for as long as possible then transfer it to a fire-proof bowl or cauldron, leaving it to continue burning until it has turned to ash. Leave the candle to burn until the flame has extinguished.

Once the candle is completely out and the wax has cooled (it may or may not have burned all the way to the base, this doesn’t matter. Don’t re-light it.), bury it outdoors - the spell is complete.

Remember: No matter what magickal path you are on, or how many items you have on your altar, the most powerful element in any spell is you. Your intention and mindset are the foundations of any spell.

[cosmicgrapevine]

A Brief Guide to Demonology

One of the stereotypes of amateur sf/f writers is that they can fill a whole encyclopedia’s worth of information about races, magic systems, political factions, and the like, but get stopped cold when it comes time to write the actual story. Ergo, in the interests of this not happening to me I am trying to focus on function over form, and only expand the lore as much as I need to. (Breaking out of the whole “I love writing except for the writing part” mindset is crucial in general, but that’s a different discussion.) That said, gone are the days when you could just make up this stuff as you went, so:

The term ‘Demon’ itself is a bit ambiguous, and I’m not sure at this point where its outer boundaries are. If American English had a term closer to youkai or sidhe, I would use that instead. Nor are they quite Abrahamic in origin; they’re corporeal, possession works more like parasite-induced metamorphosis, and it is usually permanent. I feel they are close enough for the term to make sense. They can take over people (but can also be exorcised) they’re mostly evil, but they’re diverse enough for a more broad term to make sense.

The weakest form of demon is the Imp. In their natural form, these guys are tiny, slimy, pathetic little things (think Envy’s caterpillar-like form from FMA) who are nonetheless basically living petroleum jelly and very hard to kill or exterminate for good. While they can technically force themselves to stay in a sapient host, it’s much easier for both if the host agrees to be possessed; that said, ‘agrees’ is interpreted very loosely among imp-kind.

They search for willing hosts by sensing negative emotions in a potential host that they can worm their way in by exploiting or manipulating. At this point, either the host recognizes what is happening and forces the imp out, or they sink further into whatever emotions or memories the imp is messing with, and the possession continues apace.

For any non-sapient host, the ceiling for the Imp is becoming a Half Demon. Basically, a non-sapient mind can only house an imp for so long, and as the clock ticks down, the host begins to mutate unpredictably. Eventually it will die, and if the imp hasn’t escaped, it will die as well. Something like a pig, ape, or bear might last a month; most invertebrates would die within 24 hours. When imps engage in organized warfare (not often, up until my plot starts) they use such beings as the equivalent of suicide bombers or kamikaze flyers.

In human territory Imps often try to make animal hosts ‘more humanlike’, both biologically and psychologically, but don’t understand humanity very well and more often create shambling half-sapient abominations. Half Demons also can occur when an imp is not compatible with a host, or the host tries to force it out but the imp tries to cling on inside, or any number of other complications.

If it goes well, you end up with what is called a Full, Pure, or True Demon; a demon that has fully synthesized with its sentient host and can only be expelled by an exorcist. With the intelligence and strength of a human and the resourcefulness and malice of an imp, these make for terrifying foes, especially the ones who have found juuust the right host to bond with (yes, there’s a bit of Venom going on here). They augment their host’s body, making them stronger, tougher, and faster than before. Furthermore, they can pass as human easily, only occasionally needing to cough up a little black ooze in private. True Demons will burn out eventually too, but it can take years.

True Demons who have ascended to great power, held the same host for 10+ years, and/or command other demons are known as Master-Demons, but this is a social distinction, not a scientific one.

Some other notes:

-Individual imps don’t really have a ‘self’, and basically take on the identity of their host.

-As you can surmise, the ‘magic’ here is very biological in origin and aesthetic; this is deliberate, and is meant to contrast sharply with the more mystical, fae-inspired paranormal characters that will show up later.

-The King of Demons, insomuch as there is one, is a Master-Demon named George E. Scutari, who has formed an allegiance with the aforementioned fae, and is combining fae and demon magic, at scale, to terrifying effect. He is the ultimate pursuer of Lind in the early chapters, for a magical artifact he thinks Lind holds. I may soon do a Major Antagonists page in which he will be described in more detail.

[ask-spider-man-61610]

Hiiii bestie! Hope you didn’t miss me too much! Just wanted to check on you! I’ve got a question for you. 🍁 Why are you okay with some of your besties eating people but when I’M trying to save the environment by cracking a few corrupt corporate eggs, it’s suddenly BAD AND EVIL NOW?? I wanna understand you. Thank u ~ 💚🐙

Huh. I thought I blocked you.

Alright, so first of all, I'm not okay with symbiotes eating people. If there was a better way to get the amounts of phenethylamine and body mass they need, I would be pretty frank about my discomfort. Even with the dietary requirement behind it I can't stand to actually watch them do it. Gwen and I have gotten into screaming matches about our respective stances on killing.

Second of all, I've seen some of the things you turn people into. And I don't care who they used to be, nobody deserves to have that done to them. No, not even lobbyists for the oil industry.

Listen to me, Odyssia. I am speaking to you as a lifelong resident of a world that has no petroleum left. Our sky is grey. Our ozone layer looks like Swiss cheese, our oceans contain more plastic than could be collected within a century, and the only reason wildfires haven't destroyed a quarter of the planet is because we have multiple people with weather manipulation powers who spend basically all their time summoning downpours.

I'm saying this, with that as my background: you are not reducing the number of lobbyists and CEOs out there. You are never going to reduce that number to zero by turning them into monsters. You could be building cases against the companies involved, forcing them into bankruptcy, and/or sabotaging their processes. What you're doing instead is providing their replacement lobbyists with a convenient bad guy, a real life straw-woman who they can claim all environmentalists are like.

You could do better! You don't need to hurt anyone! With the power the Writhing One's loaning you, you could completely remove the Great Pacific Garbage Patch by yourself. Instead you're subjecting people to horrific transformations and enslaving them to your whims--and sometimes just killing random people who discover you. I know aaaaall about Morris Bench, you know. You can't honestly argue that he deserved what you did to him.

Yes, you're bad and evil. Thank you for saying it so succinctly. I'd say I hope you "understand" me a little better, but honestly, I don't give a fuck.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

The Voice That Launched an Airship

At long last, after almost six months grounded, it's time to re-launch Sir Pentious's @usedhearts airship.

Celebratory gifts are exchanged. Celebratory smooches are also exchanged. People are blown up. Don't worry, they probably deserved it maybe.

Telly

Today was the day. Launch day. The day of launching. The special day, specifically for launching the airship.

Telly was giddy with excitement, beaming with a smile so wide it'd make a Radio Demon jealous. He instructed the Eggs, putting the finishing touches, and doing the double and triple checks of all the defenses. There was no way in Hell he was going to let anything bring down this ship again.

"YOU, 444! CHECK THE POWERLINES TO THE SHIELD GENERATORS AGAIN! I DON'T WANT THEM FAILING AT AN INOPPORTUNE MOMENT! AND YOU! 1A, GET YOUR SUBGROUP AND MAKE SURE THE TANKS ARE SECURE! I THINK I SAW SOME SHODDY WELDING LAST I WAS DOWN THERE!"

He coiled before the controls, slowly and methodically going over all of the buttons and switches and dials with keen eyes. "HAS ANYONE SEEN ALASTOR? HE SHOULD BE HERE BY NOW! REPORT!"

A few nearby Eggs shook their heads-- or rather, their whole bodies. Telly took a breath, nudging the case by his coils with the tip of his tail. Alastor would be here. It was an important day for them both, after all.

Alastor

Alastor was back in the storage rooms, triple checking his work. The inner surface of the hull was crisscrossed with a vast array of sigils and seals, carved and painted and welded along the metal like the hull was an oversized inside-out faberge egg. Every once in a while there was a round metal dome welded in place, usually at the crossroads or center points of his sigils, about the size of a baseball mitt; and beneath the domes were additional protective charms he'd made, each one with a single tiny radio at the heart of it, wrapped in a pouch of snakeskin.

It was some of the most ambitious magical work he'd ever done—at least in terms of intellectual work, as opposed to just a demonstration of blunt power. And he wasn't even finished yet; once they were in the air, he and Telly still had to collaborate on incorporating protective magic into the forcefields.

If this worked, this airship was going to be the best defended structure a sinner had ever made. IF this worked. So Alastor was making sure it would work. There was no way in Hell he was going to let anything bring down this ship again.

Telly

Telly checked the clock again-- He'd give Alastor a few more minutes before calling him up to the bridge. He was probably doing checks of his own. Telly's hood flared briefly as he caught an Egg mooing over him-- and quickly coiled his tail around it. He checked the number-- a quadruple digit, good-- and then cracked it open. Telly slurped down the Egg Boi's yolk and tossed the shell aside. The protein would do him good, stressed as he was.

"NINE!" He called. The Egg toddled over and saluted. "Go find Alastor and see if he requires any assistance, and then inform him his presence is requested on the bridge, if he's done."

Nine gave a hearty 'Yessir!' and marched off. It took the Egg a few minutes of searching before he found where Alastor was, and he walked right up to the Radio Demon without fear. The new feather in his hat bobbed, and he tugged softly on the tail of Alastor's coat.

"Mr. Radioman! Mr. Bossman sent me to see if you needed any help! And then to inform you that your presence is request at the bridge, if you're done." Nine hesitated, before reaching into his little suit to pull out something.

"I have something for you too, Mr. Radioman." He held aloft the small locket, popping it open to reveal the bit of snake skin in it. "This is from the Bossman's first shed. I kept it all this time but....I want you to have it."

Alastor

Alastor was so absorbed in his work—music playing in his head, floating red symbols spread out in front of him—that he didn't even notice the approaching Egg until he was tugging on Alastor's coat.

He started. "What—? Oh! Hello..." He leaned over to check. "Number Nine. No, no help needed—I'm finished here." He could check his wards a hundred more times before he was totally satisfied, but he hadn't found anything yet and he probably wouldn't find anything then.

His concentration was totally broken now, anyway—his gaze locked on the locket. What a beautiful trinket. "Really?" He reached for it, then hesitated and asked again, "*Really?* Why me?"

Telly

Nine looked a little sheepish, rubbing his hands over the locket. "I thought you were going to hurt Mr. Bossman like the other you did. I didn't trust you, but you make Mr. Bossman happy. You're doing so much for him, things us Eggs never could. He's been much more like himself lately, thanks to you, too. So...I wanted to show you that I'm grateful for all of that. And that I trust you to take care of Mr. Bossman."

He tugged Alastor's sleeve to bring down his hand, and placed the locket in it. "Take it. I want you to have it. You can use it, right? Like you did the other shed. To protect yourself? I don't know what would happen to Mr. Bossman if he lost you, and I don't wanna know. So use it and stay safe, for him."

Nine stepped back and nodded. "Are you ready to go up to the bridge, Mr. Radioman?"

Alastor

Alastor's smile softened in self-consciousness and surprise. "Aw, well—gee." Golly gee shucks. He didn't think he'd ever be moved by an egg, but here he was. Not just at the show of trust and gratitude, but also at hearing just how much he was helping Telly.

His fingers closed around the locket. "There's powerful magic in a snake's first shed, especially one that's had so much emotion attached to it. I'll be able to make something strong with this." For now, merely having the locket would be enough to serve as a minor lucky charm. "Thank you. I'll take good care of it." And he'd also have to think of a way to return the favor.

"Ready when you are! Lead the way, my good egg!" And as Alastor followed, he surreptitiously undid his bow tie and unbuttoned his collar, just enough to slip the locket on underneath his shirt and undershirt, before putting his clothes back in order.

