#grain procurement

[oldguydoesstuff]

Bare CPU Printed Circuit Board for the Alpha NT XL366 workstation I designed back in 1995 or so. This was an obscure model of an obscure product line, made by a company (Digital Equipment Corp.) that is now itself obscure. To be honest I don't even remember much about this machine now.

What I do remember is the HUUUUGE fight I got into with our Signal Integrity team while I was designing this, over decoupling capacitors.

Decoupling caps are small components that hold a charge to help even out power when a circuit is active. This board featured hundreds of them, smaller than a grain of rice (see photo comparison of mounting pads vs rice grain below).

Our Signal Integrity team was tasked with making sure everything was electrically stable, so they required many hundreds of these to be added to the board, based on power simulations they did. Trouble was, they wanted so many, we couldn't even build the board.

My job as the Systems Engineer here was to meet the requirements from the SI team, but also from manufacturing, and the requirement that my PCB layout techs don't go insane trying to place and route the board. SI really only cared about signal quality, so they would not relent, and I ended up getting shouted at at one point by a junior SI engineer who was also under a lot of stress, when I said "There are different schools of thought on this.." and he screamed THERE ARE NOT DIFFERENT SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT ON THIS!!

It got to the point where the product was not going to get built, because we just couldn't fit like a thousand of these tiny caps on the board, we needed to ditch at least 25% of them to have a hope. The models were the models though, and you couldn't argue against them.

But then my boss got a genius idea. What if we could prove the simulation models were too conservative? We came up with an experiment where we would remove caps from an older system and measure the power supply noise, to see how many caps could be taken off before the system became unstable.

Me and the junior SI engineer were tasked with doing this experiment (later deemed The Decapitation Project), so we grabbed a Tektronix scope and Metcal soldering station and headed over to this abandoned lab we had in our old Maynard headquarters, a now creepy attic space on the 6th floor of an old mill building. Here were a few older Alphastation 3000 workstations we built years earlier, working but waiting to be recycled.

We had this special program that would thrash the CPU within an inch of its life, to put a big demand on the power supply system. While this was running, the SI engineer measured the power quality, while I proceeded to (very carefully to avoid short-circuiting the system) actually desolder caps from the board while the workstation was running.

We managed to get about 1/3 of them off before there was any noticeable effect, and we found one specific type of cap was not doing much of anything at all. We took the data back to the head of the SI team, and he finally relented and let us remove several hundred capacitors. (He also buried the report and data I had, because he didn't want the bad publicity - I remember being mad about that)

The system got built after that, and worked just fine. We did try to enact a small bit of petty revenge on the SI team manager though - there was a recognition event for people involved on the project, and me and our PCB procurement guy decided to give the SI team manager a special "Faraday Award" for achievement in capacitance (Farads are a measure of capacitance - geeky eng joke). We took an old bowling trophy with a giant, beer-can sized electrolytic capacitor strapped to the top of it as the award. He was a no-show so we didn't get to present it. Those SI guys never did have much of a sense of humor.

Anyway, long story sorry. Just thinking of it recently because I was helping someone at work with an analog simulation and I remembered this..

[sapphos-ode]

Blue is the Ocean’s Gaze

Larissa Weems

I’m sleep deprived, it’s almsot 2am and I just wrote this in one sitting so I’m sorry if it makes no sense.(1.2k)

~

Summer’s grip of the land was slowly fading, becoming less of a hold and more of a withering grasp — her fingers barely holding back the clouds of autumn, her breath struggling to keep the umber from colouring the leaves. As weak as summer was becoming, today still procured a blue sky, and a shining sun that took the edge off of the encroaching chill of Autumn as it slowly awakened.

The crests and peaks of the waves caught the light, sparkling and twinkling as if the stars of the night had fallen into its depths. The ocean seemed to breathe in languid movements, at leisure, unrushed without a worry in the world.

A gentle breeze sailed inland and caressed the world, carrying a salty air. A few children splash around at the shore, infinite grains of sand clinging to their legs. The water will wash them away only for more to stick. You watch them laugh, from afar, where you sit on a grass embankment. The noise does not reach you and they’re all but small figures in your vision. But their happiness is unmistakable.

A blur of black and white tears along the beach. It skids to a halt, legs going in all directions as it ensures a battered tennis ball in its mouth. The dog’s tail is flying awry as it trots back to its owner, head held high, the ball like a hunting trophy.

You smile to yourself as you make a few choice brushstrokes on your canvas, once happy with the blur of a dog you dot a tiny little bit of fluorescent yellow just before it. You lean back and squint your eyes, letting out a satisfied hum before working in more details.

For the life of you, you can’t paint the sea. Whenever you look at it, it seems dull. Despite the way it dances with the light, despite the deep rich cobalt hues in it. Your eyes seem to fail you. So you focus on other parts of the land before you. Leaving the ocean nonexistent.

You feel a pair of eyes on you, out of sheer curiosity you peek over your shoulder and catch the eye of an older woman sitting on a bench not too far away from you. She’s quick to avert her gaze, suddenly finding the grass very interesting as she twiddles her thumbs. You take the opportunity to study her. She’s dressed immaculately, a gorgeous cream dress that stops just before her knees, and matching heels. Platinum blonde hair has been styled into an intricate updo, locks of hair curling into an elaborate picture of swirls. You note she seems to favour pale colours, but the striking red of her lipstick creates a delicious contrast and you can’t help but be drawn to her lips.

The woman chances a glance up, hoping you’ve gone back to your canvas so she can continue observing you. Her eyes blow wide as she meets yours again. Her cheeks take on a puce tone at being caught staring. How unbecoming of her.

You smile and give her a little wave, which she reciprocates. What you do next takes her by surprise, a simple gesture of your head to beckon her closed. She obliged, standing slowly. Gods she’s tall is all you can think.

As she nears you move your painting supplies off of the second stool you had laid them on. Storing them on a small platform nailed to the easel — they teeter a little but you know they’ll stay.

“Join me?” You offer.

“Sorry,” the woman takes the seat, “I didn’t mean to be rude,”

“No need to apologise…” you hum, prolonging the last syllable.

“Larissa!” She clears her throats, “Larissa Weems,”

Her accent is soothing.

“Larissa,” you say her name slowly, it’s a beautiful one. Fitting for her. You offer your own name in return and shake the hand she holds out.

“Do you paint as well?” You ask as you pick up your paintbrush and continue where you left off.

“No, art has never been something I’m good at, but I love watching others paint,” she tilts her head as she watches your hand, “I don’t often get to see that though, which is why you caught me staring,”

You look at her for a second. Up close you can see her eyes and they are truly captivating.

“You have a front row seat now,” you give her a smirk before returning to your canvas.

“That I do,” she muses, “do you do a lot of plein air painting?”

“Not much, but it’s refreshing when I do,” you keep your focus on your work, “the world changes and it forces me to convey the movement and feel of the land instead of making a picture of it,” you lean back again and study your work.

“Is there a technique to not- ” she stops, eyes furrowed as she tries to find the right way to phrase her question, “I’m curious why you’ve not painted the sea. It’s such a large part of the landscape,”

You smile as you gaze into her eyes, “it’s been giving me trouble so I decided to leave it for now, the ocean is lost to me,”

“Oh, I- that makes sense, I’ve given students the same advice for exams,” she nods to herself, “it’s best to skip a question and revisit it at the end if you’re struggling with it,”

“My teachers gave me the same advice,” you chuckle, “So, if you do not paint, what do you do in your spare time?”

