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five-rivers · 1 year

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Rumors of the Woods of the Kingdom of Amity

@modordracena @gamma-radio

AO3

There were rumors about the woods of the kingdom of Amity. You could hear them at any inn or tavern you went to in any town within a hundred miles of Amity’s border. You could hear them from storytellers and mendicants begging for their meals. You could hear them whispered between children trying to scare one another, or old women doing the same.

They went like this:

The woods were home to bandits, displaced and deserting soldiers from beyond the southern sea. Hungry people, some of them, desperate for money and not seeing any other way to it. Well fed brigands, by other accounts, gone fat off the misfortune of others.

There was a horrid beast in the woods, a chimera or dragon the likes of which had rarely been seen outside of ancient heroic legend. It stalked anyone who entered the woods, and if you were unfortunate enough to be selected as its prey, you would never be seen again.

The trees moved on their own, others said. They whispered to one another. They had eyes. Sometimes, they had teeth. They would lead you astray, if they could. Move while you weren’t watching. Confuse your path.

Or, perhaps, it was the ghost fire that danced between the trees that misdirected travelers and led them to uncertain dooms. They were more common in swampier lands, marshes, bogs, and the like, but who knew the preferences of ghosts except for ghosts themselves?

But, no. The woods were haunted, yes, but by the pale ghost of a child, murdered before his time. Or was it the ghost of a young man? If you were polite, he would lead you to safety. But if you asked too many questions…

But they also went like this:

Once, the Conqueror King swept across the land with his thrall armies, seeking to make all the kingdoms of the world his own. He marched into the woods of Amity. He did not march out.

The woods were large enough not only to lose armies in, but towns, cities, kingdoms. And, for those brave enough to dare them and the kinds of risks always associated with ruins, kingdoms’ ransoms. Assuming, of course, that those kingdoms did not still live, in one fashion or another…

The princess would disappear into the woods for days on end, not to be found unless she wished it. She would return with flowers in her hair and fruit in hand, no matter the season, her secrets kept tight behind smiling lips.

Some said there were elves and goblins in the woods. Small, clever folk who would trade the fantastic for the mundane, blessings for curses, memories for skills, truth for lies, and other, stranger things besides.

Other rumors spoke of the oldest tree in the forest, and how it had been grown from a cutting of the tree of life itself. They said the waters of the pool it grew by could take you to strange lands, body and soul together.

And, as with any rumors, many of them were false. Much… but in this case, not all.

“Hey, Tucker.”

The felter’s apprentice jumped about a foot, then craned his neck to look up and backward at the branch Danny was currently lounging on. “I hate it when you do that.”

Danny grinned and propped his chin up on his hand, clearly displaying his unnaturally white teeth. Especially the canines. “Really? I love when you do that?”

“What? Jump out of my skin.”

“Maybe,” said Danny, his smile inching just a little wider, until it was at the edge of what was possible for a human face. He could take it wider, if he wanted. He didn’t. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I am? Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ve been up to?”

“I know what you’ve been up to, you menace. It’s not like the bounty hunters you’ve been tormenting have been quiet.”

“Aw, you love me. It’s Walker’s fault anyway, not mine. Nothing’s making him send anyone.”

“Isn’t he, like, your grandfather or something?”

Danny shrugged and stretched languidly, like a cat, and reversed himself on the branch, fingers growing into claws so he could climb his way down the tree until he was sitting on a particularly prominent root. Not the ground. He tried to avoid that, when at all possible. His tail lashed back and forth.

“But that’s not all that’s been happening.”

“Oh, gods, please tell me you haven’t started another bizarre rumor.”

“Are they really rumors if they’re true?” asked Danny.

“Ninety percent of them are crap. There aren’t any elves in here, or magic immortality trees.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a matter of opinion,” said Danny, tilting his head to one side.

“Your curse doesn’t count.”

Danny made an offended noise in the back of his throat.

Tucker sighed. “Is this something we’ll need Sam to fix?”

“Why do you assume there’s something to fix? Why do we need Sam to fix it? She’s the one who broke things in the first place.” Danny tsked, then put on a disturbingly accurate impression of Princess Samantha of Amity, “Why don’t you look in the mysterious pool, Danny? Why don’t you try out the red vial, Danny? I want to see what will happen, Danny.”

“She didn’t say that.”

“That’s not what I remember,” huffed Danny, turning around. “Maybe I should just do this by myself.”

“Okay, okay, I give up. What have you been up to?”

“The tops of the trees!” Danny burst out laughing.

“Wow… it’s just like the same joke you’ve told a thousand times,” said Tucker. “But, seriously.”

“Seriously,” repeated Danny, “I found the Labyrinth!”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah! The part of the Deep Woods it was in finally opened– Hey, where are you going?”

“I’ve got to get Sam,” said Tucker, walking quickly the way he’d come.

“Well, yeah,” said Danny, crawling back up into the trees and bounding along tree branch by tree branch, “I want her to come, too, exploring weird ruins is kind of her thing, but you don’t have to– Tucker!” The plaintive cry was more of a shriek than anything else. Tucker skidded to a stop. “You know I can’t leave the woods. Don’t you at least want to know where the Labyrinth is first?”

Tucker skidded to a stop. “Yeah, sorry, buddy. But I just realized– The reason for all the weird cursed weather lately. The frogs and toads and all that. There was something in the Labyrinth that could do that, I remember reading about it. If someone got into the Labyrinth before you…”

“They could have gotten it,” concluded Danny.

“Sam needs to know.”

Danny clacked his claws against the branch he was sitting on. “Alright,” he said. “I guess I’ll need to go into the Labyrinth to talk to the spirits there.” They’d be old ones, slow with age and memory, bound to tree and stone and the ancient meanings carved into once-worshiped rock.

“Yeah? But you were going to, anyway, weren’t you?”

“With you guys,” said Danny, “and it’s no fun if it’s work.”

“Yeah… sorry about that. Look, how about after all of this, we go chase down the river-spire and see if we can’t find those ice sprites again?”

Danny’s ears pricked forward, fur shivering out of his skin at the remembered winter-chill. He soothed them away. Stupid shape shifting not working right.

“Promise?”

Tucker hunched his shoulders slightly. “Well, we’ll try, anyway.”

A little too wise to the ways of creatures like Danny to trust even Danny with a promise. Too bad. Danny chittered, then shrugged.

“I’ll take it. You know how to call me once you get Sam.”

“You say that like I didn’t just do it ten minutes ago.”

Danny shrugged. “Hey, you never know. Humans have bad memories. That’s why there are all those rumors.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2023

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victimized-martyr · 2 years

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I love all your kyman hc's so much!!!!😭❤ I just need to hear more, so here are my questions: if kyman got married how would they act around each other? And do you think they'd adopt kids and if yes: what would they name them? And would they raise them jewish or christian or both?

Aaahhh I know there are too many questions I'm sorry 😭😭

Don’t apologize, I love talking about kyman :D

Regardless of context, the core of their dynamic is: Cartman is the instigator, Kyle reacts, a little back and forth, escalate the issue to Nth degrees of insanity, Kyle lands the final blow. Though sometimes, depending on the issue, Kyle lands the last punch thinking he’s won, only for Cartman to win the war last minute. Another way the show’s mixed things up, is that Kyle’s victory is undermined either by South Park itself, or Cartman. I see their marriage as an opportunity to expand their unique dynamic and introduce new plotlines/ jokes that couldn’t be done if they were still kids.

I see Cartman taking Randy’s place as the adult that’s always up to no good, the fixture of South Park’s weirdness. self serving hijinks flare up just about every week. Meanwhile, the Sharon (or straight man) to offset that cannot be anyone else but Kyle. This time however, unlike the marshes, and perhaps most couples in South Park, the Brofloski’s are truly in love. That’s kinda the joke. The couple that started out insulting each other and trying to kill each other on multiple occasions end up in the happiest relationship. I see them fitting nicely among the pantheon of sitcom couples— Mitchel and Cameron, Marge and Homer, Ralph and Alice, Gomez and Morticia. Their relationship, in Trey fashion, pays homage to and in the same breath, mocks those classic couples.

TLDR, Their dynamic is in tact, it’s just evolved to a new label. Instead of sort of friends-ish, they’re a couple. They’re still loud, obsessed with each other, fight over issues, hang out and share similar tastes. Only this time they got rings on their fingers. And if they don’t fistfight, how do they deal with their classic arguments? Well, like any sensible american couple, of course! they fuck each other’s brains out! ( just kidding. I have this vision of Cartman doing the most outrageous shit and Kyle chasing him offscreen in anger, Cartman shouting “domestic abuse domestic abuse!”)

I’m not sure what they’d name their kids. Does it matter? I do know what personalities I’d like them to have though— the 1st, their oldest, is outgoing, entitled, bossy, manipulative, a performative people pleaser, makes everyone’s problems their responsibility, and is quick witted. (A 2w3) Much like Eric, they are exceptionally charismatic and love being in the limelight. And like Kyle, they love getting involved in the lives of others, seen as helpful. The 2nd child is less outspoken, prefers to keep opinions to themselves, a dispassionate observer. ( poster child for 8w9) Like Eric, they’re materialistic, and prone to laziness. Still, they are an intellectual like Kyle, and far more principled in comparison to their sibling/Eric. They’re probably the most capable and dangerous in the family. They don’t shoot themselves in the foot like Cartman, and they don’t fight against the currents of South Park like Kyle. If they wanted to, they could take over the world and succeed where the Brofloskis failed. They just don’t care though lol.