Telly

Nine led the way indeed! He toddled along, and before long, they were there.

"Number Nine and Mr. Radioman, reporting for duty!" Nine said, saluting to Telly, as he rounded on them. Telly beamed at the sight, slithering over. He patted Nine and sent him off, before leaning in to give Alastor a quick peck.

"There you are! I was beginning to worry you got lost in the bowels of the ship." He cackled, holding Alastor's hand as he slithered back over to the controls.

"I have something to give you before we launch. How did your final checks go, by the by?"

Alastor

"Mr. Radioman, present and accounted for." Peck! "I've spent so much time decorating those bowels I don't think I could get lost if I tried—I'd recognize my place by the individual rivets. The ship's shipshape, cap'n."

His smile widened a bit. "I've got something for you, too! But give me yours first, I'm greedy."

Telly

"Well, alright, Mr. Greedy." Telly grinned, pulling up the case at his coils. He set it on the armrest of the control panel, popping it open. Inside was a beautiful rifle in red and black, with intricate engravings along the barrel. It was deconstructed at the moment, but even so, it was a gorgeous weapon.

"One one-of-a-kind Sir Pentious original hunting rifle, made special for my partner-in-crime." Telly puffed and grinned, preening a bit. "I'd say it's my finest work!"

Alastor

His eyes widened. "*Oh.*" He ran his hands along it. "My word. It's utterly beautiful." He wrapped an arm around Telly and kissed him, then eagerly started assembling his new rifle. "And me with no chance to test it out before we get underway!" He laughed, then lifted it up to aim toward the window along a path with minimal eggs, finger off the trigger but held as though he were imagining aiming it at some prey. "Oh, I love it already. It feels just right."

Telly

"I thought you might. I balanced it perfectly! There's not a thing out of order or off, I quadruple checked every measurement of every piece!" He put his hands on Alastor's shoulders, leaning his head right next to his. Telly pressed a kiss to his cheek, purring.

"Nothing but the best for _my_ partner-in-crime. Perhaps you'll get a chance to test it soon!" He chuckled, slithering back to the controls.

"Final checks are almost done, then we'll get this bird in the air!" He grinned. "But you have something for me too, yes?"

Alastor

"I do!" He set the rifle down, fished around inside a pocket, and pulled out a little red pouch, about the size of a pocket watch but plumper, sealed shut. "Ta-da. Protection for the ship, *and* protection for you, with a little of your skin in it—among other things." He held it out cupped in his hands so that only he and Telly could see it.

"Now, this is a bit of magic I'm never going to be able to teach you to do, but I can tell you how to use it. Keep it on you in your clothes—an inner pocket would do—don't let anybody else touch it, and feed it from time to time. Perfume or cologne will do fine, particularly perfume made with real ingredients instead of petroleum fragrances. Just dab a bit on the bag at the same time you put it on yourself and that'll be plenty. It needs to be fed because it's a living thing—not in the way you or I were living things, but closer to the way the Eggs are—and that's what's going to make it strong."

Telly

Telly looked at the little bag with wide eyes, nodding along with Alastor's words. His head tilted and his tongue flicked. "It feeds on perfume? Interesting. I tend to use natural ingredients for my scents, so that won't be a problem. When I am...not wearing clothing, where should I put it?"

He carefully took the bag, holding it in both his hands to shield it, and gently tucked it into his inner suit pocket.

Alastor

"Hopefully, when you're naked, you'll usually be here," he winked, "so you'll be safe enough with the ship's defenses. You can keep it by the bed or with your toiletries, wherever you can put it on the next morning. Maybe in a box so nobody will pick it up. Just treat it respectfully. If you want to wear it while you're nude, you can hang it from a belt or a necklace."

Telly

"Oh, I'll have to find a nice little box for it, yes. What kind of wood would be good for it? I don't want one that will interfere with it in anyway." Look at him, picking up things like that already. Telly smiled, flicking his tongue at Alastor.

Alastor

His smile widened. "Cedar would do well," he said, wrapping his arms around Telly.

Telly

"Cedar. I think we have some of that, I'll have a few of the Eggs craft a little box for it. Simple enough." He wrapped his arms around Alastor in return, and kissed his forehead.

"Alright, darling, final checks should be nearly done. You ready to see this thing fly?" He grinned and winked.

Alastor

"I can't tell you how ready I am!" He squeezed Telly. "Show me the view from the air!"

Telly

Telly slithered up to his spot at the controls, keeping an arm around Alastor.

"EGGS! FINAL REPORT! FALL IN!" He shouted, the Super Eggs, along with his oldest five filing into ranks. They saluted, reporting that everything was in order and ready to go. Telly nodded, releasing the arm around Alastor to start pressing things on the control panel.

The engines roared to life, the sound thrumming through the whole airship. Telly grinned.

"OPEN THE LAUNCH DOORS!" He shouted. The roof of the warehouse shuddered and split down the middle retracting to allow the ship to begin its steady upward rise.

"POWERING UP ALL DEFENSES! FORCEFIELD ONLINE! WEAPONRY ONLINE! EVERYTHING IS A GO!" He cackled wildly, throwing two levers forward. The ship picked up speed pushing itself high faster. Telly felt his inner ears pop as they ascended.

"**RISE! RISE MY BEAUTIFUL AIRSHIP! MAKE THOSE FOOLS DOWN BELOW TREMBLE IN FEAR AT THE MIGHT OF SIR PENTIOUS! THE SKIES BELONG TO ME ONCE MORE!!**"

Alastor

Don't mind as Alastor starts playing "Flight of the Valkyries"—he thought the moment needed some fitting musical accompaniment. For a moment he stood alongside Telly, like a loyal second-in-command, but it wasn't long before his excitement got the best of him and he flitted through the shadows to the front of the airship, where he could stare down at the warehouses falling away beneath them. The rumbling of the engine in his bones, the sensation of lifting higher and higher, the signals coming in clearer as the buildings blocking them disappeared... This never got old.

He half turned to smile back at Sir Pentious. "And I'd like to see anyone try to take the skies from us this time!"

Telly

"THAT'SS RIGHT! NO ONE CAN EVER TAKE THEM FROM USS AGAIN! FIRST THIS SSHIP, AND SSOON A WHOLE FLEET! HELL WILL TREMBLE BEFORE USS, THE ENTIRE PRIDE RING WILL FALL AT OUR FEET!" He was on a roll, eyes wide, teeth bared, hood flared. His tongue flicked rapidly and he cackled. A few more switches switched and keys pressed, and he slithered from the controls to join Alastor at the window.

"LOOK AT THEM, DOWN BELOW, TREMBLING LIKE SSHEEP AT THE SSLAUGHTER! THEY'RE RIGHT TO FEAR! THEY'RE RIGHT TO COWER! OUR MIGHT IS UNLIKE ANY HELL HASS SSEEN BEFORE! THEY SSHOULD JUSST GIVE USS THE TERRITORY NOW AND PRAY WE DON'T DESSTROY THEM!! WE ARE--"

His voice cut off as something started plinking against the forcefield right in front of the windshield, making the field visible in little bursts of red-pink light.

"**WHO _DARESS_ FIRE UPON _SSIR PENTIOUSS_ ON THISS, THE DAY OF MY LAUNCHING!**" He turned to the Eggs. "SSOMEONE GET ME A SSPYGLASSSS!!"

Alastor

Alastor chuckled condescendingly. "Oh my, isn't that *cute!*" He leaned forward, squinted, and adjusted his monocle, as if the theatrical display really helped him better see the insignificant threat below. "It's like throwing a baseball at a tank! If the forcefield was *off,* we probably wouldn't have been able to notice it at all!"

He stepped to the side to let an Egg hand over a spyglass. "Why, we could fly straight past without even acknowledging them," he said lightly; and then, voice distorting, teeth sharpening, added, "**But that doesn't sound fun.**"

Telly

"NO, THAT DOESSN'T SSOUND LIKE FUN AT ALL!" Telly snatched the spyglass, raising it to his eye. He focused on the person or persons down below.

"HM!! IT SEEMSS TO BE A RANDOM GROUP OF SSINNERSS! OH! MAYBE A MINOR OVERLORD. DO YOU RECOGNIZE THEM?" He passed the spyglass over to Alastor to take a look.

Alastor

He took the spyglass and peered through himself. "Hm... I think I've seen their ringleader in the papers." He lowered the spyglass so Telly could see him roll his eyes. "But not on the front page. Or in the first section. Just another little gang of troublemaking wanna-bes with too much heavy artillery."

Telly

Telly smirked, and then the smirk turned into an evil grin. "Well! Why don't we give them a proper greeting!"

At that moment, a rocket launched at the airship. It crashed against the forcefield, blossoming into an explosion that rolled across the shield, rippling like a wave of orange and red-pink. Inside, though, not even the vibrations reached them and Telly sniffed haughtily.

"What do you think, darling? Missiles, heat ray, Gatling gun? How sshould we 'greet' them?"

Alastor

"What a fireworks show!" Alastor laughed. "We might want to reduce that later so we don't lose visibility any time we're shotgunned—but my goodness, if it isn't a colorful show right now!"

He tilted his head in exaggerated thought as he considered his options. "After they went to all the trouble of welcoming us to the skies with a rocket, it would only be polite of us to return the favorite! *Missiles.*"

Telly

"Missssilesss it isss!" He grinned and slithered over to open the weapon panel. He took aim and paused.

"Alassstor, my love, would _you_ like to launch the first missssiless?" Telly winked.

Alastor

"I'd be utterly delighted to!" He practically skipped up to the panel—paused for dramatic tension—and then, with a flourish, launched them.

Telly

The missiles let out a ear piercing screech as they launched-- and _that_ explosion sent vibrations through the ship as they made contact. Telly cackled, bringing up the live feed from the cameras outside-- looked like he could've used that this whole time, to see who they were. In the place of the group was a fiery crater, and some seared chunks of sinner.

"WELL! LOOKSSS LIKE THAT TOOK CARE OF THEM!! AHAHA!!"

Alastor

"Oh what a show! An explosive performance! Too hot to handle! Why, that's the best thing I've seen on the TV in decades!" Alastor laughed along with Telly, loud and malicious. "It's like a reverse ship christening! Instead of smashing a bottle on the ship, it's the ship that does the smashing!"

He grabbed Telly's hands and tugged him into a magically-aided spin. "Look at us, we made it! We really made it! You and me! Back in the sky and back on the saddle! Ready to raise Hell and rain hellfire!"

Telly

Telly laughed, spinning with Alastor. He grinned as he pulled him closer, dipping him to kiss.

"We did! We finally did it! Back in the air, and none can bring us down!" He cackled, pressing his forehead to Alastor's. "I love you so much, my hart!"

Alastor

He flung his arms around Telly to keep himself up as he kissed Telly back, a peppy foxtrot playing in the background around them.

"*I'm walkin' on air, yes walkin' on air—*" He cut off his own singing with a laugh, hugging Telly tighter. "I—love you too." A lump formed in his throat. He kissed Telly again.

Telly

He blinked at the reciprocration of the words, and his face broke into an even wider grin. Telly kissed him back, arms wrapped tight around him. He sighed against his lips, righting them.

"I'm so glad to have you in my life..." He purred, and then turned back towards the controls.

"Darling, would you...like to steer whilst I play?" Telly grinned and winked.

Alastor

He had to nod for a moment before he could work past the lump in his throat to say, "Yes—God, yes, I'd like that more than anything." He said it with the exact sort of voice thick with emotion that was usually reserved for ecstatic weepy girlfriends whose boyfriends have just pulled out a ring. A reasonable reaction to getting to drive a terrifying flying death machine.