The blonde takes a pause to think, what did she do?

“Free time has been scarce as of late,” she grumbles, “but I love a good book, and poetry,”

“And watching strangers from afar?” You watch her form your peripheral. With a raised brow and a lopsided smile.

She blushes and looks to the side with a sheepish expression. “I do apologise- ”

“I’m only joking, your company is welcome, Larissa,” you place a hand on her knee and give it one reassuring squeeze before it returns back to your lap. “What do you read?”

~

Hours go by, or is it minutes? And nothing but conversation passes by between you and Larissa. The sun is inching closer to the horizon and the children from earlier are long gone. Dog walkers are scarce and the sand remains still as the ocean creeps in.

You’ve long stopped painting, deciding to count the waves. It pleases you that every seventh wave is the largest before you start from one again. Just as you have abandoned your canvas so too has Larissa, in favour of observing you.

A cold wind rushes past you and you shiver, “I believe we should get heading. It’s only going to get chillier,”

“Yes, I suppose we must…” Larissa sighs, finding she does not want to part from you so soon. Her eyes glance to your work and she smiles, “I see you managed to do the ocean,”

You gaze into Larissa’s eyes, fascinated by the way her eyes are soft like the sky on a summer’s day, how they seem as tumultuous as the ocean during a storm. The crystalline hues of cerulean and azure beg for you to paint them.

Larissa feels her face heat up from the way you look at her. Her eyes flit down to your lips as she swallows, then back to your eyes, “You found the ocean then,”

You give your painting a cursory glance before returning your gaze back to her eyes.

“I found the ocean,”

~

[biteofcherry]

Sacred Hunt CURTIS

What would be next for them?

Ahh, I love how much love The Sacred Hunt Curtis is gaining 🥰

It may come as a surprise, but you and Curtis get your own version of happy ending. Domestic life, though in rather harsh conditions of hard work to survive. With Curtis being titled The Hunter of decade, he received many offerings that definitely help you out through the winter and into the next harvest season. Which is a blessing, truly, because pregnancy often makes you fall asleep in the middle of the day.

Yes, you're definitely pregnant before the first snow falls. Curtis hunts were always precise, but merciful, but now he's trying extra hard to make it clean, so he can procure lush furs for you. Anything to keep you comfortable and warm during the late autumn and winter.

There's a little grain of salt around the time of Yule festivities.

Hunting is mostly done, everyone has stocked up on preserves. It does happen, but not as actively as in other seasons. But winter is the time to train younger hunters. More and more girls and young women join these trainings. And you've noticed how one of the maidens always sticks to Curtis' side.

You try to convince yourself it's because the woman wants to be a really good hunter, especially since her older brother died last winter and she has three younger siblings to look after. Yet you can't help but feel a jab of jealousy when Curtis praises her, or mentions her skills when the two of you share a meal.

One evening, as you're weaving a Yule wreath out of evergreens, and Curtis comes back really late, you snap at him. A bitter comment falls out of your mouth, if he's going to bring another wife to your table.

Curtis (though careful of your pregnant state), roughly fucks the silly thoughts out of you.

[zarya-zaryanitsa]

Political Famines in the USSR and China

In both countries, excessive requisitions were justified by overestimations of the actual harvest. In the USSR, the method of measuring grain “in the field” generated a systemic upward bias, so that planned procurements ended up seizing a much larger quota of the available grain than was officially stated. In China, overestimation reached its height in 1958, when the CCP boasted of a harvest twice as large as that of the previous year (in 1979 the figure was revised downward by half).

In both countries, the burden imposed by procurements on the villages (in 1960, Chinese peasants were left with 212 kilograms of grain per person, compared with the 295 kilograms they had relied on for a very meager existence in 1957) soon sparked turmoil that was blamed on the peasants’ natural conservatism, ignorance, and treachery, which induced them to hide part of the harvest. In both the USSR and China, leaders justified their choices by resorting to extreme statist ideologies. Requisitions focused on grain-producing areas, where the state knew it could obtain more. Political famines were therefore paradoxically concentrated in traditionally richer areas, where food had rarely been a problem. (…) In the USSR the most important grain-producing area was Ukraine (a few other non-Russian regions, such as the Kuban and the German Volga Republic, were also important), and the resulting focus on Ukraine had devastating effects on the relationships between Moscow and the local Communists.

Both the USSR and China had reserves of grain—in 1933, for example, Soviet reserves averaged around 1.4 million tons—but leaders in both countries refused to use reserves to aid the stricken areas except on selected occasions and for selected purposes, such as facilitating the springtime planting of seeds or supplying important industrial and mining centers in rural ar- eas or key border regions. In the USSR, for example, Ukrainian border oblasts suffered much less than internal areas because of the regime’s security and propaganda concerns. The same was true in China, where districts adjacent to state borders were only slightly affected.

Even though the reserves were not huge, they could have prevented hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of deaths if they had been used. The use of reserves, however, was never contemplated, especially in 1933 (when famine in Ukraine was used as an operational tool) and in 1960 (when it was impossible to admit the catastrophe generated by the choices made at Lushan). (…)

The exodus to cities or supposedly better-off areas within each country also continued. This migration, however, was transformed by the tragic food situation of 1932–1933 in the USSR (and 1931–1932 in Kazakhstan) and in post-1959 China, when hunger became the primary driver. Moreover, in contrast to what happened before 1932, the Soviet state efficiently halted the exodus by reintroducing internal passports and denying them to peasants. Especially but not solely in Ukraine, drastic measures were also adopted to prevent starving peasants from buying train tickets and entering cities and to return them forcibly to certain death in the villages.

- Political Famines in the USSR and China: A Comparative Analysis by Andrea Graziosi

[swordsmans]

Hello! As someone who really really wants to attempt bookbinding, could I ask how you started? I am very overwhelmed with the amount of materials and equipment bookbinders use and it is not within my budget to get most of them, which is really discouraging :,)

I would love to know some cheap(er) alternatives to certain materials and which materials, in your opinion, is the most essential and worth splurging money on! I particularly have a lot of issues with using leather because it is WAYY out of both my budget and skill level haha!

Additionally, what are some of the reasources you used to learn how to bookbind? :o

Thank you!!! (It's alright if you don't respond to this! I was just wondering :])

hi, hello!!! im sorry for the late reply!!

to start with--i definitely dont use leather for the same reason!! even imitation leather is expensive, and tbh i like the ability to play around with colors and shapes that working primarily with bookcloth and paper affords me. you can either make your own bookcloth using regular fabric, a binder like HeatNBond, and tissue as long as you have an iron--or you can purchase it from places like amazon, hollander's, or other bookbinding supply companies. leather is ~fancy~ shit.

as for essential tools, that sort of depends on what youre trying to set out to do. western "cased" bindings require more material as a baseline, but glue-free bindings like coptics and japanese stabs require much less! really, as long as you have paper, a needle, thread, and cardboard, you can make a book! here are some of the tools i use, as well as some alternatives:

bonefolder(s) - i have two, a "traditional" one and a square angled one, both real bone. this is something i would consider an essential item, because you will use it for almost everything. you can buy a cheap teflon folder at your local craft store, but really anything you can use to crease your pages and evenly tuck your folds would work. a firm piece of plastic, a thick card--hell, a 6in ruler would work!

ruler(s) - god, i have so many rulers, both imperial and metric, in so many different shapes and materials. the ones i use the most are my 12in/30cm double sided metal ruler and my 3x4in/70x100cm double sided metal square, but as long as you have something you will be set. you can find cheap wooden or plastic rulers at your local dollar store!

