#oft with urgency

[chaosordoffl]

The concept of "False" Primes— well how about the concept of Primus being imperfect? Of it choosing from the increasingly select mechs able allowed to be in the Matrix's vicinity (and over the eons it's pinballed around the era's and/or previous Prime's idea of what's most important— those most trusted, brave, pious, capable, knowledgeable, wealthy, noble) and picking the one with the most potential? For greatness, kindness, love, mercy.

And Primus being let down increasingly more often. And, cyclically, the Matrix stops directing, stops guiding, stops teaching; goes cold.

Primus, that which the downtrodden and despairing look to for miracles and better paths, itself losing hope. Disappointed continually by its own children. Losing them to greed, bribes, threats, blackmail, lust, negligence, incompetence, ambition, delusions of grandeur. The holiest of lights growing dimmer with each lifetime. Getting buried.

But there always being another spark. Another bot. Another day.

'...Perhaps this one....'

[deluxewhump]

Fishhook

Adjacent to this piece

CW: accidental hand injury, nausea and dizziness response (vasovagal syncope I suppose), wound tending, max + lo talk about pet whump universe and their relationship to each other in it

@distinctlywhumpthing -you requested some lines on this :))

The fishhook caught Carlo’s hand like a surgical tool and buried itself to its glinting base in no more than a second.

Adrenaline almost made him try to pull it out, but he hesitated. Instinct told him it was in too deep, the hook too curved. It took a moment of staring down at it to even believe what he’d just done. How had he allowed such a careless thing to happen? He wished to return to the previous minute and pay attention. That was Max’s oft repeated advice when they were out traipsing the woods: just pay attention. He glanced at his new keeper, fishing in the sunshine twenty yards away and oblivious to Carlo’s mistake.

It was the same hand he’d broken his finger on. It seemed like another lifetime he’d gone onto his master’s back porch cradling it, unsure what to do. Erik had helped him, hadn’t even faulted him for provoking Keith. He remembered sleeping for a long time in a pleasant medicated daze, his finger in a splint and throbbing mildly. Being unable to bring this new mistake to Erik for help wrung him breathless with homesickness. The adrenaline flagged from the first time since he’d realized what he’d done, and in its absence he finally felt the pain.

“Max?” he croaked, and coughed to clear his throat. He wished again he could just pull it out himself, but didn’t dare.

“Max!” he called, louder this time. Starlings sang in the autumn trees above their heads, and where their branches broke was a strip of blue sky like a mirror of the river. Upstream, Max turned to him.

“I…” it was too stupid to say out loud. His voice shook. After he trailed off, Max put it together by the way he was holding his injured hand, or the thin line of blood making its way slowly to his wrist. Either way, he set down his fishing rod. Even with his eyes dropped back to his hand, Carlo heard the urgency in Max’s approach from his boots on the rocky riverbed.

“It’s okay,” were the first words out of his mouth— spoken so surely, like a man who had seen a dozen fish hooks in hands just this week. He touched the sides of Carlo’s arms. “It’s okay. Can I see?”

He lifted his hand between them. Max hissed in sympathy. “Really got that in there, huh?”

As he took hold of his wrist to better inspect the accident, Carlo became aware of a rising dizziness that had gripped him some moments ago, only now becoming severe enough to warrant his attention. He took a deep inhale through his nose to try to gain control of it. His face felt impossibly hot. Max’s eyes lifted from his hand to meet his.

“Sit down.” He guided down him to the rocks. “Don’t look at it. Look at the opposite shore over there. Take another deep breath. You’re gonna be fine. How’s the pain?”

“Not bad. It’s just really… weird that there’s a hook in my hand.”

Max knelt down to his level and took his hand again to inspect. “I know. It’s enough to make anyone a little squeamish. Don’t look— that’ll make it worse. Keep looking over at the other side of the river. I’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying enough attention. It’s so stupid. I didn’t—”

“Shh,” Max hushed, busy cutting the still-attached fishing line with his knife without tugging on the hook. If he hadn’t already been lightheaded, Carlo thought the gentle shushing he’d just been given would’ve done it alone.

He was more than happy to keep quiet. Opening his mouth made him nauseated, if his new keeper wasn’t the type to ask how he could be so fucking stupid, he wasn’t going to address it either.

“It might be in the meat of your thumb here,” Max said. “That’s just the hook doing its job, unfortunately. Hey, don’t look at it. Look at me. You’re gonna be good, we just need to get this removed safely. Maybe take you to a doctor.”

Carlo recalled the opening lines of a poem from some dusty anthology in his old home with perfect clarity, clearer than the red trees or blue sky. What a thrill— My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone.

“Can you just do it? With your knife?”

Max blinked at him. The river was on their left, and for a moment Carlo thought maybe he hadn’t heard him over the sound of the water running over the rocks in the shallows.

“No,” he said after a strange beat of silence, looking back down at his task. He’d heard perfectly fine. “Hands are delicate, I don’t need to be digging around near tendons. You want to be able to use it after, right?”

That last was meant to be lighthearted, but Carlo caught the moment of disbelief on Max’s face when he’d asked him to do it himself. The request translated to an unmistakable display of trust.

Now that he knew Max had heard his plea for what it was, he was embarrassed for showing his cards like that. Like an animal bearing its neck.

“I don’t want to go to an emergency room,” he said quietly. A fact, not a request. He had plenty of practice in quietly exerting his own wishes without sounding demanding, spoiled, or insolent. Keith picked up on any of those attitudes immediately, and he always paid for it. Erik had more patience for it, on account of the affection he had for him. He might be annoyed by perceived insolence one day and mildly amused by it the next. Of course, Keith would’ve punished him for this kind of mistake by squeezing his hand with the hook in it, or letting the men yank him around with a line attached to it as a joke on their break.

“Mr Holstrom always had a doctor visit me at the house.”

Max was still studying the angle of the hook. He made as if to touch a part of it and hesitated. “Shit,” he muttered. “I have bait and god-knows-what all over my hands.”

“He always called a doctor to the house…” he continued, concerned that Max didn’t know about the lax protocols of pet treatment in US hospitals. “I can’t go to the regular ER.”

“Anyone can go to the ER,” Max replied, distracted. “I don’t have pet insurance, but they’ll just bill me.”

“No, it’s…” he felt tears of frustration prick the backs of his eyes.

Max lifted his head. “It’s what?” he asked, attentive now.

“It’s not a good place for me.”

He could tell Max was skeptical. Did he really not know the way of the world? Erik said most people don’t realize, or don’t want to. Many of us don’t like to dwell on problems we can’t fix in an hour, he said. It’s not our nature.

“Well, I think I can get this out for you anyway. But it has to stay clean. Don’t touch it. First aid kit is in the truck. Can you walk with me, or do you want me to go get it?”

He insisted he could walk. When they finally got back to the truck, Max insisted on lifting him up to the open tailgate and set his first aid kit beside him. On the side of the dirt access road, he put on a pair of latex gloves before gently probing the eye of the hook. Carlo winced and looked over his left shoulder at the line of birch and pine trees. Visualizing the hook moving under his skin made him feel lightheaded all over again.

“I know it’s going to hurt regardless, but tell me if it’s too much.”

“Okay,” he breathed, and took a deep breath through his nose to keep the dizziness at bay.

“It’s not as deep as I initially thought, it’s just a weird angle.”

He whimpered as Max slowly dragged the straight end of the metal out, along his skin, until the hooked part caught and Carlo flinched.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said in that hushing tone Carlo was beginning to listen for like a key in the door.

One gloved finger held the base of the hook in place as he searched something on his cellphone with the other hand.

“Hang tight. There’s a trick for this, I just can’t remember exactly how it goes.”

Soon he was looping a piece of fishing line around the curve of the hook, right where it went into his skin, like threading a needle.

“I’m going to coax it out at an angle so I don’t cause any more damage. I’ll push on this side and pull the line at the same time, and it will come out the same angle it went in.”

The pain doubled when Max pulled the fishing line, and he could feel a warm trickle of blood oozing from the site. He bit the inside of his cheek, and in a moment felt the sudden, blissful absence of the hook.