Telly

Telly purred, leading him back over to the controls. "Just a moment..."

He searched over the console and flipped a switch. Instantly, all the more complicated controls started to ping on unique radio frequencies. "There we go!"

He kissed Alastor's cheek and then headed over to the organ.

Alastor

"My goodness, is this exciting." He fanned himself with a hand as he followed Telly, as if the sheer excitement had him at risk of overheating. "I can hardly contain myself!"

But he abruptly stopped his little fanning act the moment all the controls started turning on. "It just got a whole lot noisier in here, didn't it!" He laughed. "Say, have you ever seen those one man bands? Musicians with a dozen instruments strapped all over their bodies, playing them all at the same time?" Alastor ran through the frequencies, watching as screens and lights throughout the bridge flashed on. "Give me a few weeks to play around, and I'm going to be one."

For now, though, he'd just figure out navigation. He played for a few seconds with the manual controls, listening to the signals they produced as he directed the ship around; and then he copied them, directing the ship forward via radio signals alone. Oh, this was fun. No—*exhilarating.* "What do you think—a lap around the city? Far enough out not to menace downtown but near enough they can see us?"

Telly

"Oh, yes, that sounds wonderful, darling!" Telly smiled as he took his seat at the organ. He cracked his knuckles, flexed his tail, and started playing. The instrument echoed loudly, able to be heard anywhere in the ship-- and anywhere in the near vicinity outside.

They were going to make SURE everyone knew they were back in the sky.

Alastor

Alastor steered the ship in time to the music, waving his cane like a conductor's baton when he directed it to change course, dancing to the music when he didn't need to issue any commands, singing along whenever he knew the lyrics—sometimes stopping to lean with his back pressed to Telly's back to ensure Telly could hear his singing over the thunderous organ music.

Damn straight, everyone would know they were back—and they were never coming down again.

[aiorevelations]

A Number, Not a Name: Part 18

Enjoy everyone!

4 months earlier:

Regis scanned the fragment of paper spread out across the table before him. Not even a month ago he was a desperate man chasing the shadows of his lifelong mentor. What he’d found in the jungles of South America had been nothing short of a profound revelation. The ancient words inscribed held the key to changing humanity. From the very beginning, he had believed deep within his soul that what Professor M spoke of was true. He couldn’t explain it. He just knew it. Though he’d never have suspected that the place which possessed what he sought was merely some speck on a map. A hamlet of small-town America. In the end, though the where didn’t matter. What mattered was that he attained his goal. Failure was his greatest fear. After what he’d sacrificed to get this far he wasn’t about to fall short an inch away from the finish line. Like Professor M had. When he stumbled upon he’d found a broken sickly old man barely clinging onto life. Filled with regret and sorrow that though he literally held in his hand the culmination of his life’s work, he would never live to see it. Regis had vowed that would not be his fate.

Fate, however, was a funny thing. Previously Dr. Blackgaard had possessed adequate resources yet lacked the knowledge he required. Now just when he had attained the necessary knowledge his funds were depleted. Alas Professor M had died, weighed down in debt, and without any assets to further fund Regis’ research. Dr. Blackgaard was one to keep his research away from prying eyes. The last thing he wanted was to inform anyone of his discovery. Who knows what might happen. Word could spread to the general public if that happened it was game over. Blackgaard was well aware however that the little venture he was starting in Chicago wouldn’t provide him with the funds he needed. The choice was before him. Either choose not to share his work and lose any chance of funding or take the chance and inform potential investors of his findings. When put that way there was only one option - the latter. “Blast” he muttered under his breath.

He rolled up the parchment and stood up from his chair, grasping his walking stick as he sat up. Pacing back and forth on the wooden floor he tried thinking of someone who would work as a potential investor. Blackgaard’s mind raced. Too many people had their motives and agendas they were trying to serve. The last thing he wanted to be was someone’s puppet. He’d rather give up his work altogether than be a pawn in someone else’s game. It has to be someone who has enough resources yet can be easily fooled. Someone obsessed with power and ambition that they’d do anything to obtain it - even trust a complete stranger. A person who is so full of themselves they’d never think anyone could bring them down. Sasha meowed, interrupting Blackgaard’s thoughts. He stooped down and picked up his faithful feline companion. Softly, he stroked her neck and behind her ears, prompting a deep purr from Sasha. “Oh, Sasha…Now, who do we know who’d be aware of someone like that.” 

Blackgaard had a long list of reliable contacts. Men and women spread across the globe. People who were aware of plots and schemes of power and the people behind them. Blackgaard’s polished shoes thudded on the packed earth as he circled the jungle cabin, left exactly as it had been when Professor M died. Professor M’s research notes and documents were packed carefully in boxes that were neatly stacked. His personal effects and clothes were strewn throughout the room. 

Regis placed Sasha down on the floor and walked to where Professor M’s trunk was located in the corner of the small hut. He opened the lid and searched through it until he found a notebook. He scanned over the pages looking for a particular name. An old contact of theirs who Professor M had known even before he met his esteemed mentor. They had come to value her greatly. Every secret or scheme going on she always found a way to find out. Finally, Regis' eyes landed on the name he was searching for. Blackgaard knew she was the answer. 

…..

4 months earlier:

Liana stared blankly ahead. She was busy pouring coffee yet her mind was somewhere else. Today would have been Erik’s birthday. She tried to push it to the side and carry on waitressing, but the memories would come flooding back. Picnics in the park. Splashing each other in the lake. The way he’d shower her with flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day. 

Liana had known she’d never be able to have peace until her father and all those responsible answered for their actions, but she at least thought with time she’d be able to have a sense of healing. Instead, the more time passed the more angry she became. She should be spending these years with Erik. If he was here she was certain they’d have been married by now probably with children. Living a happy and beautiful life. She’d been robbed of that life and forced to live a cold and lonely one. 

“Liana!”  Hearing her name, she snapped out of her thoughts.

“Uh sorry. Millie. What is it?”

“You’re pouring coffee all over the counter.” Liana glanced down and saw she’d overfilled the coffee cup, causing the liquid to flow all over the countertop. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She set the decanter down and grabbed some napkins from the dispenser.

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed distracted all morning.” 

She wiped up the spilled coffee. “I’m fine.” Liana picked up the coffee cup and walked to a table by the shop window. 

She set the piping hot coffee on the table. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks so much” the man graciously responded.

“Would you like anything else?”

“No, this is good for me. Thanks.”

“Of course. If you need anything please let me know.” She forced a smile and began to walk to another table where two women were waiting to order. Halfway to the table, she stopped. Her eyes were drawn to the television mounted in the corner of the room. An image of a man’s face caught her eye. His familiar features, grey hair, wrinkled skin, piercing black eyes, matched the image she’d seen in person on multiple occasions. One of the faces seared into her head for the last nearly five years. There was no mistake, the man was none other than Davit Dalmar. Below his image was the headline “Breaking News: Davit Dalmar, CEO and founder of Dalmar Petroleum, announces run for Krudian parliament.”

Liana found herself chilled to the core seeing his face. It took her back, back to that night. The worst night of life. She holding her dying boyfriend in her arms, knowing there was nothing she or anyone else could do. She bit back her lip and took a deep breath. No, she wouldn’t break down, especially in a Budapest cafe. 

What was that expression? The past has a way of catching up to you. She’d always planned to go back. To go home. Deep down she knew what she had to do. That pain. That anger. That overwhelming feeling of loss. It was still there. Burning in her soul stronger than ever.  She knew she’d never be able to move forward unless she went backward. Nevertheless, when it came to confronting her past she’d find herself paralyzed. Unable to go back. Memories of Krudia, her father, Eric haunted her. Every street or shop in Bulin came with some painful reminder. The very thought of stepping off the airplane filled with her dread and terror.

But now seeing Dalmar had served to remind her of the men she’d left behind. And of what she’d lost. He was a monster. Him and her father both. She felt another wave of anger surge through her. In what world was it fair that Erik was dead and Norvan and Dalmar were still breathing? How could someone be so heartless as to take him from her without a second thought? How could people, like her father and Dalmar, find pleasure in killing others? She may have thought the removal of some malevolent individuals necessary but never took pleasure in their demise only in the justice being served. One thing couldn’t be denied: her father and Dalmar were insane. They had to be brought down. Any reservations or fears she had, Liana knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She was done running from her past. 

…..

Present-day:

Jason woke, tied to a chair. Ropes dug into his wrists. Beads of sweat trickled down his face, or perhaps blood, though he wasn’t sure which one. His eyes adjusted to the dim light. He appeared to be in some type of warehouse. Above him, warehouse pendant lights flickered the only source of light in the room. 

It all came flooding back to him—what he'd prayed had been only a nightmare—The car chase, men shooting at them, Tasha slumping forward on the steering wheel ….

Tasha. His heart began to race and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Where was she? He prayed she was still alive. He frantically glanced around him but saw no one. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if his earlier actions had caused this. 

He struggled to loosen the ropes that bound him. Straining he turned every which way trying to free himself. It was no use. He let out a scream of frustration and lowered his head. A feeling of helplessness and utter loneliness consumed him, His head throbbed but the physical pain he was experiencing didn’t compare to his overwhelming guilt.

It’s my fault. The words stabbed through his mind. I got us into this. I shouldn't have acted recklessly—Why didn’t I just stick to the plan? Why did I have to be so stubborn? He shook his head. I wanted so desperately to prove myself that I ended up screwing everything up. If I get out of this I’ll probably have to resign. The last thing the NSA wants is someone who can’t complete a routine mission, let alone their first assignment. Who knows, maybe that’s probably for the best anyway. Donovan saw right through me. My flaws and weaknesses…how careless I could be…and I proved him right. Now not only is the mission ruined but Tasha’s life is in danger because of me. If she dies I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

He glanced up at the ceiling. Right now he didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere. His whole body felt numb.

There was nothing he wanted to do, nowhere he wanted to go. Nothing mattered anymore, except doing everything he possibly could to right his mistake. To make sure Tasha was safe and if possible successfully complete their assignment.

Whoever was behind this would probably hurt him. The thought barely registered in his mind. He knew he should feel something. Dread. Fear. Anxiety. But he didn’t. All his thoughts were turned to Tasha. They could do whatever they wanted to him. It didn’t matter. He would willingly sacrifice his life without hesitation if it meant they didn’t touch her. At that moment he knew he was powerless. There was only one thing he could do. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.

…..

Tasha’s eyes darted around the room, her eyes landing on the metal door to the side of her. She felt something digging into her skin and realized she was tied up. Tasha lay against the wall struggling to recall previous events, how she’d ended up here. Her mind was blank. The last thing she remembered was leaving with Jason for the gala. She looked down at her clothes. Instead of the dark blue dress, she remembered she was wearing light pink pajamas. She looked around the room. The floor was layered with dirt. Cobwebs hung from the corners of the room. Jason was nowhere in sight. Who knew where he could be. For all Tasha knew he could be lying dead somewhere or being mercilessly tortured. 

The door creaked open causing Tasha to look up. An older muscular man entered the room followed by a tall brown-haired woman. 

It didn’t take a genius to guess what they were probably after. Information. Luckily, Tasha thought, she’d been briefed and trained how to resist such efforts. She sat up in her seat and braced herself for whatever was coming, though she couldn’t help the shivers that traveled down her spine. 

Milena’s eyes met Tasha’s. Tasha tried to read them yet they seemed nearly expressionless. The man’s on the other hand were easy to read. They were deathly cold.