I could never, ever see them as a two religion household. Yeah, Cartman has been portrayed as a bigoted Christian (or in his words, “[used] Christianity as an excuse to be a piece of shit”), but carrying that extremity to adulthood isn’t as funny. I don’t know how to articulate that other than, many extreme right wingers on twitter weren’t able to read Cartman’s bigotry in Cupid Ye as hyperbolic and instead took it as fact, and praised the stuff he whispered into Tolkien’s ears. His actions in Cissy were recently trending and was seen as heroic and like, justification why trans ppl can’t use whatever bathrooms they want. You can’t escalate the crazy stuff from real life anymore— it’s become reality. So the funniest thing to do, is either personify it as something else or, run in the opposite direction. If anything, PC has shown us that it’s funnier that the very same kid who once belittled Judaism in fact, became devoutly Jewish and proceeded to rub it in everyone’s faces rather than him ending up as some evil businessman. You rob bigots the chance to idolize Cartman, but give Cartman the freedom to hone his brand of idiocy on other things. So! Kyle slaps the antisemitism outta him, they get married, bam. They are a Jewish family.

#south park #kyman #eric cartman #kyle broflovski #cartman #what is brevity? hell if I know #asks #talk tag #Again it’s important that Cartman’s an asshole in different ways #like there’s this excellent trey quote where he introduces Matt as his wife #and like. wouldn’t that be the perfect way to piss kyle off??#‘My lovely wife Kahl’ ‘honey you really need to get that sand out of your vagina’#Cartman just loves Kyle’s attention in general so yeah he’s a tease but instead of insults he prefers flirting #is it because its the right thing to do and the way to respect his spouse? sure if that’s what u think. all Cartman knows is that #the less he insults his husband and the more praise he gives the better sexy times is #the insults don’t come from a genuine place anymore either bc again he’s reconciled how in love he is w/ kyle #and w/ kyle he knows cartman is all talk and he loves putting him in place and like why would he pummel his husband in punches if kisses #knocks him off his pedestal even more?? literally a look will bring his husband to his knees (reverence..apology..other..doesn’t matter)#oop im blurring this tag w/ my next answered question lolol

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pinkytoothlesso11 · 2 years

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Okay, so I was thinking about troll speculative biology curtesy of @theoldandnewfirm and this isn't exactly a biology thing, but I think most species of troll hate water/rain.

Hear me out.

Trolls are made of living stone, so I'm assuming they don't quite have the durability of actual stone, if going for the idea their skin is the only thing being made of a stone-like substance and its more like a flexible, thin exoskeleton. And of course rain contains carbonic acid, a result of carbon dioxide mixing with water in the air.

So I'm thinking maybe long exposure to rainfall, of different acidity, would maybe weaken their stone skin or cause a rash? And of course large bodies of open water are generally avoided, since trolls would sink like, well, a rock. This is a naturally inbuilt aversion to a significant majority of troll species but there are always outliers. It also depends on the type of Stone a troll is made of. If its a hard stone like granite or a soft stone like marble.

The side novels introduce us to deep sea trolls and we can't forget the Quagawumps as being Marsh trolls and the swamp/river trolls we see when Jim becomes a half-troll. Their skin is slightly more lubricant and they're generally more squat. There isn't deep water to avoid though.

I think with changelings it comes down to preferences, since their stone isn't as hard as a full trolls and they're probably spliced with different troll tribes, including more water based ones. We know NotEnrique isn't a fan of water, and I doubt Nomura would be either, but that more so based on the fact she wouldn't want her hair wet.

Strickler I'd think is a anomaly. I know his remark about being a keen swimmer was probably, most likely, a innuendo. But what if it had some basis of truth? His stone skin is quite smooth and 'soft' looking compared to other trolls, and the adaptations to his body that allow for flight would help in the water. Aka light bones, thin limbs and large lung size.

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fruitynoir · 27 days

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A breeze shushed through the leaves, bringing with it a crispness that whispered of the coming autumn. A whisper that did not go unnoticed as it caressed an unruly lock of hair that always seemed to tug itself out of the local wizard's braid.

"Nature pays no heed to the constructs of man," He remembers a particularly crotchety old mentor of his barking at him as they trudged through a particularly muddy patch of marsh, "calendars and calculations and predictions... all foolhardy! Nature is the one holding the hourglass, we merely learn the signals and auguries... and when she decides to turn it, good skies above you had better be ready!!"

He couldn't help but be grateful for the decidedly more solid grass that cushioned every step, springing right back up as he made his way through the dewy undergrowth. The morning sun peeked through the branches above, dappled light occasionally interrupted by flurries of songbirds.

The lazy gurgling of the river could be heard in the distance as he picked his way through the brush and the odd deer trail here and there. The ground was becoming softer and more often interrupted by the gnarled roots of a nearby oak or birch, but it should be just beyond this next hill...

Cresting the slope and stepping out of the treeline, the forest opened up into a small clearing. Framed by a quietly bubbling stream that fed into a central pond, wildflowers dotted the glade with bright reds and pinks. At the edge of the pond near the treeline where the wizard now stood was a rocky outcrop that hung slightly over the gently lapping water, held together by the sturdy thick roots of a gently swaying come-hither. Beyond the curtain of weeping branches, he now realized, a figure sat upon the mossy weathered stones.

Ferox' brows shot up in surprise, then quickly furrowed in annoyance. Mornings were best for gathering herbs from a practical standpoint, but admittedly he preferred them for the additional benefit of avoiding unwanted company.

Just as he resigned himself for a dusk gathering instead and began to turn around, the figure called out to him

"Ferox?"

His magenta gaze flicked back towards the pond,

"Ah, if it isn't our most dutiful magistrate," he responded, barely bothering to conceal the annoyance in his voice, "I do hope I'm not breaking any ordinances this time."

"Of course not." Skarn responded flatly, either not hearing or simply ignoring the sarcasm, "you don't need to leave, you have the right to be here just as I do."

"Of that I am aware, esteemed sir." The words seemed well practiced if not slightly soured, "However I would never dream of spoiling your lovely morning with my detestable presence, so I'll take my leave." He punctuated the statement by turning back towards the treeline.

"I don't detest you, wizard." The other blurted out.

Ferox paused midstep, but didn't turn back to face the pond.

"I truly don't." The magistrate continued, seeming to hesitate before adding, "I know I may come across as... callous. But I do not mean you any ill will."

"Callous is certainly one word for it" he turned his nose up and glided back around, his robes fluttering in the gentle breeze, "although it would not be one of my first choices."

Skarn stood up from his stony seat and fussed with his shirt before reluctantly stepping out from under the tree and into the sunlight, looking anywhere except for the space the other occupied.

"Yes, well... regardless, I realize that my actions have understandably left such an impression." He stopped some distance away, shifting uncomfortably in place, "and I... apologize for that."

Ferox raised his eyebrows in mock incredulousness, "My, my, what's happened to you dear magistrate? Near death experience have you attempting to right your wrongs all of a sudden?"

Skarn's brows furrowed, shaking his head slightly "that's not..."

He finally looked toward the wizard standing near the edge of the glade, staff in one hand and barefoot as always. He regarded Skarn with a bored expression, but there was a hint of intrigue as well as he awaited a response.

"I had... good intentions." He finally managed to force out, "my actions... did not communicate them well."

This earned a snort from Ferox, rolling his eyes much to the other's dismay and offense.

"Is something funny?" He prompted curtly.

"Your intentions have always been profoundly clear, magistrate." He locked eyes with Skarn, the light dimming from the odd magenta hue, "be a nuisance and drive away the outsider. It's really not the most intricate plot, especially not for a small village where nomads such as myself are deemed untrustworthy by default."

The magistrate's eyes flash with anger at the accusation, "that was not at all my intention-"

"Then what, magistrate?" Ferox cut him off, "perhaps the interloper is simply an easy target? After all no one would question a power trip if it was directed at an unwanted guest, they'd celebrate it even. Really cracking down on these outsiders and keeping the community safe." He taunted bitterly.

At this, Skarn closed the distance between them, his shoulders tense and his fists clenched at his sides.

"Do NOT accuse me of abusing my status." He growled, glaring into the wizard's eyes with rage burning in his own.

"Oh, hit a nerve, have I?" He retorted casually, although below the calm facade he was very much surprised at the reaction. To him, it was merely pointing out the obvious from his lived experience, not a personal insult at Skarn directly.

"If I wanted you gone, I would never have gone to all the trouble I have in order to keep you concealed from those who mean you harm" the magistrate forced through gritted teeth. He took a breath, attempting to calm himself before continuing, "don't you ever wonder why, despite your shop doors being open so often and despite Mistclaw being just adjacent to several lucrative trade routes, from Havengleam to the Sky Piercers, not a single bounty notice with your face on it has ever so much as been blown through our streets by the wind?"