weights - this includes freestanding weights and a press. while i do use a press, i also have some bricks from my local hardware store that ive wrapped in craft paper (because cleanliness is essential), a mason jar filled with rocks, and a giant stack of cookbooks. i use all of these for different things, but getting a few bricks would probably be your cheapest option; mine were $0.62 each at lowe's, lol! you dont need a press. anything that will get you even, heavy pressure will work!

waxed thread - you can use any sewing thread you want and wax it yourself by running the wax along the thread! small beeswax blocks are relatively inexpensive and will last quite a while, and regular sewing thread won't break the bank. you can certainly buy pre-waxed thread, but making your own works just as well.

awl - i have two awls and a punch cradle, and genuinely none of these are "essential". straight up just stick a sewing needle in a wine cork, bestie, and youve got yourself an awl. punch cradles are also totally optional; just make a guide with some cardstock so you know where to punch your signatures and youre set.

paper - this is the big rabbit hole, of course. fancy handmade papers can get REAL expensive and dont even get me started on procuring paper with the proper grain direction. HOWEVER, im currently using a mid-tier premium "printer" paper as my fill (though ill be switching to proper stuff when i run out) and you can definitely use regular sheets youd find anywhere with only minor issues. as for decorative paper--anything works! regular scrapbook paper is perfectly fine, and you can buy 12x12 booklets online or at your local craft store for cheap--it seems like theres always some on sale.

bookcloth - mentioned above, but making your own is probably the cheapest way to do it! however--bookcloth is only essential if youre doing a cased-in binding imo. if youre doing coptics/stabs/open sewn/glue-free/etc. bindings, you dont need it.

glue - glues are tricky. traditionally people use a combination of paste and PVA. however, you can use whatever glue you want so long as youre okay with the drawbacks of using high-moisture stuff. gluesticks, craft glue, whatever. you can also make your own paste with flour and water! if youre looking for some of the things id recommend getting the "good" version of, though, i would pick PVA. i buy mine by the half-gallon and its worth it, and i actually prefer it over nori paste (what can i say--im impatient! and paste takes 24 hours to dry).

cutting tools - this is the one absolute thing i would recommend getting: a good boxcutter with replaceable blades and a large cutting mat. this is the essential tool of all time, because while you can use scissors its nearly impossible to get a straight line on anything. i have a workpro w011043a, an xacto xz3601, and three pairs of scissors of various lengths--and my workpro is what i reach for the most. cutting mats can run a little expensive, but i cant stress enough how much easier your life will be with an open blade + cutting mat as your primary cutting setup.

chipboard - i use several different thicknesses of greyboard for my covers and spines, but you can genuinely use whatever cardboard you have on-hand. got an amazon box? that works!

of course, this is by no means a comprehensive list of tools--but these are my go-to tools for every bind! a lot of the fancy stuff like edging, foiling, bookmark-making, etc, is totally optional and opting out of those will significantly reduce your overhead costs. you can also start out with the inexpensive stuff and upgrade as needed! bookbinding is daunting and yes it does have a bit of an initial investment, but there are definitely ways to make it work if youd really like to get into the hobby. you can also look at starter kits on etsy, too! theyll often come with some of the essential tools as well as materials to make your first book, so you can try it out to see if youd like the hobby without going ham.

as for resources to get started, here are some of what ive used!! also not comprehensive because everyone is different, but a great place to start.

hope this helps!!!

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Send 🌿 for a screenshot associated with plants or nature.

The botanist's profession encompasses the procurement of resources from all forms of plant life. This includes harvesting vegetables and grains, tending fruit-bearing trees, cultivating fibrous plants, logging timber, and more. Botanists also endeavor to educate others about the need to maintain a symbiotic relationship with Eorzea's plants, rather than carelessly stripping them of their useful parts. Owing to their intimacy with nature, botanists are known to revere Nophica, the goddess of abundance.

[christian-dubuis-santini]

C'est l'histoire d'un type qui se prenait pour un grain de maïs.

Après un long traitement, il peut enfin sortir dans la rue, conscient qu'il est un homme, pas un grain de maïs…

Mais pris d'une angoisse soudaine alors qu'il s'apprête à traverser la rue, il retourne en courant vers son thérapeute et dit: "je sais bien que je ne suis pas un grain de maïs, mais est-ce que les oiseaux le savent, eux?"

La croyance (comme l’incroyance) pré-suppose toujours un autre qui croit (à ma place). «Notre savoir consiste en grande partie à «croire savoir», et à croire que d'autres savent.» (Paul Valéry)

La croyance est donc toujours croyance en la croyance de l'Autre (qui croit à ma place, me permettant de croire que je ne crois pas)... Nous croyons par transitivité ou par procuration, puisque le "ne pas croire" fait partie intégrante du champ de la croyance.

Autre exemple pour illustrer que la croyance est toujours croyance dans la croyance de l'Autre: la rumeur.

Une rumeur court qu'il va y avoir une pénurie d'essence, et je vais avoir besoin d'essence pour un déplacement prochain (il y a toujours une bonne excuse…)

Je sais bien que cette rumeur est probablement fausse, mais comme il y a des gens qui en parlent, je me dis qu'il vaut mieux quand même que j'aille faire le plein, parce que s'il y en a d'autres assez stupides pour y croire vraiment, à cette ridicule histoire de pénurie, il n'y aura plus d'essence à la pompe !

Ce faisant, j'aurai contribué à rendre vraie la rumeur de pénurie.

La croyance — et c'est encore plus vrai lorsqu'elle se manifeste dans sa détermination oppositionnelle: l'affirmation de la non-croyance — opère toujours par procuration.

Le croire et le ne-pas-croire sont des notions situées à l'intérieur du champ de la croyance, elles n'en dépassent pas l'horizon.

Le sujet supposé croire est corrélatif du sujet supposé savoir, mais si je peux croire à travers l'autre, il m'est impossible de savoir à travers l'autre… L’inconscient est un savoir qui ne se sait pas lui-même, un savoir qui ne se dit pas, un dire qui ne se sait pas.

[clowninguhround]

WishingWellGender

Identity where one feels that their gender is meant to/should be/ or is from a wishing well. This can mean that one procured the gender from a wishing well or that their gender is meant to reflect a wishing well.

Image ID: Red and light grey stripes for coins (american) green for oxidation on the coins or moss on the well. Dark grey in the middle for stones of the well. Images on first flag are a wood grain pattern behind a yellow wishing well

No DNI just be nice puhlease

[csphire]

Just wondering what Dammon's Parents were like.

(Why is there an elf? My headcannon is Dammon is biracial.)

More of my silly headcannons for Dammon under the cut.

Take it with a grain of salt.

Dammon is on decent terms with his affluent wizard father Sorren Meadowlark, who mostly raised him. But it took some convincing to stop pushing his son into learning spells. Although his father instilled in him to be an avid reader and study hard, Dammon had no interest in following his father's footsteps. What captured his fascination most was how magic was infused into weapons, armor, and other items. From a very young age, Dammon craved a more hands-on approach and how magic, along with other sources of power, could fuel gadgets and machinery. His relationship with his rouge mother Nyla is a little rockier. His parents split up when he was around ten. A free spirit who loves adventure, and fed up dealing with her husband's uptight mostly elven and human social circle, she took off. This wasn't an easy choice for her. But she felt Dammon was better off and safer with his father than traveling with her. She did visit as much as she could but Dammon still holds onto some resentment over being left behind. It's also partly due to he rarely got any time to spend with other tieflings growing up in his father's social circle. Most elves and humans were civil but some were not. He and his mother have more in common than he's willing to admit but this causes them to clash rather than get along. His parents' current relationship is civil, for the most part. She will still, on occasion, do a few jobs for his father to "procure" or "borrow" some of the more rarer magical tomes and items he requires on occasion. It's in fact how the two met.

