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titilationexpress · 3 years

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StarscreamxReader-Sweet Dreams are made of Screams Ch.1

First ever lemon. Please give your input. Reposting from my Ao3.

You haven’t been able to sleep properly for weeks now. And frankly, you’re wondering if you ever will again in your lifetime.

Yet what caused you to have such a problem with something that once came to you so easily? Ok, maybe not easily. No, scratch that. It was never easy. You had to take some sleeping pills every night to even get a few hours in. Still, how did it happen?

Well, the trouble had started back not long ago. In fact, from what you could recall, it hadn’t even been a full month before your ‘problem’ started. See, you were a fairly average individual. You had your quirks, your habits, the little things that make each person an individual. One particular interest you had though was quite specific, and even more, came from a decade long before you were born.

Transformers.

Oh yes, your beginnings were humble when you first started with the franchise, and you looked with wide, awe-filled eyes. Your starting place was where you first discovered it, the one show that will remain in your heart forever. From that, you got into the characters, the story, the lore of what started as a toyline for young boys (though it was clear now that both sexes had a love for it), all of it. And from there, you went on to past and future generations from your starting point, and now, you were a certified Transformers fan! Hell, one of your favorite sites ever is TFWiki.

With this entrance into the fandom, you took to devouring everything that you could: the cartoons and animes, the books, the movies, fanfiction, fanart, fan comics, doujinshi, anything and everything that you could get your hands on, you did. And not long after, you began contributing yourself, drawing, writing, whatever you could to make your stand and have your place in the community. At first, it worked well enough, you weren’t exactly prolific, yet you were doing well enough. You managed to get a few requests for certain things to be drawn/written, believe it or not, but still, you weren’t overly big.

And then came your discovery of the Reader genre.

What is the Reader genre? Why, as far as you were concerned, only one of the greatest genres ever to be conceived! Well, to be more accurate, the form of writing wasn’t anything new, remembering the ‘Choose Your Adventure’ books. It seemed said genre now spread everywhere, you being very aware of the numerous games and dating sims that ranged from well done and engaging to outright ridiculous and stupid (but those were fun in their unique way). And since you didn’t have any knowledge or time to do that, you settled for writing them yourself. Your first piece was a simple Optimus x Reader with the standard plot and standard outcome, which was a declaration of love and a resulting kiss with the Autobot Leader. You were NOT expecting the overflow of response that it had gotten. You were quite shocked, but at the same time, overjoyed. Soon, you decided to try your luck with another one, this one being of Bumblebee, the scenario being mostly the same, albeit with a bit more cutesy fluff, as in your mind, Bumblebee was always the little guy. This one was just as successful, and you beamed, having finally found your calling.

Since then, you were getting requests left and right for more and more choices, all spanning different universes. From the animated cartoons to the comics, different universes, everything that spanned from the most well-known incarnations to the more obscure. It was through these that you managed to get even more into the Transformers multiverse as a whole and even discovered some truly overlooked gems. You opened yourself up to the people and declared that you would write whatever they requested, but you had some taboos that you wouldn’t touch. But any scenario, character, and universe, all of that was fair game.

You had originally begun working on more mundane, typical stories with expected outcomes (but sweet ones nonetheless), yet over time, the requests and your imagination began getting more creative and crazy. Soon, you were delving into several different areas that you had never touched. Elves, goblins, mermaids, vampires, forbidden love, love triangles, all of these were laid at your feet. And while it took a bit to find your rhythm, all of this having come on you so fast, you eventually got it and soon, you had a wide collection of X Reader stories, ranging from G1 to Prime and IDW’s run.

You mainly did Autobots, for you had to admit that writing for them, while they were still complex characters, came somewhat easier for you. True, each of them had their faults and quirks (both from canon and headcanons people had come up with), yet they were still the good guys, and even those with more questionable morality still came out as heroes in the end. But then one day came where you were asked to write about a Decepticon. This threw you for a loop, as, while the thought had intrigued you, you had been writing for good guys for some time, so a total shift in direction was somewhat off-putting and scary. Possibilities of it being too saccharine or sweet, or getting the characters wrong or out of character scared you a bit, yet still, you wanted to test the waters and see if you could do it. And if you could, this would open up so much more for you.

And judging from the input, you had just struck gold yet again.

Soon, not only were you flooded with requests for Autobots, but now their foes were also available, and, as you found out, people had just as much an attraction for the darkness as they did for the light. Again, the same scenarios were implemented, yet now, they had something of a darker edge to them, which allowed you to explore some subjects you couldn’t touch with the Autobots without toning it back somewhat. In a way, the Decepticons provided you with more freedom. Ironic, seeing as Megatron’s motto was “Peace through Tyranny.”

That said, you went through the list of available characters throughout the generations, and so far, those had been garnering quite a following as well, your Autobot and Decepticon stories neck and neck in popularity. Everything seemed to be going well for you.

Then that one question came.

‘Hey, where’s Starscream?’

Then another.

‘Could you write one about Starscream?’’

Then another.

‘Hey, hate to bother you, yet I think that Starscream could use some love here.’

More and more questions and requests for the particular Decepticon filled your messages, and frankly, you were at a loss on what to do. Truth be told, you and Starscream had something of a complicated history. When you had gotten into Transformers, you had heard of the character, yet at first, you never saw why he had gained such a large fanbase. True, he wasn’t a bad character, yet he wasn’t your favorite. But over time, as you wrote more and more for the Decepticons, as well as read X Reader stories from other people, you slowly began to, as one would say, gain an interest in the winged robot. And soon, you found yourself enamored by the smug jerk as well.

But this only made you reluctant to write for him.

True, when you started writing for the Decepticons, you were allowed to experiment with some more intimate and extreme situations, yet with Starscream...it was different. It was hard to explain, yet whenever you got a request to write for him, your brain seemed to seize up. Thoughts came to your head that you had tried to banish, thoughts that came every time you saw the Seeker’s name. You had no idea what was going on or why this was so difficult, yet it seemed the Silver Snake had taken to making your fingers not touch the keyboard.

You had no idea at all. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

And since you had gotten the slew of requests, your sleep problems began. The moment you shut your eyes, the scenario began all over again.

…

You needed no introduction to where you were or what you were seeing, it all quite familiar to you now. Around you were towering walls of a silvery mauve color, the only available light from above sparse and leaving several areas coated in darkness. This place was all too familiar, for you had seen it many times in your watching and reading of Transformers.

You were in Decepticon headquarters.

Your dreams had been filled with the base of the enemy faction of the Autobots, and at first, it had shocked you as to why you were here at all. But over time, night after night, you came here, and soon, you grew accustomed to the sight of it. You took on the form of your Transformers persona/OC or remained in your regular, human form, whatever pleased you as if you had some control over this environment. Yet as you grew more familiar (you were never sure if you’d be comfortable), you began to explore the place, finding that, to your surprise, there was no one here. No signs of any sort of life aboard the ship, and while it took a good while, you traveled everywhere you could think of, and still, nothing. No Megatron, no other Decepticons, no one but you had been aboard.

At least, that was what you believed when you first had this dream. Then, you heard it. The voice. His voice.

“Oooh, I’m the Boogie Man,”

Singing, serenading, just loud enough for you to hear, yet low enough for you to know it was far away. It always started this way.

“The terrible, horrible Boogie Man,”

Your ears/audio receptors registered the voice as it echoed throughout the ship. When the dreams had begun, you knew immediately who was singing, and then you were more surprised at how it sounded. Sure, it had its infamous high pitch, yet it wasn’t bad to listen to. Daresay, it was rather enjoyable in its own way.

“I come in the middle of the night and frighten bad little girls like you.”

The first few times you had this dream, it would almost always startle you, yet it led you to look down the other balls and corridors of the ship. The results were always the same though: no one was aboard. No one but you...and him.

“Beware, better have a care,”

The song changed each and every time you entered the dream, tonight being a track you heard on a video game you played not too long ago (Bioshock 2 you believed). Yet the songs always had the same effect on you.

“I’m going to follow you everywhere.”

Despite your trepidation, you wanted...needed to follow it.

“I crawl through the ceiling and the wall and call on bad little girls like you.”

Walking, then running, you traversed the winding path before you, taking several left and right turns, having no sense of direction but that voice. A voice that, despite its infamous sound, held power to it, a siren’s song in a way. Ironic, you thought. Still, you followed, for you had reached your limit. You knew what would happen if you didn’t find him.

“I’ll torture you and hunt you,”

And never leave.

I’ve got you where I want you,”

And never let you escape this dream.

“A victim of my dark and dirty plot.”

And he knew it too. He knew he had power over you. And you hated it.

“And at the slightest whim, I’ll tear you limb from limb,”

Or…

“In other words, I’ll put you on the spot.”

Did you?

“Oooh, I’m the Boogie Man,”

You were close. So dangerously close.

“The terrible, horrible Boogie Man.”

Just a turn around the corner.

“I come in the middle of the night and frighten…”

He paused, you stopping in your tracks at what you saw. There he was. Situated behind violet bars of energy in a cell, the Decepticon stood there with his arms folded and looking upon you with satisfied, hungry red eyes.

“...bad little girls like you.”

It was him.

Starscream.

Your favorite incarnation of Starscream, those ruby orbs boring into your own eyes/optics. You stepped back from the cell, eyes/optics wide at what was before you. Sure, if you were to go by dream logic, some part of you always knew that it was ‘him’ that awaited you at the end of this journey, but still, to actually see him, standing there so casually when it looked like he was locked up, it chilled you. As if he had absolutely nothing to worry about.

“My, my, so you finally found me,” he said, his voice perfectly matching the incarnation that stood before you. “Or rather, I found you. Whichever way it goes, it doesn’t matter,” he smirked. “For I already know the outcome.”

You blinked a few times, still trying to see if who was before you had truly been there. “St…” you began nervously. “Starscream?”

The Decepticon chuckled and stepped out of the shadows, allowing you to fully see him. “In the mesh,” he said. “And I see that introductions won’t need to be made either, will they, Y/N?” your eyes/optics went wide. “That’s right, pet, I know everything. This IS your mind after all.”

“Wh-What?” you stammered. “I don’t understand.”

Starscream’s grin only grew wider. “You will soon. You will understand EVERYTHING.”

Just what was he talking about? From the looks of it, he seemed to be enjoying your tension and trepidation, very amused. Your mind went into fan mode, recalling every fact you had known of Starscream and his various incarnations, which then led to you going on the defensive. “You…” albeit, it took you a try or two. “You’re the one that’s been doing this to me. Giving me these...these weird dreams.” the Decepticon didn’t answer, yet it was clear that he already knew that the secret was out (even if it wasn’t much of one). “You’re also the one that’s not letting me have one decent night’s sleep without being trapped here!”

“Or me serenading you?” he added in. “How do you like it? I don’t do it often, yet if I wish, I can stretch out my vocal components if I want.”

Your cheeks grew hot. Damn, this bastard was already making you too wound up, and you had only gotten a few words in! “Well...I’m here now,” you said, trying to sound confident, and, ironically enough, trying to channel Megatron’s dominating aura. “So, what do you want?”

This didn’t phase him in the slightest. Despite him being the one locked up, you were the one who felt like his prisoner. “I think you already know that dear Y/N,” he said. “But to put it simply, I’m feeling left out.”

You were confused. “Left out?” You asked. “Left out of…” you paused. Indeed, you knew well what he was talking about. “My...my reader inserts.”

Starscream nodded. “Quite an extensive library you’ve built up over time.” He told you. “Though your choices could be much better.” he scoffed. “Of course goody-good Prime would be on the list, along with the rest of the Auto-dolts.” Then he grimaced. “Yet there are those that actually want to FRAG Megatron? Ugh! No taste at all!” He then looked back at you. “You’ve written for everyone, from either faction, of every series,” he then pouted. “But none for me. Truly, Y/N, I’m hurt.”

You felt quite awkward. True, while you were known online for your stories, it was your username and persona they were seeing. They weren’t someone that was right around the corner that could walk in and see you writing these things. While you loved doing it, the thought of your family or friends discovering you wrote in this genre was a thought you dared not entertain, as you swore that you’d die from embarrassment. Thus, you were very careful whenever you did it, your room completely locked tight so you could focus without fear of someone barging in. The only times you left during your writing periods were for bathroom breaks and/or to eat/drink something. It was a big secret...and thinking about it now, it was a secret no more to the most infamous backstabber in all of Transformers. You had been found out.

“Well...so what? Are you going to keep haunting me until I do?” you asked. “You can’t do that!”