Max applied pressure to the bleeding. “Move your thumb for me? Good. Just checking.”

Whatever he put on the wound when he lifted the gauze stung fiercely, but that sort of pain was far preferable to the nauseating feeling of metal moving under his skin.

“Need to keep a close eye on it for infection.”

Carlo watched him place a bandage and tape it down. He liked the sound of Max’s voice, and watching his hands as he worked. Usually this was on something other than him, and Max had rarely stood so close to him for any reason.

“I’m sorry,” Carlo said, just to cover his bases.

“Don’t be. It happens.”

“Thank you. For taking it out.”

Max began packing up the first aid box. “‘Course.”

“We can go back out now…” he offered, still cringing at the thought of derailing the weekend activities.

Max smiled knowingly as he latched the kit shut. “We can also go home.” He took his time choosing his next words, and Carlo’s anxiety doubled with every second that passed in silence. He deserved a reprimand, but it would still sting from someone he’d been trying so hard to please these last few weeks.

“You’re a little too good at being a pet, you know that? You’ve got experience at this. I don’t. You should take advantage of that. I’m like the substitute teacher you can convince there wasn’t any homework.”

Carlo looked away, down at the offending fish hook on the tailgate of the truck. It was wet with his blood.

“I’m teasing, Carlo. I’m sorry. I just mean… you don’t have to try so hard. I know this is all really strange for you, probably even more than it is for me, but you’re doing fine. I’m not gonna make you go sit by the river all day with a hurt hand when home is a half hour away. That’s not.. normal. I know it’s hard, but just… just roll with it, okay? I’ll never try to test you, or trick you. I mean what I say. If I need you to do something or behave a certain way… I’ll just tell you.”

He nodded, both chastised and relieved. “I’m trying,” he said, hoping it sounded more like willingness to collaborate than defensiveness.

“I know.” Max put a brief hand on his knee and Carlo resisted the urge to lean forward and put his forehead on his chest. “I’m just going for clarity between you and me. That’s all. Come on. Careful.” He offered his arm to help him jump down from the tailgate. “Let’s go home.”

[cowboy-heart]

'october's prelude' - my own attempt to redefine 'september' for myself :) technically posted here a bit late but oh well

(ID in read more)

[Images ID: an original poem titled 'October's Prelude'. all stanzas are on the left side of the page and broken up into stanzas. on the final slide, after the final stanza, is a selection of various sketched trees. Poem begins:

a month I have long associated with grief, with stagnant air, with disappointment with Summer choke. I take it back with two wanting hands. September is the prelude to my beautiful October. . the homecoming I await all year, as she closes in I see the neighbourhood leaves turning their crimson and vermillion mimicking the sunsets that will follow suit. the air has its fresh chill from the breath of my beautiful October.

more and more, I watch the Summer denizens retreat indoors, wrapped in their blankets and nests. the barbecues cease to spark and soups bubble on the stove, people grip their hot takeaway drinks with urgency like man’s first fire, as she comes close – my beautiful October.

finally finally, my door gently swings open and she stomps her boots free of wet mud on my welcome mat. I ask her what took her so long and she smiles a gradient – fills my living room with orange and red and I always forgive her. I welcome her with open arms, treasure the time I get for I know she can’t stay long. me and my shortlived beautiful October.

thank you, sweet September, for setting the stage and oft taking the blame. I pluck a lonely low-hanging blackberry off of a September bush, and taste the bittersweet sting of the changing of things.

end of poem. in the bottom right, the writer is signed as '-Ren H.' End ID].

[seandwalsh]

The Life Cycle of Nectar in the Pikmin World

This post contains spoilers for the entire Pikmin series.

Nectar, or “Essence of the Earth” as it’s called in Japanese, is an important but oft overlooked part of the ecology of PNF-404. It’s well known as the yellow substance that allows Pikmin leaves to instantly bloom into flowers, increasing the Pikmin's speed and strength.

“Another intriguing discovery! A local variety of grass produces a sort of yellow nectar-when the Pikmin drink this delicacy, they instantly mature into flowers! This apparent Pikmin favorite seems to be full of nutrition. Closer observation is needed to determine the strengths and peculiarities of these flower Pikmin.”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 1, December 2001]

“I've noticed that when they consume nectar, a flower immediately blooms on a Pikmin's head. Yet, when they mature in the ground from a sprout, their leaf becomes a bud before a flower. Either way, the more they grow, the faster Pikmin become. That could be useful...”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

Nectar is abundant in the soil of PNF-404. It seems to be the Pikmin’s favourite (and perhaps only) form of nutrition and they can get easily distracted whenever they have the chance to eat some. In Pikmin 1, they even ignore Olimar’s commands in favour of pulling up grass in an attempt to find some Nectar to drink.

“At times, these seemingly emotionless Pikmin act with a blind urgency. For instance, the Pikmin who so tirelessly dig up grass... What could be driving them to do so? Is it merely the promise of a sweet taste of nectar? Or is it some base instinct that is beyond my capacity to understand? Will I ever know?”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 1, December 2001]

However, what’s less well known is that Nectar is also likely what the bodies of the Pikmin themselves are largely composed of. Nectar from the soil is absorbed by the Pellet Posies, a close relative of the Pikmin that grow sparsely all over the planet. As I discussed previously, Pellet Posies were likely created with intention by humans for the purpose of Pikmin production. Pellets from Pellet Posies are described as being unnatural. These plants grow incredibly quickly, usually near Onion landing sites, and produce pellets of pure, nutrient-rich, crystallised nectar. Their Pellets match the colour of the Pikmin in a given area. While any Onion can convert any colour of pellet into Pikmin seeds, if a pellet is fed to an Onion of the same colour it will produce even more Pikmin.

“The pellet cradled in its petals changes colors like some form of chameleon, aligning to match the color of nearby Pikmin. It's almost as though it's inviting us to come harvest it to make more. Even though it appears to be helping out, it's really just using us to spread its seeds!”

[Source: Dalmo, Sozorian Animal Enthusiast and researcher, Non-Player Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

“In the stem of the pellet posy, one can observe the muscle fiber unique to half-plant, half-animal species such as the Pikmin and candypop flowers, so the pellet posy is a species that can be considered a close relative.”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 2, August 2004]

“Pellet Posies suck up nectar, the crystallised forms of which are the pellets they proudly display. And Pikmin, as you know, really love their nectar! Ha, the scamps!”

[Source: François, Oojian plant scholar and Research Task Force Recruit, Non-Player Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

“When harvesting Pellet Posies, I suggest you avoid the majestic roots and aim for the hard and unnatural pellet. That unwieldy, round pellet is much easier to detach if you think of it as an attack.”

[Source: François, Oojian plant scholar and Research Task Force Recruit, Non-Player Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

This Nectar is converted by the Onions into Pikmin seedlings. This explains why Pikmin become faster and stronger when they drink Nectar, as well as why buried Pikmin slowly mature - they may be absorbing more nectar from the soil through their roots while under the ground. Perhaps the fluid-like substance we see within the Onions discovered in Pikmin 3 is even a liquefied form of Pikmin seed, explaining how so many Pikmin can fit inside.

“I am always intrigued as to whether or not such vast numbers of Pikmin can truly sleep inside such a small Onion. What sort of vessel is it inside? Does it somehow transcend the laws of physics? Just once, I would like to have the chance to see for myself...”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 1, December 2001]

“Whenever Onions unite, I can't help but wonder how a single Onion can hold so many Pikmin. Do they shrink back into seeds for easier packing? It makes me feel funny just thinking about it.”

[Source: Alph, Koppaite Scientist and Engineer of the S.S. Drake, Playable Character in Pikmin 3, July 2013]

On the subject of Onions, Pellet Posies and Pikmin reproduction, the recently observed Lumiknolls exist in a very interesting related position. Lumiknolls and their juvenile form Tricknolls sprout at night and produce Glow Pikmin. Glow Pikmin, while resembling Pikmin in appearance and behaviour, are not technically classified as Pikmin. Lumiknolls appear at Onion landing sites, smell like Onions and are even speculated to be Onion rhizomes of some sort. It seems that Lumiknolls and Glow Pikmin, with their degradative enzymes, exist for the purpose of breaking down deceased Pikmin into Glow Pellets and returning their Nectar to the soil for Pellet Posies to absorb and crystalise, perpetuating the life cycle of the Pikmin.