(If Larian drops a DLC let's hope they make him an Artificer and romanceable.)

Many probably could see Dammon being the kinda kid that if you left him alone, chances are he would take something apart. This was not to be malicious in any way. He just loves to figure out how things work.

[lokiinmediasideblog]

Sif + Skadi=Marvel!Sif

Because I promised I'd elaborate on that last post. This is part 1/3.

Marvel’s Sif similarities to Sif are quite few and mostly based around Loki cutting her hair. Sif is very gender conforming in the original mythology, unlike her MCU counterpart.

The few similarities are:

1. Loki cuts her hair.

-In the myths, Sif has long blonde hair like wheat fields (she is a harvest goddess). Loki cuts it while she slept, bringing Thor’s wrath upon him. Under threat, Loki is forced to replace her hair and does so by procuring magic golden hair from the dwarves.

-In the comics, Sif was originally blonde. Loki cuts her hair for a variety of reasons/circumstances depending on the comic run/series. Loki is then forced to replace her hair, but he refuses to pay the dwarves. So to spite him, the dwarves curse the magical golden hair to turn permanently black upon placement. Dark hair is played as a tragedy that would have marred Sif’s beauty, and Thor is portrayed as such a good person to still be infatuated with Sif! (*ugh* thanks I hate it).

-In the MCU, according to the composer Natalie Holt (so take it with a grain of salt as it’s technically an “outside source”), Loki slept with Sif and then cut her hair as a prank. Her hair didn’t change colors and Loki did not replace it but Sif got her vengeance by kicking Loki in the crotch. Notice that Thor had no part in demanding restitution from Loki, unlike the other two occasions mentioned above.

2. Sif is important to Thor.

-In the myths, Sif is Thor’s wife. Thor threatens Loki to get them to replace Sif’s hair.

-In the comics, Sif is Thor’s childhood sweetheart and lover but not the endgame love interest. She’s also in his close group of warrior friends. Thor threatens Loki to replace Sif’s hair.

-In the MCU, she is one of Thor’s close friends. There seemed to be no romantic overtones. This is the one time Loki is not threatened into replacing her hair.

Brief overview on Skadi: Skadi is the Goddess of Winter, Vengeance, Hunting, and Skiing. Her origin is speculated to be associated with the Sámi people (Davidson, 1993). Skadi’s name is associated with “scathe” and “injury.” She is speculated to be associated with Loki’s punishment. There’s a theory she is associated with Ullr, another god of skiing and may be a female counterpart to him. Another theory states that she might have been a male deity at first (Davidson, 1993). Her father, Thiazi, threatened Loki into making an oath to get Idunn and her golden apples for him. The whole scheme resulted in Loki having to rescue Idunn, and Thiazi being killed by the Aesir upon her rescue by burning him with a massive bonfire as he chased Loki and Idunn. A furious Skadi seeks revenge upon the Aesir. The Aesir decide to give her some recompense for her father’s slaying which include (I)Thiazi’s eyes being yeeted into the sky and turned to stars. (II) Allowing her to pick a husband from amongst the Aesir (with stipulations ). (III) Skadi asks to be made to laugh. The last task falls to Loki, naturally.

Skadi's rather unusual in the following ways:

-Skadi is given an unusual amount of authority to placate her for Thiazi’s death despite being a Jotnar and a woman. A furious Skadi seeks revenge upon the Aesir, armored for battle. The Aesir decide to give her some recompense for her father’s slaying rather than just siccing Thor on her like they usually do (it's mentioned they didn't want to spill blood within Asgard, so I guess she got lucky?).

-One of the restitutions is that Skadi is allowed to pick a husband from the Aesir with stipulations. She wants Balder, the fairest of the Gods (who's already married). But, she can only select her potential husband by looking at their feet. She picks the nicest feet thinking they most be Balder's but they're actually the sea god Njord's sand-exfoliated feet from walking on the beach. They eventually divorce.

-Someone will make Skadi laugh. Loki was tasked with this and the way Loki accomplished this was through his own emasculation.

-Compare her agency to the other goddesses who generally find themselves in danger of being traded away to giants in exchange for goods and services despite being warriors and sorceresses themselves (*poor Freyja*). She's not the only warrior goddess, as Freyja is a war deity in charge of the Valkyries, but she is never in danger of being traded away.

-She is one of two Jotnar women that married into the Vanir. But Gerdr has little agency or dialogue within the Poetic Edda compared to Skadi.

Marvel!Sif's similarities with Skadi:

-Skadi is the most masculine goddess of the Norse pantheon role-wise and authority-wise as mentioned previously. Marvel's Sif is GNC by Asgard's standards as a shield maiden.

-Mutual dislike with Loki:

(i) Loki caused her father’s (Thiazi) death indirectly though the Aesir were the ones that killed him. Loki achieves making her laugh through his own emasculation.

(ii) In Marvel it's because Loki cut Sif's hair.

(iii) Skadi places the serpent that drips venom upon a bound Loki.

-Loki is humiliated in some way involving his genitals to make up for the affronts Loki committed.

(i) In the myths, Loki is tasked with making Skadi laugh and ties his genitals to a goat’s beard and play a game of tug-of-war to make Skadi laugh. The rope breaks, he falls upon Skadi’s lap, and she laughs her ass off.

(ii) In the MCU, Loki was kicked in the crotch by an angry Sif after he cut her hair. While MCU!Sif is more benign to MCU!Loki than Skadi is to Loki, it is interesting that she was used by the TVA to punish MCU!Loki through a Time Loop of beatings. Don't get mad at me, but the realization came from making "Can't believe Mobius gave Loki CBT #FunWithAcronyms" jokes and realizing the myths also had Loki making up for his trespasses through CBT. Don't google it if you don't know what it is.

-Skadi's name is associated with the word "scathe" and "injury." She is believed to have an association with punishing Loki, as Skadi places the serpent that drips burning venom upon bound Loki (Lindow, 2001). By having the TVA USE Sif to punish Loki, they made MCU!Sif associated with punishing Loki.

-Skadi and Loki are mirrors in some ways in terms of their gender nonconformity. Skadi exercises an unusual amount of agency for a goddess, to the point where it's theorized Skadi might have originally been a male deity (Davidson, 1993). Whereas Loki is often portrayed as losing status due to activities that are considered "emasculating." Loki is also speculated to be associated with the Sámi people (Laidoner, 2012). It is also speculated the way Loki makes her laugh is based on a castration ritual (Lindow, 2001).

Davidson, D.H.E., & Davidson, H.E. (1993). The Lost Beliefs of Northern Europe (1st ed.). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203408506

Laidoner, Triin. (2012) The Flying Noaidi of the North: Sámi Tradition Reflected in the Figure Loki Laufeyjarson in Old Norse Mythology. SCRIPTA ISLANDICA.

Lindow, J. (2001). Norse mythology a guide to the gods, heroes, rituals, and beliefs. Oxford University Press.

I also cite Jackson Crawford's video on Skadi.