Starscream didn’t seem phased by this at all. That damned smirk of his both frustrated and made you excited, a combination that left you very unsure. “Can’t I?” he asked.

You didn’t like his tone. “What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s consider for a moment, Y/N,” he said. “You believe that I’m merely a figment of your imagination, yes? A stubborn thought that is lodged in your subconscious. Am I right?” you shifted a bit, knowing well what he was saying would lead to something else. Something that probably would flip everything on its head. “Well...who’s to say that I am?”

“I...I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. But what I say might just jog your memory.” he then went on. “In your last X Reader, you spoke of multiple versions of the characters, such as Prime and...yes, even Megatron,” Starscream scoffed. “And how it would’ve been peculiar if they met. Then, one of your readers linked you to a page on the TFWiki.” Starscream then chuckled. “Quite an array of knowledge, I must say. Especially for a primitive species such as yourselves. Anyway, said page spoke of what is labeled as the Transformers Multiverse, which, if I may say, is an excuse for you all to toy with and shape us into what YOU want. But back on track, you did a small amount of research on that, then went on about your business.”

“...and what does this have to do with why you’re here?”

Starscream smirked. “Then, after some time, you went and read the entries of me from various series and incarnations. To get a better feel for what you were thinking of writing. What you wanted to write. Only, you never did.” You were about to speak again, but the seeker spoke again before you could. “There was one detail from my earliest incarnation that spoke of a ‘ghost’, an immortal spark that couldn’t be snuffed out. One that could travel through space and time.” He drew closer to the bars. “And then discovered a way to travel through dimensions. Wherein, I found out all about how so many humans have seen my reality behind a television screen.”

What was he talking about? What did any of what he said mean? It was then that it all clicked for you. Sparks were essentially the ‘soul’ of a Transformer, which Starscream’s was indestructible. You read that he made an appearance in Beast Wars, and had made cameos elsewhere. What was before you right now...mere feet away…” Are you.. “ you stammered. “Are you really…”

The Decepticon nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am, Y/N.”

You were left speechless. No. No, this...this was impossible. It...it couldn’t be him! It couldn’t be the REAL Starscream! He was a cartoon, no, a toy! A damn toy! A toy from the eighties that were made to be marketable to young boys (and the girls that were secretly into it) among several other toys that were made be marketable to young boys (and again, the girls that were secretly into it)! There was NO way he was in your mind right now! He wasn’t real! He wasn’t real! He wasn’t-

“You step out into the chilled air, wrapping your arms around yourself as you do.” the Decepticon suddenly began. “He’s there to pick you up. He’s there to pick you up. You’re both terrified and exhilarated, eager to start the night, but also to make it fly by just enough so nothing embarrassing would happen between the two of you.” your jaw dropped when you heard him say that. How did he- “Know that you recently read over your very first entry? The one that started it all?” he then ‘rolled’ his eyes. “The one that clearly displayed that you had little taste at first?”

Of course, you did! That was from your very first X Reader story! It told of Optimus Prime and you, a human, in a relationship. Odd start, you knew, especially given that Transformer x Human relations was sort of controversial, yet overall, it wasn’t a bad one. Still, the fact he knew that…” No.” you said aloud. “It can’t be.”

He smiled. “I am.”

You stepped back until you hit a wall. “S-Starscream.” you stuttered. “You’re him. You’re the...the real one.” he was quite satisfied with your reaction, you clearly flustered yet cautious at the same time. The sensation drove you mad. But then you remember, this was just a dream! You were just making up all this stuff! You were relieved by this revelation...yet at the same time, you were...curious. Just where would this go if you continued? “Well...well, what are you doing here? What do you want?”

“Exactly as I said before, I feel left out,” Starscream told you. “And considering my popularity in this universe, I’d think me being here should tell you something.”

You knew what he wanted. “You want me to write about you.” it was obvious. “I-I know. I mean, I’ve been wanting to. Really, I have. But...but I...I just…” you sighed. If you knew Starscream (and you had at least a decent enough faith you did), you knew that this could potentially earn you his anger. Yet, to your surprise, he didn’t try to order you around. Instead, he seemed like he already knew you were going to say that.

“You can’t,” he said for you. “Understand, I’m the one in YOUR mind. Thus, you could say, I know everything about you. A perk of being something that, in this universe, started out as a drawing on a piece of paper.” you were confused, this seemed to humor Starscream even more. “Oh, come now. Surely you know that concept art exists, right?”

All of this was so insane for you, yet it was then that you felt the urge to speak up and say something for yourself for once. “Well, if you’re here from the...well, YOUR universe, what are you doing here in the first place?”

“Why, this is one of the few places I win!” Starscream exclaimed. “Of course, when I first came here, I was quite perplexed about how I and many others were known as products from a company called ‘Hasbro’. But overtime, I discovered your version of the internet, and, well, as you flesh bags say, the rest is history.” he then continued, not giving you a chance to speak. “And bring that I am an idea in this universe, I can go freely as I wish, peering into minds,” his red eyes looked upon you. “Become one’s permanent muse or vice versa.”

God, you felt weird. You felt so confused and conflicted. You wanted to sink into the wall to get away, but you also wanted to know more about this. You had to know more. You needed to know more. “So…?”

“So, I’ve come to you, as you’re truly in need of some inspiration,” Starscream said. “As well as some changes in your thinking.”

“Like what? Worshiping the ground you walk on?” you ask, feeling a little bolder.

“Oh, you already do.” he said. “If you didn’t desire me, I wouldn’t be here.” he grinned at your shocked expression. “That’s right, Y/N, I know what truly holds you back from writing about me. Your fears, your anxieties, your loves and lusts.” you had no words. “You fear that you may get me wrong if you will. That I won’t be in character. Or you fear that you won’t be able to satisfy the wants of your readers, as I AM so highly anticipated. Or…” he leaned closer to the bars, the only barrier separating you two. “You fear exploring those more intimate pleasures with me. You’re intimidated and unsure. After all, writing for Autobots is easy, yet us Decepticons are more difficult. But it HAS awakened things in you that you wish to explore on either side. Things that you are dying to let out.”

You had no words, he was completely right. Damn him! The smug bastard knew he had you in the palm of his hand...and yet also probably knew that’s what made you so hot and bothered right now! “So...what? Are you here to force me to write those things with you in them?”

“Dear Y/N, I can’t technically make you do anything,” Starscream told you. “Oh yes, I can stay and torment you night after night until either I pass onto another universe or I grow bored of you, but my reason being here is for both our benefits.”

“How?”

“It’s quite simple,” he said. “We shall go through those scenarios in your head.” his ruby red optics bore into yours/your eyes. “Together.” he then reached out from in between the bars and traced a digit around your jawline. “Believe it or not, I want to help you, Y/N.” his voice was smooth and sultry, something you never expected from a voice like his. “But only you can allow me to do so.” he then stepped back from the bars. “This prison of mine is something you’ve constructed from your fears and insecurities. Allow yourself to embrace what you fear…” he then extended his hand again, yet stepped back as well, sinking into the darkness. “Only then, will you truly be free.”

You were at a standstill. You knew what he wanted, and, to your horror, you were wanting to give it to him. Deny it all you want, this was something that had been in your mind ever since you got the first request for the Seeker. You approached the bars, trying to get some sign that he was still there. Surely he hadn’t left you, had he? No, he hadn’t. He was still there, you could feel him. Watching, waiting, and perhaps, knowing what you would do before you did.

Yet would you do it? Would you bite into that forbidden fruit?

Some while after pondering this question, you looked at the cell, the energy bars vanishing. Why fight it when you could already taste the sweet tartness of said fruit in the back of your throat?

#starscream g1 #starscream #tfp #transformers bayverse #transformers animated #transformers cyberverse #transformers x reader #lemon #set up #fanfic #reader #self insert #first part

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sasster · 3 years

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I dunno if you guys can tell but I haven’t done a lot of fantroll stuff lately. Or really. Much of anything. But I DID write this.

Mind this is just some oc species shit, BUT it would mean quite a lot to me if you guys read it. Since it’s the... Longest thing I’ve written in .. All of 2021? Yike!

Anyway, as usual, here is a link to a google doc if reading it on my blog upsets the minds eye.

----

“You know that we are practically Gods in comparison, right? It is a marvel that my people are not in the conquering business. We would be very good at it, do you not agree?”

Their captor spoke with a high in their voice, Qei was positive that they’d gotten their hands on some sort of mind altering substance to get them into the mindset that they were in -- Well, how else could you explain prattling on your master plan to a supposed lesser species? He found it rather foolish for the younger Cardali to speak so loudly and so boldly in front of newly rounded up prisoners. That was to say nothing to the tragically gaudy and unnecessary large castle-like structure that he and the four others of his crew were dragged to. Truly, he’d never seen such high ceilings outside of the Temples on Cardalith. What a waste of resources.

The upside is that the People of Aeilur were a remarkably easy species to mimic. They have no real sexual dimorphism, at least not one noticeable from the outside looking in, nor do they spend a lot of their time on ridiculous beauty standards. They were just a product of their world. Aeilur is a beautiful planet, actually, lush with fauna and vegetation long extinct on most other worlds. A strong, sturdy, practical people, with pacifism practiced down to an art, they wouldn’t raise arms even if an entire army to make a grab for their planet and it’s bountiful resources. It was Falarittus’ responsibility to help keep such things from occurring.

Qei could see how an opportunistic megalomaniac might have taken advantage of such information, he just never thought that he would see the day that one such megalomaniac would be an Ambassador of Cardalith, one of their own. He was disgusted.

There is a tug at the shackles that restrain his top set of hands, indicating that while he was lost in thought he’d stopped shuffling behind. He emits a low inquisitive grunt, he was going his usual hm, but he supposes that this is the only translation his current form could offer. How fascinating! He’d have to make plans to spend more time with the People of Aeilur. Under less pressing circumstances.

There is another sharp tug at his reins and he resumes trudging along behind the madman. How humiliating. Demoralizing. It was important for him to experience this though, so that he could speak to his short experience under their thumb when it came time to trial. There would be a trial. Not that Qei was worried that Falarittus would have much of a case. It would be short.

Not as short as it would have been if Qei were to let his patron in on the manhunt -- Why that temperamental giant would have lost it before they even stepped foot into this… Mansion? Seriously, this thing was gaudy. Might’ve burned the whole thing down Himself. No matter, this was always going to be a job for Qei. He even felt bad bringing along a crew with him. Diollea insisted he bring back up “just in case”.

He threw a worried glance over his shoulder to gauge them. They seemed comfortable, and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

Oh. Right, Falarittus was still talking.

“Once they see what I’ve done for the people of this world, the Gods themselves would shower me in praise. My peers and superiors would turn to me for guidance in the new age!”

It looks like Qei tuned back in just in time for a gem! He couldn’t help himself as the air quickly expelled from his new and quite long proboscis, which resulted in trumpets quite a bit louder than he was anticipating. He thinks this might be what a laugh is for this species. He did not intend to be laughing, but the idea that their creators would entertain the idea of the subjugation of any species, let alone one so peaceful as the People of Aeilur, was preposterous!

Only an idiot who made their home the size of a mall would have such delusions.

“What is so funny, worm?”

Worm! Perhaps not letting Diollea come was the mistake, this miserable pile of goo would long be ashes in that event. The trumpets were coming in spurts now, and Qei’s guess was that these were the equivalent of hiccups or maybe wheezing.

Qei’s crew took some steps back as Falarittus took the several steps to close the gaps between them. Now, naturally, Falarittus and Qei were eye level, but in this form they only came to just about chest level with him. Gentle, emphasis on the giant, indeed. The latters trunk swayed between them with a gentle undulation in a behavior that Qei was actually quite familiar with! Taunting.

He’d only seen it when three sisters prepared for a friendly bout of wrestling upon their reunion; It was cute. This was not.

“Oh, did you want to fight? Is that it? Did you plan to be the warrior of your people?”

Qei merely held up his two sets of shackled hands, hands big enough to hold Falarittus’ head in it. Hands that could crack their skull like a fragile piece of pottery if he were so inclined. He could not disrespect this form with violence, though, he thinks.

The bitter laugh that erupted from the man opposite him was unlike anything he’d ever heard come from the mouth of another Cardali, and he has met many of them in his day. It was almost ear splitting and made the hairs from his arms to his chest stand on end. Danger receptors? Very nice.

“It is not in you to fight, but please raise your hands to me so that I may cite self defense back to my superiors.”