“Lumiknolls will only appear in places where an Onion was located earlier in the day, and since they propagate Glow Pikmin, one could surmise that they are rhizomes from those Onions. Perhaps, using its dissolving powers, it returns the nectar that supports the ecosystem back to the soil.”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

As mentioned before, it’s highly likely that the Pikmin and their relatives were created and introduced to the ecosystem by humans. After the humans were gone, the Pikmin, Onions and Pellet Posies continued to live - and it seems they caused a major shift the planet’s ecology...

As it turns out, despite Nectar being closely linked to the Pikmin, they aren’t the only ones that primarily feed on it. In fact, almost every single creature on PNF-404 gains their necessary nutrients from a source of Nectar.

“Nectar is a vital source of nutrition that most life on this planet depends on. Whether it's in the form of an egg yolk, sap, or honey, I leave up to your imagination!”

[Source: Dalmo, Sozorian Animal Enthusiast and researcher, Non-Player Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

“Although the ability to crystallize nectar is unique to a small group of the pellet weed family, the fact that these plants reach maturity so quickly and that their pellets contain such high concentrations of the natural nutrients in the soil explains why the Pikmin and so many of the other indigenous species are so reliant on these pellets for sustenance.”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

Various methods of Nectar intake are displayed throughout these games.

[SOURCES]

In fact we see several creatures across the Pikmin series spit up pellets they've eaten from Pellet Posies when they’re defeated, directly reflecting the Piklopedia entries. The Iridescent Flint Beetles even store up undigested pellets and nectar for the winter. This is likely why Pikmin chase them so fervently:

“Flint beetles are nocturnal, choosing to hide in the grass by day and stay active at night. These creatures keep undigested food pellets in their stomachs to sustain them through winter, but given the right stimulus they will spit them out. Recent research has revealed that these pellets are enveloped in a membrane that seals and preserves them in a sterile, airtight environment. If kept at room temperature, it seems that this pellet membrane will keep its contents fresh for up to six months. The membrane may be made from the same substance that gives the exoskeleton of the flint beetle its beautiful sheen.”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

As Olimar states in his log on the Lumiknoll, the Nectar supports the ecosystem. It all comes back to Nectar, and thus Lumiknolls will break down essentially all deceased creatures into Glow Pellets come night time.

“Besides the fact that they serve as incubators and nests for Glow Pikmin, we know very little about the Lumiknoll's ecology. When nocturnal creatures die, a Lumiknoll can break them down into glow pellets through its strong dissolving enzymes.”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

In short, the Pellet Posies crystallise Nectar from the soil into Pellets, which are collected by Pikmin and brought back to their Onions to reproduce with. When the creatures that feed on Nectar die, they are broken down into Glow Pellets by the dissolving enzymes of the Lumiknolls and their Nectar is returned to the soil by Glow Pikmin, starting the cycle anew.

“But since these Pikmin come from the depths of the soil, surely, to the soil they shall return. How very poetic-while it is all alien to me, the basic premise is universally beautiful.”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 1, December 2001]

As a result of this fascinating ecological shift, essentially every creature native to the ecosystem can also be consumed by an Onion to have its nectarous body broken down and repurposed to produce more Pikmin seeds just as a Pellet would be. In fact, there's only one species in the entire series that doesn't get broken down and converted into Pikmin when they're fed to an Onion...

If Olimar fails to collect all of his necessary Ship Parts to escape PNF-404 at the end of Pikmin 1, he crashes the S.S. Dolphin and his life-support system fails, resulting in his death. The Pikmin carry his body back to the Red Onion, where he's absorbed by it like any other creature - however, instead of producing some Red Pikmin, Olimar is spat back out as a unique seed.

In Pikmin 4's Olimar's Shipwreck Tale, these very same events transpire. Olimar is absorbed by the fused Onion that accompanied him throughout his mission and transformed into what we now call a Leafling.

Leaflings are Leaders who've been processed by an Onion, rejuvenated and had their DNA altered to resemble that of a Pikmin, resulting in the growth of leaves all over their heads. These leaves allow them to breathe on PNF-404 without a space helmet despite the high levels of Oxygen. But for some reason, Leaflings largely retain their leader morphology and can even be cured and restored to their original forms.

Why is this? What makes the leaders so special? Well, the leaders are completely separate from PNF-404’s post-Pikmin, Nectar-based system of life. If the Onion works by breaking down and repurposing forms of Nectar into Pikmin seeds, it's going to have trouble doing so with a being that is not made of Nectar. This is also exactly why leafified individuals can be cured.

The Leafling cure developed by Yonny, the doctor of the Rescue Corps, uses Glow Sap, the condensed form of the Lumiknolls' nectar-dissolving enzymes, to break down the leaves of those who have become Leaflings...

“Let me thiiink… The primary symptom is growing of leaves, yes? If that is the case, then I believe we may be able to cure them. While stranded, I discovered a bewitching specimen called a Lumiknoll. It only appears in the dark of night. When dawn breaks, it releases a sap quite high in degradative enzymes. I believe I can make a medicine out of those secretions that can break down the newly grown leaves.”

[Source: Yonny, Member of the Rescue Corps and Doctor, Non-Player Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

Ingesting the enzymes in Glow Sap can have a detrimental effect on the creatures of PNF-404, causing their bodies to dissolve and leading to mutations. The primary example being the Smoky Progg, which is a larval Mamuta, malformed by the introduction of Glow Sap to the embryo in development.

“The Smoky Progg's body is constantly deteriorating, so collecting a living sample has proven difficult and research into the species has progressed at a glacial rate. However, by examining the genes adhered to the Smoky Progg's eggs, it has been confirmed that they are, in fact, Mamuta eggs! This discovery allows for the possibility that Mamuta that do not develop properly and hatch become Smoky Proggs. If, hypothetically, a Mamuta were to remain aboveground at night and absorb glow sap, that might impact the nutrient levels within its egg's yolk. That change could lead to the embryo's inviability or break down its enzymes, then...maybe...”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

However, with leaders it has no ill effects whatsoever:

“This matter, when condensed, becomes glow sap. One might assume glow sap is then an extremely dangerous substance, but it has hardly any negative effects. In fact, I've had it administered to me personally as a curative medicine to break down growing leaves.”

[Source: Captain Olimar, Employee of Hocotate Freight and Captain of the S.S. Dolphin, Playable Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

In fact, glow sap is seemingly almost entirely potable to non-leafified individuals:

“We know glow sap breaks down leaves, and it also has remarkable healing effects. Buuut if a non-leafified individual takes the medicine, those healing benefits are virtually nonexistent. Perhaps next time you find someone badly injured, I should try turning them into a leaf person to heal them, eheheh.”

[Source: Yonny, Member of the Rescue Corps and Doctor, Non-Player Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

That is, of course, unless an Onion tries to convert said individuals into Leaflings. In these cases, the Glow Sap functions as a preventative, breaking down the Pikmin leaves before they have a chance to sprout. Leaders who have already recently ingested Glow Sap cannot be leafified by an Onion in the first place.

“Of course! You were ingesting nearly pure glow sap, so the leaves must have been broken down before they could sprout!”

[Source: Yonny, Member of the Rescue Corps and Doctor, Non-Player Character in Pikmin 4, July 2023]

Essentially, it seems that leaders can't become full Pikmin because they are not Nectar-based life, so instead the Onion does the next best thing - altering their DNA slightly to coat them in Pikmin leaves, AKA "leafification" - but if the leader has Glow Sap in their system, the Onion and its leaves can't take hold and instead dissolve. When a Leafling takes Yonny's cure the nectarous leaves degrade, leaving the original non-nectar body behind. Olimar's status as an alien to the environment the Pikmin call home is the very reason he doesn't become one - at least not fully.