It was now Ferox' turn to want to shift uncomfortably in place, though he didn't dare move while the other was this close to him. The wizard was uncharacteristically quiet as he considered the implications of what had just been said to him.

Taking the silence as an answer in itself, Skarn continued,

"You are my community. Whether you like it or not." He stated firmly, finally taking a step back to a more reasonable distance and seeming to calm back down to his usual reserved self, "my actions may have been misguided but my intentions have always been and will always be to look after you as I look after all of Mistclaw."

Ferox blinked, then quickly returned to form with a somewhat sarcastic, "your idea of looking after me is by consistently fining me for nonsensical infractions?"

The man huffed and ran his hand through the chaos of his hair, "I thought that by pushing you to do community service, it would help you feel more connected to everyone and more willing to participate..." he sheepishly trailed off, "I... know now that it only made things worse. As I said, it was misguided of me to try forcing it like that."

Something odd stirred in the wizard's chest just then, but he ignored it.

"I've been meaning to apologize and explain but... conversation has never been a strongsuit of mine." The man suddenly looked much older than he was, and Ferox was made aware of the many stress lines in the magistrate's brow and the dusting of silver around his temples.

He straightened up suddenly, adopting his more common formal tone, "Obviously at this point you have already disregarded them but, formally, I am dismissing all the notes of disorder on record for you." He announced, but then faltered a bit upon realizing they were still in the middle of the forest, "erm. Well I will once I'm back in town." He added clumsily before backing up a bit more and turning towards the same treeline that Ferox had originally emerged from.

He paused, then looked vaguely in the wizard's direction, rooted in place and still somewhat nonplussed by all that had been said.

"I er... don't have jurisdiction outside of city limits but, if you ever find yourself in a troubling situation and I'm not at city hall, my home is the gray one with the flower boxes just a few streets over." He mumbled, then began the descent down the hill into the forest, presumably towards town.

The local wizard was left completely vexed where he stood for a moment, watching the off-white of Skarn's old shirt slowly disappear amongst the underbrush. He gathered his wits, turning around to start heading toward a clump of brightly colored painted thistles near the pond. For today, at least, he would have plenty of thinking to do to keep his mind as busy as his hands.

#brambleverse #my ocs #my writing #he's dumb but he means well #please be nice I'm still new to this whole writing thing

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transmorphobots · 1 year

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All of the Undesirable Things

A piece of prose about Mercykill before she became who she was as Queen of the Dread Pirates and her relationship with Dreadshadow through the context of things in the world she loves.

"What do you even see in her?" Her brother's rude statement nearly draws her eyes up from her paper. It's nothing new in the household, everyone questioning why her. Why the rogue. It's not that they had a problem with her, of course, no, there was no problem! Which is what they always said before asking the same question again. Why, though? It wasn't that they disliked Dreadshadow, she was relatively harmless if not a bit chaotic... no, no, I don't think she's weird! She's just... not anything like who we thought you'd be interested in, is all. She's loud-mouthed, arrogant, she's a fighter- what about Thermal down at the meteorology station, she's a large aircraft too and she's a well known scientist. No, no, it's fine she doesn't have a function, of course, but why her?

She starts to collect her papers instead of following her brother to another conversational dead end and as she stands, her eyes lock with him.

"Do you want to question my love of the salt marshes too?" Her reasons are held on her tongue but she keeps them there with her teeth. His eyes dart away in submission and she pushes past him.

The marshes are not good for writing a thesis in but she prefers fighting off swarms of bugs to their swarm of judgements. They were the upholders of Onyx Prime's archive, so of course, they had a high standard. Her aunt was from Cybertron, a student of Onyx, and her uncle was a sailor from when the Titans were more than dying off legends... it wasn't that Dreadshadow was a Transformer, it was that she wasn't the right kind.

She had no purpose or function. She wasn't some starcrossing valiant or a trader. She played pranks on passersby in the swamps when she rose out of the marsh with a bellow. She would sneak into matches to interrupt them. They didn’t want someone, who’s most recent disruption was breaching onto the floating arena and sending two fighters flying into the ocean, courting their daughter. Forget whatever the daughter’s desires or wants or needs are because if it went further than a fling then it would include Dreadshadow into their heritage. This wasn't someone they wanted to be attached to Onyx Prime's legacy... but they were attached to the prestige of the Prime and not her works. She had devoured every page of it, about the connections between them and a Transformer, and she was convinced that Onyx would like Dreadshadow.

A spaceship Transformer, abandoned for one reason or another after her first activation, who learned to adapt to the marshes. Her foundational routines and behaviors informed by the biome she was left in. No one took her in though some tried to provide for her, they couldn't house a nearly forty foot tall Transformer (so they claimed) and Dreadshadow did not trust people. Why would she, after all? Her experience was informed by crocodiles and frogs and a mysterious creator who left her wandering an environment that was harsh on mechanical lifeforms. Yet, she became a part of it. Her mimicry of the wild life was getting better and better and still she stretched more and more. She wanted something else to take the form of, she would say with a big grin and she'd leave the air open for a suggestion.

"A whole hive of Helian wasps." she would answer just to watch Dreadshadow's grin get bigger.

"I think I would get more annoying, I'd buzz around your home all day. I'd make colonies in your rafters. I'd eat your books." Her most favorite threat of all. Devouring all of the legacy of Onyx Prime and the long lineage of books her family maintained of students and apprentices to the students and of themselves. Their names proudly shining among the greats and they were great. She thought Dreadshadow was great.

"Transformation is inevitable for all things, even archives." And the sharp features would soften in a way that erases the years of roguish living. "And I like the sound of their wings. Even when they swarm."

"It would be fun to swarm a match." she would say... but she still hadn't decided and a hive was a hard thing to replicate. She'd suggest ticks, termites, and water striders. Then Dreadshadow would threaten to be a plague on her home and she would answer with what about those things she liked. Everything in a marsh held value in their niche. No matter how undesirable or perceived as unimportant the creepies and crawlies were to people it did not change the fact that the ecosystem balanced delicately on the populations it contained. She never missed how Dreadshadow looked when she started on a rant about how someone had tried to propose an extermination of mosquitoes through genetic sterilization because they were "an annoyance" and they did not care about what the insects supported in their own ecosystem. There was a certain nobility to a creature that was minding its business and she often wished that certain people would take up the same noble behaviors.

They never did go further with the proposal but she also had heard the person who proposed it was nearly devoured by a giant crocodile and rather than exterminate the annoyance- which may or may not have been related to them wanting to build seaside property- they moved back to the city further inland. Though she knew mosquitoes were present there, she knew crocodiles were in short supply.

The best way to write her thesis was under the shelter of a spider colony. Thick white webs connected all the trees and she never felt afraid to sit under them. She would draw prey for them and they would in exchange, let her finish her writing in peace. Smaller, bolder spiders would land on her shoulders and crawl her blouse and her arm; some would crawl across her page but would be shooed with a little touch of her finger. The larger ones would explore and she would stop in her writing to appreciate the yellow and white stripes across the black carapace.

She was serene within her solitude for all she ever had to do was wait. Straining to listen for any movement in the water, vibrations against the stump she sat on, any soft thwack of mud on metal... but the one she waits for moves as silently as her name.

"I needed my knights." Raising her hand she offers a perch to one of the larger spiders who was sitting on her shoulder. They take a moment and then crawl over, under her hand, down her wrist, exploring... patrolling.

"In your castle again?" She doesn't jump at the voice, expecting it, and she smiles. She looks up to Dreadshadow, a mountain of metal plate and scales, resting on the muddy shore with those bright eyes staring at her.

"Which one of them this time?" Dreadshadow's exasperation was something she wished she could express more freely when under the judgment of her family... but this was her castle and its woven walls kept her far from them. She lets it out in a ragged sigh of frustration.

"My oh so concerned brother who wants to know what I see in you."

"Did you tell him it was my 30,000 pounds of mechanical might and how you want to mangle your hands in all my bits and pieces?" The sweetness in her voice, the fluttering of the crocodilian eyes, draws out a snort and then a little laugh.

"Almost."

"You should be more vulgar. They'll stop asking questions when they're concerned about the logistics of us connecting cables." A part of her that was raised in the family's concerns balks at the idea of saying anything of the sort but the part of her that was growing as wild as the thickets of the marshes laughs at the idea. What if she was so bold? What if she could live forever in webbed castles and her eight-legged knights.

"Perhaps I should be." Words meant to push the fantasy down. She can't save marshes and insects by running away into them. She has to walk the life of an archivist and conservationist. She rests her chin in her unknighted hand and lets the fondness creep into her face like the little squires on the thesis forgotten in her lap.

"What form do you think I should try next?" Dreadshadow asks, as she always does, and somehow gets the maw of her form to look coy and playful in its rigid metal.

"Why not one of these spiders? You would scare so many gladiators with all your beautiful legs." She offers the one on the back of her hand.

"I would... and I could make you a manor out of webs for you to stay in. I could be your captain of the guard and the dragon that holds you hostage from all those annoying questions."