Milena spoke. “I have to say that was quite a showing back there. Very impressive. My hired men are known for their efficiency. You and your associate were their hardest targets ever by far.” She crossed her arms. “So congrats.”

Tasha kept a blank expression on her face. "You might as well just skip to the end. I’m not saying anything.” 

“Who said anything about getting information? I’m not so stupid as to waste my time trying to get intel out of an NSA agent.”

Elias walked over to Tasha “Never saw that coming did you?”

Tasha looked him directly in the eyes. “Can’t say I didn’t. If I was in your shoes I wouldn’t waste my time either.” Fear trembled through her, but at the same time, there was a defiance in her eyes. Even in face of danger, she wasn’t one to submit or hold back on fiery comebacks. 

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. He glanced at Milena. “I like this one. Too bad we can’t keep her around.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be the best company anyway.” Tasha glanced at the metal door beyond Milena and Elias. There was one question she had to ask. Though a possible answer filled her with dread. Life had a funny, even almost cruel way of unfolding. Not even a few hours ago Jason and she had been going at it and now here she was worrying over his safety. Though she was still deeply angry and upset at Jason for what he had done, all that mattered to her right now was that he was alright. “Is…he okay?”

“He’s alive if that’s what you’re asking,” Elias replied.

 A wave of relief washed over Tasha. At least she and Jason were both alive. When it came down to it that alone only mattered. A dark thought crept into her mind. But then again who knew what their captors had in mind for them. Perhaps it would have been better for him not to survive, that might have been a merciful fate.

Elias stepped closer to Tasha. Then, from under his black shirt, he unslung a small black pistol from his belt.

Tasha’s mouth began to run dry and her heart began to race. Elias twirled the gun on his finger, only increasing Tasha’s uneasiness.

She ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed on Milena. “You know, you seem like a straight shooter so I’ll cut to the chase. Why exactly do you need us? If you’re not after information I fail to see the point.” 

Milena gave a small laugh. “Aren’t you a fast talker? Trying to hide your fear?”

“No, my boredom.”

Milena clasped her hands. “Let’s just say I need you both for a plan of mine.”

Tasha eyed her confusingly. “What kind of plan.”

“That would be giving things away now would it?”

“What things? Are you working for Dalmar?”

Pain flashed across Milena’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was only there for a second and was gone as soon as it came. Not before being noticed by Tasha. “Dalmar, that monster. Heck no! Your whole plan of bringing him down is still happening. You and Edward are just playing a different role than you originally planned.”

Tasha found herself shocked by Milena’s revelation. However, she made certain not to show her surprise to those in the room. Basic training - never show your opponent what you’re thinking. 

Milena turned to Elias. “Would you give us a moment?”

 He glanced from Milena to Tasha and back to Milena again. He placed his gun back in its holster. “Sure.” The door clanked shut behind him.

“I know what you may think of me and I can’t say I blame you. I’d probably feel the same way too…but I just want to say that I admire your tenacity. I respect what you’re doing.”

Tasha leaned forward. “Really. I would never have guessed. If you respected my mission, why interfere with it?”

“Trust me. I had my reasons. The justice I’d get from your NSA wouldn’t be enough.” She spoke, a hint of sadness showing in her eyes for a brief moment. 

From the first time she laid eyes on her Tasha could tell that the woman standing in front of her wasn’t a hardened criminal. That there was something beneath the surface. It was obvious now she’d suffered some tragic painful event in her life. Dalmar’s doing most likely. Tasha thought for a moment about how to respond. She knew the words she’d say would probably not change her mind or course of action, but she had to try.

Tasha spoke softly. “I know what horrific things Dalmar is capable of…Sometimes it seems that men like him just end up walking away but that’s no ex—”

“Excuse for me to take the law into my hands. Yeah, I figured that speech was coming. Guess what, I don’t have time for it.” Milena said strongly before turning around and walked across the room. Well, that went well but pretty much how I expected. Tasha thought as Milena shut the door behind her as she exited the room, leaving Tasha alone once again. 

[orcaraminga]

The Shadow’s Groom

Writer’s tip: listen to this song while you read! Polite opinions and advices are welcome.

   Once upon a time there was a man. A tiny, old and grey man. Grey were the hair, grey were the eyes, grey was his skin and grey was his soul. He was so grey, so deeply grey that who looked at him just couldn't understand if once this man could have been white or black. Maybe life just faded him with her merciless timeless dust, or maybe he used to be an evil man that after years just got tired of his own wicked nature, but without the ability of turning pure. Nobody could understand, nobody simply cared.

Who could have ever had an interest in a little man of smudge, after all?

People just looked at him and with conviction decided not to trust him. He was grey, and you never understand where to put grey. Is it nearer to the black, or just a little bit darker than white? There weren't easy answers in that man. There weren't answers at all and this could force human minds to face themselves.

People just couldn't stand this confront. So they banished him from their lives and left him alone with his dead companions. At first, the Grey Man didn't care. Time passed, he got used to loneliness.

And for the darkness he was surrounded by, the world started to call him the Shadow's Groom.

 He had his plans. Also some revenge plans; he had his dead companions (mostly made of futureless and bitter memories), he had clear ideas about existence and pain and people. Actually he couldn't stand people too, he couldn't trust them for the same reasons they would never have trusted him. Ignorance, fear and grief. The man knew grief very well, that's the reason of the dead companions, because they knew grief too. Well: maybe. No one could be certain.

So this faded man spent time trying to put himself out of the living world, almost like his dead companions, but partially failing, 'cause he was still alive. He didn't care so much about others, unless the ones who betrayed him in the past. They could always try to hit him again but that time, he thought, that time he would be prepared to pay back.

So the life of the man of smudge was made of waiting, with a taste of bitterness. There was nothing else left behind.

 But one day, when he was walking on the edge of a place called The Great Abyss, an odd creature appeared to him.

She was known as The Shadow, but she preferred only Shadow.

Strange, isn't it?

 By the way, the Shadow easily noticed the Grey Man. Looking at him with curiosity.

The man stared back. < What do you want? > he asked. Not interested in her name or identity, but he wanted to understand why someone would have watched so hard his...

< Your skin is grey. >

< I never realized. > Yes, the man was mordacious... and sarcastic.

< Did you lost your colors? Everybody needs colors. >

< You seem pretty too dark to say it... >

< You're right, but because I have too much for my own... that's why I am so dark. >.

 Shadow was of a mysterious, attractive and iridescent black. A tall woman that seemed almost made of petroleum, and flashes of colors flowed in her skin like exposed veins. The world stared at her like once we used to stare at stars, never daring to get closer, never even thinking of it.

However, the grey man was totally out from the world or maybe totally out of head to care. He just wanted to study her, to understand if she was a danger to him. Well, she was - of course she was. Shadows always feel like danger to the human race. But the Grey Man always had this ambitious desire to dominate and control everything in order to protect himself.

How silly of him.

< And usually how do you use these... colors? >.

< In lots of way, both good and evil >.

< So you are not grey; in some absurd, non-logic way, you are white and black at the same time... you are ambiguous and for this reason dangerous, unreliable >.

She smiled with a sort of pride. < People don't trust me because I saddle myself. I know I can't be only good or only evil. So I act both. Even if it feels better to be good, looking bad sometime is funnier! >

The man's eyes flashed with understanding and surprise. < You are a personification of Caos >.

< Possibly. Or maybe, something like Necessary Evil. You instead transpire Order and Control. What a boring person. >

< I am a serious person. >.

< Boring men always say so. >.

She never seemed worried. She wasn't scared at all and she was unpredictable exactly as she looked.

The Grey Man didn't like it. He remained silent.

 < But we were talking about colors. Where the hell are yours? > she continued. The other didn't answer, drowning his look into the Great Abyss. < That's none of your business. >

She didn't insisted. Not yet. But the day after, she asked again. And the next day. And the day after that.

And every single time, the Grey Man answered always the same way. < None. Of. Your. Business. > at the beginning quietly, but the last times... growling. Patience is not a quality we are all born with.

Finally his dead companions, with their cadaverous appearance, their cold hands, their pale skins and their empty sight came to him. < Maybe you should just answer... >.

< Maybe you should just shut up. > he replied, crossed arms and look in the Great Abyss as every morning.

 < Don't be mad with your companions just because they love you more than themselves >

He sighed, looking at clouds with exasperation. < I am not mad. I am just tired. >

< Did you know that some colors help renovate spiritual energy? > asked the Shadow with a lightly smile.

To be honest, the Gray Man just wanted to strangle her. Unluckily, she was a being as strong and powerful as him. It wasn't very easy defeat someone like The Shadow and that was another reason to dislike the woman.

< Seriously?! > A second sigh. < I don't need them >.

<Why? Love is the color to our canvas, don't you think? >

<I don't want either color or love. I am fine this way. >

She sneered. < Yeah, of course. >

Shadow was a ironic, annoying creature so the Grey Man simply ignored her or pretended to.

< But you didn't answer the first question. >

Oh, please. Someone just make this foolish woman stop talking.

 His companions were vanished. Of course they were. Dead people are not known for bravery.

And you really needed that to watch the Shadow and the Gray Man together, 'cause you never knew how it would have ended. Screaming? Fighting? Doom knew it. Really.

Damn.

< Where are your colours? >.

An instant eye to eye, and the man of smudge understood that woman would have never left him in peace. Never.

< They stole them from me. A long time ago. > He mumbled.

< Oh. > the genuine Shadow for a moment seemed shocked. For a moment. < I understand now... > a step, and she was touching his hair without asking. < You don't look so old, seeing close. >

He snorted. < Thank you. >

She laughed. < You are welcome. >

The old man wasn't old, no way. Not of age, at least.

He observed her night-dark skin, his hair in her star-shining fingers. She never had exactly the same look of the day before, but she was always dark and you could always see her colours' veins underneath. On the other hand, the Grey Man never seemed to change, like cold stones. He seemed.

< Would you stop touching me? Thank you > asked after a while, with uncomfortable feelings.

< They never told you? >

< What? >

< That you are crabbed. >

< Several times. >

Well, stones don't change easily...

 She slapped him out of frustration. < You are SO stupid, Grey Man! >.

He blinked, surprised, putting a hand on his cheek. < What the hell, Shadow! >.

< You are driving out what you feel! It is so obvious! Why??! >

< I don't know what are you talking about. >

< You are an able liar Grey Man, but not enough to fool me. Do not deny it! I saw them! >.

< What? >.

< Your colors! They may have stole them from you, but nobody can stay without theirs and nobody can keep other's ones forever! They still are within you >.

< I do NOT know anything of this. You are simply delirious. >

< You are hiding yourself from life! You idiot coward! >

< I am not hiding from anything! I am not an idiot and above all, I am not a coward! >

 < Are you sure? Than PROVE it! Show yourself to me! > she ordered with a thunder voice.

After those resonant words, the Shadow's hand transformed itself in a terrifying, bony clawed limb, black as Death Herself. The woman hit the man on the chest, above the heart. He shouted, falling on the ground, scratching himself.

 < What are you doing?! >.

< Sometimes you have to break a wall to find the treasure. Sometimes, you have to wound flesh to see red and blood and life. >

The Gray Man stood up just to back two steps away. And he started bleeding only to discover one, devastating thing.

  That he wasn't gray at all.

His blood was red just like the others' one, maybe more, much more. So were his muscles, his soul, his heart. Only the bones were totally white. Because of the terrible pain, he started crying even if he didn't wanted to. His eyes burned and looking in the new puddle of tears, he saw their natural color turning back again. Blue. Sky's blue.

< What's... what's happening to me? > he asked, thinking about running.