[random-kazakh-stuff]

In the beginning of 20th century there were very rough estimates of exactly what population of today's Kazakhstan was, and how many kazakh people were out there.

There are some estimates that said it was like 6.5 million kazakhs in 1914.

There are some communist party documents that suggest they thought it was 10 million.

One Moscow historian said that only in Northern regions there were 9 million around that time.

Russian Revolution happened through 1917-1923. At this time troops ravaged the countryside. There is an excerpt from a newspaper that only in 1918 30% of population in Turkistan region died from hunger.

In 1921-1922 a drought hit, and around 1.7 million people died.

In 1926-1927 Goloshekin decided to organise "Small October" that was set to suppress the national intelligentsia(most educated and politically adept people) as well as collectivize the agriculture. The collectivization somehow went so poorly that from 40 million heads of livestock registered in 1929(and taken from kazakh people) only 4 million remained 1933.

Because all of this 3.3 million people living in countryside died. Lost to hunger and sickness.

The hunger of 1930-1933 was called Asharshylyq meaning simply hunger(of a nation). There are debates on whether it is a second one(the first being in 1921-1922) or even third.

Through 1928-1932 USSR continued to sell grain abroad "to get money for industrialisation".

There were also repressions, where USSR was fighting against uprisings and people against the regime.

There was also 600 thousand Kazakhstani people that went to WW2 and died. 400 thousand of them were kazakh men and women. 300 thousand civilians in Kazakhstan died behind the front lines.

There were around 3.6 million kazakhs in 1959.

Today Kazakhstan nears 20 million people in population. In 2021 there were a bit more than 13 million kazakhs that lived in Kazakhstan.

There is really no telling how much was lost. Not just in people but also in culture. Kazakhs were nomadic and had most of their culture shared orally in crafts that were very perishable.

I heard a story once, from a grown woman of age. She was a girl and someone in her family somehow procured a recording of dombra on vinyl, with some küis. When the elders(grandfathers and grandmothers maybe someone else too) heard the recording they wept.

[spaceexp]

Webb Delivers Deepest Infrared Image of Universe Yet In Special Briefing

The international NASA/ESA/CSA James Webb Space Telescope has delivered the deepest, sharpest infrared image of the distant Universe so far. U.S. President Joe Biden unveiled the image of galaxy cluster SMACS 0723, known as Webb’s First Deep Field, during a White House event on Monday 11 July.

“Webb's First Deep Field is not only the first full-color image from the James Webb Space Telescope, it’s the deepest and sharpest infrared image of the distant Universe, so far. This image covers a patch of sky approximately the size of a grain of sand held at arm’s length. It’s just a tiny sliver of the vast universe," said NASA Administrator Bill Nelson. “This mission was made possible by human ingenuity – the incredible NASA Webb team and our international partners at the European Space Agency and the Canadian Space Agency. Webb is just the start of what we can accomplish in the future when we work together for the benefit of humanity."

The image – which focuses on a spot in the sky that, from the perspective of someone on the ground, is about the size of what would be covered by a grain of sand held at arm’s length – reveals thousands of galaxies, including the faintest objects ever observed in the infrared.

“What an incredible honour for ESA and its international partners to reveal Webb’s first image from the White House,” says ESA Director General Josef Aschbacher. “Only with teamwork, dedication, and the human drive to push boundaries and explore have we arrived at this historical moment of seeing the deepest view of the early Universe to date.”

Known as Webb’s First Deep Field, this image features the galaxy cluster SMACS 0723, which is overflowing with detail.

“We are now even more excited for tomorrow’s release of further images and spectra from ESA-contributed instruments, which add another dimension to the Deep Field and the other stunning cosmic targets,” says ESA’s Director of Science, Günther Hasinger.  “We are ready to begin our voyage back to early days of our Universe with this world-class observatory.”

“This is just a first glimpse of what Webb can do," says Macarena Garcia Marin, MIRI ESA Instrument Scientist. "While we are truly in awe today of Webb's first deep field, I can’t help but think of what images and science results are just around the corner in the many years to come!”

This image is among the telescope’s first-full colour images. The full suite will be released Tuesday 12 July, beginning at 16:30 CEST (a leadership address will be aired beforehand, at 15:45 CEST, and a media briefing will follow at 18:30 CEST). The full array of Webb’s first images and spectra, including downloadable files, will be made available here: https://esawebb.org/initiatives/webbs-first-images/

Webb is the largest, most powerful telescope ever launched into space. As part of an international collaboration agreement, ESA has provided the telescope’s launch service using the Ariane 5 launch vehicle. Working with partners, ESA was responsible for the development and qualification of Ariane 5 adaptations for the Webb mission and for the procurement of the launch service by Arianespace. ESA has also provided the workhorse spectrograph NIRSpec and 50% of the mid-infrared instrument MIRI, which was designed and built by a consortium of nationally funded European Institutes (The MIRI European Consortium) in partnership with JPL and the University of Arizona.

Webb is an international partnership between NASA, ESA and the Canadian Space Agency (CSA).

[meropegaaunt]

HALLOWED GLORY

Chapter One: The Reaping

Rating: Mature so minors DNI

Word Count: 1,300

© Meropegaaunt 2023

The sun had long risen on the horizon of District Four, marking the beginning of its daily ascent of the sky. Selena, a daughter of the Cresta family, typically rose bright and early to watch that ascent, because the feeling of the sun’s rays was soft, gentle as a caress. The balmy warmth that came along with those rays was welcomed, sometimes even celebrated, but not on this day. Why? Because on this day, the Hunger Games had once more rolled around, meaning that the reaping ceremony was imminent. Four years had passed since she had become eligible for the games, meaning that now, at sixteen, her name was going to be entered into the reaping bowl five times. That was a small, seemingly insignificant number, especially since the children who were financially less fortunate had to apply for tesserae, a system that supplied them with a year’s worth of grain and oil in exchange for their name being put in the bowl once more. The prospect of being pulled into the games was scary, yes, but no more than dying a slow, ravenous death as one did when they starved.

Generally speaking, District Four was better off than most, because their main industry, fishing, was booming, bearing more and more fruit with each year that passed. Said industry saw them procuring their own food, which was why they had a stable, steady diet. The kind of diet that allowed them to grow just strong enough to work, to get involved in the industry. Selena had not yet been forced to delve into the fishing industry, because her time had been spent at the Academy, where she had been molded into a good and proper tribute. The Academy in District Four had brought forth many a Career Tribute, and the more victors they got under their belt, the more money allocated to them by the Capitol.

The instructors at the Academy had taken a special interest in the Crestas because of who their mother was: Mira Weatherly, the victor of the 40th Hunger Games. She had been given much attention by her instructors in her youth, so much attention that she had been made into a killer of the highest skill. Her fellow tributes had never stood a chance, which was why there had been little surprise when she had emerged victorious, being airlifted from the arena bathed in the blood of her adversaries. From then on, she had spent the better part of a decade being a spectacle, a showboat for the Capitolites . . . until a younger, more beautiful victor by the name of Librae Ogilvy was crowned, causing them to lose interest, to shift their attention to their newer, shinier toy. Recognizing this as the golden opportunity that it had been, Mira had retreated, slipping into the oh so caliginous shadows of the Victors Village. It was there that she lived with her husband, Caspian Cresta. They made their house there a home, a sanctuary where they could bring up the three daughters they produced: Selena, Marin, and Annie. Caspian had passed early on in their childhood, but Mira had continued pushing on, doing anything and everything in her power to protect her daughters, to ensure that all they knew was home and hearth. Thus far, she had been successful, but there was one thing she could not protect them from: the games.