She stands up and carefully brushes her knights and squires off as she steps closer to Dreadshadow. She climbs up one of the crocodilian arms to sit on the expanse of her plated back. They slip into the water together, a boat, an island, to clear the marsh with. Over in the distance, hidden by a sandbar she can see the ocean. The air is salty and muggy, undesirable, and yet she desires it. It's hard to bear parts - the insects, the smell, the air, the vermin- exist free and in spite of everyone who would question why they need to.

"Doesn't your brother like to go sailing?" Dreadshadow's voice is tinged with the same tone of mischief she gets when she's told when and where the next match is. Her own little rebellion as no one expects the archivist's favorite fighter to be the disrupter.

Standing on the top the city area, cloaked in the darkness, with only those optics glittering like copper-core stars. Her sails open up to make herself look bigger, wider, as her laugh echoes in the night. Her orphanhood, her guideless life on display, the hard to bear parts all as performance, as presence, as she announces her challenge. She exists in spite of the questions.

"Often." She answers and feels an amused rumble under the plates.

"I've been thinking of going sailing too."

And so had she.

#tf oc #transformers oc #maccadam #dread ships #mercykill #dreadshadow #transmorphobots prose

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totally-not-deacon · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday (and actually ON Wednesday)

Tagged by the awesome @throughtrialbyfire! In turn, I'll tag @molliehaswords @adventuresofmeghatron and @wishbonemotel if any of y'all want!

Have a chunk of the next chapter of Arenthia Red! It's high time I bully a certain Altmer a bit. Only fair considering what's to come <3

In the muddy ground, she could just make out deep set boot prints disappearing into the marsh – likely Nebarra’s. With careful steps, she traced their path, hand remaining on the hilt of her sword, knowing the swamp was far from empty despite the silence. There. The glint of moonstone was just visible among the shadows, leaning heavily on a felled tree, back to her.

“Nebs?” whispered Marasa, inching closer. Something was off with his posture, stiff and hunched over. His sword arm hung limply at his side. Was he injured? “Hey, you alright?”

She approached him cautiously, realizing he still hadn’t acknowledged her. Then she saw the blood, as well as the arrow that managed to land in the small gap between his pauldron and breastplate. Cursing under her breath, she stepped into his line of sight, catching him jump ever so slightly as if he hadn’t noticed her until now.

“Sit.” She tugged her gauntlets off. He likely would have preferred a potion, but given they were all back at camp, he’d have to make due with her somewhat passable healing skills.

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” Damned obstinate mer.

“I said I’m fine.”

“And I say I don’t want to drag your lifeless body back to camp if you decide to bleed out.”

She could feel his glare, and she returned the same, a silent war to determine just who was more stubborn. After a moment of uneasy silence, he finally gave in with an exasperated sigh. Not willingly of course, but the blood loss and pain was making his legs weaker with each passing second. He eased himself down, Marasa knowing better than to push her luck by offering more help. She dropped to her knees beside him, easing his pauldron off without jostling the arrow and inspected the area.

“Not too deep, that’s good.”

“You do know what you’re doing, right?”

“I’m no healer,” She ignored his scoff. “But I learned enough to keep someone alive on the field ‘til one came.”

He hissed when she grasped the arrow’s shaft firmly. “This isn’t going to feel great.”

That was an understatement. He groaned, helm thudding against the tree he was leaning on, but it was out in one smooth motion. Deft fingers slipped into the hole torn in his arming doublet, gently covering the wound. He could feel the tension loosen from his arm and shoulder as a steady pulse of healing magic thrummed across his skin, and resisted the urge to audibly sigh in relief.

It was still tender by the time she was done, her magicka reserves being as limited as they were, but nothing that wouldn’t wear off soon enough. Her hand slipped from his shoulder, offering his pauldron back. He began reattaching it to the rest of his armor, carefully steadying his injured arm before noticing her still watching him, concern written on her face.

“What?”

#wip wednesday #tes #skyrim #skyrim fanfic #skyrim custom followers #oc marasa #arenthia red #my writing #nebarra #skyrim nebarra #nebarra skyrim

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bonefall · 2 years

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First Sketch of Reworked Lake Territory

(If anyone who's really good with maps wants to chime in, please feel free! It would be appreciated!)

FIRST CRACK at a Lake Territory map that would allow for more conflict and shifting borders. The idea here is to keep the lake as a central landmark while reducing how badly it gets in the way of border conflicts.

Notes and information below the cut!

The Lake Itself

-The lake is no longer circular, it’s big but it’s irregular.

-Most of the lake’s inflow comes from the RiverClan river (this water connects to the ocean to allow for salmon runs, and connects to the Tribe’s mountain further downstream)

-The outlet rivers are highly prone to changing, and the ‘basins‘ are often fought over between RiverClan (fishers) and ShadowClan (froggers). WindClan is a bit less concerned about their connected basin.

-The ‘river’ between WindClan and ThunderClan is dry for most of the year, exposing TONS of tunnels and ancient dens. This gorge connects to the Moonpool. (Note: In the next draft, the Moonpool will be lower than the gorge, not higher)

There’s also a little bit of EVERY neighbor’s preferred hunting ground in each territory. There’s sparse forest in WindClan, there’s pine cover in RiverClan, there’s river in ShadowClan... that’s on purpose so Clans have something to covet.

ThunderClan

-Camp is now nestled into a sheer rockface, a quarry dug into the mouth of a cave. There are tunnels that go deeper, but they’re blocked off. What built those? ThunderClan assumes it was badgers (psst! it wasn’t!)

-The ancient tree is REALLY old. It’s a mature oak at least 150 years of age, probably more like 200.

-In ancient times, this area had the most civilization. There are a lot of artifacts and things to uncover.

(Note: The next draft will add more landmarks, including stone ruins.)

ShadowClan

-I tried to make their river still have that REALLY deep bend in it. I like to think someday, it will change course, create an oxbow lake, and cause a flash flood in their camp lmao

-They now have marshland! They don’t have to abandon being marsh hunters!! Wetlands are a very underappreciated biome!!!

-With the pine coverage though they can now be very generalist hunters.

(Note: Next draft will also add more landmarks, including a lot of fallen trees, ponds, and stone coverage.)

RiverClan

-Actually now has the biggest territory! The borders shift often and they’re selective about what they want to defend, and when they do it. Most attacks are launched in newleaf when the rivers swell.

-Well-defended by how their territory isn’t very useful between the rivers, besides the patch of pine near ShadowClan.

-Also has the most twoleg encroachment.

-The Lake river is larger than the Forest river, more dangerous, and with more sandy shoreline.

(Note: The next draft will add a lot more human settlement including the boat lodge and a dock, and twolegplace towards the North, close to ShadowClan. I also want to try to fit in a gorge or ditch if possible.)

WindClan

-The simplest, really. Heather and hills.

-There’s actually a ton of tunnels under it, which sometimes open up into sinkholes.

-LOTS of patches of specific wildflowers all over the place, but only a few specific healing herbs. Those healing herbs ARE quite important though.

(Note: Next draft will add the Barn of course, plus some isolated trees and a couple of caves.)

I left SkyClan out for now, just to keep things simple. I will show how they fit in when we get there, though!

#Bonefall Rewrite #Lake Territory #Warrior Cats Lake Territory #WindClan #Shadowclan #Thinderclan #riverclan #ThunderClan #The Lake Map SUCKS so I had to fix it #As much as possible I mean #It's SO SO BADDD #In a book series about BORDER BATTLES YOU JUST HAVE A BIG FAT WET OBSTACLE #UPSET #Sorry for the lack of landmarks in the first draft but I am one man with a pen

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bbsourchef · 6 months

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Alright, I think I've got this phone set back up. Mio, I know you tend to go through phones every few months or so, but please try to be gentle with this one...!

thank you again terry!! :D i am!! sorry!! for not being around much :c i have mostly been very, very busy with projects around the terarium!! along with getting paperwork transferred for ren's departure soon :)

Mio, do you want to mention the new rental Pokemon that are available as well, before we forget?

oh oh!! that is right!! the rental pokemon list has been updated!! with new friends!!

Yamato the Magmortar! we would prefer this one be rented by league club members, as she has a high drive for battle! She is rather Rash, but has good perseverence. :)

Angora the Raboot! by contrast, angora is!! someone who prefers anyone in the contest club more than anything!! she is very sweet but loves to show off!!

Mana the Reuniclus! she has!! evolve very recently and seems to be enjoying her new power!! she has been trained very well in making sure that she does not overdo it :D but she's less competitive than yamato, so she can be raised by casual battlers!!

DoReMi the Dodrio! he was!! quite the handful!! he loves to fight and is quite impish, so please be mindful if you rent!! he needs a steady hand, but also one willing to tell him to knock it off!!