I often think back upon Olimar from the bad ending of Pikmin 1 who, assuming he even found the Interstellar Radio, decided against using it to send out an S.O.S. Signal due to his lack of time and remote location. However, had he done so regardless perhaps he too would've been found by the Rescue Corps and restored to his original self - we can only hope that another party stumbled upon him in his future and said party also figured out the Leafling cure, however low the odds may be...

Thank you for reading, and a very special thank you to Sophie from @cartographers-office, who did the wonderful graphics featured in this post and let me talk her ear off about Pikmin nectar of all things... If you enjoyed this, check out her recent post on the Armored Cannon Beetle! But many questions remain. Why are the Leaflings so Dandori-obsessed? And what's going on with the leafification of the space dog Oatchi and his relation to Moss? Turn those Interstellar Radios on and stay tuned for future posts folks!

[3ver3mber]

"Just this once more..." Arya whispered under her sharply exhaled breath. She knew all too well the cost of casting such a spell, or rather, she understood there were dire consequences. She may have been in Mystra's favor, but even a goddess' grace had its limits.

" 'Only when absolutely necessary'..." She quoted her patron's warning as she calmed herself, already feeling the taut threads of the Weave around her quivering in anticipation for her next words.

"I wish-.." Arya began, her very voice imbued with magic. She hesitated but for a moment, considering if perhaps she was making a mistake.

No, of course not - after all, this entire endeavor was to further her progress on a mission Mystra herself assigned. A test of faith, perhaps...

With her nerves steeled for the time being, she continued, brow furrowed in determination.

"I wish to find Luthen's Library." The statement pulsed through the room with a violent thrum of energy, the rippling wave in the Weave carrying on for miles. Any spellcaster worth their salt was sure to have felt the disturbance, though not much more than an off tingle in the back of their mind. In an instant, though, the blast reversed with the same force, this time entirely channeled into Arya. The impact knocked the small sorcereress onto the floor, her body writhing in pain as rapid-fire visions assaulted her mind.

The vast expanse of sand and sun, a sight she had never laid eyes on. The vision stretched itself thin, reaching as far as it could toward the object of her desire before failing.

Something was shielding the location from even a mastery level spell.

Too quickly to even process, the spell changed direction, attempting to fulfill her wish another way. She was given the aerial view of a neighboring city she had flown over before, a peculiar looking violet tent, an inquisitive raven, and... stars?

Before she could make sense of it, the visions ceased, feeling to her almost as if the very air was drawn out of her lungs. She rolled over onto her front and retched, face twisted into a grimace as she waited for the pain to subside.

Finally, she rose to her feet, albeit shakily, panting in an attempt to catch her breath. She had no time to waste- not only was her goddess counting on her, but the use of such an illegal spell had surely garnered her some unwanted attention, and she wasn't one to simply wait for trouble to find her.

Slipping her necessary belongings into her pack, Arya ducked out into the night, heading for the stables. While she had never been particularly adept at stealth due to her heritage, she did not find a need for it this night. Her short jog to her steed's stall was uneventful, other than the waves of exhaustion and nausea that persisted in the aftermath of her spell.

"Icarus, come on-" she beckoned in a hushed command, clicking her tongue a few times. The large, flame-lapped griffin sauntered out of his pen, his beak extending in a wide yawn.

"I see you've maintained your sense of urgency, hm?" She chided him with sarcasm before exhaling a small chuckle.

"Come then, we've not much time before -" It was as if her unspoken words had manifested, prompting a frustrated hiss as a guard rounded the corner on patrol.

"Go, go, go!" She whisper-yelled, hopping onto the griffins back as it began its takeoff gallop. The thumping of it's footsteps alerted the guard, but as he called out to the pair, they were already in the air, soaring away from a place Arya had once dreamed of being. As she watched her post disappear into the distance, Arya couldn't help but reflect on how quickly a dream could change and how oft they turned out to be nothing more than a fantasy.

Even still, as the wind whipped her hair and all within her vision was sky, the buzz of cautious excitement was palpable. The thoughts of her position and the consequences of desertion were left behind with the barracks. All that remained to her now was the future and what it might hold.

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

After flying through the night, a familair sight sprawled out below- the city she had seen in her vision. With a sharp whistle, Arya directed Icarus downward, and the two began their descent. The blazing duo appeared to the few waking onlookers like a streaking comet against the dark cobalt sky, the sight certainly conspicuous.

Arya could not mind the stray looks any less, entirely honed on finding the blur of purple her vision had promised. It wasn't long until she spotted it, circling the area a few times before finally landing.

She slid from her steed's back with a practiced grace, heavy boots sounding with a thump against the dirt. She did not approach the tent, however, opting to simply stare at it. It was funny to her, the fact that she had just spent hours trying to find it, amd yet, now that she was here...

"...Hello? " Her mouth spoke before her brain gave it permission, and she instantly cringed at the choice of word.

'Hello? Really? A good hundred kilometers and all you could concoct in your addled mind is-' she thought to herself, though the stream of consciousness was again rudely interrupted by her far too eager mouth.

"Pardon the early intrusion, but might I speak with you?"

'Well... At the very least, that one was polite...'

{ @fortune-feather }

[avrorean]

@hoboblaidd. it’s alright… breathe with me. in… and out… good. ↳ reassurance prompts (accepting)

The stone walls were old and crumbling, and less trained eyes might wonder how its peeled, gilded pillars were able to maintain its staggering levels for so many years. But the Temple of Mythal radiated old magic, a sensation that hummed so familiarly beneath Nanna’s boots, that the most recent argument that had stalled their group to a halt had only just pulled her attention back to the present. A diverging path, presumably.

Nanna had offered her input mildly; despite concern for the soldiers valiantly fighting at the front against the tidal wave of Corypheus’s forces, she had agreed with Morrigan and Solas that it was best to follow the route of the Temple. Disturbing the pathways of such deeply rooted and long running magic may have done them more harm than good, after all, and its effects would be impossible to account for. And yet at best, her contribution had been lax, and the Warden had not seemed to hear the rebuffs of the others. Here, so deep in the magics of Elvhenan, it had begun to distract her in a way she’d not oft felt, but recognized all the same. 

Nanin was restless. 

Ever since she had delved deeper into the Fade to discover them, it had begun to feel more difficult to differentiate a simple stir of memory from the Elvhen fragment that now pressed closer to the world, closer to her mind, awake. At least, more awake than they had been. And in their distress, or euphoria, their memories had begun to violently intertwine with her own in a manner Nanna had not encountered since that day before the artifact.

“An army fights and dies for us-” Towers glimmer back a branded reflection, a cascade of crystal that no longer has a name gilding the pathways. “You see the urgency-” Chants of the old priests- what were the words? I- They- used to know it by heart. ”- cannot find the Well of Sorrows unprepared.” Golden eyes of a long limbed elven woman cast sharply through waves of black hair. Descending steps of an ornamented pool, water too living to drink and yet must be brushing against her- their- their? legs. Heat of the seal as I- they- we- are plunged into the depths. Gracious acceptance. Vir Mythal’enaste- 

Her body jolted as a warm hand rested itself softly at her back, wide eyes glimmering shades of confusion as Solas comes towering into definition over her, a shielding shadow blocking out the glaring sunbeams overhead.

“It’s alright.” 

It was soft, barely above a whisper next to the continued arguments of the others. But it was only then did she realize she’d at all moved away from the group; it had only taken a shift of his figure for the broad line of his shoulders to shield her from view of the others. His eyes were fixed in dark suspicion as Morrigan lead the Inquisitor away to further consult, but his touch was a gentle, grounding thing, holding her thoughts in place as the world shifted around them. 

“Breathe with me,” came the quiet instruction, and only then did Nanna recognize the old tongue he guided her with. And she obeys, her shakey inhale following the deeper rhythm of his exhale until her own steadied and melded with his, the world finding purchase in its own reality again.

Only then does he break his line of sight to look her over, the silent question of concern unneeded to be expressed. She nods.

“Thank you.”