  < You can escape for all your stupid, non-sense life, Gray Man! You know that I'll always be the only one able to repair your wounds! >

She was right. The stretch would never healed by itself, Grey Man knew it.

Maybe it would have stopped bleeding after a while, but it'd never close, or get smaller.

He halted, rolling over his head to her. He did not want to escape from her.

 But the dark woman was angry and she didn't seem to care about anything but her rage. She was nearer to the Great Abyss than ever and she didn't notice it. The Grey Man did.

 When the Shadow fell down the hole, convinced that she would have passed the rest of eternity in the most miserable of all existences, she felt her wrist closely held by a hand. A strong, grey hand, stained by lines of blood and tears.

Only in that moment she noticed the blue eyes of the Grey Man.

The Great Abyss waited for a very long time hungering for their souls, but it was never fed.

 When the two were finally safe, the Grey Man slapped her.

< Ouch! It hurts! >

< Of course it hurts! And this is the lowest! > he answered angry. < You clawed me! You fool! >.

< ... I am sorry. It was necessary. >

Red because of rage or maybe something else unknown, the man grunted. < Brainless woman, you could have died or worse, much worse.  >.

< Fine! I was a little bit out of me >

< A LITTLE bit?! >

< But it was for the better. You had to face your ghosts. You needed to face the truth you tried to hide for years > she breathed heavily, a deep look into his eyes. < That you still are a living creature, my love >.

 The no-more-Gray Man stared at her with attention.

< And you truly are a personification of Caos, aren't you? >.

She smiled.

 < By the way... no. Don't try this, please. > he looked sad. < I am not worthy of you. Love is Giving and I have nothing to give you. > It was already a declaration of noble love from a humble man.

< You have yourself. > she touched gently his  bloodstained chest. The cuts began to heal. < You are enough to me as I am enough to you >.

< I have been grey for so many years... >

< I love you for the Brave Man you are, not for the Grey Mask you covered your heart with. >

 So the two mated, going away from that place of pain.

 And that was how the Grey Man eventually became the Shadow's Groom.

[thursdayplaid]

2021 Writing Challenge

January 1, 2021

The Galactic Union's general policy on interacting with less advanced planetary cultures was not to do it.  There was even a list they had to memorize that measured everything from majority use of pollution free energy to extra-planetary travel and sustained resource sharing.  The policy was more than fine when it came to dissuading someone from indulging in colonialism.  It was less helpful when facing the inexplicable powers of the universe and also Vulusian raiders.  Everyone on the command center knew what they needed to do.  Half their ship was debris floating through space and most of their crew were floating with the debris.

Captain ""-'/ leaned forward in his containment brace, tendrils floating forward in agitation.  The electronic voice from their brace cut through the chaos of the command center. "Operator Abicor divert all energy to the engines.  Navigator Hu-llui, set a jump point for planet 726 and then cut all power and go into a drift orbit.  Operator Baldwin, set the shuttle to jump in the opposite direction."

Anna got started programming in coordinates to the shuttle interface.  There must be a panel breached somewhere, she was having to go in the back way through transmission.

There was a flash of bright light through the front view as the raiders hit them off the bow with a surge beam.  Hu'llui's console exploded in a wave of purple sparks that sent the Kuidon flying backwards head over claws knocking sideways into Anna.  Their face was burnt, smearing ichor and venom across her chest and down the arm of her uniform.  Dr. Li'Jeen unbuckled herself to dash over next to them and Dvora abandoned her post at the communications console to snag an insulator and spray down the exposed under wiring.

Anna's fingers moved over her own console to shift windows.  "Transferring navigation controls now."

Captain ""-'/ leaned forward in his containment brace, tendrils floating forward in agitation.  The electronic voice from their brace cut through the chaos of the command center. "Energy levels?"

"We don't have enough energy to maintain engines and force fields," Abicor rumbled.  "The hull breaches have been sealed, force fields are unnecessary at this point."

"Drop shields and jump when ready," the captain said.

Dr. Li'Jeen spun out webbing to strap down Hu'llui down then leaned forward to brace her fellow Kuidon with her body.

"Shuttle ready!" Anna called out.

"Jump commencing!" Abicor replied.

There was a moment of perfect jump, the light flashed on Anna's console announcing a successful shuttle launch and then everything was burning.  Anna was airbourne, her arm jerking in a way that was going to feel like fire and brimstone later.  Abicor reached up with one great paw and caught her around the middle, tucking her against his furry body.  They weren't going to be able to enter drift orbit.

Tendrils moving over the command controls, Captain ""-'/ seemed to have taken over navigation.  They jolted out of the path of one of the moons and into a tailspin.  The ship hit atmo like a watermelon hitting cement.  Two of Abicor's claws popped loose from where he'd tried to anchor them against the wall.  The captain jolted inside his brace, something shuddering inside his floating core then his tendrils lost all focus and just floated.  The side of of Captain ""-''s head - if it could be called that - started slowly turning from its gossamer semi-transparent pink to a deep opaque purple.

Dr. Li'Jeen cursed, twisting where she was propped over Hu'llui to sling out a line of webbing to stick to the captain's brace and reel him in.  When she had pulled him in she slung her leg over the brace to hold him in place and stuck some kind of instrument into the spreading mass of purple, there was a burst of dark liquid and the captain's tendril's jerked.  Her mandibles shifted and she curled over the captain's body.

There was another flash of light from jump space and suddenly everything went dark.

She woke, laying on thick purple grass.  When she looked down at herself, lifting arms and legs, her leg was in a stabilizer but there wasn't any pain, although the fang marks in her upper thigh may have had something to do with the warm numbness filling her body.

“Dvora!” she called out.

There was a thump, and Dr. Li'Jeen leaned over her.  "Stop yelling.  The locals found the ship as one might when a ship crash lands in their nest."

"Is it just the two of us?" Anna asked.  She couldn't move her head.  She wasn't sure if that was injury or the venom she was enjoying.

"Abicor is resting in a cave, Hu'llui entered a healing hibernation, I can't tell if the Captain is alive because his brace is broken, none of us are telepaths, and his species doesn't decompose. I had Dvora a build a containment field  for a birthing pond in case he's still alive and begins strobilation.  Dvora is busy with the containment field.  How are you feeling?"

"Numb," she said.  "I suspect that's the venom."

Her mandibles shifting inside her mouth.  "Yes, that's the venom.  You're looking a bit foggy."

Anna woke up again to Dvora snapping a chameleon band around her wrist.  "Hey," she murmured.  There was feeling coming back into her body in slow lapping waves.  It looked like a mammalian dwelling, too wide open for a burrowing species or a web weaver, too dry for a crab or amphibian, too enclosed to be an avian.  The walls were cut wood instead of a cave or stone bricks, which she was fairly sure implied a certain level of technological development and it felt terrifyingly vulnerable to be laying there not knowing where she was.  Except Dvora was there, that was something.

Dvora poked around on the band and a ripple floated over her body and her skin turned a misty lavender.  "There's a merchant town nearby.  Since the doctor and I are the only able body folks who don't stick out like a sore thumb and she needed to stay here to make sure that the lot of you didn't die while she was looking away.  The area appears fairly pre-industrial, some manufacturing, no petroleum products, no circuitry I could retrofit for repairs, and no idea what landed in their back yard."

"Are we in trouble?" Anna asked.

Dvora pressed a couple buttons on her own band, "Not as long as we're purple."

[rwby-redux]

Deconstruction

Worldbuilding: Dust II

If Part 1 was the nuclear response, then Part 2 is death by a thousand paper cuts. Rather than focusing on just one massive problem with Dust, this time we’ll be discussing the smaller, albeit more numerous problems. Tempting as it is to keep our crosshairs on the obvious target, it’s important to remember that all of the subtle discrepancies—a throwaway line here, a contradiction there—eventually add up.

Today is all about what happens when those small problems get out of control.

Second verse, same as the first. Before we get started, I want to briefly revisit that list of traits so we’re all on the same page.

There are four basic types of Dust. They can be combined either naturally or artificially to produce new types that have their own specific characteristics.

Dust can be triggered by the Aura of humans and Faunus.

The default state of Dust is crystalline. The powdered form sold in shops is the result of processing and refinement.

The color of the Dust denotes what type it is.

Dust becomes functionally inert outside of Remnant’s atmosphere and no longer exhibits its inherent elemental properties.

Dust can be injected into the body in order for the wielder to use its effects more directly. Doing so requires a certain amount of discipline, and can be extremely painful without taking the necessary precautions.

Dust can be imbued into weapons like swords, or woven into clothes.

Dust can be used as a fuel source, to the end that Remnant’s technology is almost exclusively powered by it.

Semblances can interact with Dust in such a way that their skills are augmented, resulting in the temporary acquisition of new subskills or secondary characteristics.

Dust is volatile and prone to explode when subjected to certain stimuli.

Seeing as we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, I’m gonna keep my main talking points under neat little headings, so everything stays nice and organized.

Treating Dust as a Fossil Fuel Analog, and How It Relates to Technology

To say that Dust is a parallel for coal, natural gas, or petroleum is to miss the point entirely. Dust isn’t like these things—Dust is these things. For everyone who’s been watching the show since it first aired, this isn’t anything new. RWBY hasn’t exactly been subtle about establishing those comparisons. Dust is a natural resource that’s scarce, finite in quantity, found in underground deposits, reliant on minority labor in order to be mined, monopolized by a single supplier, and environmentally hazardous due to the extraction process.

A Dust drilling rig and refinement factory owned by the SDC. Excavating Dust resulted in anthropogenic pollution that destroyed Vacuo’s ecosystems, and depleted its natural resources. | Source: World of Remnant, Volume 4, Episode 4: “Vacuo.”

Like I said, it’s not exactly subtle.

The reason why I bring this up is because, to the best of my knowledge, the show has never concisely explained how Dust works as a fuel. When coal is burned, for example, it produces heat, and releases nitrogen oxide and sulfur dioxide into the air. Like, the coal doesn’t just stay coal when it’s being used up—as it’s being burned the coal is physically being reduced into the form of byproducts, like fly ash and slag. Similarly, when you operate a vehicle with gasoline, the fuel gets converted into exhaust gas by the 4-stroke engine. The compressed air-and-fuel mixture partakes in a combustion reaction when the spark plug ignites it. The byproducts of this process are carbon dioxide, nitrogen, and water.

See where I’m going with this?

If Dust is a fuel source, then we need to understand what physical changes are taking place when it’s reacting/being consumed by various technology.

And the series…really, really doesn’t show us that.

Does the Dust get broken down when used? Is the elemental energy inside only released when the Dust is subjected to mechanical stress? Is that why Dust is sensitive to small amounts of energy and explodes when someone so much as sneezes at it? [1] Are all Dust types equally as volatile? Is there a threshold for the amount of energy Dust can be exposed to before it explodes?

Let’s assume, for the moment, that all of the aforementioned are true. Physically breaking a Dust crystal is analogous to burning a chunk of coal, in that mechanical stress is the catalyst for releasing its elemental energy. If we follow that thread of logic, then it means that Dust powder is the result of breaking down Dust crystals into finer particulate matter.

Keeping the analogy in mind, this means that Dust crystals are to coal what Dust powder is to fly ash. A byproduct. Leftovers from the initial fuel consumption process.

So why is powder Dust considered a “refined” form of fuel? How is a byproduct energetically more efficient than the initial source that it’s derived from?