Marsh the Meganium! a very easygoing grass type! he is very gentle and friendly, but has shown affinity for both battle, contest, and even therapy courses!! so if anyone wants to rent him, he is very adaptable :D

also also!! i was!! in the process of writing dishes!! but i lost all of my writing on the old phone :c so!! i will be doing a big post with everyone who's reblogged!! soon!! once i can adapt to this new phone!! terry says it should be more durable so here is!! hoping!! :D

#mio talks #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #rotomblr #special guest: terry (president of the terarium club)#//looks at life and choices. do i just. make the terry account. asking for a friend

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alister312 · 2 years

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HELLOGE!!!!! here are the list of ships and characters i would like to hear about from you! i would love to read your insights and thoughts about them as i feel like i could appreciate a new understanding from another perspective!

ships:

- bendy

- k2

- creek

- tolkyde

characters:

- kyle broflovski

- stan marsh

- wendy testaburger

- nichole daniels

- tolkien black

- craig tucker

DONT FEEL PRESSURED TO DO ALL OF THEM. Do the ones you really want to do!!!!!!! <33333 HAIII X3

RIN I LOVE YOU SO I WILL DO MY BEST TO ANSWER ALL OF THEM

OK IM WRITING THIS AS IM POSTING TO SAY THAT I DID ANSWER ALL OF THEM AND IT'S. well it's a lot 😅 and since i care about my followers' dashes i'm putting it all below the cut.

Bendy is a ship that I’ve mentioned before that I’m fairly neutral on, mostly because I’ve got a number of ships for Bebe and Wendy I much prefer for both of them… pretty much all of them being het ships actually? I hardcore headcanon both of them as being bi but having a preference for guys. I think if they were to get together, it’d be something neither of them expect, but it’d just sort of… happens. Like they’re talking to one another about dating or something and they both come to the realization that what they want out of a relationship is what they already have with each other. I think sort of because of that they’d never officially get married? That, or they’d do a courthouse marriage. No big fancy ceremony. They’re very loving and supportive of each other and are almost always on the same page. The strike me as the type to actually be more of a career power couple than adopt, but if they did they’d be the best moms.

K2 is one of those ships that I’ve mostly shipped because others shipped them so, I’ll be honest, I haven’t bounced them around my brain that much! I do see them as the type who always have each other’s back which I think is a very good foundation for a relationship. I love Stan, but I don’t think he quite understands like Kyle and Kenny can and always are trying to do for others. I think they’d get into fights a lot initially, but eventually they realize that they want the same thing but they just have different approaches. After that, they rarely fight except for the occasional Big Fight mostly about expectations they have for one another. They’re both very confident in themselves and their actions though, so they wouldn’t bend much for the other and ultimately they both really respect that about one another.

It’s honestly hard to say more about Creek, because what can I say that countless other fans (and perhaps even the show itself) haven’t said better? I suppose what I can say is that my favorite flavor of Creek is Impastor (mostly bc of my love of religious imagery in stuff). I just love the idea of both of them defying everything everyone else expects of them for each other. I suppose they already sort of did that in real life, but it’s just fun to put it into a grander, cosmic scale for me. I do ultimately see them as being extremely domestic though, whether regular or Impastor. I feel like they’ve got dads of a daughter sort of energy? Of course they are the ultimate guinea pig dads but I think they’d also make good real human child dads as well! Tweek is absolutely the fun dad in their duo.

Tolkyde!! I always saw it called Tyde back in the day… but anyway, I always felt very “meh” on this ship for the longest time until I read a very good fic exploring the two of them (if it wasn’t untitled i’d plug it). Anyway, I think especially once Craig and Tweek start dating, Clyde struggles not having someone he can always rely on. Not that Craig wouldn’t be there for him, but I think Craig would emotionally struggle handling both Tweek and Clyde sometimes and he may unintentionally prioritize Tweek. This would lead Clyde to start looking for someone else when he gets upset and Tolkien is always down to help out. Clyde would probably struggle with really opening up, worrying that Tolkien will find him too much like Craig did, but Tolkien is much more emotionally available and that would help Clyde a lot. I think Tolkien also really needs to chill out and relax with someone who is more normal (aka not South Park levels of crazy) and Clyde is kind of average as they come, in a good refreshing kind of way. They aren’t endgame, but I think they both look back on their time together fondly.

Ok now on to characters!!

Oh Kyle… such a little guy and yet so constantly clamored over by fans from all corners of the fandom. For starters, I guess I should say that I think he’s 100% gay. Maybe tries dating girls in middle school, but it doesn’t work out. The other thing I feel the most confident saying about him is that he’s a family man. That’s been proven time and time again, but I feel it always bears repeating. He cares very deeply about his relationship with his parents and brother, and once he’s a dad, I imagine a lot of his personality does revolve around the fact that he is a dad. I don’t want to say that he’s on constantly, because that makes it sound like his familial love is a chore or fake and I don’t think it is, but I do think he puts a lot of focus on it. I do think that, because of that, him doing something with helping families in the future makes a lot of sense. Whether it’s a guidance counselor like in Post Covid or a marriage counselor, I think he’d be compelled to help others understand the value of family and togetherness like he values them.

Stan is your classic kind-hearted quarterback, the kind of guy who goes to the big game afterparty but will leave early if the person who he came with isn’t having a good time, even though he is. Perhaps controversial, but I like a bit of alcoholism mixed in with my jock Stan. I don’t love seeing him hopeless, I want him to have a happy ending, but I think Stan is someone who is often his own worst enemy. I think he gets too in his own head and he’d probably find something kind of freeing about having his thoughts a little muddled. This would freak Kyle out which would definitely make Stan turn himself around because, whether he and Kyle are dating or not, I think Stan always puts a lot of value on Kyle’s opinion of him. I can sort of imagine a life for Kyle without Stan there, but I can’t really imagine a life for Stan without Kyle there.

I love regular Wendy but honestly I sometimes I love genderfluid Wendyl more. Perhaps it’s because she’s a girl written by men who grew up in the 70s and 80s, but so many of Wendy’s internal struggles are tied to her being A Girl and needing to act the part. Whether that’s worrying about her image and photoshop or relationship woes based in her expectations for herself that she must “fix” someone, Wendy seems very upset with the idea of how she should be. I understand that women can continue to be women while also bucking gender roles, but from a self projection standpoint I like the idea of Wendyl coming to the realization that the reason (s)he disliked all the complicated rules is because (s)he just disliked gender generally, for themself at least. If she were to continue being a cis woman, then she absolutely would be the type to wear it on her sleeve. Absolutely not in a TERFy way, but in the sense that she’d be very vocal and proud about being an accomplished woman (and she would be accomplished, no doubt there).

One of my favorite headcanons I have about Nichole is that she’d be a career podcaster. She’d probably start out as an actual play podcaster with all the girls from the TTRPG club but I think she’d move on from there to have a comedy/commentary podcast and then just keep making more short podcast series about cool stuff. From there she’d probably transition into voiceover work and then writing for shows, or maybe she’d become a host personality for TV. I just think there’s something about her energy that would have people wanting to listen to her no matter what she ends up doing. There’s also just something about Nichole that makes me feel like she’d fit really well in the entertainment world. But no matter what she does, she does continue podcasting, especially to keep in touch with old friends from South Park.

I think Tolkien would be the most likely to break free from South Park, in the sense that he’d be able to get rid of that “weird small town” vibe that all of them definitely have. Like, he could go to college and be a normal guy who just occasionally pulls these wild stories out of nowhere and everyone stares at him incredulously. He’d still hang out with everyone when he’s back home, but somehow he’s managed to be both South Park normal and Normal normal. Tolkien has East Coaster energy anyway, maybe New England or New York, so if anyone is actually permanently moving out of the town, it’s him.

I know many people love the idea of Craig going to work at NASA in the future, but I really love filmographer Craig a lot! I think he’d only ever produce very underground indie stuff, but I think it’d be super helpful for him to remove himself from a situation and study his feelings for it through a camera. Obviously he’s working on his emotions via Tweek, but even still I think he’d like the initial sense of detachment he can give himself. In addition to that, I think he’d be very into media analysis. He’d be that guy who makes hours long video analysis essays about media that no one cares about except for him. It’s a good balance between creativity and logic that I think Craig can really appreciate.

#rin thank you and also i am so fucking sorry there's so much <3 #south park #sp headcanons #sp bendy #sp k2 #sp creek #sp tyde #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #wendy testaburger #nichole daniels #tolkien black #craig tucker

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inwintersolitude · 9 months

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- January 11th 2024 -

Do you know anyone who has a hearing deficit? I have mild hearing loss, but it's not bad enough to need hearing aids.

What is the average number of customers that stop by where you work? I'm not working now.

When you are having a bath, do you have the water low, medium, or high? I don't really like baths and it's been years since I last took one. I don't remember what my preferred water level was.

Do you know exactly what a physician is? Would you ever want to be one? Yes of course I know what a physician is haha. I would not want to be one. I think the medical sciences are fascinating, but I would never want any sort of patient-facing role because I'm not a people-person. Working in medical research would be neat, though.

Does your phone have a stopwatch? How often do you use it, and what for? Yes. I don't use it often. I use the timer function much more often.

What is your surname? If you could change it, what would you want it to be? I don't share my surname on here.

Do you know anyone who pronounces 'ketchup' with 'catsup'? Not that I know of.

Speaking of cats, what is your favorite colours for a cat? No favorite.

What are you methods to remind yourself of something important? The TickTick app on my phone, or post-it notes. It depends on what it is that I want to remind myself of.

What are your opinions on fake sugar? Do you use it? Why or why not? Like stevia? I don't use it often. I'd rather just reduce the amount of sugar, than use a sugar substitute with a weird taste.