This was partially why Selena had stayed home to help Annie get ready. Two years separated the pair, meaning that they were rather close in age. There was something delicate about Annie, though, something that compelled her to stick close and protect her with all of her might. If she could, she would remove Annie’s name from the reaping bowl, thus rendering the chances of her being reaped nonexistent. She would do the same for Marin, of course she would, but there lay a special place in her heart for Annie.

“You’re shaking,” she whispered, her tones soft, sweet as silk. The smallest hint of a tremble could be heard within them, but she could not break, could not shatter lest Annie do the same. So she stood taller, straightening her spine as much as possible. Her fingers remained in Annie’s hair, carefully braiding her fire-kissed locks. “Just . . . breathe, Annie. Try to calm down. All will be well.”

A shaky breath left Annie’s mouth, then, “How can you be sure? What if they call one of our names?”

Selena breathed out a deep, heavy sigh, the prospect of that occurring weighing almost impossibly heavy on her shoulders. The end of the braid was tied off, then she took Annie’s hands into her own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “We can’t control whose name is called, but no matter what, I promise I’ll be there with you. We’ll face this together.”

Annie nodded, saltwater burning her eyes. They threatened to escape, to paint her cheeks, but she held strong, trying to get her shaking under control as Selena reached across their nightstand, taking an emerald ribbon into her hands. That ribbon was carefully weaved into her hair, simultaneously bringing out the oh so beautiful color of her eyes and accentuating her features. “When you get scared, just think of the ocean,” she whispered, her eyebrows knitting in concentration as she worked the ribbon into her locks. “The waves are turbulent, yes, but they always find their way back to the shore. You and I are like that. No matter what happens, no matter what distance is put between us, we’ll always find our way back to each other.”

Annie’s trembling subsided somewhat, the words of comfort wrapping around her like the sea green blanket Mira had gifted her for her sixth birthday. “We’re strong,” she continued, brushing a strand of her hair to the side. “And we’ll face whatever is thrown our way. Remember, you’re not alone. I’m here, and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

With that, the two left hand in hand to face the horror that was the reaping ceremony. Mira and Marin met the two in the entryway, and together, the four Crestas made their way to the Justice Building. There, they were pried apart, forced to go their separate ways. The air within the square grew thicker, heavier as more people spilled in, finding themselves grouped together like the sardines the fishermen bought in from their expeditions. Selena’s emerald eyes traveled the length of the square, allowing her to lose herself, to get lost in her thoughts. The customs were repetitive, frankly, because each year, they told the same story, weaving a tale about the long, bloody rebellion that had occurred over a lifetime ago. That rebellion only came to an end when the Treaty of Treason was signed, thus ensuring that its sparks could never again be made into fires.

Eventually, Daphne Martis, the escort for District Four, sauntered onto the square’s stage, donning a smile so sunny that it could warm even the grim-faced children she was about to lead to their deaths. A beat passed in which she admired her surroundings, then she stood taller, straightening her spine to an almost unseemly degree. “Hello, there. I’m Daphne Martis, your escort, and I’m most pleased to be able to see the district’s chosen tributes to the Capitol this year. They’ll be in the best of hands, I assure you,” she breathed into the microphone, her voice honeyed, pleasant to the ear. “Now, as to who they will be, let’s find out.”

Daphne crossed to the reaping bowl then, reached in a perfectly manicured hand, and pulled out a slip. The crowd watched on with so much intensity that a pin could be heard dropping. Selena held her breath, unable to think anything other than, Please. Please, not Annie or Marin . . .

It was neither, though.

“Selena Cresta!”

[prianya]

I've bean missing you, with all these vegetables growing empire, I feel like we need something plant related request just because

A romantic request with any character of your choice, with a reader who's whole theme is plants, vegetables, fruits and whatnot. Maybe they have the biggest farm (vegetables farm that is) in the server, maybe they live and die with the cottagecore cabin, mosses, flowers, trees, hell they could be a glare hybrid just because of the whole growing with greens!

Well, hope you have a spud-tacular day my dear farmer

- 🥒

Bountiful Harvests

Ren x Reader ▪︎ Platonic

Word Count ▪︎ 466 words

Summary ▪︎ While your botanical business was solely your own, sometimes it takes two to help it grow.

Note ▪︎ Thank you, dear pickle, for your request! I hope you absolutely love it, because its made with love. Enjoy!

You had spent endless hours of work in your beloved garden, practically bending over backwards to procure every possible bulb, seed, or vine needed for that garden. The plot of land had been a grassland environment on the border of a swamp biome, and the ground was rich with nutrients. Your first few flowers, beautiful bright purple Alliums, had flourished under yourexpert care. The next few plants, gifts from off-server friends who knew of your hobby, had grown just as quickly.

Eventually, your hobby turned from a flower garden to 3 large glass greenhouses and two small fields of crops, all on one plot of land. Any plant or food that you could name, you grew it. Grains, flowers, even fruit trees and mushroom. Soon enough, the hobby had went from being a hobby to a business. Many of the hermits, no matter what reach of the server they were on, came to your greenhouses to buy ingredients. It was easier than foraging for some, and necessity of rare plants that you grew for others.

Your most common visitor was Ren, who also happened to be your boyfriend. Most recently, he had been helping you find a way to grow Warped Fungus trees in the overworld. He had built you greenhouse for the fungus with you, the project taking mere days compared to the weeks it would have taken alone. Now, as the two of you layed flat on your backs infront of the glass building, you couldn’t be more proud.

"I am so tired," you huff, swinging your arm over your forehead in an attempt to block the sun.

"I know how you feel," Ren says back, rolling over to get his eyes out of the path of the blinding light. You groan as you stay in place, fatigued from the hot weather and physical activity. Surprising enough, huge glass panes take a lot of energy to move.

"I hope this fungus actually grows,"

"With being in the desert and inside of a greenhouse, I would hope so," he rolls has eyes at your words, pushing himself to stand.

"Want to go get some water?" Ren asks, and you nod at him the best you can. You stick out your hand, and Ren grabs it and pulls you up. The two of you begin to make the trek back to your garden, and you fantasise about the much needed shade.

"Maybe you could help me build another greenhouse sometime?" You offer to Ren, and he turns to you with a deadpan expression.

"No. Never again." You pout at his words, but continue talking to him as the both of you walk away from the project.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

The mystery of fullerenes in space explained

A study from the Instituto de Astrofísica de Canarias (IAC) which combines laboratory chemistry with astrophysics, has shown for the first time that grains of dust formed by carbon and hydrogen in a highly disordered state, known as HAC, can take part in the formation of fullerenes, carbon molecules which are of key importance for the development of life in the universe, and with potential applications in nanotechnology. The results are published in the journal Astronomy & Astrophysics.

Fullerenes are carbon molecules that are very big, complex, and highly resistant; their atoms are organized in three-dimensional spherical structures, with a pattern of alternating hexagons and pentagons, shaped like a football (C60 fullerenes) or a rugby ball (C70 fullerenes).

These molecules were discovered in the laboratory in 1985, which procured the Nobel Prize for Chemistry for their three discoverers 11 years later. Since then, there have been many instances of observational proof of their existence in space, especially within the gas clouds around old, dying stars the size of the sun, called planetary nebulae, which have been expelled from the outer layers of the stars towards the end of their lives.