If I had to hazard a guess, I’d argue that Dust as a fuel source is more like a combination between burning coal and splitting an atom. Maybe when Dust companies “refine” Dust, what they’re doing is preemptively grinding the Dust down into a powder, and then—what, flash-freezing it somehow in the middle of it releasing its energy during the breakdown process? And then the flash-frozen powder Dust is stored in some sort of canister, or cartridge, or battery that can indefinitely suspend Dust in its energy-release state until it’s ready to be used? That way the refined version (the powder) cuts out the step that requires a person to physically destroy the crystal in order to release its energy.

It’s not an unsound proposition, and with enough well-presented pseudoscience, I’m sure viewers would be willing to give it a pass. The problem is that the canon ostensibly refuses to tell us any of this. Having your fandom do your homework for you so you don’t have to explain your magical fuel isn’t good storytelling. And the more RWBY continues to withhold its lore—or worse, refuse to develop it entirely—the less credible the setting feels. There’s only so much an audience is willing to suspend its disbelief before pedants like me come along and start poking holes in it.

While we’re still on the topic, I want to quickly touch upon the second issue I have with Dust being Remnant’s de facto fuel source.

Although the show did its best to visually emphasize Remnant’s reliance on Dust, it wasn’t until World of Remnant, Volume 2, Episode 1: “Dust” that we got our first concrete evidence of just how extensively it was integrated into everyday life:

“Since its discovery, man has concocted a multitude of ways in which to harness these mysterious crystals. From airships to androids, Dust has made its way into practically every facet of technology. […] Dust ammunition serves as a more practical application in today's modern society. With the technological advancements in weapon design, warriors need merely choose the right cartridge for the job and pull the trigger.”

We don’t have to question the validity of this under the assumption that Salem is an unreliable narrator, because Qrow says more or less the same thing in later episodes.

“The cold climate of Solitas forced its settlers to adapt. It developed a more advanced technology—and they did it faster than the rest of the world—because they had to, to survive. But it was the Great War that really kicked things off. New forms of Dust application and weaponry allowed Mantle to expand. More and more territory was set aside for Dust mining and research. The territory beside the Kingdom's combat school, Alsius, was the most opportune area to construct a new R&D facility.” | Source: World of Remnant, Volume 4, Episode 3: “Atlas.”

While this conclusively established Dust as the predominant fuel source, there was still some lingering ambiguity of whether or not other sources of energy—petroleum, natural gas, coal, solar, wind, geothermal, hydro—were as developed, or whether they existed at all.

Our first tentative answer to this question came up during Rooster Teeth’s 2015 Extra Life livestream: [2]

Gray Haddock: Is all technology, including scrolls, everything in the world of Remnant powered by Dust? Is all technology Dust-based?

Kerry Shawcross: You’re making me commit to this right now?

Gray Haddock: No, no, no.

Kerry Shawcross: Okay.

Gray Haddock: Most? Some? A lot?

Kerry Shawcross: I would say that a lot is.

Gray Haddock: But there might be some alternate stuff out there. Maybe. Ish.

Kerry Shawcross: Yes. Unless I change my mind later.

Take a moment to let that sink in. At the time this aired, Volume 3 had already been written and animated, and the third episode had just been released on the website. This is one of RWBY’s lead writers admitting that they didn’t have a definitive answer, and the answer that he gave could be subjected to change later down the road. 

Words cannot begin to describe how insane that sounds. That’s like J. K. Rowling deciding after Prisoner of Azkaban, you know what, I’m tired of wizards using wands to cast spells. From now on, everyone’s going to use human femurs!

You can’t just change the show’s rules on a whim. A lack of consistency and adherence to worldbuilding kills any believability your story might’ve had. And more importantly, why didn’t you figure this shit out before the series first began?

Sorry. I’m getting sidetracked.

Instead, let’s look at how well the answer he gave held up. Did RWBY give us any evidence of other fuel sources existing apart from Dust?

Short answer: No.

Long answer: Yes, but I have to qualify that statement, so bear with me for a moment.

The next time we’re given another direct answer, it comes to us from The World of RWBY: The Official Companion.

From Part 1: Origins of Remnant - Types of Dust:

“This technology doesn’t use our fuel,” explains Patrick Rodriguez. “Dust makes everything work. We take tech, put Dust into it, and go with that aesthetic. When I was creating cars for Volume 1, Monty told me to design the motor for how they’d work. I diagrammed a whole engine that ran on Dust, and we never even showed it!” [3]

And then again in Part 2: The Characters - Yang Xiao Long:

“There’s no gas [in Remnant], just Dust,” says art director Patrick Rodriguez, “and Yang’s motorcycle works using combustion Dust.” [4]

It looks like we have our answer at last. An answer that’s infuriating and rife with contradiction, but there it is, plain as day: not only is Dust Remnant’s sole fuel, but alternatives don’t exist. Period.

If that’s the case, then why did I say earlier that they did?

Because throughout the entire course of the series, from Volume 1 onward, the artists have included one very important thing: Plastic. Polyamides used in toothbrushes, polycarbonates used in eyeglasses, polystyrenes used in plastic cups—every one of these things exists in the show. And do you know what plastic is made from?

NATURAL GAS AND FUCKING CRUDE OIL.

So unless RWBY wants to introduce yet another fictional substance to the show, then it needs to reconcile with the fact that yes, oil and petroleum exist, and yes, they’re potential alternatives to Dust.

Look, if the show insists on having plastic products, but not have oil or gas be fuel sources, then there’s a very easy way to get around that. The show has already gone to lengths to establish the SDC as Remnant’s version of BP, right down to both companies using acronyms instead of their full names. Just like real-life oil tycoons, you could have the SDC use resources like lobbyists, lien, and government influence to stymie the alternative fuel industry. Like any morally-bankrupt monopoly, the SDC would be threatened by competitors in the energy sector, especially if those competitors were developing technology based on renewable resources, like solar or wind. In a world where a limited resource like Dust has a stranglehold on the kingdoms, Jacques Schnee would do his damndest to ensure those alternatives never saw the light of day.

See? Problem solved.

Treating Dust as a Gemstone Analog (and Some Other Minor Nitpicks)

Okay, this complaint isn’t as important in the grand scheme of things, but I have to ask: why are Dust crystals treated like gemstones? No, seriously. Look at how the gems on display in this shop

A display case full of various crystal Dust types in From Dust Till Dawn. | Source: Volume 1, Episode 1: “Ruby Rose.”

differ from the ones seen in unharvested deposits.

Large, jagged deposits of unmined Fire Dust embedded in the ceiling of a cave. | Source: Volume 7, Episode 3: “Ace Operatives.”

The Dust for sale was likely cut, as evidenced by the additional facets not present on the unmined deposits. Then again, if you look at the Gravity Dust found at Lake Matsu, Dust might actually belong to the hexagonal crystal system (with and without pyramidal terminations), so a few of those facets could be natural. Regardless, the implication seems to be that on some level, the Dust was treated post-production.

An unmined Gravity Dust deposit found on one of Lake Matsu’s floating islands. | Source: Volume 5, Episode 2: “Dread in the Air.”

Why I bring this up at all is because if Dust crystals are only going to get broken down while being used as a consumable fuel source, then why waste time cutting and polishing them? It doesn’t really make any sense.

While we’re on that subject, how the hell does a person cut a Dust crystal without blowing their fingers off? Seriously. This shit’s like azidoazide azide. You could fart at it from halfway across a room and it would still somehow find a way to explode.

Which also begs the question of how Hazel isn’t dead from repeatedly jabbing what is basically a stick of dynamite into his arms every time he goes berserk. At the very least, shouldn’t he be suffering from severe health complications? His Semblance nullifies pain, but there’s no way it can skirt around the ramifications of what would basically be acute chronic Dust poisoning.

Dust, and How It Relates to Aura

Like any hardcore fantasy enthusiast, I’m a sucker for floating islands. I don’t care if they’re overused and cliché. That is peak aesthetic, and nothing you say will ever convince me otherwise.

That being said…

Remember how the show repeatedly tells us that Dust can only be triggered by humans and Faunus? Meaning that its effects can only be activated in the presence of Aura?

If that’s the case, then how are any of Matsu’s islands floating? If Aura (or mechanical stress, I suppose) is a prerequisite for activating the elemental properties of Dust, then shouldn’t the islands all have fallen into the lake? It’s not like there are people hanging around out there to keep them passively airborne.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Remnant is some sort of genius loci à la Gaia hypothesis, and the planet generates its own Aura (which would explain why Dust becomes inert when leaving the atmosphere—it’s no longer within range of an Aura). But without more information to go on, we’re left scratching our heads at how this contradiction of nature can exist.

At the very least, consider this: If this ambiguity managed to generate a discussion in the fandom on what the hell is up with Lake Matsu, then shouldn’t that have also generated an in-world discussion between the characters? Fantasy setting or not, people are people, and we are an inherently curious bunch that love to ask questions about the unknown. Given that we had three volumes dedicated to the cast going to school, it always struck me as a weirdly wasted opportunity. An academic setting is the perfect place to script conversations like that, simply because it organically allows the story to teach the audience alongside its characters without everything feeling contrived.

But I digress. At the end of the day, this is far from my biggest grievance with Dust, but I felt it was still important enough to warrant being mentioned.

Cultural Aspects of Dust

There were a lot of ideas I wanted to talk about concerning Dust and its impact on culture—like if there was specific terminology for people who worked with Dust (like a Dust-cutter being called a “lapidary,” or “collier” being used as a slur for Faunus). Or if there were Dust-specific idioms or sayings. Or if there were superstitions and folk stories about Dust that still get passed along.

But we’re almost 3,000 words in and I want to try and keep things concise. For now, I’m choosing to focus on just one of those ideas instead, one which has always weirdly fascinated me: weaving Dust into clothing.

Fun fact: Did you know that in the 1700s, people used to wear clothing made with a green pigment that was derived from arsenic? Contact with the skin would give the wearer extreme chemical burns. Similarly, in the 1850s, aniline (a poisonous compound from the indigo plant) was used to create a dye that, when it was absorbed through the skin, would cause skin irritation, nausea, and dizziness. And well before we figured out that asbestos was carcinogenic, fibers made from it were often used for uniforms in professions that dealt with fire. Apparently, it’s really heat-resistant. And let’s not forget lead face paint, the skin-melting makeup that was all the rage in sixteenth-century Europe. [5]

The reason why I bring up all of these comically awful fashion trends is because, to reiterate, Dust is really explosive.

And people on Remnant used to just casually sew it into their clothes. Like, no big deal, I’m just going to wear my jacket with the custom Fire Dust sequins on the lapels and pray to god that no one bumps into me while I’m at the market. Maybe tomorrow night I’ll wear my hat with the Ice Dust embroidery to the banquet. I just hope I can avoid physical contact with another human being so my head doesn’t get encased in a block of ice.

Believe it or not, none of this is meant as a criticism, strictly speaking. On the contrary, I wish the show had taken the time to explore this neat little bit of lore, rather than consign it to a throwaway line. Because I think it would be fucking hilarious if Dust-woven clothing was the equivalent of radioactive and carcinogenic fashion trends. Not only would it enrich the history of Remnant and expand upon its worldbuilding (which it sorely needs), but it would be an organic way to explain to the audience one of the inherent dangers of unmanufactured Dust.

And just like that, we’ve finished covering Dust. Mostly, anyway. I have a few minor gripes, but nothing that can’t wait. Next time we’ll be discussing the topic near and dear to my heart, the thing I’ve been waiting for weeks to talk about: the Grimm.

-

[1] Volume 1, Episode 2: “The Shining Beacon - Part 1.”