Would you ever want to study sociology? Why or why not? Not formally, like enrolling in a sociology course at a university. I do love to read about it on my own, though.

If you had to have a porch for your house, what colour would it be? My house already has a porch. It's white.

What makes a person physically beautiful to you? Good fitness, a nice smile, kind eyes.

Would you rather have a hospital become a church, or vice versa? Vice versa. Healthcare is more beneficial to society than religion.

Would you miss winter if it never came back? Why or why not? YES of course. I love winter and snowy weather.

Do you notice a pattern with people who were born as the middle child? I don't know many middle children, but of the ones I do know, I suppose I could suss out some sort of "middle child syndrome" pattern.

Did you ever play around a hydrant when you were younger? No, the neighborhood I grew up in was on the very edge of town and surrounded by woods and marshes, we didn't have the fire hydrant system go out that far. There was a pumping station at the nearby lake, though.

Does bad weather ruin your day? Why or why not? Only if I had plans to do something outside. Hiking, beach day, etc.

What is one thing stopping you from becoming a veterinarian? I'd never want to be a regular dog/cat veterinarian because I don't have much patience for poorly-behaved dogs and their lazy owners who don't bother to train them, plus I'm mildly allergic to cats. I'd much rather be a small animal vet dealing with rabbits, guinea pigs, etc. Or an avian vet because I'm really passionate about birds (I have two of my own). But I still don't think I could handle being an avian vet because of the stressful situations, treating birds that aren't being properly cared for but there's nothing you can do to save them from neglect, and having to deal with euthanasia situations. My heart couldn't handle it.

When you read 'bass' just now, was it read like the fish or the instrument? The instrument.

If you wear them, what is the average length of skirts you wear? Long maxi skirts.

Do you spell it like 'cheque' or 'check'? Also, do you even use them? Check. I use them occasionally.

If you had to live your life carrying a shield, what would its design be? Meh, no idea.

#survey #surveys #random questions #personal blog

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silastreeguy · 1 year

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Today's date: Saturday, 29th of July, 2023

Dear Diary,

I have found myself on a website called Tumblr— I can't imagine it has anything to do with gymnastics— though I'm told you can find just about anything on here. (Including gymnastics, if you so please)

I had a wonderful break-fast, though it was lunch time, of rice and chicken, corn, and bread sticks! I love bread sticks, but I don't like garlic. I know garlic bread is popular, and I have nothing against it— just the smell and the oily taste is very bad in my mouth. But I love bread all the same. And I do love almond butter toast!

Here's a question. Why is is called garlic bread if it's toasted, and why is it weird to call it garlic toast?

Back to my more planned thoughts.

I am going to instill my thoughts and feelings onto this website and talk about the things that interest me. Including but not limited to: History , the 80s, and Frogs™.

I recall a rainy night in November, similar to the summer storms we've had recently, but the previous summer of that year much cooler— still hot, mind you— but not nearly so.

Anyways, I remember when I was younger, I was absolutely not dressed for the weather, but I didn't care because catching frogs was much more important than that. Besides, I knew I'd be taking a bath that evening anyways, so get as dirty as possible now, cleanse later. Frogs now.

So anyways my friend Jonah had me fetch a pail so we could hold more frogs than our grubby little teenaged hands could carry...

...

I remember Jonah dearly.

I think...

I think I might have liked him, as well as cared for him. But that was a long time ago.

I'm sure he's happy wherever he is, chasing and catching frogs...

...

He grew to be quite the chap to go to for anything related to swamps, bogs, marshes, glades— all of which he insisted were Very Different Things™— I believe him of course, I just wouldn't be able to see the difference even if it had hit me with a brick till I wore it as a hat.

It wasn't just the environments, but the plants and animals too.

He told to "make sure to get a fitted lid, lest they leap about, I must look at them closely!" I of course obliged. I knew just as much about frogs, that they were particularly squirmy and very beautiful. I have always love their different colours and the shapes of their spots, patterns— I mustn't go on too much. They're just little guys though :)

Jonah studied plants, animals, even from a young age. And he was always very clever.

"We must study the natural world around us to grow into well-rounded, proper adults!" I would have never been clever enough to think of something like that, even as I grew up into a proper adult years later, to save our hides for leaving chores half-finished for frogs. I often wrote down the little things he said that stuck with me so I wouldn't forget them. I don't want to leave behind an improper image of him. Or remember him incorrectly myself.

He spent just about from noon to supper outside in the muck. My mother didn't approve, Jonah's mother did. And occasionally, I could have sworn she would give my mother a very good, nasty, side-eye. This cheered me greatly.

I could only spent half that time outside before my mother drags me in by the ear and forces me into the bath. Jokes on her. I love swimming! But that evening, long after supper had ended and mother was asleep. I had said my prayers and pretend to sleep until she slept.

I snuck out to enjoy the rain from under the awning. Only to have Jonah sit beside me with a frog in his hand, we named him Reginald's pants. He had a colouration that looked like he had fancy pants! We watched the rain, and talked for 2 hours. I slept very well that evening.

He and I were both very much into books, and I still am. He prefered encyclopedias and Atlases and I preferred novels. Though my mother thought I spent far too much time with my nose in a book and should have concerned my self with real things.

But where does fiction come from, mother? Real Things

And what was real, and is still very much true is that I like frogs and and leg warmers and Jonah

...

Sincerely,

Silas

#diary #frog #food #tw food #tw food mention #tw frog

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autumnalwalker · 2 years

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Untitled Solarpunk Witch draft, chapter 1.3

Spring, Week 3, Ten of Swords

“We moved the extraction up a day because the weather took a turn for the worse. Not for the first time, I found myself envying the days before Kessler Syndrome killed the satellites that used to predict that. Not that I was going to let a little wind and rain stop me. If anything, it’d make for a more exciting job.”

There’s more of a crowd than I would have preferred. Not that I mind the attention - I’m happy to put on a show, much to Bast(et)‘s disapproval - but I’d hate for anything to happen to them in the unlikely chance that something goes wrong.

It’s not too late to put this off until tomorrow. Bast(et) says from her perch on the broom floating just above the water. For once she’s nearly eye-level with me. I don’t like how the wind’s picking up.

I look up at the gray sky. Even overcast as it is I can still visibly see the clouds moving. She’s got a point, but… I shake my head “It was too late ten minutes ago when we started laying the barrier film out. Now that it’s wet it’s not going to gather back up well and if we leave it out the storm’s liable to shred it. Best thing to do now is work quickly.”

Please don’t do anything reckless because you’re trying to show off. You have nothing to prove.

I finish attaching the clamps to the underside of the broom and give them a few tugs to make sure they’re secure. “Whoever said that I did?”

Never mind. Just stay focused and promise you’ll be careful.

“Of course I will.”

I pull myself out of the marsh onto the broom and reengage my interfacing with it, joining Bast(et) in joint control. I start to shake off some of the mud and saltwater before I remember I’m about to get right back in soon. Looking out at the gathered spectators I give a thumbs up and shout “Good to go!”

Luanna takes this as her cue to start clearing everyone out to a safe distance. And it does feel like everyone. Everyone that’s been involved with the project up until now anyway. Emanuel’s got the airboat ready in case I need something solid to move the drone to. Travis is there at the head of the group that originally tried to retrieve the fallen tree, including the Richardson brothers. I wonder if watching me get the drone out will feel like revenge against it for those two or simply being one-upped. Either way, they seem to be slower to back off than the task group I’ve spent the past couple weeks working with and making it abundantly clear what this thing’s capable of.

Any one of them would be at my side right now if we had anything like a proper hazmat suit in Zello. But instead we’ve just got me and my implants.

Oh, and then there’s Ursula off to the side. When’d she get here? Capturing the witch at work again I suppose.

I watch all of them for a few minutes before we start moving the broom back up and over the yellow-green patch of barrier film floating on top of the water. We keep high enough that the cables aren’t dragging over it but leaving a little bit of slack for now. Once it looks like everyone’s as far back as they’re going to move I do one last check on the drone’s status. I’d powered it back up to a maintenance standby state when I got here so I could monitor its internals better. Bast(et) wasn’t too happy about this but it shouldn’t be able to do anything without me explicitly telling it to exit maintenance mode and this way if anything starts leaking again I’ll have some advance warning. For now, it looks like whatever was clogging up the old leak has held. We’ll see if it holds when we start lifting.

And with that, we command the broom to ascend, straight up. The lines goes taut and we snap to a halt. For a moment it looks like we’re resting atop poles extending from the center of the film; a figurine made life-size. And then something gives beneath the surface and we begin to inch upward.

Slow and steady does it.

“Trusting you with that part,” I murmur. “Dual interfacing with an old system like this is more of an attention split than expected.” Enough of an attention split that I slipped back into speaking aloud.

How is that, by the way?

“Okay so far. A few minor alerts that it’s being moved in an unexpected direction, but no cause for alarm. Gas canister levels are constant, so whatever clogged the leak is still in place.”