There was a sick smirk on their face as they pulled a set of keys from their robes -- Robes, they were wearing robes like some sort of high priest in a fantasy story book -- and began to unlock the cruel piece of metal from Qei’s top set of arms. This was ideal, as he was fairly certain this is the set that translates back to the singular set of arms in his natural form, as they did not rudely burst from his shoulder blades like the second set did.

“Let's keep it fair, I only have the one pair after all.”

“Fair?” His own voice was quite alien to him, raspy and guttural as it tried to form words unfamiliar to the vocal cords tongue he borrowed to speak. Standard was not a language that belonged in this mouth.

“Fair. Say it with me. F-er.” Holy. Xenophobia. How did this pass the sniff test? No, there had to be another traitor in their ranks for such an awful wretched soul to have been left alone here. An example was to be made, and Qei would make sure that it was handled swiftly. The only good news was that this was so early on, that there was just this region of the planet that experienced it. Which was a really bad thing to think was a good thing. But there was a chance that the People of Aeilur would continue to allow Cardalith’s aid.

“Fair.” Qei said, once again the word barely made it past his tusks in one piece.

Falarittus cackled wildly at this attempt as Qei closed his eyes and focused his energy intro retracting that disrespectful set of arms back into his body, he’d been shifting for quite long time at this point in his life, so the rest of the shift passed by with a pleasant hum and totally not worth describing from the inside.

He reopened his eyes to the sound of metal hitting the floor, he was now looking at his own hands, ambient green glow and birthmarks exactly where he’d left them. They were clenched into tight fists. Most importantly, though, he was staring straight into the shell shocked eyes of the once quite full of himself clown.

“Fair enough?”

“Qei’eleritte, wait, let's talk about this --”

He swung hard, possibly with more force than intended, because they crumpled to the floor almost instantly. Behind him, he could hear the humored trumpeting of his still disguised crew behind him.

This could have been so much worse.

#coko writes sometimes #qei things #waves hello #owo)/#i would appreciate feedback but if you're mean i'll cry

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #389

“i’m well aware i’m a danger to myself / are you aware i’m a danger to others?”

How much do you weigh? Yeah, we're starting off on a bad foot. If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Putting Roman's used litter in the trash. Do you think you can love someone without trusting them? Hm... I guess you could love them, but it'd be a complicated situation. What’s your opinion on people who go hunting for sport? If it's purely for sport, from the very bottom of my heart, fuck you. Do you have a fairly fast or slow internet connection? I'd say it's decently fast. Have you ever been someplace tropical? Yeah, Florida. My grandma lived there. Are you sensitive to caffeine? No. It does like... nothing to me. How do you usually get around? My mom's car. Have you ever been accused of being too clingy? No actually, but I know I kinda am. What do you think about Kim Kardashian? I don't have an opinion of her. Can you speak any French? No. Favorite yogurt flavor? The only yogurt I've been liking lately is cookies and cream to add a different texture, because otherwise, I don't like its natural texture very much??? Idk man, my taste buds are wild. How much money do you have in your wallet right now? Just like $5. What bottled water brand do you like? Essentia. Your favorite way to eat chocolate? As chocolate bars, probably. How often do you listen to country music? Like, never. Linkin Park or Avenged Sevenfold? Linkin Park. Last surgery you had? Pilonidal cyst removal. Have you ever played guitar? I briefly took classes for it in high school, yes. Best I got to was playing some of the intro to "Crazy Train." I enjoyed it, but not enough to be consistent and really learn. Is there someone in your life whose career/life choices you find immoral/unethical? Have you ever told that person your views? Do you find it difficult to support them (emotionally or otherwise) because of their choices? I don't think so? What trait do you feel you lack that you wish you possessed? Independence and confidence would be nice... Have you ever considered writing your memoirs? No. Do you find it difficult to stay invested in online relationships? God no. I love my online friends. Half of 'em more than "irl" ones. Are you the type of person who pays close attention to the release dates of movies, music, etc., and will, for example, go see a movie or buy an album on the date it is released? If so, when is the last time you did so? I have to be VERY invested in it to care THAT much. It happened most recently when Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty premiered. Do you have any stickers on your laptop? No. Would you rather have a job for which you had to go in early in the morning or one you had to stay late into the evening at? Early in the morning. I'm in a better mood in the morning. Do you use any apps to track your health or medications? I have a calorie-counting app, as well as one to track my period. Whose opinions/recommendations do you value most? My mom's, best friend's, and psychiatrist's. If you could’ve been at any historical event, which would you have liked to witness firsthand? I don't really know. Maybe the very first Pride event? Is there something that you really want to do but are afraid of doing? If so, why are you afraid of doing it? Ride a rollercoaster, for one. I know I never will, though. I'm too afraid of throwing up, but even more realistically, I fear passing out before of the twisting and turning and just standing up makes me very dizzy. My blood pressure is STUPID low. What is something society “expects” you to do that you don’t want to do and/or don’t plan on doing? Have kids. That's a big 'ole fat no from me. Have Jehovah's Witnesses ever come to your door? Twice at least. Are you well-known by people in your area? No. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? No, thank Christ. It sounds terrifying. What's your favourite type of bird? Barn owls. Melanistic ones, to be exact. Stunning. What tv show(s) have you been watching currently? I'm only keeping up with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Have you ever dated a smoker? For less than a day. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? Yes. Have you ever been a member in a band? No. Besides the school band. Can you cry on command? If so, have you ever used it to your advantage? No. Do you have separate emails for personal and business? No. Have you ever missed a flight? Yes. Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? Multiple times. Have you ever taken a ride in a convertible? I think once with my brother. Why did you last need to use a band-aid? I'unno. What fruit do you eat most often? Apples. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? My ma. Has someone ever tried to start an argument with you over Facebook? What happened? A few times. I don't feel like thinking over this. Have you ever had an unusual type of milk (eg. oat, rice, almond)? I've tried almond milk, and I hated it. If you could experience life as a Disney princess for a week, which princess would you pick and why? uhhhhhh idk When you’re at home, do you spend most of your time in your room? I'm essentially always in my room. If you like to sleep in late, have your parents ever told you off for doing so? No. Do you find piercings attractive? Yep. Do you like potato chips? Loooove 'em. What’s the most stalker-like/creepy thing you’ve ever done? If you don’t think you’ve done anything like that, what’s the most stalker-like thing someone’s done to you? Nothing beyond checking Jason's Facebook sometimes after the breakup, I think. Even that though I wouldn't recommend doing. You're just going to get yourself hurt. Stay away from exes' profiles. Do you think it’s a double standard that a woman can hit a man and expect to get away with it, but if a man hits a woman it’s assault? Yep. I don't give a fuck what's in your pants, you don't hit anybody unless you're fighting to defend yourself. What’s your favorite old Disney movie and favorite new Disney movie? I mean... define "old." I'll go with The Lion King for old, and for new, uh... Finding Dory, probs. Name something “trendy” or popular that you dislike. I don't really know what IS trendy right now... Is Snapchat still "in?" Because I've never gotten that. “Dirty talk” in the bedroom…love it, like it, don’t care, dislike it, or hate it? I think I'm kinda neutral about it? Like I mean it also depends on exactly what is said. I prefer more loving talk, though. What is/are your favorite type(s) of ethnic food, and what’s your favorite food within that type? I'm a basic fatass that likes American cuisine most, aha... Like give me a cheeseburger and I'm happy lmao. How would you describe your relationship with your hair over the years? I love it more now at a short length than I ever did long. When it was long and I was in my deepest depression, I was awful about brushing it. It would get so knotted. Like looking back, it nearly makes me shiver. I HIGHLY recommend cutting your hair for anyone who struggles with selfcare. How do you feel about your SO daily/regularly checking up on a couple of his exes on social media? I'm single, but hypothetically, if you're checking an ex's page nearly every day, I would not be okay with that. I'm totally fine with exes remaining friends and just cordially talking now and again, but that's it. It's a respect thing. Do you prefer your guy to wear cologne or not? I personally like cologne if it's not overwhelming. I really don't care if you wear it or not, though. Ladies, how important is it to you that your SO wears/would wear a wedding ring? This survey is so heteronormative. But anyway, unless there was an issue like it not fitting, I'd want my spouse to wear their ring. What was the turning point that led you to decide for or against having children? There are a lot of reasons I don't want kids. I'm too selfish with my "me" time, I stress out too easily, I don't want to dedicate my life to keeping another person alive and fed and happy, I have bad genes... I could go on and on. I just wouldn't be a good, "present" enough mom. I am much more interested in ensuring *I* am okay. Is having your “dream” wedding really that important to have? Not at all. I mean I want a smooth and memorable wedding, but I'm not obsessed with it being perfect. Do you consider it cheating if your SO goes to a strip club and then doesn’t tell you? That's certainly not cheating, but I wouldn't like it. Being secretive about anything in a relationship is unhealthy, imo. I'd be hurt and also very insecure because I wouldn't feel like "enough." How old is too old for trick-or-treating? Honestly? I don't think you ever are. Like come on, does it REALLY matter? Let people have fun. I don't do it because of societal standards, but I would if I didn't care about being judged. Do you sleep with your arms over or under the covers? It depends on the temperature, but I normally wake up with them under. Do you own any t-shirts of your favorite band? I have an Ozzy one stored somewhere, but it doesn't fit me now. There was another I really liked too, but that one is WAY too small now. Fries or onion rings? Fries. I'm not a fan of onion rings. True/False: you’ve had an odd dream this week. Story of my life. I had one last night where I kept dying in different ways, and I actually felt the pain, like drowning in magma. Do you find tattoo sleeves attractive? YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Do you like carving pumpkins? Yeah. What’s an animal you want to have as a pet but can’t? My mom has absolutely forbidden me to get a tarantula (uh, many tarantulas in my case) until I move out, lol. That doesn't stop me from checking Craigslist like every day. ;_; Have your parents ever caught you drinking? "Caught," no. Any time I've drunk, I've had permission or was a legal adult by then. How would you react if your celebrity crush came to your door? First be humiliated at my appearance and then absolutely pass out lmao. Has your mom/dad ever walked in on you kissing or anything more with someone? No, thank fuck. The person you have a crush on is drunk and goes to kiss you, you know they don’t realize what they’re doing, but do you kiss anyways? If I know it's something they wouldn't do sober, absolutely not. What would you prefer to get from a guy/girl: flowers, a hand written poem, a picture he drew of you or a nice night out? Any would be lovely, but the poem would appeal most to me because of the amount of thought that goes into poetry. Do you any shirts with any kind of images of food on them? What? I don't think so, no. Which holiday is the most fun to decorate for? Halloween. What was the first website you had an email account on? Yahoo. Have you ever written a fanfic? No. Tattoos or piercings? Both are grand, but tats win. What’s the last gross movie/show/video you saw? I saw this picture of a snake split open that had eaten another snake. Would you rather live in a huuuge house or a little cozy one? Lil cozy one! I don't want more space than is needed for cleaning reasons, as well as price. Do you have a tutor for anything? No. Who’s the best kisser you know? Jason was. Has anyone ever threatened you with a knife? No. I'd like it to stay that way. (If you’re a girl) Has anyone ever called you "shortie" instead of girl? Ew, no. Do you have a deep voice? For a woman, yes. Do you play games with boys/girls, like 'hard to get’? Hi, I'm an adult. Is there a Sonic where you live? YES. It's my fave fast-food place. What do you like on your pizza? I have three go-tos depending on my mood: Pepperoni, jalapenos, or meat lovers.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

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My Dearest Inej | Chapter Eleven

Chapter Masterlist

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Chapter Eleven: A Balancing Act

My darling Inej,

Don’t think for a minute I don’t know what you’re aiming at with this letter full of questions. You may have my heart, but you can’t be privy to all of my schemes, especially when I’m now aware that your birthday is next month. Did you think I would forget? My dear, I forget nothing.

So, no, to all of your questions. I’m not telling you what I’ve been plotting lately. I’m not telling you what has been on my mind. I’m not telling you if I’ve been visiting Jesper and Wylan’s more than usual. You must wait in suspense just as Jesper did. That’s part of the experience.

And don’t make that scoffing sound when you read this. I remind you that this whole birthday gift experience business was all your idea. You have no one to blame but yourself.

How do I sleep at night, you asked? Noisily, I’ve been told, but just fine, thank you.