As these molecules are highly stable and difficult to destroy, it is thought that the fullerenes can act as cages for other molecules and atoms so that they could have brought complex molecules to Earth, which gave an impulse to start life. So, their study is important for the understanding of the basic physical processes that take part in the organization of organic material in the universe.

An unknown chemical footprint

Spectroscopy is essential for the search and identification of fullerenes in space. Spectroscopy allows us to study the material composing the universe by analyzing the chemical footprints made by atoms and molecules on the light that reaches us from them.

A recent study, led entirely by the IAC, has analyzed infrared spectroscopic data obtained previously from telescopes in space, from the planetary nebula Tc1. These spectra show spectral lines indicating the presence of fullerenes but also show broader infrared bands (UIR for their initials in English), which are detected widely in the universe, from the small bodies in the solar system to distant galaxies.

"The identification of the chemical species which causes this infrared emission, widely present in the universe, was an astrochemical mystery, although it was always thought probable that it is rich in carbon, one of the basic elements of life," explains Marco A. Gómez Muñoz, an IAC researcher, who led this study.

A new origin for the fullerenes

In order to identify these mysterious bands, the research team reproduced the infrared emission of the planetary nebula Tc 1. Analysis of the emission bands showed the presence of grains of amorphous hydrogenated carbon (HAC). These compounds of carbon and hydrogen in a highly disordered state, very abundant in the envelopes of dying stars, can account for the infrared emission of this nebula.

"We have combined, for the first time, the optical constants of HAC, obtained from laboratory experiments, with models of photoionization, and by doing this, we have reproduced the infrared emission of the planetary nebula Tc 1, which is very rich in fullerenes," explains Domingo Anibal García Hernández, an IAC researcher who is a co-author of the paper.

For the research team, the presence of the same object of HAC and fullerenes supports the theory that the fullerenes could have formed during the process of destruction of the dust grains, for example, by interaction with ultraviolet radiation, which is much more energetic than visible light.

With this result, the scientists have opened the way for future research based on collaboration between laboratory chemistry and astrophysics. "Our work shows clearly the great potential of interdisciplinary science and technology to make basic advances in astrophysics and astrochemistry," concludes Gómez Muñoz.

IMAGE....Center of the planetary nebula M57, taken by the astrophotographer Dr. Robert Gendler, and John Bozeman. Credit: NASA/ESA

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Come Away With Me

Summary: N/A [I want you to read this and figure it out yourself @amorfista ♥] Edit: I was gonna put something here, but nah. You got this babe!

Pairing: Me and my husband, Plo. You and yo husband, Savage.

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: Not telling. KTNXBAI. Edit: Angst / Fluff

Notes: I couldn’t write for Savage because I know very little of him apart from what I got from you. But I trust how you draw him, trust how you speak of him, trust even the insecurities that make you crumble about him; I trust you. Trust. ~ Many thanks to @botherbother-blog because I also needed quick consult over Savage ♥ Appreciate it, my friend! ♥

Color thingies because I'm deranged to not use them: Orange: Plo Koon Pink: Me - because babe, I have no self-control and I wanna be part of this because I made it for you? ilsym ♥ Red: Also me because still, no self-control omfg? Blue: You ♥ Green: Thoughts, You ♥ Yellow: Savage Opress Purple: Song ♥

Perfect divider by @idontgetanysleep with itty, bitty, cutie-patootie Plo Koon face ♥

Thank you for being unapologetically you ♥

So please play this first because I will be so angry if you didn't ♥ - I want you to be upset first because omg, babe need you to be conflicted? Because I can't carry the pain of it all? Because I'm just genuinely unhinged as a default? - Okay, done? Good. Now, pull up the second song, set it on loop and then die with meeeeeeeeeeeee ♥ Please play this in loop ♥

“Have we a deal, sunshine?”

It would have been a full-on collision if the 212th was among the 501st and 104th raining heavily from all possible entryways of the cavernous haven that held the crowned princes captive — entourage had been wiped clean by the Republic’s finest. The unsung hunter with an idle rifle lax on her side had sashayed her way past scouts and troops that now chatter in doubt whether they have procured tampered intel from a now deemed incredulous source, or they have been bested by elusion. 

“Come on big boy, Mommy doesn’t have all day. Well — she does but, you know what I mean.”

The timing couldn’t even be more perfect as distant howling from wolves stalked and seeped through cracks in between boulders piled over. The choice was simple; escape with a ‘yes’ or die with a ‘no’ — never anything in between.

He didn’t have to say anything after a very audible scoff — now whether that was directed at the huntress, the situation at bay, or the fact that a very disgruntled Maul paced impatiently and seethed so horrendously that it was, as the huntress would often say ‘sus-vibes’.

“Count to three, always three — never more, never less, yes?” 

Pleased beyond compare, she tossed two small chip-like devices with singular buttons that beeped in unison; one in vibrant tangerine and the other of coy periwinkle. As they vanish in comparison to the striped palms that cradled them like fragile glass, the huntress takes a step forward and gently taps his cheek thrice; always three — never more, never less.

“Tangie (tangerine) go boom, Peri (periwinkle) go zoom.”

And just as she said and slithered through a makeshift tunnel and up onto the sandy grains, she clicked her ankles twice and activated the thrusters — watching the sparks ignite that needed one more tap to get it going; always three — never more, never less.

***

“You’ve surely outdone yourself, P. I have to say, I’m digging the vibe.” “High praise, high praise.” “Hey! That’s not very Kel Dor of you. You’re supposed to say something regal and … proper.” “...”

“...” “Well, go on. Don’t keep me hanging, babylove.” “Very well.” Plo clears his throat and procures a very dignified baritone response. “Exalted preeminence…?” “Babe, you know that was shit, right?” “Language, my sweet. But yes, that was indeed…” Plo merely sighed, nodded and backed away. “Now come along, my darling.”

***

Come away with me in the night

And so he finds you again, laying in the designated cot under the comfort of your own insecurities.

“Hey. You stop that now or I will come get you myself and break every horn on his head.” 

You laughed, at least you thought you did — willed yourself to believe in the lie that you’ve woven with such grace that it would put kings and queens to shame; the same lie you’ve meticulously etched upon every touch, every breath, every thought, every word that would always fall upon deaf ears. Not because they refused to listen, but because you knew that even the faintest of whispers would be too loud.

— too. damn. loud.

So you deny yourself in fear of becoming more than the encumbered weight upon shoulders that have already sagged from the avoirdupois of the galaxy itself; repulsed by the conundrum of hate and love in the same sentence that you’ve starved yourself of and from his anger, that you have surrendered yourself to the role of dirt — a maid droid with some, at best, questionable information that would endure Maul’s relentlessness that Savage would always make sure he would never cross a line. 

“I mean it, babe. I will break all his kriffin’ horns and grind —”

You can’t help but wonder if gratitude is enough; you accept it under the premise that they stay with you — or that they allow you to stay with them. To be given that privilege, to bask in their greatness; to worship him and all encompassing him — to surrender in hopes of a morsel of trust, if not affection.

“I’m fine — I promise! Please, just… Go faff over Plo or something.”

You laughed, at least you thought you did — willed yourself to believe that this was your resplendent point of no return; that this was the grandiose moment in which you would liberate yourself from the shackles you’ve adorned like fine jewelry to match the king himself. 

That maybe if you had been as beautiful as he is; had painted your nails at a point, had bruised your lips with the finest rouge, or have held your hair in a seductive knot that bore not only your skin but the desolation of your soul  with each passing moment that you’ve shed tears that would just… not… stop.  