For the next several minutes we continue to slowly rise; me focusing on the broom’s target vector and orientation while Bast(et) keeps us level and adjusts our thrust to keep the velocity constant despite the ever-decreasing resistance as more and more of the drone passes from mud to water. Technically, either one of us could do the whole process on our own and the broom handles a lot of general command interpretation on its own, but it’s easier and more precise this way. More importantly, the act of working in concert like this is its own pleasure.

As for the drone’s aquatic disinterment, I can’t see it from up here, but I can feel it. The changes in its pressure sensors ping in the back of my mind. The minute change in ambient temperature slides at the edge of my vision. I let out an involuntary gasp when, for the first time in decades, the drone’s camera sees light. Briefly the sight of my own blurry silhouette though the barrier film seen from below overlays my own vision. Bast(et) would call it anthropomorphizing and projecting my own feelings onto the thing, but in that moment I can’t help but feel a sense of relief, joy even, coming from the drone.

Are you alright?

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Just realized the drone’s camera was still working.” I switch the feed off. Sorry little buddy, but that’s a distraction I don’t need right now if I’m going to get you out safe and sound.

We jerk upwards with a wobble as the last of the drone pops free from the marsh bed.

Oops.

That’s a scary word coming from her. “What happened?”

The resistance dropped faster than I anticipated. I think our cargo might have been caught on something until just now. We should be fine unless there’s a problem on your end.

“Looks like we’re g-” I hear an alert ping that never passed through my ears. My eyes dart to the AR projection I’d set up of the gas canister levels. “Faster! Now!”

To Bast(et)’s credit she’s accelerating before I even finish verbalizing the command. Yet at the same time, she manages to ease us into it smoothly enough to not jerk anything around down there. No hesitation, no questioning, but no panic either.

Below us, where the cables have up until now been passing through a hole in the barrier film, the drone at last reaches the surface and, unable to fit through, begins to lift the film up with it. As the drone rises, the film pulls in around it, hugging to the old machine’s contours the best it can while making allowances for mud and gravity. As it clears the water, weights and a cord around the film’s border pull it closed beneath like an inverted drawstring bag and the edges bond together to complete the seal as they touch.

We stop moving and stabilize. Mostly stabilize. We’re about at the broom’s weight limit for flight and this wind isn’t helping any. I’ll need to keep that in mind if I try to take the drone with me when we leave Zello, but hopefully it will be a lot lighter without the mud and guns.

Status?

“Whatever was clogging the leak came loose. I might have overreacted, but it looks like we got it before enough got out to be a hazard. I’ll give the little bit that did a minute to disperse then I’ll head down.”

Are you sure that’s wise?

“Not that much got out before the barrier sealed it back up. Besides, we know exactly what we’re dealing with this time so worst case scenario we run a targeted cleanse, flush it from my system, and I’m left a bit shaky and nauseated. And anyway, someone needs to remove that canister before we take this guy back to town.”

This guy?

“The drone.”

Bast(et)’s only reply is a disapproving eye roll at me while I start dismounting the broom and shimmying down the cables. I’ll need to be sure to thank that guy from the planning group that loaned me his gloves; I hate to think how raw my hands would be now otherwise. Leon I think his name was? I’ve got no excuse not to have all their names memorized by now. Another part of my job I’m bad at. A village witch should know the names of everyone in that village.

I’m expecting a metal thud or clang when I land on top of the drone, but I’m greeted with a squelching noise instead. Still some mud and water stuck between the chassis and the film I guess. Not wanting to risk accidentally rip the coating by climbing down the side, I jump the last few feet down into the water. Upon landing with a splash my knees loudly remind me that the marsh wasn’t all that deep here for breaking my fall. That’s going to be sore for a bit, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.

I stand up and wipe my goggles clean just in time to see the suspended drone swinging back towards me as it completes the pendulum arc I sent it on when I pushed off to jump. Reflex kicks in. A shout of surprise. A step to the side. An arm out to catch it as it swings back once again. A soft strain on my wrist and shoulder. The swinging drone eases to a stop. Mostly. It’s heavy, but every now and then the wind gusts strong enough to blow it about slightly. Or perhaps the broom is getting blown and dragging its load along below it.

Either way I keep a hand on it as I walk around to inspect what I’m going to be working with. The exact shape of the drone is obscured beneath the barrier film that’s draped over it beyond the fact that it’s essentially a box big enough for me to fit inside if I curl up with legs attached to it that are currently folded up at its sides. We seem to have pulled it out with its front facing upward.

Sorry for stepping on your face, big guy.

So far the film seems to be holding nicely. No holes or rips. Nice even yellow-green throughout except for… there! I stop in front of the slowly spreading brown patch that marks where the gas is leaking underneath. Pulling up the drone’s status projection once more, it looks like shaking the thing around finished dislodging whatever had been blocking the leak and now the gas is coming out faster. Fortunately, the film seems to be doing its job, absorbing and neutralizing the gas as it makes contact. I give it another minute for the canister to finish emptying its contents and then another ten for it all to disperse and absorb. Probably longer than I need to, but best to play it safe.

“Alright, I think we should be in the clear.” I subvocalize to Bast(et). Easier than shouting up there. “Lower it down a little. I’m going to open it up.”

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait to move to solid ground first?

“There’s a second canister in there. If there’s an accident removing it I’d rather it be out here than back in town. Dangerous to assume that it’s just the one that’s compromised.”

I’ll get the targeted cleanse ready to go.

“Here’s hoping I won’t need it.”

While Bast(et) lowers the drone I look back at the spectators. Seems like they all had the sense to move upwind. Good. From what I looked up, this stuff was designed for indoor use and should safely disperse before it gets to them anyway, but better safe than sorry.

I follow their example and move a few yards upwind myself. As I start going through a series of menus to prep the command to open up that weapons compartment, Bast(et) rotates the broom and the drone beneath it so as to keep that compartment facing away. Another big gust comes through, this one enough to set the drone on another pendulum swing. For a terrible moment I think it’s about to slam into the side of the fallen tree, but it stops just short. A few more arcs back and forth before stabilizing.

I give a sigh of relief, whisper a prayer, and take a breath to center myself.

Interface with the drone. It knows something isn’t right. No fear - it was never taught how to feel that - but it is confused. This isn’t a proper maintenance orientation. The constant pull of the cables is sending a stream of warnings from pressure sensors. The repeated spinning and swinging indicate an unsafe work environment.

I apologize for waking it up sooner than I said I would. Turns out I needed it awake for safety monitoring during maintenance. It wouldn’t do to get either of us hurt.

It asks what I intend to do to it.

I ask it to open up its starboard compartment so I can remove that leaky canister.

It complains about the unknown substance covering the compartment.

I reassure it that the substance is harmless and tell it to go ahead.

It trusts me and complies.

I thank it and disconnect.

There’s now a large bulge under the brown patch of barrier film where the compartment door is attempting to open. I wade back over and poke my wand through the film for a divination. No significant trace of the gas detected. The film’s done its job. Safe enough then I figure and pull the wand downward to start enough of a rip in the film. I pull the wand back out and re-sheath it while the force of the compartment door opening causes the rip to expand in both directions until the door itself at last pulls free, exposing the drone’s internals to the open air for the first time in many decades as muddy water pours out.

Finally I get to see the damage with my own eyes. To my surprise, the canister is crushed rather than punctured. Yes, there is a puncture hole on the door from where the tree fell on it, but it looks like it damaged and deformed the clamp holding the canister rather than hitting it directly.

I open the waterproof satchel I’ve had strapped to my waist this whole time and retrieve a smaller square of barrier film then reconnect to the drone and ask it to release the clamp. It obliges and I catch the crushed and probably-empty canister with the film and wrap it up.

One down, one to go.

I set the safely wrapped empty canister down to bob on the surface of the water. A visual inspection of the second canister aligns with the drone’s diagnostics telling me that it’s undamaged so I pull out another film sheet and repeat the process. As I’m wrapping the second canister I notice it has a different label than the first one. Huh, that’s weird, the drone seemed to think they were the same.

I’m preoccupied enough trying to figure out that discrepancy that I’m slow to react to the next big wind that tears through. Some part of my brain registers the mass of the suspended drone swing into my peripheral vision and I reflexively throw up my hands to protect myself.

My hands that are still holding the second canister.

The drone pushes my back into the fallen tree trunk and I gasp. I feel a crunch as the center of the canister is pressed against the edge of the compartment. A hissing sound begins.

Shit.

I push the drone away and pull out another film sheet. Begin wrapping. Watch the film quickly turn gray. Apply another layer. And another. I’m out now.

Wait. Gray? Not brown? Oh, MG, it is different. Why is it different? The drone thought it was the same. What long-dead Corporate dumbass loaded the wrong canister? Did I breathe any of it? Is it skin-absorbant? Why is my nose running? Oh shit, I did breathe it in.

“BAST(ET)!”

My chest tightens. Is that fear or a symptom? My vision swims. Symptom.

Full system cleanse initiated. I’m getting help. Don’t drown.

I have time for one last thought before the full cleanse hits me.

This is gonna suck.

*******

I don’t really remember the next few hours. And for that I’m thankful. On the upside, the cleanse kicked in quickly enough that the symptoms from the gas stopped almost as soon as they began. Turns out Bast(et) had already started the process before I even called out to her.