[athousandbyeol]

discussion #5 (only friends): topmew's different facades of intimacy and mysteriousness [a forcebook acting appreciation post]

i've been looking closely at each topmew frame in the official trailer, trying to point out some interesting key points depicted by their facial expressions. it's a wonderful discovery.

forcebook are kings of subtlety. keenness and thorough observation are needed to appreciate their acting. so many layered nuances in every move they make, every word they say, and i'm always in awe.

hence, this post intends to briefly show forcebook's captivating portrayal of topmew through different facades of intimacy and mysteriousness illustrated by their signature subtleness.

topmew's multiple facades grounded by the core of subtlety

exhibit #1: the eight letters kiss

there's something about this kiss that pushes their buttons. a new level unlocked. mew's surprised reaction— the silent oh moment. top holds the back of mew's neck as he leans in to kiss mew— it's you. claiming ownership— seeking security. beautifully soft. quietly heartbreaking. a point of crossing their fragile threshold— the collision of two different worlds.

exhibit #2: the historical first meeting

a juncture of impending madness. the start to their ending. the sizzling connection surfaces the first time they look at each other. the look of invitation; come in. come into my life. the gentle smile from top, visibly fond— the cute hey smile from mew, a bit seductive, a tad cheeky; a wonderful portrayal of their blooming intimacy and passionate relationship.

exhibit #3: we are even now interchange

there's something in mew's little smile— a silent victory? contentment? it doesn't look that innocent. mew knows he has played his cards well; i'm in his head the way he is in mine.

exhibit #4: open up to me, let me in kiss

top's urgency— mew's openness. a susceptible exchange. a mutual infatuation. the beginning of top's possessiveness. the start of mew's game.

exhibit #5: keep choosing me, a subdued manipulation

mew pushes and hurts top by mentioning love, give and everything. top's goal— i want to make you as happy as possible— a growing lie from their first encounter. guilt eats top from the inside. physical touch; a hug— an act of reconciliation. please forgive me? mew's little smile, no tears in sight— put me above anything else like you always do. make me happy by breaking yourself apart.

conclusion

forcebook tackle the sense of subtlety in their illustration of topmew commendably well. this is the kind of acting method they commonly use (mainly p'book). from the ofts trailer, forcebook showed layers of emotions heightened by applaudable voice control, suitable facial expressions and other fascinating adlibs.

as i've mentioned in this post, we should pay close attention to forcebook's acting and there'll be magic in everything you see. forcebook give an air of maturity, lewdness and craze to topmew. contrary to the gentle, kind and compassionate vibe surrounding akktheo and guncher. i'm so excited to see more of their acting once the series airs next week.

[1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (i) | 4 (ii) | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12]

[hexclaimed]

@kaziraq: "My deepest apologies, Your Royal Highness. I did not intend to rouse you from your rest."

                             DAYS   SPENT   ON   THE   EDGE   OF   SLEEP   SHOW   HEAVILY           in   purple-ish   bruising   beneath   the   princes   eyes   ,   one   to   not   oft   garner   any   real   rest   most   nights   with   quick   ease   to   settle   in   to   wake   upon   every   little    sound    to   escape   outside   his   bedroom   doors   or   people   coming   in   alike.   it   was    frustrating    but   his   body   had   become   so   very   use   to   such.   he   would   suspect   that   once   his   body   finally   gave   way   to   the   thrall   of   sleep   that   he   would   be   out   for   some   time.   and   there   was   a   high    hope    within   Vitya   this   time   that   such   unprompted   nap   to   be   taken   would   do   such.

         meetings   lining   the   morning   with   conversation   on   trade   and   meeting   copious   amounts   of   people   wore   exhaustion   upon   him.   irritation   pricked   upon   his   expressionism   ,   dismissing   himself   before   the   bubbling   feelings   rose   to   the   surface   more.   and   near    instant    it   was   that   sleep   drew   its   cover   over   him   when   he   had   reached   his   bed. 

         but   ,   Vitya   is    never    so   lucky.   when   the   door   opens   is   when   amber   shades   spring   open   ,   knowing    very   well    that   he   had   not   been   down   for   long    (   or   long   enough   ,   at   least   )    for   the   cascading   beaming   of   light   from   windows   not   shrouded   behind   curtains   streamlined   its   way   into   his   vision.   a   sigh   parts   lips   as   he   shuffles   himself   to   sit   up   tiredly   ,   running   lithe   fingers   through   tussled   ombre'd   locks.   when   sights   do   fall   upon   the   reasoning   ,   he   is   only   able   to   offer   a   single   noted   laugh   that   lacked   in   any   real    humor.

                    ❛   Vitya.   ❜           he   mumbles   with   sleep   riddled   slur   ,   dragging   hands   down   his   features   in   means   to    wake    himself   further   and   keep   the   biting   frustrated   filled   words   away   from   being    snapped    upon   his   knight.           ❛   especially   upon   rising.   i   hear   variations   of   such   too   much   in   a   day.   least   let   me   be   called   by   name   in   private.   ❜           demeanor   is   all   but   happy   with   the   interruption   of   such    dearly    needed   rest   ,   but   such   is   not   directed   towards   Cyrus   ,   who   is   soon   gifted   with   a   softer   edge   of   gaze   as   he   settles   his   back   against   the   headboard   of   his   bed   with   blankets   pulled   up   to   his   waist.

                    ❛   if   you   have   come   to   whisk   me   away   for   another   gathering   ,   i   will   be   less   than   thrilled   and   may   actually   fight   you   on   it.   ❜           its   a   poor   attempt   at   a   jest   ,   his   tone   giving   no   hints   of   being    serious    though   neutrality   upon   his   voice   remains   ever   present.           ❛   is   it   of   urgency?   ❜           is   but   a   groan.   the   prince   ,   while   very   much   dedicated   to   his   people   and   those   around   him   ,   finds   such   duties   to   wear   his   patience    thin    at   times.   today   just   happened   to   be   one   of   those   days   to   him.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Week 1 - Camping

Day 3, another prompt to completely disregard and twist...

Have some annoyed Vairë and brave Námo.

Prompt: Camping

Pairing: Námo x Vairë / Námo & Irmo

Words: 1 005

Warnings: Sadness, light injury, some weird thread magic

Vairë’s hands did not still even though her mind was reeling. Rivers of thread ran steadily and unerringly through her fingers, coalescing into a cloud of shimmering black before her wet eyes.

Her task was the mere recording of history—it was her husband who’d pass judgment on all that was said and done, and yet her heart quailed at the picture taking form under her rhythmically weaving digits.

So Manwë had gone and found nought but emptiness that now devoured his soul.

Impuissant anger rose within her at the thought of the Elder King’s suffering—surely, Námo could have warned him about the bitter price he’d pay for his noblest intentions.

Every fibre of her essence, braided of the colourful strands of deep love and honest devotion, yearned to lay down the bobbins and rest, but a new sense of urgency overcame her.

Little by little, greyish purples and faded blues bled into the swirling vortex of utter darkness, and she sighed in relief.

She recognised the diaphanous blotch of hope within the warring obscurity of the Judge’s verdict and the endless nothingness of Melkor’s penalty.

Irmo.

Even on canvas, her husband’s young brother couldn’t be tethered by the filaments from which he’d been created—Vairë looked on, flabbergasted, as the tiny moth appeared in one corner of her opus as by magic.

Had she drawn the light silver thread all the way from the centre of the piece to its confines? She could not remember having done so.

Nonetheless, Irmo was there—undeniably, inescapably there, and she knew not how to recall him to the place where he was most needed.

“Wife.” She heard the word, thrumming through her soul, before it had been thought.

Even though she oft failed to understand the motives and desires of her husband, she could read his needs as easily as the strings curling around her hands.

Námo was a creature of many worlds to whom time meant nothing, but his wife was inexorably bound to an eternal present, made up of tiny increments that unravelled into a past she could and would not consider.

Thus, she was akin to a blind person who only ever perceived the world in haphazard sequences of disjointed snapshots.

“You seek your brother,” she said before his greeting could be vocalised. “He’s not here.”

“I know,” Námo replied gravely, stoking the fires of unjustified frustration in her ample bosom.