With all of my scheming heart,

Kaz

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To my favorite Inej,

Has he said anything at all to you – regarding the incident in my last letter? We found him on the couch again this morning. It’s at least becoming less startling when it happens. I just wish I understood it. He has that uncanny ability to vanish without explanations, and Wylan and I aren’t sure how to bring it up since he’s so clearly bent on pretending it’s not happening.

I suppose if our sofa and our dog are what he needs right now for whatever is happening inside that ridiculous brain of his, then I’m glad we’re able to help in some small way. He’s not taking advantage of much. We only wish he’d trust us with more.

I mean, we’ve all have nearly died for his schemes on more than one occasion. Should I remind him of that? What could possibly be too much to ask of us at this point?

All my love,

Jesper

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To our feared and beloved Captain

For her twenty-first birthday:

Cake and kvas and mysteries galore

Are awaiting your arrival

Return to Ketterdam if you wish to know more

Your presence is requested at the enclosed address, at 3 bells the 18th of October.

No questions. All will be revealed in time.

Love,

Your favorite Crows

(addition in Kaz’s handwriting)

That gods-awful poem was Jesper and Wylan’s idea. Withhold judgment until after the evening. I’ll make it worth your while.

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Dear Nina,

I’m sailing away from Ketterdam today having nearly every single one of my birthday wishes fulfilled but one. But I won’t hold it against you. I know why you couldn’t have been there, or at least, I understand why I don’t know the specifics of why you couldn’t be there. Just know that, at the time of writing this and always, you are sorely missed.

You would be so proud, though, with how our boys outdid themselves. I am impressed and moved and, frankly, still a little speechless. I’m honestly still replaying the memories and recalling the half-starved scrappy little things we all were seven years ago, and the two images side-by-side could not be any more different. I hope, wherever you are, the passage of time is bringing you similar new hopes. You deserve that and so much more, Nina.

Where to begin? You know, years ago, just before we started the Ice Court, Kaz made me this lofty, insane promise. That, if we did it right, we’d be kings and queens. I’ll be damned if he wasn’t right.

The day started at a dressmaker’s shop. I’d been given an address and a time to arrive, and that alone was a little jaw-dropping. It was in The Lid – an absolute premier spot I’d never even heard of when I lived in Ketterdam. I was grossly underdressed when I arrived. It’s not that I have anything against dresses – you know this. They’re just not at all practical for my line of work, and so I have none. I confess that sometimes I’ll admire them in a shop window when I’m out and about in a port town, but why in the world would I ever spend the coin on one? I wouldn’t even know what suits me anymore.

This dressmaker, though, Nina. She knew all everything about the right fabrics, the right cut, the right make. They’d booked me the entire shop all to myself, just me and the dressmaker. She found me an absolute perfect gown – I’m staring at it right now. I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do with it now that my birthday’s over. Maybe I’ll prop it up in my desk chair and have tea with it every once and awhile. It’s this breathtaking light, pastel yellow, like sunshine, with all this detailed beadwork and exposed shoulders and what the dressmaker called an A-line waist. You might know what that means. I think it’s just dressmaker code for very pretty. She tailored me into it right there in the shop and fitted me with shoes and a cloak to match.

(My one regret was having no idea what to do with my hair. You’d cringe, but I left it in the braid. A minor detail the boys overlooked.)

It took a good few hours to get fixed up in the dress, and it was nearly evening by then. The dressmaker assured me it was all paid for, and right about that time, a black carriage pulled up in front of the shop. And Jesper and Wylan had their heads out the windows, shouting like madmen at me from the streets. I think the entirety of The Lid knew then about my birthday.

Kaz was in the carriage, too, hiding his enthusiasm as he does so well. I have to tell you, though, Nina, I won’t ever forget the look on his face when I got into the carriage. He was clearly trying his best to remain cool and unaffected, but I saw it, the way his jaw dropped slightly and his breath caught. This is obviously why I can never get rid of this dress. I’m just imagining what he’s going to end up writing in his letter after this, since, verbally, he actually managed to mumble that I looked beautiful, right there in front of Jesper and Wylan.

You know, it’s interesting. When he says it, it’s not at all like hearing a man in the Menagerie say it. When he says it, it’s like it’s not just the dress. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s the same words, and yet it’s so very different.

And it only got better from there. The city was getting dusky, and the lamps were being lit. We were still in The Lid, amongst carriages and carriages of the filthy rich from the Financial District, the Government District, and tourists from all over. I kept leaning my head out the window to figure out what was coming next.

Nina – they had bought us all ticket to the Cirque Euphoric.

Maybe this means nothing to you. But it’s only the most ancient, most elite, most elaborate traveling circus in the world. It can only be afforded anymore by the wealthiest of tourists. And they were there doing an entire season in The Lid in Ketterdam, under a big top the size of two city blocks.

Nina, you don’t understand. My entire childhood, I kept posters and drawings and any relic that made its way to the markets from the Cirque Euphoric. Their high wire artists set the standard for all other performers in the business. The things they do in the sky, Nina, are things I haven’t even begun to imagine yet.

Sufficed to say, as soon as I figured out where we were going, I lost it. I did not know what to do with myself. I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I burst into tears. It was a horrifying few moments for everyone involved. They were fairly certain they’d done something horribly wrong, instead of so wonderfully right. But that only last a couple minutes. I was able to get it together before Kaz could yell at the driver to take us back to East Stave. And then the merriment resumed, soaked handkerchief and all.

Oh, Saints, Nina, it was everything I’d ever imagined and more.

I don’t know how he knew this, but Kaz had reserved us the very best seats. You don’t want to sit too high at a circus or you’ll miss entertainment on the ground. Sitting too low presents a problem, too, because you want to be able to see the footwork the high wire artists can do. We were right in the middle, just where I’d have picked seats myself. Sankta Alina, I felt like a little girl again. I haven’t been that happy in years. I’d almost forgotten what it was to be that happy. And to watch it all with such beloved friends, who knew me well enough to know I would like this, to watch and hear their reactions to the performances. They might have loved it almost as much as I did. Almost.

We took another carriage ride after, hours later, when it was dark and the streets were bustling with very different crowds. I would have assumed that was the end of it, but Kaz had made us reservations in a private dining room at a fine dining club I’d never heard of.

My entire crew from The Wraith was waiting in the dining room. We ate a meal there fit for royalty, with drinks and a cake big enough that even you might have gotten sick of it after awhile. I don’t think I’ll need to eat again for weeks.

It must have been around midnight or past when we finally rolled ourselves out of the club. We took another carriage ride, stopping first at the Van Eck mansion so Wylan could haul a decently-sloshed Jesper off to bed and hopefully not to the toilet bowl. I actually never heard how he ended up faring that night.

And then it was finally just Kaz and me. If I hadn’t been so tired then, I think I’d have tried to snog his face off the whole way home. I’d been noticing his smug little smirk all evening. He’d planned the whole thing. Like I said, kings and queens. He’d made good on his word at last.

But we were both exhausted on that final carriage ride – he’d booked me a room at the Geldrenner. And it’s not like I needed anything else at that point. The whole experience had already exceeded my expectations. He leaned back against the window, and I rested against him under his arm. We both dozed off there before the end of the ride.

Which is another point I realize I haven’t mentioned to you yet. This has been happening lately. Kaz falling asleep in unusual places. Jesper’s been worrying about it for weeks now. I was having a hard time believing it until I witnessed it myself. Tell me this isn’t weird:

We got to the Geldrenner, and I asked him to come up. Oh, calm down. Are we really going to pretend like this is shocking at this point? Frankly, given the number of years, it’s shocking we weren’t sneaking into hotel rooms four years ago. And it’s not like we do much more than kiss. Although, I thought about it. It was my birthday after all, and he had just gifted me the experience of a lifetime and a luxury hotel room to boot. I was definitely thinking about it.

But that’s not the weird part. Let’s agree that’s not the weird part, anyway. We came up, and we did very little talking. There’d been plenty of talking happening all night, and I was more interested in other things he can do with his mouth. Kissing, Nina, Saints. I can sense you doing that waggling thing with your eyebrows. I’m talking about just a lot of kissing, as soon as he let me get my hands on him. The kind of kissing every grown woman should have on her birthday, kisses that slide into more kisses, like there’s nothing else in the world happening but this.

But then the weird part happened. We’re lying on the bed (fully clothed, Nina, he even still had his gloves on), or at least, he’s lying back on the pillows and I’m kissing him, and then I notice he wasn’t really moving. And I sat back a moment, and I swear to you, he had fallen asleep. Believe me, I called him out on it right then, literally – “Are you sleeping?!” And he flinched right awake and apologized and blamed it on the kvas, and I might have even believed him.

Except Jesper keeps talking about this strange new habit of his. And, as I replay the night’s memories in my head, it does feel like something was off. He seemed paler. He seemed quieter. He seemed – well, tired.

Now I can’t kick this feeling like there’s something more happening behind the scenes. I wish you were here, Nina, and you could work your magic like you do and just squeeze the truth out of his brain somehow. I’ll have to settle for my own magic, I guess.

When I look over my letters from him, he’s off-handedly mentioned feeling overwhelmed, particularly since this kid Artie joined the Dregs. And, don’t get me wrong, the kid is kind of handful. His moods swing wide between murderous rage and affectionate admiration. But he’s not Kaz’s sole responsibility. Pim and Anika do a lot to keep him on task and out of the bad kind of trouble. I wouldn’t think this would be enough to drive him to exhaustion.

But then again, Artie is the same age Jordie was. I wonder how much that gets to him. I wonder how much time he spends avoiding that. I wonder if he allows himself to think of it at all. Would that be enough to push him to the edge? Or is it something more?

It couldn’t be me, could it? Am I becoming exhausting?

Ugh, Nina, come squeeze this out of my brain, too. And then come dress shopping with me, because it is much more enjoyable than I thought it would be.

Missing you terribly,

Inej

#six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #ketterdam #kanej #kanej fanfic #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #kaz x inej #fanfic #fanfiction

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doberbutts · 4 years

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On the same topic re:yesterday of tiny dogs and how people treat them:

At this point I’m sure I’m known as the dog blog that writes all those “in defense of brachy dogs” posts (hi) buuuuuuuutttttt...

Having been doing a lot of research lately regarding well bred chihuahuas, because reasons, I must admit I’m pleasantly surprised. I tried not to include them in my previous posts regarding brachy breeds- despite them being brachy- outside of specifically my dog Tiki because she specifically had some problems due to being brachy (which directly contributed to her death), just because my experience with actually well bred chihuahuas is/was fairly minimal... But now that I’m looking more into the ins and outs of health testing requirements and suggestions, I must say that I sort of wish all breeds had such rigorous testing as a general rule. Sure, not all breeders go into the details like this, but even still, I’m quite liking what I’m finding.

First: COI is automatically estimated on their breed pedigree website based on the known pedigrees of the dog (this is a somewhat flawed way of doing things, but is also more effort to track COI than most dobe pedigree websites I’ve seen)- and the average COI I’ve seen thus far has been less than 5% with more than half of the dogs I’ve checked being under 1%. I don’t need to explain why the first time I saw 0.25% as an estimated COI my first instinct was to say HOLY SHIT.

Additionally I noticed that breeders that were inching close to or just over that 5% range would immediately breed those higher COI dogs to dogs that were completely unrelated within a 10-15 generation pedigree, thus producing puppies well under 5% again. As many of you well know, my breed (dobermans) has an absurdly high COI as a general rule with the average dog being in the 40% range. Creed’s COI is considered lower for a doberman and his is around 35%. An upcoming litter is bragging about the lowest COI they’ve heard of in the breed- 22%. Keep in mind that nearly every piece of research regarding COI percentages recommend that no breed get higher than 10%.

Adding onto the breed pedigree website- it lists all available health testing results of the dog, both good and bad, cause of death and age of death, and what titles the dog has (the most used american dobe pedigree website does the same)- and that led me to an important discovery:

Chihuahuas are the only breed that may show with a molera- a soft spot in the skull that may or may not close in adulthood. Moleras are weird because they are not a guarantee the dog has hydrocephalus, but the presence of them (especially if the dog has several) may indicate a problem. With the large, dome-shaped skull that Chihuahuas are known for (”apple-head”), this creates a problem where it can be difficult to see if the dog has hydro and that’s why the head is so big... or if it’s just the bred-in head appearance. Brachy dogs are also especially prone to the condition, which makes things even more difficult because Chihuahuas are brachy too. Tiki had two moleras, and also according to her specialist “almost definitely” had hydro which also complicated her condition and led to her death.