[2] “Rooster Teeth's Extra Life Stream 2015 Hour 3-RWBY Crew & Matt/Jeremy Kiss.” YouTube video, uploaded by John Green. November 09, 2015. 51:44 - 52:09. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFCK-OwGoLA&t=51m44s]

[3] Wallace, Daniel. The World of RWBY: The Official Companion. VIZ Media LLC, 2019, page 36.

[4] Wallace, Daniel. The World of RWBY: The Official Companion. VIZ Media LLC, 2019, page 71.

[5] SciShow. “10 Dangerous Fashion Trends.” YouTube video. March 20, 2016. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hhXeUQOuRaw]

[nicostolemybones]

Burn Baby Burn

Chapter 2: Pain and Embarrassment

Tw: pain, injury, illness, humiliation, lack of sanitation, partial non-sexual nudity

Will felt hot and uncomfortable, disoriented and off. Something wasn't right but he didn't know what. The fuzzy feeling was easing, and something was still uncomfortable and off. He lay there on the ground, not daring to move through the sudden wave of nausea. As the shock started to ease as he lay there, the gnawing pain in his abdomen became apparent. He looked around frantically but he couldn't see anything through the pain. He stopped moving, and his sight returned just enough for him to make out his own healing glow. He looked around, shifting onto his hand, but a stabbing pain had him crying out and freezing. 

He'd never been in so much pain before, apart from the one time he had trapped wind and thought he was dying because he couldn't move from the pain. This was exactly the same but ten times worse and he was sweating and dizzy and he felt so sick and the pain was sharp and stabbing and contracting and dull all at once. He tried to sit up and cried out again. The pain didn't relent, and he was shaking, and he was close to throwing up, and he was scared, so scared, and he was remembering, he was remembering the fall and he was scared. "N-neeks…" he called out weakly, but the effort caused caused a surge of pain to rip through his stomach and up his spine. He couldn't see Nico, and that panicked him. He cried out in pain again, rolling onto his back. He turned his head and Nico was there, lying still, but awake, mouth open in a silent gasp of pain. "Nico?"

Nico whimpered, moving his head slightly to look at Will. His breaths were short and ragged, and Will wasn't sure if Nico was in any sort of state to manage to communicate. Nico cried out in pain, panicked tears of pain streaming down his face and distressed sobs jolting him violently, which probably increased his pain. Will realised that he wasn't just glowing out of panic, but he must have been healing himself. He had no idea how long he was unconscious or how hard they'd fallen, how they'd survived. 

He reached out, crying out loudly in pain, and touched his fingers to Nico's, focusing his healing energy on the both of them. He could feel that Nico's bones had been very recently repaired- Nico must have managed to heal his own broken bones- but he had internal bleeding, and Will was pouring as much energy as he could into healing him. His powers were weak and he could feel himself going dizzy, but he had to make sure Nico would survive, he had to! Nico whimpered, and Will healed him until Will felt his body start to feel fuzzy and Nico pulled his hands away. Everything was hot and muffled and a sudden wave of panic and fear and nausea was choking Will. He couldn't stop his vision from fading to black.

Will woke up on his side, pain shooting through him, but less intense than before. It took him a while to register a hand on his shoulder holding him like that, and the acidic burn of vomit in his throat and nostrils. He coughed and took deep breaths, the hand on his shoulder rubbing soothing circles. "Neeks-"

"It's okay, I- I'm okay. Will…" Will took a moment to assess how he felt, before slowly sitting up. Nico shifted to sit in front of him, gently taking his shoulders to support him whilst he leaned forwards slightly to regain his sense of consciousness. "Will?"

"I- I'm okay," Will managed, "fuck, I- can we stay here?"

"We'll die, Will, we have to go, we can't stay here. You blacked out for a day, we have to go, can you stand?" Will looked into Nico's eyes, gasping in stale air and processing that. He hung his head for a second whilst he prepared to stand, but in the light of his glow he noticed the front of his shorts were stained, turning puce with shame. "Will? Will, it's okay, it happens, you were unconscious for a while and you started fitting." 

A fit certainly explained his headache, and the vomiting, and he honestly didn't think it was safe to move, but his embarrassment was consuming him and he couldn't look Nico in the eye, tears welling up and threatening to spill over. "Please tell me there's- there's a bathroom I can clean myself up in?"

"Ah, jeez Will, uh… this isn't Walmart, this is Tartarus, there aren't any…"

"Oh gods…" Will started crying, anxious and ashamed and uncomfortable. 

"Take your pants off."

"What?!" Will turned red. "Nico-"

"I have sweatpants in my backpack," Nico clarified, "they'll be too small on you but they're elasticated, I doubt you want to sit in it all day." 

"Uh- but I'll have to get half naked-"

"Would you rather wear wet pants? You'll have to get used to it, I'm sorry, but you will. We can't separate, it's not safe. I can turn around whenever you need privacy and I'm sure you'll do the same for me, but we really don't have the luxury of being shy." Will knew Nico was right, but that didn't stop Will from being completely mortified and horrified and anxious. "I'll turn around, or- will you feel better if I hold my jacket up to hide you whilst you change and I look up and close my eyes instead?" 

Will nodded slowly, feeling far too insecure and overwhelmed right now to change without the shield. Nico took his jacket off and held it up, squeezing his eyes shut and facing the sky- or whatever was up there. Will peeled off his shorts and boxers, feeling gross. 

"Is there anywhere I can shower-"

"What do you think? But there's wipes in my bag, use one." Will awkwardly complied, putting Nico's sweatpants on afterwards. They were way too small, and he looked like he was waiting for a flood, but at least he felt cleaner. He cleared his throat awkwardly once he was changed. "You done?"

"Yeah, you can look now…" Nico lowered his jacket, and snorted a restrained laugh. 

"Feel better?" Will nodded awkwardly, and Nico put his jacket back on. "Would it help you to know what's in my bag before we start moving?" Will nodded quickly, and Nico opened his bag, holding up each item as he listed them off. "Torch, wet wipes- for hygiene, combat first aid kit, spare clothes, a few bottles of water, some energy bars, knives, a lighter, matches, petroleum, food tin, and emergency lucozade. It's not the perfect survival kit but it's the best I can do."

"That's… that's all you brought on the quest?"

"Well I don't usually fall into Tartarus with my boyfriend do I? We have to start moving now." Nico put his backpack on and started walking, but Will hesitated. "Will? Come on." 

"It's scary," Will whimpered, "and I don't feel well and my stomach hurts… can we stay here?"

Nico sighed, walking back to Will and taking his hand. "I know it hurts, and I know it's scary, but there's monsters down here, they can smell us, I know it feels safe because it's secluded and I know you just want some comfort and rest right now, but you will be hurt if you stay here. Will… you are going to have no choice but to push yourself to do things you know you can't handle. You are going to be in pain, you are going to be uncomfortable, any food we hunt is going to make us violently ill. There's horrors- there's things I haven't told you about, okay, and… you're going to wish at times that the fall had killed you. But we can make it out of here, okay? And as soon as we're out, we can process the trauma and heal. But right now, we have to survive. I know you're in pain and you're in shock and you want to set up camp, but that's not an option, not until we are about to pass out from sleep. I know you're scared, but I am asking you to trust me to get you through this, and you're going to hate it by the end of it, but please, Will, trust me." 

Will nodded, on the verge of tears, and started talking shaky steps. He knew logically Tartarus was unpleasant, but this wasn't the image he had in mind. He expected fire and brimstone and monsters, sure, and dehydration and food being hard to find, but the reality was already leaving him sick with adrenaline, and he knew that there was far worse to come, and if he could barely handle the first dark morning, the pain of the fall, then how could he cope with what was to come? How did Nico cope with this when he was a child? The pain in Will's stomach was building up with each step, and he felt like he might collapse or vomit any second, but he tried his hardest to push through it. He wondered if the pain would ever ease. He figured it wouldn't.

[remnantoforario]

What I learned from the RWBY Companion

The map of Remnant was conceived on a balled up, ketchup filled napkin from IHOP

M&K built the laws and backstory while Monty designed

Monty mostly flew by the seat of his pants

Jeff Willams based “Red Like Roses” on Ruby’s design because the show hadn’t been established yet

Casey Lee Williams was only 12 when she started singing for the show

Monty already had the actresses picked out for the show

Kara Eberle (Weiss) is half-german

Monty gave Arryn Zech the role of Blake despite him knowing the least about her character. “You and Blake will have to figure each other out.”

Original plan for the show was a four episode miniseries to test the waters

Four 22 minute episodes were written through the Emerald Forest Trial

A lot of ideas were dropped or modified in the early stages

Roman Torchwick was a minor thug who recruited the Albain Brothers (Corsac and Fennec) to spoil the trial for the students

Grimm had different looks similar to genetic viruses that could be injected into people or fused into chimeras.

Higher ups changed their minds, expanding the series into a full season rather than a mini

They used Monty and a couple of animators in mocap for the action scenes instead of storyboards

They kept the show at the school because of their limited resources and were able to reuse assests.

“We had very high hopes in Monty’s people. They were so ingrained in the process, and they had basically been there since day one.” 

*Glances at Shane’s letter.* We’re just gonna move on...

“We didn’t want to have to figure things out as we went, because that had more potential for us to mess up.” 

This just gets better and better.

Miles came up with the Brother Gods and origins of Grimm, but thought it had no place in the story for V1

Roaming Grimm forced Humanity within the kingdoms

Wilderness colonies exist but are subject to regular Grimm attacks 

Geography is Vale’s first line of defense against Grimm. Specifically mountains and the ocean.

Remnant’s moon rotates so the broken parts aren’t shown during full phases

Monty’s “Rule of Cool” built a lot of this series

Mistral has a gap between the rich and poor

Elites are known contributions to fashion and art. Lower citizens are thieves and Black Market sellers 

Each kingdom is led by a council but special exceptions are made for James Ironwood, Ozpin, and Jacques Schnee

Environments are made with characters temperaments in mind

The Great War was created just to make more ideas out of 

The Amity Colosseum floats around from location to location between tournaments

Take out 1 of the 4 CCT towers, it shuts the entire grid down for all the kingdoms

that’s been partly retconned, but alright.

Dust was created for characters to essentially use magic without learning it

That doesn’t really explain certain Semblances like the Schnee summoning, but ok

Everything in Remnant is powered exclusively by dust. There is no petroleum or other fossil fuels

There is Plant and Rock Dust

Aura really has no deeper meaning behind it and essentially boils down to: “The characters need to be able to do crazy shit and not die”

Semblances were a way to give the characters superpowers without using their weapons, and reflect the user’s personality

Minus Weiss’ semblance which is strictly genetic, but I digress

The Hunter Academies let Monty justify the weapons in RWBY as “human resourcefulness”

Shade Academy doesnt have a uniform because “their whole nation isn’t concerned with traditions”

Lazy or nuanced? You be the judge!

The Faunus happened because Monty really wanted a character (Blake) with cat ears

“When it comes to discrimination that mimics real world issues, we might have been a little ambitious.”

Understatement of the century, Miles

“Even when this kind of thing comes with good intentions, you’d better do it right, and you’d better be careful.”

Another astute observation.

There are fish and mermaid faunus

Monty came up with the idea for the Maiden’s during V2. M&K decided to add them after Monty passed

The number four is an important aspect to the series. 