On the downside, a full system cleanse sucks. You’re really not supposed to do one except as a last resort emergence measure. A targeted cleanse would have my implants detecting, isolating, and expelling a specific substance or chemical, or, if properly configured, rapidly synthesizing and deploying a counteragent to neutralize it. A full cleanse has the implants stimulate my body to expel any foreign material. It’s an inexact process to put it lightly, especially if you force it into an accelerated mode like we did. Any food in your digestive tract? Out the nearest exit and fry a portion of your gut bacteria as collateral damage while we’re at it. Air in your lungs? Time to see how fast we can replace it. Unknown substance in your bloodstream? Let’s try extruding it through the pores in your skin. Those implants running throughout your whole body enabling this whole process? Well, we’re not supposed to do anything to them but accidents happen.

As all that hits at once I last just long enough to feel myself falling backwards into the marsh before blacking out.

When I wake up I’m on a bed in the village clinic with Doc Yepes on one side of me and Bast(et) on the other. There’s a background white noise I can’t place. The doctor tells me that, whatever I did, I did quickly enough that I shouldn’t have any lasting side effects from the gas. Whatever I did as a cure though really did a number on me and he recommends a week of bedrest. That sounds about right from what I know of the cleansing process. Feels about right too given how I’m sore all over, nauseous, and itching on the inside.

I notice Bast(et) pawing at me and I ask for a moment alone with my familiar. The good doctor obliges.

Once the door closes Bast(et) speaks up. Her voice comes out of a speaker on my grimoire instead of direct transmission to my cochlear nerve. She tells me that the cleanse damaged my implants and that it’ll take some time for them to grow back and self-repair. After calming me down, expressing her relief that I didn’t die, and thoroughly chastising my carelessness she fills me in on what happened after I blacked out.

When I cried out, several of the onlookers took that as a cue to come to my aid. Travis and Emanuel got there first with the airboat and fished me out. Bast(et) set the covered drone down on the vessel as well and started using my grimoire to explain what happened and give instructions on what to do with me. Most people thought that it was somehow me communicating through secret witch arts despite the spasming and insensate state of my body. Bast(et) didn’t bother correcting them.

We all went back to town, I was hauled off to the clinic, the gas canisters were handed off to Luanna to finish disposing of, and the drone’s was left on one of the docks under Zello with a tarp thrown over it and tied down to stay put in the storm.

At the mention of the storm I realize that’s the noise I’ve been hearing through the walls and ceiling. It’s really coming down hard out there.

Doc Yepes returns to check on me. Over the next couple of hours several others stop by to see how I’m doing and fill me in on what I missed. Most of it Bast(et) already told me, but some of it’s new details.

I spend the night in the clinic. The next morning Ursula shows up to walk me back to the house. I use my broom as a walking stick. The thought crosses my mind that I’d rather lean on it while hovering, but I can’t properly interface with it right now and it’s low on power anyway. We run into Travis on the way. Apparently he’d had the same idea as Ursula.

I spend the rest of the week taking it easy around the house. Recovering. Neighbors stop by. Some are thankful. Some seem almost in awe of my “sacrifice for the village.” A couple lay into me for putting everyone in that crowd in danger by trying to do it all myself. All of them try to help me in some way. Bringing me food, helping with the wall garden. Giving me updates on the discussion about what to do with the drone.

Bast(et), still talking through the Grimoire when no one’s around, makes another “welcome to martyrdom” comment. I’m starting to think that’s some kind of AI cultural in-joke that I’m not getting.

And so I rest. Recover. Try to relax before thinking too hard about what I need to do next.

*******

The bathtub now full, I press my hat to the underside and tap the sequence on my grimoire to start the ritual. Tapping manually. On the screen. Hopefully I’ll at least be able to interface with my own implements again soon.

Normally I go for showers over baths, but this is part of the recovery process and I already technically cleaned myself beforehand. The whole bathroom smells of herbs and flowers. Some of them are local. Some of them are from a small stock I brought with me. All of them have been either stewing with me in the baths that I’ve taken over the past five days since the drone extraction or been arrayed around the tub. I perhaps could have done a better job with my selection for scents that complement one another better and maybe used a few less to keep it more subtle, but it’s not unpleasant. The symbolic act of it is enough to help relax me where the scent itself falls short.

I lower myself into the warm water. Seated, I reach over to the nearby stool, retrieve the gray crystals, and bring them into the water with me. Four go on the floor of the tub; one on either side of me, one between my feet, one at the end of the tub for my head to float above. The fifth I place on my submerged chest.

And then, I lay back, float, relax, and wait for the ritual to begin.

It’s not a long wait until the same sonic components on the hat that I used a few weeks ago for imaging the buried drone kick in and begin to subtly vibrate the tub and the water within. This in turn activates the crystals and they begin to glow.

I can never help but smirk at that. The glowing is entirely unnecessary, but we still make them that way anyway. The same for them even looking like crystals in the first place. You could say that of this whole ritual, technically. Why dissolve the raw materials for the growing and maintaining our implants in a vibrating bath to be absorbed through the skin when it would be so much faster and more efficient to just ingest or inject them? Officially, we say it’s to help ensure they get evenly absorbed and distributed throughout the body.

I’ve always suspected though that it’s really for the same reasons that we shape our tools to look like giant pointy hats and wands. The same reasons we style our hovercraft to look like brooms. The same reasons that we insist on calling our tablet computers grimoires and our portable chem labs/3D printers cauldrons.

Symbolism and ritual. The witch aesthetic is what aligns the technological side of what we do with the spiritual, environmental, and community side of what we do. It’s what reminds those we meet - and just as importantly, ourselves - that we’re not just a bunch of body modders and hackers who also happen to garden. We’re witches and our magic is in finding balance and weaving relationships. Relationships between individuals to build a community. Relationships between us and the earth to care for the mother who gave us life after we’ve done so much harm. Relationships between humans and AIs to learn from one another and celebrate no longer being alone in the universe. Magic is when the seemingly impossible happens, and it’s through working in concert that we accomplish what would be impossible for any of us alone. The shapes we give our tools are a reminder that our tech exists to serve that purpose and not the other way around.

I chuckle, further rippling the water. I’m supposed to be praying or meditating during this process to help focus on who I am and our purpose, and just letting my mind wander off on an undisciplined tangent I wound up doing that anyway. Getting it right despite myself yet again.

“Something funny?” Bast(et)’s voice projects from the grimoire.

“Just life,” I murmur back. I’m trying to keep as much of myself submerged as possible, and trying to talk without getting water in my mouth is a bit of a challenge. “This’ll be the last of these for a while by the way, whether it’s enough or not. I wasn’t expecting to grow through a year’s maintenance supply in a week.”

“That’s what happens when you’re not careful.”

“I know, I know. MG, I know.” I close my eyes “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to think about anything other than every single minor detail I should have done differently?”

“Judging by how often you’ve been staring off into space, clenching your jaw, then sighing, I surmise ‘very.’”

I realize I’m clenching my jaw as she says that and loosen it with a sigh. Dammit. “Did you tell the order about this yet?”

“I wrote up a draft of a report, but I thought you’d like to review and send it yourself.”

“Thanks. Maybe we can ask for a resupply on maintenance matter while we’re at it.”

“Given the circumstances, I’m sure they would approve it.”

I float in silence for several more minutes, trying to let that mess fade from my mind for now. That stress isn’t conducive to healing. I try to focus on my body instead. It’s gone all limp and tingly by this point. It feels nice. I know I could move it if I really needed to, but even the thought of doing so unnecessarily just seems like an utterly unappealing effort. I’ve never been able to figure out if that’s just the relaxation of the warm water and good vibrations or an actual effect of the maintenance matter bonding with my implants.

“I miss your voice,” I say, breaking the silence.

“Would you like me to keep talking while you meditate? I’m told I can be quite soothing when I try.”

I smile, eyes still closed. “Thanks, but I mean your real voice. The grimoire gets close, but there’s something hollow about it. There’s a spark missing.”

Silence returns. Stretches out.

“I miss your real voice too,” Bast(et) replies.

“I sound different?”

“Of course. Direct interpretations of minor muscle movements filtered through neural readings of intent come in differently than wet vibrations of air.”

“So, that sounds like…”

“They’re not truly even the same thing, but if I were to translate to analogous audio and compare that, then I’d say this way is rougher, deeper, darker. Close, like you said, but still different to anyone who really knows you. I could play it back for you sometime once your implants are working again.”

“I’d like that.” I let myself drift again and try to meditate, but realize I don’t want to be alone in my own head right now. I’ve had too much of that already. “At least we hadn’t gone full thought transfer,” I speak up again. “That would really suck for withdrawal.”

“Or if we’d gestalted.”

“Oh, wow.” I let out an involuntary laugh and open my eyes. “I can’t even imagine what that must be like. I have a hard enough time comprehending what it’d feel like to be merged like that full-time. To then lose that… That’s just frightening.”

“Well, I promise you’re not losing me. Now get yourself healed back up and don’t do anything else that might make me lose you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#my writing #old writing #rough draft #solarpunk #witch #Untitled Solarpunk Witch Story #Village Witch #journaling game writing

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