He came to stand behind her, his hand bony and yet heavy on her strong shoulder as he surveyed her latest work.

His low, reverberating hum grated on her nerves, but she kept her peace, knowing that her spouse had other worries than her displeasure.

“I shall go out to find him,” Námo declared. “For the task Nienna has given us, I need his help.”

Nodding solemnly, Vairë looked back at her ruined craft. Even while her focus had shifted to Námo, the battle between pitch-black and stubborn grey hadn’t subsided, and so she didn’t need to ask for clarification. The matter was gruesomely clear in its stark simplicity.

“You’re to pacify Manwë?” she asked, swallowing the sharp-tongued addendum that she found it doubtful that anyone other than Nienna and Irmo would find comfort in the mysterious, hermetic bond the Fëanturi shared.

In lieu of an answer he knew to be superfluous, Námo bent down and breathed a tender, conciliatory kiss onto the crown of her head. “I shall return as quickly as I can. Worry not for me, beloved.”

Vairë simply lifted her hands, chafed raw with the speed and insistency of the threads racing through her palms. “I won’t. I shall watch and see.”

She listened to his footsteps as he retreated.

“On the third hook from the right,” she said softly. “I’ve finished it recently.”

Only when she heard the muted swish of a brand-new cloak, big enough to serve as a tent and blanket and infused with her sincere, unwavering love, did she return her attention to her oeuvre.

Annoyed and exasperated as she might have been with the incomprehensible ways that dictated her lover’s decisions and actions, she’d never forsake him in his hour of need.

In secret, she wished she could bind him to her, so he’d never leave her side, but she knew better than to attempt the impossible.

No, her place was here—watching, witnessing, working indefatigably.

Traces of Veridian, bleeding into the Gardens' green and the mountains' dark violet, appeared on the canvas.

Vairë smiled. Soon, Varda’s stars would add sprinkles of gold and silver to the top border to light Námo’s way as he fought his way through the fields of black in dogged pursuit of the elusive moth.

While he didn’t exactly have to rest, Vairë nevertheless hoped that he—who rarely left his hallowed Halls—would take the time to bask in the beauty of the open sky and the sweet night air.

Her eyes travelled longingly along the wall covered in bobbins of every imaginable shade; she yearned to recreate a panorama of dark greens and deep blues in which her bewildering and yet beloved husband would be but a darker blotch, melting into the ambient twilight.

When a dusty purple materialised beside her, she bowed her head in silent gratitude. Námo had spread the cloak, made by her very hands, over his gaunt shoulders and was admiring the flowering, free lands rolling like solid waves beneath his feet.

Already, the little speck of grey was within reach, and Vairë’s fingers moved faster and more fluidly now as she transcribed the seemingly immaterial tale of fraternal reunion faithfully.

She was still unsure whether Manwë would find solace in her in-laws’ unity, but the knot of roiling black defacing her art was slowly dissolving into a kaleidoscope of various splashes of fading obscurity.

Nuance, she thought serenely, that was what was needed in this situation, and—between Námo and Irmo—there would be enough genuine light to dispel the gloom that had seeped out of the Void like a poison.

@fellowshipofthefics Day 3 of Week 1. I am on track :)

-> Masterlist

[sungsilver]

FROM HERE / @ondothlim

SILVER  MINSTREL  OF  SONG  AND  YET,  NO  TUNED  FOUND  HER  EARS  AS  LOVELY  AS  HIS  VOICE.  dropped  in  octave  and  speckled  by  the  share  of  desire,  her  name  a  pretty  melody  and  equal  measure  of  wild  tenderness.  the  wrench  of  oft-gentle  hands  weaved  through  and  tugged  tendrils  of  gold.  entirely  consumed  by  the  trail  of  warmth  left  by  his  lips,  music  echoed  dully  in  the  distance  for  how  could  anything  else  compare?  she'd  sought  fresh  air  and  reprieve  from  duty  and  found  the  unravelling  of  need  sewn  into  her  bones.

melody  of  hushed  mewls  and  broken  breath,  fingertips  grasping  at  his  collar.  neck  tilted  in  offering  to  his  path,  the  tremble  to  each  exhale  punctuated  by  how  she  sings  his  praise  or  begs  it  in  wait.  ❛  glorfindel.  ❜  little  care  to  how  desperate,  how  broken  the  sound  is  until  his  fingers  travel  with  a  warning.  to  that  which  she  does  not  heed.  a  maddening  touch  that  urges  hips  of  her  own  endless  need  for  his  touch.  NOW  THAT  IS  WAS  HERS,  SHE  COULD  NEVER  HAVE  ENOUGH.

❛ what  if  someone  see's...  ❜  (  she  finds  herself  indifferent  to  the  matter  )  barely  staggered,  her  hand  slips  under  the  hem  of  his  tunic,  her  soft  thighs  tightened  around  his  wrist.  bundle  of  sweet  petals  and  nerves  ignited  and  greedy  still  with  the  writhe  of  hips.  fingertips  track  beneath  the  fabric,  dragging  with  gentle  urgency  pleading  against  his  jaw.  ❛ all  of  you,  please.  i  need  all  of  you.  ❜

[storyhaunt-a]

the relationship between a warlock and their patron is oft a professional one, focused solely on the pact signed between them. typically, patrons see no need to remain involved in the lives of their pacter-bearer(s), taking what was promised to them and giving them their power before being on their way — other times, a patron may keep tabs on their pact-bearer, or become involved in their personal affairs ( to varying degrees ). relatedly, pacts in general are a considerably dangerous thing, as deals with any powerful entity run the risk of insurmountable consequences should a warlock either fail to uphold their pact or upset their patron. all of it is tricky business, one that leaves rooms for all sorts of fine-print clauses and loopholes, and though not all warlocks regret accepting the power bestowed upon them, it is rarely easy or simple work managing it. all of this to say, the nature of seòras' pact and his relationship with his patron are far from normal. the feywild was not an unfamiliar place for young seòras: raised by eladrin mother amartheldis, an elf who valued her relationship to the feywild [as the home of her people], he had been touched by its magic long before he was even able to remember it. although unable to experience the sights of it, still had he felt it on many occasions, as allowed by his mother. it was not quite a second home, but neither was it a stranger to seòras, or seòras to it. in his young adulthood, without the innate guidance of magic to give him the same ability to plane shift to the feywild as amartheldis had, but with a growing understanding of the world around him and a most dangerous curiosity, seòras found a fey-crossing of his own accord, and, with no one and nothing at his side other than his own rapier and a pack of basic supplies. he did not go to the feywild seeking magic, or power, or anything else; it was pure, unbridled, and insatiable interest and nostalgia which drove him. it would be by chance that seòras crossed over into the territory of the archfey vestris, the lord of lights — who, by yet another stroke of fate, would eventually summon seòras, marking the first meeting between patron and vassal. quick would seòras be to charm vestris, catching them off guard with his equal levels wit and confidence, surprising them at every opportunity given. with no urgency to return home, an unwavering audacity, and an archfey intrigued by him, seòras makes himself comfortable right where he is, enjoying the thrill of the feywild and its inhabitants. at some point, the dynamic between seòras and vestris begins to change, and the more they spend time with one another the more their relationship morphs into something venereal. with that, seòras would eventually be marked by vestris, and it would be the archfey to proposition a sort of 'pact' between them, one that seòras was surprisingly hesitant to take given the nature of the fey, but eventually agreed to.

seòras earned his magic ( and his blink-dog familiar gawadir ) from vestris at essentially no cost, and though he now ventures through faerun at his leisure, he still visits the feywild relatively frequently, and vestris maintains heavy involvement in his life, outside of the gifts granted. their dynamic is atypical for a warlock and patron, and it is certainly something that seòras is reluctant to speak on — purely for privacy and safety reasons — but regardless, it works for them, and both benefit from the arrangement.

[illspirit]

for @wrongtrain !

They’d been chatting. Myers, Violet, and Dorothy. A man and his two haunters. The topics had been relatively mundane—although punctured here and there with Violet’s soured mood—and centred, here, in the cushioned corner of the library. Although librarians oft hushed those who dared speak, Myers himself was a librarian, and there were spare few visitors at this hour. They were all elsewhere.