The Chihuahua pedigree website also tracks moleras and hydrocephalus, and states which dogs carry moleras into adulthood, and also which dogs have or have produced puppies with hydro. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that many breeders do xrays, ultrasounds, and CT scans of the head to ensure that their dogs are not affected by this and will not pass it on!

Which finally brings me to the elephant in the room: CHIHUAHUAS ARE BRACHYCEPHALIC!

And... I was actually quite impressed, as even the illustrated standard and related articles to the Chihuahua breed discuss the need to ensure proper dentition and bites as an early warning sign that the brachy skull was beginning to warp to negatively effect the breed. Demands that the nares be open wide and the nose moist. That the sound of the dog breathing should be as natural as possible. The dogs should be spry, active, capable of exercising on a hot day. The recommendation to use the aforementioned xrays, ultrasounds, and CT scans to also double check that the sinus cavity and nasal passages were wide open to ensure healthy breathing. A shorter nose with a large skull, but not to the detriment of the dog in question.

And this is what I am frequently talking about when I say that I have seen brachy dogs that are not suffering from the negative effects that everyone on the internet likes to harp on about. Chis are a brachy breed. They are just as much at risk for all of the brachy problems as pugs, frenchies, bostons, bulldogs, and more. They are almost always included in diseases that distinctly affect those “flat faced” brachy breeds, despite the fact that Chihuahuas do actually have some length to their muzzle and the standard specifically states that a flat-faced chi would be so faulty it might as well not be called a chihuahua anymore. This is why I am constantly losing my mind at the concept that adding an inch or two onto a pug or bulldog face will magic all the problems away- it won’t! Chis are just as likely to be affected by these problems, and in many cases chis are affected by these problems.

I lost my 10 month old puppy to brachycephalism and an autoimmune disorder. Full stop. My dog fucking died because of these problems, and she! had! length! on! her! snout! But that didn’t matter, because the inner airways were pinched, her warped skull put her at high risk for dangerous pressure to build up in her brain case, and her shitty genetics failed her body’s natural defense system that could have otherwise allowed her to survive these conditions. I spent more than 6000USD to try and give her a chance at life and she died anyway. Horrifically. Tragically.

I never want to see anyone acting like adding an inch onto the snout of a brachy dog will snap its fingers and magic away all the brachy problems ever again. I will continue making my In Defense Of Brachy dogs posts, because I’ve actually lived this nightmare and it’s been awful. Tiki had 2 inches of snout that stuck out of her face and still died because she was brachy. If whatever brachy fix has gripped the internet isn’t also doing what the Chihuahua standard and breed club recommend- xrays, CT scans, ultrasounds, scopes into the airways, tracking the instances of other characteristics such as poor dentition, bad bites, hydro, and more... then what they’re actually doing is selling you some well-marketted pseudo-science and hoping you won’t call them on it. Those dogs are not healthier. They’re ticking timebombs. And at some point, someone’s going to get one, and lose another puppy to the same thing.

I don’t ever want to see anyone saying that dog traits they happen not to like are specifically the cause of inbreeding, when the “bad traits” dogs are at such a low COI percentage they’re under a single percent at some points, and the “good traits” dogs are touching on 50%.

I don’t ever want to see anyone saying that mutts are always healthier than purebreds, when Tiki was almost guaranteed to not be purebred and died at fucking 10 months old meanwhile most purebred chis live well into their late teens and even early twenties.

Researching deep into chis has shown me there is actually a way to do these things correctly. And if whatever viral page isn’t at least living up to these standards, then you are absolutely being taken in by someone who is either ignorant or someone who is betting you are.

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catpella · 4 years

Text

FFXIV Write #4: Unqualified Success

Prompt: clinch

to settle (a matter) decisively

Words: 1670

Valle’s second carbuncle summoning is also a victory.

Part of the duties of Mealvaan's Gate was to oversee the ships that came in and out, carrying the cargo that served as the lifeblood of the city. The Arcanists' Guild was involved in this process because some of the arcanists acted as assessors, inspecting cargo to determine if it was normal items that might pass through the port of Limsa Lominsa on any given day, anything ranging from fabrics to spices to fine crafts from other nations, or if ships carried contraband such as illegal herbs and drugs.

There were arcanists who grumbled about assessor duty, preferring other aspects of Guild life, such as research, or courses, or going into the wild and being adventurers. Valle Serreta found she and Equinox were rather good at it and didn't get harassed in the same way some inspectors did, that she rather enjoyed assessor work, and she never dramatically grumbled when she was assigned to it or came up with ways to get out of it. She'd noticed that she'd been assigned to it more often lately and suspected it was some combination of those factors that was causing it.

It wasn't as though she was a full-time assessor, though; she still had time to work on the academic studies she was interested in, including one study that had arisen out of her assessor work. The very thing they were putting to the test today, in fact.

The standard emerald carbuncle summoning array was a well-rounded design, one that contained tested and guaranteed protocols for the major Guild uses. When it came to cargo detection, the background equations and calculations had remained fairly static for quite some time. There was a learning capability built into them - a carbuncle needed to be trained to learn new types of contraband to find it - but that just increased the range of what they could detect, it didn't adjust the common sensors and detection array at all.

Valle had heard that a few arcanists here and there had modified the sensors in places, but when she'd asked around, she'd found most of those had been done by senior arcanists and not by ones who were as new in their education as she was. And most of them had been doing it as part of their specialized levels of research - such as Mistress Ingolia training hers to track aetherial trails, which she'd let Valle peek at for a bit just to see what advanced.

Valle hadn't gone totally blind into this. She'd shown her planned equations and designs to X'erys, who had read over them with grave concentration and then said, "They're something, Valle. I never would have thought of this. I think I see it." Then she'd shown them to Synnove Greywolfe, a senior arcanist who had done innovative designwork on her own carbuncles, to see if she was going to be told she was on the wrong track. What she got was, "Test it and see."

Armed with that, she'd finished the design, coded it into the grimoire, acquired a topaz stone from the guild's stores to use as the summoning foci and, and prepared for this trial. When it was all done, she'd spoken to Mistress Ingolia and arranged for a cargo inspection trial.

Now she stood in the training ring, rolling the summoning topaz stone in her hands, hoping she'd gotten it all right. Because this was so experimental, she hadn't wanted to use one of the stocks of good topaz they distributed for summoning. There had been a few stones in the Guild's stores that were smaller, or needed to be shaped differently to deal with flaws in the stone, and so when Valle had talked to the quartermaster she'd requested one of them. It hummed with aether in her hands like it was purring, waiting to be used for this.

The training ring was full of cargo boxes, and she'd been told that there were fewer than 25% of them containing contraband. Mistress Ingolia was overseeing the actual test and for some reason Valle had assumed it would be her alone watching this test, but no. Several arcanists ringed the outside, ready to watch and see what happened. She had an audience for this. Well, it was a test of a new, experimental adjustment...word must have spread. So there was a crowd. Some of the faces were at least friendly ones who she knew were rooting for her, others were just there to watch and didn't seem invested one way or another.

"You may begin the summoning," Mistress Ingolia intoned.

Valle closed her eyes, rolled the stone again, rooted her feet in the ring, in the smell of the wood, imagined the stone below that, took a breath, touched quill to grimoire, and began the summoning cant. She thought of the rich color of topaz, she thought of how she had made these equations so the carbuncle had the clever nose for seeking items as a whittret, she thought of how earth was material and solid and how to sort through material one needed to know what a thing was as surely as stone knew itself.

A topaz carbuncle burst into the world for the first time. Only...slightly different. The body was more slender and less long than a standard carbuncle, somewhere between half- and full-size compared to the normal model and the snout protruding forward somewhat more. It appeared otherwise to be a fully functional carbuncle and made a delightful dance as it rushed up to her, transmitting eagerness by hop-dancing around her heels.

A muted clamor immediately began to echo through the hall, arcanists talking to each other mostly in low tones. Valle heard, - 'looks wrong donnit' and 'awful small for a 'buncle' and 'whats wit its mouth' - among other things. She tried to tune it out as she bent down to inspect the carbuncle, running her hand over it to see if the equations and arrays were right, pausing at the head - yes, there they were, in that elongated snout.

"Arrays and sensors functional," she reported, standing up to face Mistress Ingolia, who seemed impassive. "May I begin the trial?"

"Go ahead," the Elezen said. Unlike the other arcanists, she was showing no signs of any concern over the strange appearance of the carbuncle, for which Valle was glad. "You have 10 minutes to assess the cargo and determine what contains contraband."

"Do we know what we're looking for?" she asked.

"No. Assume this is a ship with Ul'dahn flag and you have no manifest."

The most difficult type of exercise, no hope of knowing what should be there and thus the chance to mess up some things that scented somewhat alike - some herbs that could be used as medicines that smelled like some that were only used as poisons - which would ding them points. She'd have to hope her loaded library of recognition would be enough. "I understand," she said.

"And...begin!"

Immediately Valle moved towards the nearest stack of boxes, coaxing the carbuncle and watching as it sniffed its nose and began to move...

And after only one round of the arena, with the topaz carbuncle having climbed on three boxes to get better scents and in one cases slipping between a stack of crates in a way Valle couldn't tell if was due to its smaller size or if she'd accidentally copied in something physics-breaking from someone else's grimoire (which had not been her intention!), they had found 4 suspicious crates of 50.

"Four," she said.

Mistress Ingolia checked her timepiece. "You have four minutes remaining if you wish to check again."

That made it sound like she'd missed some. Briefly, she considered summoning Equinox to check and say she was verifying old vs new protocols but...no she trusted the array matrix. "I'm sure. I trust my carbuncle."

"You pass. Four crates. What was in them?"

"Somnus, an invasive species of snail, and seed packets of some type that I assume weren't reported."

"Correct," the Elezen said, and to Valle's surprise she did hear clear pride in her tone.

The thrill of victory suffused her, making her feel flushed and joyful.

Mistress Thubyrgeim stepped past Mistress Ingolia. "Come see me. Bring the grimoire and the carbuncle."

The murmuring from the audience grew louder. Everyone knew Thubyrgeim had basically become the Guildsmistress in the frequent absences in that of the man on paper. If she wanted to see Valle - still a student and not yet a full journeywoman - what did that say? What did that mean? Was she in trouble?

Valle beckoned the carbuncle rather than desummoning it, feeling it crawl her her leg, but instead of settling in her arms, this one seemed happy to wind up her body and then to crawl up to wrap around her to hang along her neck and shoulders like a stole made of soft fur. Or, in this case, warm aether. She tried to let the sensation comfort her as she carried her grimoire to the acting-Guildmistress' office, fear beginning to curdle in her belly...

And an hour later, she came flying out the office and to the student lounge on the third floor of the Gate. There were a number of people in there, all occupied but most looking up when Valle came in.

"Did she chew you out?" asked R'awynde.

"Did she say you can't do assessor duty anymore?" X'erys asked.

"Are you still in the Guild?" was Gilded Feather's contribution.

"Yes, I'm still in the Guild. I'm likely on more assessor duty. I'm not in trouble, I'm not chewed out, she loved my carbuncle, she thinks it's clinched my journeyman's research project," Valle rattled off. "It's atypical in design but it had successful practical results and she thinks I can refine it further to maybe help improve future designs!"

"Let's take a look at how you did it, then," Feather demanded, pointing at her grimoire.

"Let's take Valle out to eat first, she must be starving," X'erys said.

And so they went out to celebrate.

#valle serreta #valle's carbuncles #FFxivWrite2020 #cat's writing #cat vs ffxiv #ffxiv ocs

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halfblood-fiend · 4 years

Text

Star Trek Bingo 2020: Vertical Prompt 1/Horizontal Prompt 4

TRANSFORMATION

Show: The Original Series

Words: 7,940

Rating: General Audiences

Warning(s): pining! and Kirk is an idiot! Also, this was the last prompt that I speed wrote today so, hopefully the editing isn’t 100% awful!

Here, There Is No Golden Ball

A First Contact with a hyper-telekinetic race called the Haijinn turns quickly from routine to devastating when Spock has an un-frog-ettable run-in with one of the race’s priests. Captain Kirk, with the begrudging help of Bones, has to find a way to turn Spock back or doom him to a long and des-pond-ent life.

Read it on AO3.