[hqsloane]

hello !! it’s ally back at it again with another muse !! for those of you who don’t know, i also play violet ( the taylor hill fc ) !! but this is a very new muse that i’m v excited about, so if you want to plot just like this post & i’ll slide into your dms <3 

chicago’s very own sloane windsor has been spotted on madison avenue driving a rolls-royce dawn , welcome ! your resemblance to charlotte d'alessio is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twentieth birthday bash  . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re insatiable , but being gregarious might help you . i think being a libra explains that .  3 things that would paint  a  better picture of you would be designer sunglasses disguising bloodshot eyes , vintage abba records , a room full of first place trophies. ( i just got out of rehab for a drug addiction ) & ( cisfemale + she/her  ) +  ( ally , 21 , she/her )

full name: sloane ( warrior ) madeleine ( of french origin woman meaning ‘ woman from magdala or high tower ’ ) windsor ( english last name ). nickname(s): s, princess. age: twenty. birthday: 3 october 1999. zodiac: libra. gender: cisfemale. pronouns: she / her / hers. sexual orientation: bisexual. languages spoken: english & french. hometown: buckhead, georgia. occupation: vlogger. parents: darcy sinclair ( rachel mcadams ) & spencer windsor ( jon hamm ). siblings:  two older brothers. pet(s): forrest ( golden retriever ) & jenny ( border collie ). religion: southern baptist. drink / drugs / sex: yes / yes / yes. height: 5′5. right/left handed: left handed. tattoos: a rose on her hip ( x ), this on the back of her right elbow, & a quote on her ribs ( x ).  positive traits: gregarious, discerning, tender, impartial, dignified, courageous, independent, empathetic, & audacious.  negative traits: covetous, controlling, aloof, rebellious, daunting, compulsive, tactless, vain, cunning, obstinate, & snarky. hobbies: photography, traveling, procrastination, meddling, partying, late night instagram live streams, dancing on tables well past last call, visiting art museums, & video editing. habits: tying her hair up in a loose ponytail when she’s stressed, fleeing the country on a whim, chewing the insides of her cheek in order to hold back what she truly wants to say, chewing the ends of brightly colored pens, binge drinking, & doodling. labels: the catalyst ( the independent one ), the doctrinaire ( the perfectionist ), & the aesthete ( the muse ). aesthetics: cat eye sunglasses shielding emerald hues, mascara tear stained cheeks, shattered trophies, polaroids, disposable film, late night notifications, hiding any ounce of emotion behind a camera, paint splattered jeans, parisian architecture, sunday brunch, missed phone calls, & the longing for her mother’s approval.  style inspo: nicola peltz, bella hadid, kendall jenner, rosie huntington whiteley, meghan markle, & alexa chung. here are just a few examples of her wardrobe !! ( x x x x x )  muse inspo: monica geller ( friends ), caroline forbes ( the vampire diaries ), serena van der woodsen ( gossip girl ), lydia martin ( teen wolf ), peyton sawyer ( one tree hill ), nancy wheeler ( stranger things ), & emily fitch ( skins ). net worth: 30 million.

background ;;

before spencer & darcy got married in 1989, they knew all they wanted was one child: a girl. yet, their life did not go according to plan. after they welcomed their first child into the world ( a boy ), they figured that the next one would be a girl. they of course loved their son more than anything in this world, but they knew they wanted a daughter to complete their growing family. however, when darcy discovered the sex of their second child was a boy, she knew she wouldn’t stop having children until they welcomed their perfect girl into this world.

soon after the birth of their second son, they discovered they were expecting again. this time, with the daughter they had always wanted !! sloane was born on october 3rd, 1999 in a wealthy suburb of atlanta, georgia. & from the day she was born, an enormous pressure was put on her.

what you need to know about the windsor family ( other than their strong southern roots ) is that they’re extremely rich. they are high key based off the carrington’s from dynasty bc i’m #trash. buttttt what you need to know is that they own a multibillion dollar international oil company called windsor industries ( formerly known as windsor petroleum group ). 

if you aren’t familiar with oil conglomerates, all you need to know is that windsor industries are responsible for literal power. they are one of the leading producers for oil & gas in the world which is why they have offices all over the country. & let me tell you, they don’t conduct business ethically !! they are notorious for fracking & their continuous use of fossil fuels. when people talk about climate change, they constantly bring up windsor industries & how much they have contributed to global warming. & to make matters worse, spencer & his eldest son put millions of dollars into the pockets of politicians to get them to support their cause & vote against climate change regulation. so if we all burn up one day, you can blame them !!

the windsor family has lived in georgia for generations ( big yikes ) & that’s where they started the family business in 1942. spencer’s grandfather came from a long line of prominent politicians in state politics which is why his family was ready to disown him when he decided to go into business over politics. but when his business took off & he was making more money than everyone else in his family by the age of twenty-two, they quickly shut up & started supporting him.

since then, windsor industries has been passed down from generation to generation. spencer was handed the business on his thirtieth birthday ( twenty years ago ) & has been dominating ever since. once his eldest son turned eighteen, he quickly got him involved & he is expected to take over the family business one day.

as successful as his business is, spencer is known as the bad guy in america. he is a billionaire who doesn’t know what it’s like to come from humble beginnings. he was literally handed a multibillion dollar business & the rest was history !! he definitely is a bad guy since he doesn’t care about the environment or anything else. all he cares about is making money no matter who gets hurt. he was even considered to work for trump at one point but quickly declined !! he just wrote him a big ass check instead bcsjkhdfs

but he does love his family. he would do literally anything for his family despite his tough love approach to his two sons. but when it comes to sloane, he is a complete softie. she can literally do no wrong in his eyes which is why they have such a great relationship !!

darcy, on the other hand, did not come from a lot of money. like her husband, she’s also from georgia but she’s not from a rich suburb. she is from a rural town where she literally grew up in a trailer. & from an early age, she always knew she wanted more. she was always ungrateful for her life & could have cared less about how hard her parents worked to support her & her three other siblings. 

things for darcy changed by the time she was eighteen !! she became miss. america which isn’t that big of a deal for most. but she took pride on receiving that title after years of competing in local pageants. despite not coming from a lot of money, she always knew how to fool the judges & everyone else for that matter. she really could have cared less about school, all she cared about was winning pageants.

so when she made it into miss. universe, she thought her life was going to be complete !! yet, it didn’t go according to plan. darcy lost the competition & her short lived media coverage quickly died. no one knew who darcy sinclair was until it was announced that she was marrying one of the heirs to windsor industries. 

the reason why darcy wanted a daughter so bad was so she could also be a pageant contender. she didn’t want her daughter to grow up to be a doctor, a lawyer, or anything else for that matter. all she wanted for sloane from the day she was born was to be a pageant queen.

by the time sloane turned five, her mother had already registered her for her first pageant. & unlike the ones darcy used to compete in, this was prestigious. her entire childhood consisted of tap dancing classes & pageants taking priority over school. & because her parents pride themselves on their southern values, they really could have cared less about their daughter attending school. so it came as no surprise when she started to slip up !!

& of course, they bribed her school to fix her grades. from the outside looking in, everyone wanted sloane’s life. she had it all: money, family, looks, everything. but in reality, her mother was working her like a dog. she would be practicing for pageants seven days a week with little to no breaks. but once she was crowned little miss georgia, they knew she was destined for greatness. 

the older she got, the more pressure her mother would put on her. & sloane took that pressure extremely seriously. all she ever wanted was to please her mother, so she would strive to be nothing less than perfect. & in order to keep up with the strict demands of her mother & her life, she started turning to drugs. at first, she would start taking adderall to have more energy that way she can cater to her hectic schedule. 

even sloane will admit that her high school years were a blur due to her growing drug abuse. the only thing holding her together was her growing addiction to pills. her mother knew. she saw the empty pill bottles lying around her bathroom & there was even a late night where she had to call 911 after finding her only daughter unresponsive. but she never told anyone. she never even asked sloane if she was okay or if she needed help. she only cared about her daughter becoming miss. universe since that was a title that she was robbed of.

all her life, sloane has tried to please her mother. everything she has ever done has never been good enough for her. so by the time she was a senior in high school, she decided the only way to escape her life was by going to college. she knew she didn’t have the grades to get in anywhere far enough from atlanta, even if her parents ensured her transcripts were nothing short of flawless. but when she sat her parents down & told them that she wanted to attend college, she was surprised by their reactions. her father, who has always supported sloane, was willing to do anything she wanted even if that meant delaying his wife’s plans for her. & even her mother came around on the idea after she promised her that she would go back to training for miss. universe once she finished college.

& following her graduation from high school, she packed her bags & went to the university of chicago. she figured that this was a school far enough away from her mother which is why she told her father this was the school of her dreams. sloane never questioned anything during her applications process. all she knew was that she needed to leave her mother’s grasp & learn to live life for herself.

at college, she had decided to study photography soon realizing that is one of her passions in life. & she’s damn good at it too. & even though sloane started living life in college, her drug addiction only worsened. there, she was introduced to even more drugs & the craze of combining uppers & downers.

things started to get crazy last year during the college admissions scandal when it was revealed that spencer & darcy had paid to get sloane accepted into the university of chicago. the school agreed to allow her to finish the semester before they would ultimately expel her due to the negative press coverage. & of course on her last night at school, sloane ended up in the hospital.

after combining far too many uppers & downers at a frat party, she overdosed. this was not the first time she landed up in the hospital after a night out, but it was the first time her father found out. & once he found out, he ensured that she would seek the help she needed.

so that’s where sloane spent the entire summer !! in a private rehab center seeking treatment for drug addiction. however, her family could not afford anymore scandals. so they quickly buried any stories about their youngest child’s overdose & told the media that she was traveling the world with friends this summer. sloane’s scandal is something that they are without a doubt ashamed of despite how many times her father has insisted the opposite. they are willing to do anything to bury this secret, no matter the cost. 

now, she’s twenty years old & living in new york. following her discharge from rehab, she wanted to move as far away from chicago as she could. she knows she can’t enroll in college anytime soon given her family’s involvement in the college admissions scandal, but she is wiling to do just about anything to avoid moving back home.

nowadays, you can find sloane vlogging !! she has a v successful youtube channel that is similar to matt king’s ( if ya’ll know who that is ily ). but all you need to know is that she is a daily vlogger with an artsy style & she definitely does q & a videos & all that fun stuff. she is still very dependent on her father’s money but she is making a lot of money off youtube.

personality & misc ;;

personality wise, i’d say she’s pretty easy going. her taste isn’t the usual which i’ll probs go into a little bit, but that doesn’t mean she’s not approachable unlike vi.

truth be told, she’s all over the place & has a lot of depth. she has the ability to light up any room she walks into but that doesn’t mean she lets people walk all over her. after dealing with darcy sinclair for eighteen years, sloane knows when to fight back & channel her rich bitch side.

she’s also really fucking smart despite her fuck ups & she would know her true potential if she just stopped getting fucked up all the time. even though she went to rehab, she isn’t clean but that doesn’t stop her from telling her dad she is.

has never had a serious relationship tbh

instead, she’s had flings that are like relationships without the title.

she may act like an independent bitch but she is also a 100% a daddy’s girl & calls him up for money every other week

very artistic 

aside from photography, she is great at painting & drawing & you can find dozens of sketches lying on the floor of her room ( you can also find baggies on her desk tbh )

extremely possessive of her family despite her relationship with her mom. she won’t let anyone else insult her other than her.

hella impulsive

speaks fluent french

also has an apartment in paris that she visits all of the time

tbh, she’s just in love with art. you will always find her at a museum just gazing at art for hours

she’s also constantly leaving the country for vlog material

doesn’t want to think that she has an accent but low key does

even though she’s a huge perfectionist, her room is literally always a mess but she doesn’t let just anyone see that

overall, she is a perfectionist art h*e tbh

if you made it this far ily. here’s her pinterest board if you want to take a look !! it’s v late for me rn & i have to get up early tomorrow so i don’t have any wc listed out but i promise i will bombard you all with plot ideas okay ily