Then, Dorothy sluggishly poked her head over Myer’s shoulder.

“Someone’s watching,”  Dorothy observed lowly.

“Probably listening too.”

Pointed displeasure cut the corners of Violet’s ghastly expression, but, Dorothy, on the other hand: a downright wolfish grin unravelled upon hers. Then did her body begin to disintegrate, from the bottom up, and feathered pieces of herself tore away, fluttering into the sky ‘til they devolved into nothingness.

In the blink of Emmet’s eyes, she was there. Inches from his face.

“Hi!”

Dorothy twinkled her long, curled spectral fingers; a playful, albeit impish wave. She gave him a quick once-over before casting her eerily wide eyes back at her sister.

“Ah, come on, Violet! The intruder is cute! Cute in a way—”

“—that you want to throw him out of a thirty-eight story building?”

Violet joined her sister, pressed up against her side, her displeasure wafted away in favour of mischievous malice.

“Dorothy! Violet!”  Myers spoke in hushed urgency, trying to usher the twins back to him. When it was apparent they weren’t going to listen—whenever did they, ugh—he coltishly shuffled his way towards the man and let an awkward smile plump the apples of his cheeks.  “Uh, hi.”

[goldenmusicmoments]

Billie Eilish's Hit Me Hard And Soft Does Exactly That:

Billie Eilish drops her third studio album and this time she didn’t give us a taste of what to expected prior to its release. The album is an experience from start to finish, so lets take a look into its chaos.

Skinny - She starts on a gentle note with her signature airy vocals accompanied by the piano. There is something sombre and dreamy about this track. Which is down to both her vocal delivery and the production. Here she explores the aspects of falling in love and the insecurities she has when it comes to her body. It is a vulnerable moment and her vocal performance is stunning. The violin led outro gives this opener a dramatic end. A start that doesn’t give away anything in regard to what’s to come.

Lunch - This one picks up the pace with its foot tapping beat. On most part her vocal delivery is laid back, however there are small moments where she decides to have a bit more urgency to her delivery. This one is definitely one of her most daring tracks lyrically as she explores sexual desires whilst connecting them to eating. Her picking this to be the one she pushes as a single is thus more interesting, however the sound and feel of the track make it a perfect choice. It is a light track that you could let loose to. The track has a playful end with the sound of breaths.

Chihiro - We get into this finger clicking track thanks to the catchy beat. Here it seems that the person is growing distant and she feels them slip away. She’s not wanting to let go, where as they seem to be ready to leave. There is this hazy feel to it as you get this feeling of being a little on edge or dizzy. The beat becomes growingly intense and you get these spaced out vocals. She then brings it back down and then again before the track ends the beat starts to build in the back once again slowly making its way to the front. Chaos ensues with this hypnotic beat that you find yourself fully captivated by as it takes over you. This one draws your attention instantly and you find yourself wanting to replay it immediately.

Birds Of The Feather - Here on this sweet and cinematic track Billie is letting the person know of her devotion. She’s completely in love and says that she’ll love the person of interest till the day she dies. She wants to stay with this person forever and you feel it in the way she sings each lyric that she’s completely infatuated. Her vocals during the verse are gentle, however she pushes her vocals during the chorus which in turn points to her meaning what she is singing. The production has quite a bit going on and it gives the track a catchy nature. You’ll find yourself nodding your head to the beat and singing along to the hook. The track closes on this rather dramatic vocal moment that sees Billie push herself in a way we don’t oft get to hear and tied with the closing is this fascinating beat. 

Wildflower - She calms it down here as the track opens with a stripped back guitar. Her vocals are tender as she sings about a sombre moment where she is consoling someone who is sad. It seems as though the girl had gone through a break up and that was why she was upset. Billie seems to then end up in a relationship with the ex of the girl she’s been comforting and she finds the thought of the girl linger in the back of her mind. The track builds and then she calms it down again as she asks whether he also has his ex find her way into his mind at times. The guitar comes back gradually rising in volume. The last line lets it be known that she is no longer with him either. There is a slight haunting edge to this track due to some of the vocalisations threaded in the back.

The Greatest - This has Billie herself in a sombre mood as she sings about her commitment to this person of interest. She’s doing everything to try and keep them happy, however it doesn’t seem to necessarily be reciprocated. She seems to praise herself in the chorus, as it seems unlikely that the other person would praise her. On most part the guitar strums remain the prominent instrumentation, however for the tracks dramatic moment the percussion takes centre stage. There is a build in the bridge both vocally and production wise, granting this track its grand moment. She expresses her frustration with the imbalance within this relationship, she’s longed for them to reciprocate the love she’s given them. She calms it back to down to close things off. 

L’Amour De Ma Vie - On this one the track starts with this classical feel through the tender production and her light vocals. Here she sings about a relationship that no longer is, she explores the emotions she felt and her feelings towards the person of topic now that all is done. She seems to still wish them the best, regardless of the pain they caused her. For the last half the track shifts, feeling as though it is a completely different song. Here she’s unapologetic as she takes aim at them, calling them mediocre. The way the shift comes in, in a way feels similar in production to that of The Weeknd’s sound.

The Diner - Here Billie’s context is unclear or that it could have duality. As she explores obsession, she’s had experiences with stalkers in the past and so you feel she maybe singing about them. However could it be about her being obsessed with herself? It has a sinister edge to it that you feel through the quirky beat and her vocal delivery. She really dives into this whisper like vocal delivery at the end that brings this one to an end. An intriguing moment on the record that stays consistent in pacing rather than switching it up. 

Bittersuite - Kickstarts with the beat right up front that jolts you a bit. This one has quite the dynamic due to the way that the production shifts during the song. Each shift feeling like a separate segment, yet managing to work as one track. The song ends on a rather interesting note. She seems to be running away from a relationship, where she knows they aren’t meant to be together. Moments like this are what truly highlight the duo’s unique touch when it comes to crafting a track. 

Blue - This closing track is interesting as it finds continuity from the note the previous track ends on. Not exactly through the beat, but how she delivers vocally. She then switches it up midway and then again a brief moment later where her vocals seem to have a more deeper tone. Either it is an effect or she’s actually singing like that. Then for the outro its this dramatic instrumentation that closes things out and it seems she throws it back to the sound of the shift in the track ‘L’Amour De Ma Vie’ we heard. Which you find is something that occurs across other moments on the album as well. This song combines two previously leaked tracks, as the two decided to rework them into one song.

Overall this album is a focused record that is cohesive sonically, she decided to keep it brief. Prioritising quality over quantity, and it has paid of. This is hands down her best project to date and one that will definitely standout amongst this years releases. It exceeds expectations and proves that Billie is an artist that is here to stay and one that will constantly challenge herself. Her and her brother Finneas make for quite the pairing, it will be interesting to continue to witness what the two create. On top of that it will be something to see if she decides that she wants to work with a different producer.

[nievea]

・❥・@adureus asked ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐀 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥, 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 ⸻ 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭. A sense of normalcy had risen, offered them a shift in responsibility that exists so removed from violence. Now, it's the nurturing, tending hands of a mother and father. The former slumbers, the latter takes his role this day. Swaddled light in cotton and arms is their son, still new, still young to the world. Just shy of a glimpse of his eyes : a blue to mimic the staunch of his sire. Elsewhere features are softened and project a strong reflection of his mother ⸻ they oft remark it, the village women. Clive doesn’t mind the underemphasis of his genes. Dawn had newly broken, golden and sweet, its warmth unfurls through thicket and bough, sweeps the grass, grants a gilded glimmer to dew mottled about the expanse of their lot. It was strange, to be at a standstill, to savour this tableau. Save for the gentle rise and fall of the babe’s breath, the occasional babble, the cling of the tiniest of fingers, no motion animates the room. In a past life, Clive would roam the realm with urgency and tasks at his back. Now, deterring beasts and honing a green thumb seemed so trivial in comparison. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It was fine. A fulfilling life need not expedience and action. He deserved the calm. They deserved the calm.

it was quiet. aside from the fireplace crackling, Torgal's gentle snores & the breaths from their newborn son, their world was still. the three of them lay together, herself along the chest of her beloved, their baby boy nestled within her arms. swaddled within one of the many blankets she spent most of her condition crafting. he would have one for each day of his life the village ladies had joked ⸻ but he was born on quite the winter day. her maternal instincts made she he would always be warm. as the snowstorm gently fell outside as she labored, the inside of their home was loving, warm & safe for his arrival. one of his many blankets laid out waiting for him. sure she went overboard with his blankets. socks, outfits.. hats, even. but she had to be certain he would want for nothing. perhaps part of that was anxiety. she had never loved someone she'd never met so much in her life. luck had never been on their side, so by overpreparing she soothed those quiet fears that loomed within her head. they all subsided the moment he was placed atop her chest.

it was amusing that he was born on a winter day ⸻ looking just like his mother. there were still parts of Clive found within his features, but it was she who he took mostly after. his little tufts of silver hair. her button nose. those silver eyelashes of his fluttered open, revealing the blue that resembled his father. heart melted within her chest as her finger brushed his delicate cheek. he had been in their lives for just a week. it had been the best week of their lives.