“Captain’s Log: Stardate 4846.1. We have encountered a new post-warp civilization on the outer reaches of Federation space. Xenosociologists have been monitoring this planet’s rapid technological march and were pleased to ask the Enterprise to be their Federation liaison. As part of our routine First Contact procedure, we have invited a handful of delegates to break bread with us up here on the Enterprise. They are a fascinating people on paper, but their unique telepathic and telekinetic abilities far surpass my own lofty expectations. On the surface, they seem able to conjure matter out of thin air. While basic laws of physics say this is impossible, it is still a wonder to behold. If I believed in such things, I could almost describe it as… well, like magic. Luckily, the Haijinn’s are just as fascinated with our own technological advances, but for a far different reason…”

The High Priest Mailak blinked his large, bulbous milky blue iris-less eyes at the control panels in the Engineering Room. His small head on his long, spindly neck swayed side to side, reminding Kirk a bit of an ostrich from Earth. With the large, but squat body hidden under the many folds of his robes, the similarities were striking. All the High Priest and his people were missing, Kirk thought, were the long legs.

“And you have managed to build all of this on your own? With your hands?” Mailak inquired in a gravelly dialect punctuated by clicks emanating from the back of his throat and deep within his chest.

Scotty waited until the communicator in Kirk’s hand had translated Mailak’s sentence to Standard before he answered, “Well, not by meself, personally, but, aye. Other Human Beings built the Enterprise with their own hands and tools. And maybe a service droid or two, but ship buildin’ is mostly a work of the people.”

A pause while the communicator translated back into Haijann, and then Mailak and his entourage emitted a high-pitched series of clicks that Kirk felt fairly confident interpreting as “oohing and ahhing.” He smiled. “Scotty is my Chief Engineer, and it’s his job to see that I never lose the total functionality of my ship. He keeps the Enterprise running in top shape.”

Scotty bit his lip and clasped his hands behind his back. “If yeh don’ mind me askin’, Your Excellency, sir, how do you make your ships, if not by your hands?”

Mailak’s wide, flat mouth and delicate, thin lips parted in a near grimace. Kirk wondered if he was trying to mimic a Human smile or if the Haijinn normally did that. The first possibility was somewhat endearing; the latter would take some getting used to. “We envision the creation and it becomes so.”

Blinking, Scotty cocked his head at the High Priest before turning to Kirk. “Is that communicator warkin’, Captain?”

Not all his senior staff had a chance to look at the dossier, apparently. Kirk decided to give Scotty a break—this time. Smiling warmly, he answered, “I assure you, Scotty, it is.”

Mailak looked between them both and then, bobbing his head in such a way that Kirk wondered if there was a body language component to their language, said, “For such a large object as a space-faring vessel, the oiimaige takes many highly tuned minds working in conjunction for long stretches of time. But for my people, anything we can imagine, we can create. It is our unique gift, our connection to the Oiim. Hold out your hand and observe.”

Even as he did as he was told, Scotty glanced at Kirk and said, “Now I know that thing’s busted.”

“Not everything has a perfect translation all of the time,” Kirk reminded him gently as Mailak closed his eyes and concentrated.

The ship-wide intercom chirped from over on the wall and a voice rang out from it. “First Officer Spock, to Captain Kirk.”

Mailak’s eye’s fluttered closed as he focused, and Kirk decided that Scotty would live for a few moments without the Universal Translator. He strode towards the intercom and pressed the switch. “Kirk here. Spock, what is it?”

“Captain, we will most likely be unable to rendezvous with you in the briefing room at the appointed time.”

“Why the delay, Mr. Spock? We are nearly finished showing His Excellency, The High Priest our Engineering Room. That should have been plenty of time for you and Her Eminence.”

“Indeed, Captain. However, Her Eminence, the Southern Priest, is quite enthralled with the ship’s library computer. She requests that she should be granted more time for study.”

Well, that certainly rubbed Kirk the wrong way. Glancing back at Mailak and Scotty, he spoke in a low voice and hoped the Haijinn’s hearing wasn't extremely good. “I don't think I have to impress upon you, Mr. Spock, the danger of—”

“Quite right, Captain,” Spock's voice cut him off in an equally low tone. “I already took the liberty of locking her out of the more strategic data regarding the Federation. Her interest does appear to be genuinely curious, but it seemed prudent not to take chances. At present, she is studying Terran folklore.”

Both the relief of the stress in his shoulders and the image of a Haijinn reading things like Paul Bunyan made Kirk smile. “What kind of folklore?”

“Fairy tales, Captain.”

Ah, so stories like Rapunzel. Even better.

“Well, carry on, Mr. Spock, and let me know if anything else arises. I'm sure we can entertain the High Priest for another hour or so.”

“Thank you, Captain. I believe Her Eminence will be most pleased. Spock out.”

Kirk flipped the switch on the wall-mounted comm panel and wondered which part of the ship that Mailak and his Entourage might like to see next. The Rec Room, perhaps? That might be diverting enough. Or maybe even a holodeck? Or—

“Captain!” Mr. Scott's excited shout drew Kirk's attention “Would you look at this!? It's like nothing I've ever seen before! I cannae even believe it!” In his outstretched hands was a clear flower that was unfamiliar to Kirk. He decided that it must be something native to the planet below. It was beautiful and dazzling, catching the light and throwing rainbow arcs across the bulkhead.

Mailak shook his head. “A pale comparison,” he sighed, “but the oiimaige has its limits. We cannot create living things by thought alone. It defies nature, and so does not allow for us to do it as we are living creatures ourselves. The Oiim, however… it is the Great Creator, and has made everything we know.”

Kirk nodded, another smile gracing his face. The Haijinn culture must be a fascinating one. What kinds of creation myths did a people who had the power to create things themselves devise to make sense of their universe? He made a note to inform Marlena and ask if she had ever heard anything else about the Haijinn from her contacts back on Earth.

“Real or not, Your Excellency,” Scotty replied with a laugh, “it’s all amazin’ to me!” He held up the flower and turned it in his fingers so that more colors bounced off into boundless arcs.

“Yes, well, if Your Excellency is ready, we can move on with our tour. There are other parts of our ship that you might find—ah—fascinating.”

Look at him, he was starting to sound like Spock.

“Certainly, Captain, though it was our belief that we would soon sit to discuss the merits of trade with your Federation.”

Kirk nodded. “In good time. Mr. Spock had just informed me that Her Emminence, the Southern Priest requested more time in our library. I am nothing if not an accommodating host. We have more to share if you wish to see it.”

Mailak made more high-pitched clicks, his neck swaying forwards and backwards. “Ah, that girl. Always so eager for knowledge. I do hope you will not find it tiresome, Captain Kirk.”

“Not at all, Your Excellency. It’s certainly no trouble.”

An hour later and Kirk, along with Mailak and his people were gathered in Briefing Room Two, with no sign of Spock and the Southern Priest. He seated Mailak and his most important attendants and served everyone replicated refreshments (that the Haijinns all found rather amusing) but nearly twenty minutes later, there was still no sign of his first officer, nor any word from him at all. The unusual behavior from Spock was making Kirk as anxious as he was getting cross.

Mialak blinked his large eyes at Kirk and swayed his head. “You must not be so angry, Captain. This is just like Eimmeel. She can hardly be torn from her studies. It’s what makes her such a serviceable chronicler and devotee to Oiim.”

Kirk made a mental note to add ‘emotional telepathy’ to the list of the Haijinn’s already formidable range of traits. But maybe, he was just being obvious, with his knee bouncing and his hand cupping his chin as he leaned on the table. He quit all these actions and sat up with a shake of his head. “It’s not like Commander Spock to be so late. My first officer is also stubborn, Your Excellency, so I’m sure he and Her Emminence would have figured something out by now.”

And Spock hadn’t even comm-ed him… It was highly unusual.

“Or, Captain, they are locked together in a battle of wills and we will be here all day if we wait for them to arrive.” Mailak did his strange impersonation of a smile but Kirk felt far from better.

Kirk swore that the reprimand Commander Spock was going to receive from him would be legendary…

He reached forward and flipped the switch for the intercom laid into the meeting table. “Kirk to Spock.” His voice sounded brusque, even to him. “Commander Spock, come in.”

But the line remained dead. There was no answer from any comm anywhere on the ship.

Kirk pressed a button on the interface that linked him to the bridge directly. “Uhura, is there any problem with the ship’s intercom systems?”

He knew that there wasn’t, but Kirk wanted a record of his attempt at troubleshooting before he disciplined Spock.

Lieutenant Uhura’s voice came in over the speaker, confident and clear, “No, sir. No communications malfunctions of any kind.”

So, Spock was purposefully ignoring him then. Just perfect. “Thank you, Lieutenant, that’s all. Sulu, find Commander Spock using a ship-wide scan. Then connect me a direct line to him.”

Both Uhura and Sulu answered with sharp, “Yes, sir”s.

Kirk’s fingers drummed on the table. In all the first contacts that they had overseen together, all of their separately given tours, Spock had never been so…thoughtless. Spock, who arrived twenty minutes early for every shift, suddenly late to a meeting without any warning? It didn’t add up. And something in Kirk’s gut was making him uncomfortable. A bad feeling. Bones might have agreed with him, but Spock would have reminded him that his feelings had no influence on the possible outcome of events. They couldn’t tell him one thing or another. Spock would remind him that Kirk couldn’t make any assumptions without all the facts. And the only fact that he had was that his First Officer had not appeared when he was supposed to, and that was out-of-character.

“Captain, we really can proceed. Eimmeel’s presence here as record-keeper was merely a precautionary measure. There is nothing she knows that I do not.”

Kirk listened but didn’t respond—How to explain that his desire to find Spock was more on principle now? —when Sulu’s voice cracked over the speaker. “Er…Sir? Commander Spock is…not on the ship, sir.”

His eyes drew sharply to the intercom as though Kirk could see Sulu’s face through it and intimidate him into telling the truth. “What do you mean, ‘not on the ship’? Have there been any unauthorized shuttle launches?”

“That was the first thing I checked, sir.”

“Unauthorized transports?”

“Negative, sir. There have been no unauthorized functions of any kind. Ship’s log places the Commander’s last known location in the computer library facility.”

The last place Kirk knew him to be…

He glanced up at Mailak, who looked just as shocked as Kirk was (so far as he could tell). The High Priest leaned over to the Haijinn on his left and spoke quickly to them in sharp tones. They spoke so fast that the Universal Translator couldn’t catch any of it.

Convenient, Kirk found himself thinking, but quickly reigned in any suspicious lines of thought until he had more information.

Mailak stretched his neck to the ceiling and pressed his hands into the base of his throat, one folded over the other. A low humming filled the room.

“Captain, what—”

“Just a moment, Sulu,” Kirk ordered, watching the High Priest with rapt attention.

A heartbeat later, Mailak resumed his normal posture, although the humming hadn’t completely left the small space. Kirk thought he could still feel the ghost of rumbling echoing on his skin.

“Eimmeel is still where your crewman says, Captain,” Mailak said. “She has not moved for much of the duration of our visit.”

Kirk’s eyebrow raised. “And…Spock?”

“Him, I cannot find. He is not a part of the Oiim,” the High Priest replied, rocking his head forwards and back.

Understandable, but worth a try.

“If you do not mind the continued delay, Your Excellency,” Kirk said, choosing his words carefully, “I would very much like to find my missing First Officer.”

Mailak’s head swayed. “Of course, Captain. The Haijinn will assist you in any way we can.”

Kirk rose from his seat in a fluid motion when he heard Sulu again. “Orders, Captain? Shall I send a security team?”

He had almost forgotten the intercom was still on. It was strangely thoughtless of him.

“No need,” yet, Kirk added mentally. “Maintain orbit and communication with the planet. We will speak to Her Emminence, the Southern Priest. I’m sure she will know what happened to Commander Spock and this will all be sorted in short order. Kirk out.”

And if not, Kirk would lock down the ship, and report the Haijjin’s malicious intent upon the Enterprise, and let them deal with the fallout of it.

While the library computer could be accessed from nearly any terminal on the Enterpise, they still maintained a specific room for those crewman who wished to research outside of their quarters or the usual terminals located at every work station. The room was lined on three walls by data banks with glowing lights, while the last wall opened to the exterior hull, allowing a spectacular view of the planet in orbit down below, the yellow pinprick of the system’s sun in the distance, and the spattering of far distant stars in inky space. It was a semi dim room, opting for personal lamps at the worktables instead of overhead lighting, to suit each individual’s need.

There was only a single occupant in the room when Kirk stepped over the threshold. Seated at one of these worktables, her personal light switched on, illuminating a scattering of colorful isolinear chips all around her, was another splendidly robed Haijinn.