That maybe if you had presented yourself or have written a masterpiece with an allure so potent, trust would have fallen so callously  upon sweet hands for the taking. That maybe if you had a better hold on emotions that spilled with such rawness, you would not have wept so much and had offered joy — not this. 

This…. This painful existence has made you doubt every reason to linger. That beyond how much you might love him, there is no longer any cause to continue this charade — this unnerving circus of a concept that for him to be angry, for him to bestow upon you this carnal need of fury, he would first have to care about you. 

That maybe… 

“We leave in half an hour. Prepare yourself.”

And you indeed do as you’re told;  prepare yourself devoid of candor that you’ve stayed true to your purpose — a maid droid with some, at best, questionable information that would endure Maul’s relentlessness that Savage would always make sure he would never cross a line. But at this moment, it was only Savage. 

Savage who needed something, anything; a massage, a clean up, food, a pilot — something, anything, everything but you.

***

“Borrowed.” Heavy like fluids that taint your cheeks with salt, his voice rumbles, but soft? — soft like velvet ribbons that knot quaintly around your neck as you board a smaller ship. You nodded, tugged by the galvanic tune of his voice that drew your feet onto the ramp and your hand — heavens, your hand, your beautiful, blessed hand that had touched me with such divinity that it revealed the sacrilegious tenderness of your heart. Your beautiful, delicate, exquisite heart that I would die for — that honors each passing second to be called a friend. [ I love you ♥ I’m such a sap! ]

Maker, break me — smite me from where I stand for there is no place in the vastness of the galaxy do they belong other than upon his.

Come away with me in the nightCome away with me

“Careful.”

With her heart? Like come on, Savage.  You gotta put in the work, babe!

He’s held your hand once before, right? When fingers brushed as you served him sustenance while Maul hissed on the side like a proper untrusting ball of fiery rage, glaring daggers at Savage who held onto his saber. You’ve brushed upon stern shoulders and arms when the wound needed cleaning and or the mechanical contraption failed to accommodate an angle — just as you have, but once, placed upon the sweetest kiss of your fingertips along the broken crown that did very little to diminish the sovereign he has on you while you applied whatever it was that made him groan, grunt, and sigh some few nights ago. 

When he had taken you by the wrists because you’ve flown far too close to the sun — now whether it was the liquid gold of his entirety or the kindled orbs of his soul, it had been all but a blur.

And I will write you a songCome away with me on a bus

“Are…. Are you comfortable?” And once more, that velveteen ribbon had knotted even tighter, forcing you to swallow what little life you had left, what little dignity you thought should have been robbed of you. And so you do as you always do, starve. 

Come away where they can't tempt us with their lies

“Yes, my lord.” Fallen from grace, hazel meets the silver flooring of the ship — hands seek straps to bury yourself in the comfort of the chair, distancing yourself from tempestuous Gods of Celestia who a friend had devoted her nights to pray for you, of you, to you, with you, always and a day as she says.

[ Yes, it be me, bestie ♥ I pray you for and happy things ♥ ]

And I want to walk with you On a cloudy day

“Auroras.” The journey was silent, never loud with Savage — never, only with Maul. And indeed, Auroras — a burst of lights mangled by a plethora of colors that had painted the sky of fine blues and purples, of greens and pinks, tangies (tangerine) and peries (periwinkle), but never a shade finer than the sun that glimmered on the very face that had consumed you — mind, body, heart, and soul; never a finer shade indeed.

In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high

And now there were emeralds before your feet; fine, lush virescent fields of a vacant park that overlooked a river of sorts and mud. And beyond, by where lonely rivers flow to sea, to the open arms of the sea, is a table with a pair of chairs.

Your friend had always told you that the Gods of Celestia are always unkind to those who are — unkind to the kind. It had always baffled you how truly kriffed up Celestian Law is, but you weren’t one so it didn’t matter.

You were happy to have a friend — no matter how much of an unhinged bitch she is and how much she thirsted for a certain Kel Dor Master Jedi to an unhealthy degree.

But you adore her, adore her with all your heart as you’ve told her aplenty — and in turn, she adores you more than you could ever best her.

She adores you enough to lie and claim she’d draw you but ends up writing a sappy fic because she has absolutely no self-control and cannot draw for shit and her self-insert game be too damn strong even for herself.

And so we carry on.

So won't you try to come

Unforgiving were the short gusts of wind that blew locks of hazel over your face that had seemingly pulled you into arms lean and muscular, yet gentle. The same pull that drew the sun back into your smaller frame and a marked fingers sprawled to caress your face with such a dignified stroke, it had called upon the stray locks to twine in between and be lulled to the back of your head. 

His gaze lingered — so did yours.

And whatever it was, be it the Force that trembled the sovereign before you or the Gods of Celestia drawn to this magnificent spectacle that happens to be observed by a distant figure of a Kel Dor frame with his talons mindful over the muffled screams of the aforementioned, unhinged Celestian woman, who flailed her arms high enough for you to smile. 

Come away with me and we'll kiss On a mountaintop

And again, before the crude interruption of the intruders, whatever it was, be it the Force that trembled the sovereign before you or the Gods of Celestia drawn to this magnificent spectacle, it happened.

Just. Like. That.

Come away with me And I'll never stop loving you

Lips so silken and laced with release that you felt your body quiver as it bestowed upon you the highest form of opulent gratification— as if his lips were either Midas’ touch of gold from lore of childhood or one of all deities that hail the sun had confounded it’s fiery blaze of passion upon your supple, sweet lips.

And I want to wake up with the rain Falling on a tin roof

The scent of pine resin permeating the air, the symphonic cacophony of birds that glided over the small city of your homeworld, the pitter-patter and click of silly, little river crabs that assaulted the tablecloth so vehemently that it had drawn Savage’s gaze to the creature before turning to address to the approaching couple.

[ Sorry babe, you ain’t making out with Savage if I’m not making out with Plo. Fair trade ♥ ]

They bore plates and trays of food; an assortment of anything unfamiliar to both Kel Dor and Zabrak — only to you and this bitch who decided to walk in when the kissing was happening. 

Plo, unprompted and perhaps as evenly an emotional wreck as your friend — one could only speculate seeing his enigmatic allure is brought upon by his antiox mask; placed a rather assuring hand over Savage’s shoulder and an approving squeeze. 

“Please enjoy.” Plo Koon would say, offering a delightful nod as you and Savage took to your seats. “I will see to it that your dinner remains unperturbed.”

You could help but laugh as you watched the Master Jedi take your friend by the waist and haul her over his shoulder. You would have commented but he had bested you with an amused tone. “Forgive my primitive manner of doing so, as it is a necessity.” 

While I'm safe there in your arms

You hear your friend whine and beg for, as she calls it, ‘five minutes of tea’ — to which Plo Koon sighed with such resignation over the fact that this mode of ‘disposing’ nuisance (your overly eager friend), had brought him to a defeated and compromising position.

[ Yes, babes. We getting lucky tonight ♥ LOL ]

“A… dire… necessity.” Plo trails off, patting your friend’s rear three times. And somewhere, somehow, you find yourself in chorus with the Master Jedi. 

“Always three — never more, never less.” “Always three — never more, never less.”

As the couple departed, your smile never fading, Savage calls to you.

So all I ask is for you

Not by 'you' or 'hey'. But calls to you. Speaks your name with so much reverence and warmth you feel it in your chest — so much that your own called upon yourself and placed a hand over your heart.

To come away with me in the night

"(insertnamehere). Will you... Come away with me?"