❛ I love looking into his eyes. ❜ her voice was soft. eyes never pulling from his. Cid's tiny fingers gripped one of Clive's, letting his father know he was awake. ❛ it's like looking into yours. ❜

[cmweller]

Challenge #03983-J331: Snow Falls Fast on the Crown That Cares

"Those who actively seek power, seek a throne, will end up having neither, nor do they oft deserve them. Those who have such thrust upon them unwilling, and then seek to use them for the sake of others, realize the true weight, and are needed there." -- Anon Guest

Briar very rarely used her full name. It took up too much time and the people of U'ah had a long tradition of an 'urgency' eke name. "Baroness Henriette Bri'arillain Kalamitee U'ah, get down!" would certainly get her killed, but, "Briar, duck!" had saved her skin more often than not. She was one of the very few who were permitted to have a sword ready during the Baronial Meet, and under the eyes of her lord, the Earl Whitekeep.

The other with that privilege was her wife.

She had watched Earl Valiant from his rise to the power of the Blood Throne, through to his nigh-despotic end. During those decades, she was reminded again and again of her father's wise words: "Snow falls fast on the crown that cares."

[Check the source for the rest of the story]

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Re-reading The Fellowship of the Ring for the First Time in Fifteen Years

Ok, so, as we move further into this book, I kind of don't understand why they didn't click with me when I read them at seventeen. I mean, I was DEEEEEEEEEEEP into the Star Wars EU at that point, so maybe it was just genre and writing style whiplash. That said though, I am very much enjoying myself this time around. Let's talk "Three is Company.

So my four key reactions to this chapter were, in the order they arose,

Frodo is the single most relatable hobbit ever. His whole "To tell the truth, he was very reluctant to start, now that it had come to the point" thing is just like...I don't care who you are or when you are, you have felt that at some point in your life. Like...yeah, that hobbit needs a hug and a swift kick in the ass to get him moving.

WHAT THE ACTUAL TITS IS TOLKIEN'S BEEF WITH LOBELIA SACKVILLE-BAGGINS!?!?!? Like yes, she is a deeply unpleasant hobbit, but like...Frodo does not offer her any tea and leaves her the washing up, and frankly that kind of seems unnecessary? Like why is Tolkien a dick to Lobelias?

I had forgotten that Tolkien leaned on characterizations of elves that swing from near-childlike delight and wonder and bluntness ("...and hobbits are so dull," anyone??? Like I was literally raised with better manners than this) to absolute solemnity and wisdom. What I'm saying is that Gildor and his buddies gave me whiplash while Sam was getting starry-eyed.

WHY THE HELL HAS NOBODY TOLD THIS HOBBIT ANYTHING??? Literally they have almost been nabbed by black riders THREE DANG TIMES, and they're still basically in the heart of the Shire. Someone needs to fill these guys in, and frankly I think in Gandalf's oft-remarked-upon absence, then Gildor should probably step up and--as Frodo rightly fucking says--fill in some of the gaps because the vague warnings and ominous allusions are objectively worse than just knowing what is happening.

So with the key reactions sorted, let's walk it back a little and chat through this chapter. I--like every other nerd who existed on the planet in the 2000s--have seen the Peter Jackson film adaptations. I was also tangentially aware that there was a LOT of time compression in those movies, but uh...reading the book is a whole other level of understanding that. There are gaps of literal months and years between "oopsie poopsie, it's the One Ring" and "hey, you probably need to leave the Shire" and "OK FINE, WE'RE GOING." And even once Frodo, Sam, and Pippin get their asses on the road, they're like...meandering. Hanging out. Enjoying the walk.

What I'm saying is, the sense of urgency is utterly nonexistent.

Which is not a judgement, I actually enjoyed the pacing and watching our little hobbit bois be happy hobbit bois, but the feet-nailed-to-the-floor practical side of me was in a screaming match with the -delightedly-kicking-her-feet side of me the entire time I was reading this chapter. Like...guys. The Enemy is LITERALLY ON YOUR DOORSTEP. THEY ALMOST GOT YOU. MAYBE HAUL ASS A BIT??? BUY YOURSELVES SOME TIME AND SPACE???

I'm pretty sure that running into Gildor and his buddies saved their hobbity butts.

Just before we get into Gildor and the company of elves though, I want to take a brief second to just...acknowledge the goddamn WHISPLASH I got when the song movie Pippin sings over Denethor just destroying a roast chicken and cherry tomatoes popped up this early in the trilogy. It's a walking song and it's very hobbity, and I love both versions (book and movie) but for DEEPLY different reasons. The book version is sweeter, a little cheekier, and I imagine it paces because it is indeed a walking song, meant to keep those feet moving. It also is very much Pippin going "bed please!" which is deeply relatable. The movie makes it way weightier, more melancholy. And in the film context, it's also tragic. The shift from "away shall fade" to "all shall fade" is doing a TON of heavy lifting too. I don't have much else about that, really, because in terms of adaptation, that's not so much an adaptation as a recontextualization. And...I like both? Both are good? They're different, and I'm not gonna get bogged down in judging differences, I'm just going to enjoy both versions.

Back to the elves.

Frodo has some social cache with them, given his relationship to Bilbo and his grasp of the elven language, however small. Frodo also goes in for the traditional polite greetings and exchanges, which is all great. That said...

Thank christ that Pippin has no chill, because if he hadn't burst in and gone, "Tell us about the Black Riders," we'd have been doing social graces for literally another few pages. And I'm willing to bet that Frodo might not have actually gotten there, and then the three would not have been taken under the elves' wing, which again, I'm pretty sure saved their halfling asses. So thank goodness for Pippin just cutting through the bullshit and getting the plot moving a little. And he is amply rewarded with just hella good food and a good night's sleep, so all is right in his little hobbit heart.

I might love Pippin. Like, disproportionately.

What I did not love was Gildor. Gildor and his "Then I think it is not for me to say more - lest terror should keep you from your journey," and his "advice is a dangerous gift," and his "is it not enough to know that they are servants of the enemy?" and his "courage is found in unlikely places."

Gildor. My dude. Sweetie, honey, friend. YOU ARE NOT HELPING HERE WITH THE PHILOSOPHIZING AND THE PASSING OF THE BUCK. This is actually how you know Tolkien was a tried and true academic, because you can't get a straight answer to a direct question without being taken through a masterclass in philosophy first.

Like, I'm so happy for you and your education and your erudition, but for fucks sake, if I asked you if the sky was blue, we'd be debating what "blue" is for hours over tea when what I needed was a straight answer so I could plan my day. (I would be a terrible elf, you guys. Just absolutely terrible.)

The best I can say about Gildor is that he names Frodo an Elf-Friend, which I'm willing to bet is going to be beneficial down the road. He also made sure that Frodo, Sam, and Pippin were safe that night, and they got fed. So I guess that's a win.

Overall a fun chapter, and I'm excited to finally catch up with Merry and start planning to bail on the Shire in the next chapter!