The Southern Priest, Kirk assumed, was larger than all her male counterparts. Her skin was lighter and more wrinkled than Mailak’s and Kirk couldn’t tell if that was age or merely a variation in sex, because he realized, upon seeing her alone, she was the only female Haijinn to have come aboard.

Maybe not anything worth noting, but Kirk noted the discrepancy all the same.

Mailak brushed past Kirk and approached Eimmeel in the Haijinn version of a huff. He was already clicking before he had made it halfway to her. “What is the meaning of this, Eimmeel? What are you still doing here? You and Commander Spock were supposed to have been at the meeting place already!”

Eimmeel’s long furrowed neck raised from her terminal, and she swung her orange gaze upon her intruders, although she appeared to look through them as if she didn’t quite see them.

Kirk strode forward as well, his eyes searching for any sign of the Vulcan among the tables or data banks. The fact that he found nothing churned unease heavy in his stomach.

She blinked and then spoke in a much higher and clearer voice than Kirk had expected given all her wrinkles. She said, “Has it been a ‘Standard Hour’ already? Time for these outsiders flows so quickly. How do they ever have time to write all these stories?”

“Your Eminence,” Kirk began, fighting to keep his voice even, “where is First Officer Spock? I…must speak with him.”

He couldn’t help continuing to let his eyes rove around, trying to probe the shadows for any sign of Spock. Kirk felt his heart race as panic began to grip his chest. The ship thinks he isn’t here, and if no one left on a shuttle or was transported, that could only mean—

Kirk didn’t dare finish his thought.

The Southern Priest turned her gaze on Kirk as if she had only just realized he was there, then her neck swung around in several directions. Like a bird looking at something past their beak. “He was only just here…” she muttered. “Where could he have gotten off to?” Then she swung her face back to Kirk and said something that chilled him to his bones: “You had better not let anyone else come inside, Captain. And mind where you put your feet. Until we find him.”

Mind his…feet…?

Mailak placed his hands at his throat again and rocked his entire body back and forth. “Oiim al’mak teek. What have you done now, Eimmeel?”

Ice froze in Kirk’s veins as he looked around him. His eyes began scanning the floor now. His hands curled into fists. But he could not afford to lose his temper. He could not afford to jeopardize the mission or his duty as Captain but oh, the things he wished he could do about now!

And Spock! What in the hell had this woman done to Spock?

Kirk took tentative steps forward, now almost too scared to move, as Mailak uttered a long series of high pitched clicks and words that were too fast for his Universal Translator to decipher. This time, Kirk didn’t care.

He bent forward and peered beneath the nearest table.

Oh, god, Kirk didn’t even know what he was looking for! A body? Or something worse?

"Ribbit!"

His head snapped up. Mailak fell silent.

That couldn’t have been a…

"GrrrIBBIT!"

Kirk leaped to his feet and followed the bellowing sounds of a frog—of all the things on his ship!

“RrriBBIT, ribbit, grrrrRIBBET!”

Close to the window, Kirk found it: a mottled green and brown bullfrog the size of his hands and… with dark, knowledgeable eyes…

“Ribbit!” the frog’s throat expanded to reveal brilliant green skin as it…ribbit-ed at Kirk.

Open-mouthed, he looked back at the Haijinn priests.

Eimmeel waved a hand and emitted her gleeful high-pitched whine. “Ah! There he is!”

Kirk looked back down at…Spock, the bullfrog, who ribbit-ed again, indolently.

“Now, with all due respect, Your Eminence,” Kirk really had to focus in order to remember that he needed to attach the Southern Priest’s diplomatic title when he spoke to her, especially when all he wanted to do was rage, “I do not think I am being particularly unreasonable with my request to restore my first officer to his proper species, however, I am starting to think that you are being purposefully unhelpful.” Without thinking, Kirk waved Spock the Frog around as he spoke, his little limbs rather comically swinging through the air.

“Ribbit,” croaked Spock the Frog dolefully, punctuating Kirk’s final word with a poignant sense of irony.

With Mailak’s help, Kirk had been able to wrestle Eimmeel from the library computer room, though not without her grabbing a handful of isolinear chips as she left. Not knowing what else to do, Kirk had scooped Spock the Frog up in his hands and comm-ed Bones to come straight away the second they had made it back to Briefing Room Two.

The Southern Priest blinked her large pupil-less orange eyes at him. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I cannot. I cannot disrupt the oiimaige from its intent once it has been woven.”

The High Priest made several sharp, agitated movements in his chair beside her. He asked her, “Why would you do this to another being at all, Eimmeel? We were their guests! The Federation has only just arrived—”

“You did not read their stories, Your Excellency. I thought it was a gift. I did not think it would be so difficult for them to change him back themselves!”

Kirk’s brow furrowed and he bit his lip to keep from screaming out of sheer frustration. “Our people are not like yours,” he said to her when he had more control. “We can’t just… wish for something to happen and then it happens! Where did you get the impression that we could restore Mr. Spock by ourselves?”

Back and forth went the Southern Priest’s head. “From all your wonderful stories, of course!”

“They’re fairy tales!” Kirk ground out from behind his clenched teeth.

“Ribbit.”

Ever with the best timing, the door slid open and Bones strode into the room with a medical kit and a tricorder slung over his shoulder.

“Now, Jim, I’m not sure what all the fuss was about, but you sounded nothing short of hysterical over the—” His eyes fell on the frog still clenched in Kirk’s hand. “Funny. I didn’t think they made those on other planets. Are we having a grade-school dissection, then?”

Kirk clutched Spock the Frog to his chest and held him away from Bones reflexively. “I should hope not. Doctor, this…this… frog is Spock. They… Her Eminence, the Southern Priest, has turned Spock into a frog!”

Bones raised his eyebrow and glanced over at the fretting High Priest, speaking to his counterpart in low tones. “Why in the world would Her Eminence do that?”

“Good question.” Kirk held Spock out to Bones. “Just take him and look after him until we can figure this out.”

Wrinkling his nose some, Bones took the wand from his tricorder and reached for Spock with his free hand, and began scanning him. “Seems fine, Jim," he announced. "Perfectly healthy.”

“Perfectly healthy,” Kirk echoed with a shake of his head. “For a Vulcan or a bullfrog?”

“One and the same now, I think,” Bone replied, holding Spock up with a smile as he replaced his wand.

“Just…take care of him. And try not to seem too happy about it. And, uh, don’t let him…dry…out…” Kirk shrugged and went to wipe his face with his hand—before he remembered it was covered in frog mucus. He wiped them on the front of his pants instead.

“Don’t you worry, Jim. I think I’ve got a nice little terrarium with plenty of water to swim in and some pond scum to eat. I'll keep him away fro the flies. That'll just give him indigestion.”

“Bones…”

“You’ll figure it out, Jim,” his friend told him in a low, soothing voice, clapping him on the shoulder. “You always do.”

“Ribbit,” Spock agreed.

Grinning, Bones held Spock the Frog up to their faces. “Do it for him, will you?”

Kirk shook his head. “Won’t you try to treat him with a little respect?”

“’Course! Wouldn’t dream of doing anything less.” Bones then turned to their guests and bowed to each in turn. “Your Excellency. Your Eminence.”

The Haijinns looked up at Bones and clicked distractedly.

“Now, one more time—” Kirk began with a sigh as soon as the doors had hissed closed behind Bones.

Mailak stood. He looked, for the first time, deflated, like a tiny creature wearing too many clothes that didn’t fit him. “Captain,” he crooned, “while regrettable, it is as Eimmeel has said. There is nothing we can do to undo the oiimaige once its intent has been sealed by the Oiim. I am sorry.”

Kirk waved him away and leaned forward onto the table, not yet ready to believe what he was saying. “There were some words that aren’t translating. I don’t want to misunderstand. Can you explain—”

“When my people create something, we must define certain…parameters around our creations. A set of rules that can cause our will to exist in the physical plane. Once something has been created within the confines that we set, it cannot simply be undone unless the creator has made specific rules to do so. We cannot help your first officer. Our interference was not woven into the fabric of the reality of his transformation. I am sorry, Captain.” And he did look sorry, for whatever that was worth.

Which was very little to Kirk in this particular moment.

He tapped his finger on the table.

They couldn’t change Spock back because of some law of physics around their powers and how they connected to it, that much he understood. He hated to hear it, but he refused to believe there weren’t other avenues to de-frog Spock.

Someone had to have the technology or the ability. Kirk just had to find them.

“I can’t very well have an amphibious first officer,” Kirk sighed. “And what do you think I should tell his family? There has got to be another way and…you are the only ones that can help me find it. Please. No one else in the galaxy will know your Oiim the way that you do.”

The Southern Priest bobbed forward and chittered excitedly. “But I did factor in the parameters to change him back, Captain,” the translator recited her words through its speakers.

Kirk hardly dared to hope. “Great. How?”

“I was inspired by all your stories!”

“Our…fairy tales. Yes, you’ve said that. But, how does that help Spock?”

“You have to change him back like in the story!”

Dread trickled into Kirk’s chest and made it difficult to breathe. Which story? There were thousands—no, millions—of possibilities. He was already calculating how long it might take for him to search the computer terminal where the Southern Priest had sat and attempt to decipher which story had inspired her.

He didn’t need Spock’s computer-like brain to know that would take too long.

“Forgive me, but, you’ll have to be more specific,” he said hoarsely.

Eimmeel turned sharply to the pile of isolinear chips beside her and picked through them until she produced a blue one. Kirk took the proffered chip, and glancing at her, slid it into the slot beneath the table.

An image appeared on all the triangular screens. It was the title page of a very old and well-worn Earth book. An illustration of a violently green frog gazed demurely at them from a lilypad. The gilded golden lettering over the cover read: The Frog Prince.

Kirk blinked. He really had no idea what to say.

But Eimmeel rocked back and forth with obvious excitement. “A gift!” she squealed. “So many of your stories are centered on true love. I asked Commander Spock if he had ever known it and he replied that his kind do not love. I felt so sorry for him. The stories all made it sound so beautiful and fulfilling. I thought, that if he became the frog in the story, then he could find his true love and become whole! True love's kiss will turn him back!”

So many thoughts rushed through his mind but Kirk was stunned into silence. True love’s kiss? For Spock?

Oh, god…

Kirk was going to have to inform Sarek that his son would be a frog forever.

After profuse apologies on both sides and a joint promise to reconvene to discuss trade relations at a later time, Kirk had seen all the Haijiin transported off the Enterprise—good riddance—and half-sprinted to sickbay.

He was out of breath with a small stitch in his side when the doors slid open to reveal rows and rows of unoccupied biobeds beneath bright overhead lights. Kirk nodded at Nurse Chapel and continued straight into Bones’ office in the center of the room.

“How is he?” Kirk asked as soon as he entered.

His friend looked up from his PADD and glanced back at a glass terrarium on the wall behind him. Within sat Spock the Frog, half-submerged in water, half sitting on a raised flat stone. He croaked, his throat expanding briefly… and then licked his left eye with his long pink tongue.

Kirk sighed.

“Never did understand a single word he said, Jim, but we do always have a mighty fine time,” Bones said with a smile.

Kirk stared blankly down at the doctor. “Glad you’re so enjoying yourself,” he said dryly.

“It’s not so ter-ribbit-able.”

“Leonard, please!” Kirk cried, throwing himself into the chair sitting across from Bones’ desk. He propped his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands.

“Oh, come on, Jim. I’ve spent the last hour thinking up a whole plethora of frog puns!”

“I don’t want to hear them.”

“Well,” his friend replied, chewing on the inside of his lip as he turned his attention back to his PADD, “your loss, then.”

“What am I going to do?”

“They say anything about how to turn him back?”

“Apparently, it’s all linked to that ancient story, The Frog Prince. They said ‘true love’s kiss’ would turn Spock back into a Vulcan.”

Bones looked up at him, his eyebrow arched. “That so…?” he murmured thoughtfully.

“I know!” Kirk cried. Unable to contain his restless energy anymore, he leaped from the chair and started pacing the small transparent aluminum-enclosed room. “Does such a thing even exist for a Vulcan? True love doesn’t even really exist for Humans, and we’re the idiots who made the damn thing up!”

“You need to take a deep breath, Jim,” Bones sighed, laying his PADD aside and interlacing his fingers over his stomach as he leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t you think about it logically?”

“Ribbit!”

Bones grinned and stuck his thumb out over his shoulder. “See? Spock agrees with me.”

Kirk thought Bones was taking the entire thing too lightly— making jokes at Spock’s expense, sticking him in a terrarium, and now trying to tell him to relax. He was about this close to exploding on his friend.

“Is there anything you can do?” Kirk asked instead. “Anything in some medical file or—”

“That’ll undo magic? No. Can’t say that I’ve found anything like that.”

“It’s not magic, Leonard, it’s—”

“I know what it is, Jim,” Bones raised his voice over Kirk’s and the tone surprised him out of pacing. “It’s far too advanced for anything we have in the Starfleet medical database and it’s like nothing that I’ve ever heard of, besides in tales about evil witches. What do you expect me to do? I can’t turn a frog into a Vulcan through medical science—it’s simply not possible! The only option we have is to follow their directions. If we need ‘true love’s kiss,’ then that’s what we need. You need to think logically and figure out what you should do next.”

But Kirk was flummoxed. He had no idea what to do next. Spock never loved anyone. ‘True love’ wasn’t something that he thought any Vulcan would be familiar with.

Unless the definition of ‘true love’ could be broadened somehow…

Bones broke Kirk’s train of thought by speaking softly but with determination. “Think, Jim. Think back to all of Spock’s past actions. I think you’ll find his ‘true love’ there.” He leaned forward, a partial smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I think you’ll know what you have to do…”

Kirk narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You’ve already got an idea, haven’t you? Well, out with it, then.”

Shrugging, Bones leaned back into his chair and picked up his PADD again. “Just a theory, really. I’d rather you come to the same conclusion yourself. If I tell you, well, then that’s just too easy. After all, the frog prince had to convince his princess to kiss him, didn’t he?”

“Ribbit!”

“You’re incorrigible,” Kirk told him, rapping his knuckles on Bones’ desk. He decided not to call his friend’s bluff because Kirk didn’t need his help. Kirk already had his own idea of what he needed to do. He just hoped that it would work.

Nerves bunched up in Kirk’s stomach long before the lovely face of a grey-haired Human woman appeared on the screen on his personal communications terminal in his Captain’s Quarters. A thousand explanations had run through his mind, but in the end, he’d decided that saying as little as possible would probably be the best course of action. After all, no mother wanted to hear that their only son had been cursed into a frog.

“Captain Kirk,” Amanda Greyson greeted with a bright smile. “This is a most unusual but welcome surprise.”

Kirk smiled back, but it only went skin deep. “Hello again, Lady Ambassador. I hope I did not disturb you.”

“Oh, no. It’s quite alright, Captain,” she replied with a wave of her dainty hand. “The Ambassador is resting and I was happy to take your call in his stead. Tell me, how is Spock?”

Kirk’s gut wrenched painfully. “Doing well,” he lied. “Busy…with the First Contact we are delegating.”

“How just like him, to be so busy working and miss his mother’s call. He is so like his father.” Her eyes grew unfocused and faraway. Any other time, Kirk might have asked after her. He was quite smitten with Spock’s mother and liked to think the two of them got along quite well.

But he was here for business, not pleasure.

“Lady Ambassador,” Kirk began, tapping his fingers against his chin. He’d rehearsed his question several times over before even making the subspace communication to Vulcan, but that didn’t stop him from being anxious about the questions Amanda might ask back. “I was wondering if you had a way that you could put me in contact with…with T’Pring.”

Even over the video, Kirk could tell that she started. “Spock’s betrothed? Whatever for?”

And here it was. Remember: keep it simple! “I…believe that she might have some…invaluable insight on our current mission.”

Amanda tilted her head, regarding him, and Kirk hoped she wouldn’t ask any more questions. “Doesn’t Starfleet have its own xenoscientists, Captain?” she asked in a calculating voice.

“We do,” he responded too quickly. “However, this race… they have strong telepathic and telekinetic abilities.” An idea occurred to him. “Spock had recommended I attempt to contact her about them. He would have done it himself but…after what happened…he didn’t think she would be as responsive to his call as to mine.”

“So why call me and not ask my son for her communication code?”

Kirk shrugged and a hysterical laugh escaped his lips despite his best effort to contain it. “I just didn’t want to bother him. Besides, I didn’t think about it until it was too late.” Hardly a good excuse, but it might just do the job. “Please,” he continued quickly, leaning forward and batting his eyes, “will you help me?”

She was silent a few moments more, with a crease between her eyes and then she sighed. “I can connect you to her, but I’ll make no promises about her responsiveness.”

“Wonderful!” Kirk released the breath he had been holding. Relief blossomed in his chest as he smiled. “I greatly appreciate it, Lady Ambassador.”

“Of course, Captain,” Amanda replied offhandedly as she pressed a series of buttons Kirk couldn’t see. “But, James?”

“Yes?”

Her eyes flashed. “I do hope you will tell me the truth the next time you call for a favor.”

“I—” he choked.

But Amanda had transferred his video. Only a series of Vulcan words remained in her place.

T’Pring had not answered. Kirk left her a message detailing their predicament as best as he could, but he didn’t really believe that she would return his communication. Something in his heart told him she wouldn’t, anyway.

He rubbed his face in his hands and tried to think of another logical thing to do.

How to find Spock’s ‘true love’s kiss’ and change him back? There was nothing he could think of because Spock didn’t actually love anybody. It wasn’t in his nature! He had said so himself over and over again.

Briefly, Kirk considered calling Amanda back in the hopes that a mother’s love would be considered ‘true’ enough to do the trick, but he immediately dismissed it. Not only did the original story not use such a loophole, but it would never matter how much Amanda loved Spock. That wasn’t how he remembered the story going.

Spock had to love the person who kissed him, in order to break the spell.

So who in this wide, wide Universe did Spock love?

Kirk dropped his hands to his desk and shook his head. He was about ready to hang up a sign on the sickbay doors and make it a free for all. Any woman willing! Come, line up to kiss a frog!

With a deep sigh, he decided to slouch his way back to sickbay. Maybe he could convince Bones to tell him his secret theory.

“Back again, I see,” Bones greeted the second Kirk was through his door. He glanced up from the biobed whose control panel was in pieces in front of him. When Kirk threw him a questioning look, Bones answered, “Just some software updates. Routine things, you know. You find what you were looking for?”

Kirk narrowed his eyes as he stepped closer, about to give the other man a piece of his mind, but he was interrupted by Uhura’s voice coming from the intercom.

“Lieutenant Uhura to Captain Kirk. Incoming subspace message from Vulcan, sir. Priority One.”

Grinning, Kirk grasped Bones’ arms and shook him gently. He didn’t bother explaining, despite Bones’ look of confusion. He bounded to the intercom on the sickbay wall and smashed the button.

“Go ahead and patch it into Doctor McCoy’s office. I’ll take it there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jim! You can’t just go and commandeer a man’s computer console—”

“Ah, yes I can,” Kirk sang, wagging his finger at Bones as he strode away and into his office, “because I’m the captain.”

He sat at the terminal, nervously ran his hand through his hair, carefully wiped the smile from his lips, and punched the accept button on the side of the screen.

T’Pring, as regal and unaffected as he remembered her to be, appeared on the monitor.

From somewhere behind him, he thought he heard Bones swear.

Kirk held up his hand in a Vulcan salute and T’Pring returned it. Though, somewhat begrudgingly, he noted.

“Thank you for answering my communication, T’Pring. I hope you are well?”

If possible, the hard line of her mouth deepened. “Save me the Human frivolities, Captain. I am uncertain that I understood your request. I require more clarification from you.”

“Well, you see, Spock is—”

“A Terran amphibian.”

“Er. Yes. And we need for you to—”

“I do not understand what the merits of ‘kissing’ would be.”

Kirk gulped. Somehow, he hadn’t anticipated T’Pring to be so… uncooperative. Thinking back to the way she acted on Vulcan, it was a wonder that he ever thought this would work.

“Its merit is that ‘kissing’ Spock in his present state appears to be the only way to turn him back into his regular self. I said that to you already in my message,” he said, staring hard at the screen, willing her to understand.

“And why should I kiss him?”

He had gone over this too, but Kirk drew a long breath and willed himself to remain calm and not let the hysteria that threatened to engulf him edge into his voice. “You…were betrothed to him. Surely there is some residual—” Not 'feelings', because she was Vulcan and Kirk didn’t want to offend his only hope of getting Spock back. Kirk wracked his brain for a different word. “—affection, that stems from that connection. Enough, to turn him back into himself.”

T’Pring raised a lovely slanted eyebrow and ‘harumf’ed so sharply that Kirk could have almost mistaken it for a laugh. “There was hardly affection when we saw each other last, and there certainly is none now. I am not the savior you seek, Captain Kirk.”

Kirk couldn’t help it. His face fell. His shoulders caved forward into his chest.

“Frankly, I am astounded that you contacted me at all—” She looked away for a brief moment, collecting herself. “—given your display in the ancestral sands.”

His eyebrows knit. What was that supposed to mean?

Behind him, Kirk heard Bones groan.

“I…” Kirk blinked, shook his head, and tried again, “I-I-I don’t believe I understand your meaning, T’Pring.”

She scowled. “It is not for me to say,” she responded roughly. “I cannot help you in this.”

A second later, her display darkened.

“Sir,” came Uhura’s voice, “I’ve lost the communication to Vulcan. Should I attempt to re-establish—”

“No, Lieutenant,” Kirk sighed. “Thank you.”

That was it. There were no more options. There was nothing else that Kirk could think of to help Spock. This was it! The end!

And now Spock would remain a frog for the rest of his life.

Would he have a frog lifespan or a Vulcan lifespan?

Kirk didn’t want to think about it—his friend trapped in a tiny frog body for another hundred years… What kind of life would that be?

“Are you finished making a damn fool of yourself?” Bones exclaimed so suddenly that Kirk jumped in his seat.

He turned to look up at his friend, confused. “What?”

“All this nonsense about affection—T’Pring was right! She can’t help you! I didn’t think you’d be fool enough to call her, of all people.”

Kirk’s mouth worked but no sound came out in the face of Bones’ icy stare. “W-well, now, see here, Bones—”

“No, you see here! I tried leading you to the obvious answer. I tried tellin’ ya to think back to Spock’s past actions and you thought of T’Pring? Lord in high heaven, have mercy. You’re more hopeless than I thought!”

Bones stomped past Kirk to Spock’s terrarium. He reached in and unceremoniously plucked Spock from his large, flat stone with a soft squelch then brought him back to Kirk. He watched Bones with his mouth open as his friend adjusted his grip and then held Spock the Frog out to him.

“Pucker up.”

“Are you out of your mind, Leonard McCoy?!”

“Kiss. The DAMN. Frog. Jim.”

He shook his head. Bones was crazy. This was his big theory? It was never going to work!

Softly, Spock croaked, and Kirk looked at him longingly. If only it could have been true, but Spock didn’t love him. They were friends, maybe. A team, definitely. There was no one else in the universe that Kirk trusted more, but…

No, it was impossible.

He looked up straight into Bones’ eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I?” Bones replied softly. “Who did he trust with his greatest secret when he was starting to go through that Pon Farr? Who helped you identify your vicious half from your good half, and who brought the two of you together?”

Kirk shook his head.

“Who insisted you were innocent, even when Commodore Stone had all the evidence against you? Who pushed you out of the way and took those poisonous flower darts for you, for christ’s sake?”

“Yes, you’ve made your point, Bones…”

But he didn’t stop. “What did you say Spock told you when that infection from Psi 2000 ravaged the ship?”

“Ribbit.”

Kirk shook his head, but he remembered the words as plainly as if they were yesterday. “When I feel friendship for you, I…I’m ashamed.”

“Yes, Jim. Now, what do you think the only logical reason for a Vulcan to feel something like shame could be?”

“It’s not going to work,” Kirk sighed, but something new rose sharply in his chest. A question he hardly dared to dwell on.

But what if it did?

“So? Will you kiss the frog now? Or do you want to take him out to dinner first?”

He shook his head again, but Kirk held out his hands. Bones carefully placed Spock in them and took several steps back. He looked excited. Kirk glanced up at him, still doubtful.

But what if?

His heart raced.

What did kissing a frog feel like, anyway? Would kissing Spock’s wet cheek be enough?

Spock adjusted his delicate legs and nestled snugly into the palms of Kirk’s hands. “Ribbit,” he croaked quietly.

Kirk lifted Spock up to his eye level. He could almost believe the Vulcan had retained all his intelligence, and he knew what was about to happen. His gaze looked soulful and longing. It was much the same sort of expression that Kirk had caught a time or two on the bridge. Always when Spock thought he was too busy to notice.

But he had noticed, Kirk had just convinced himself that it was nothing.

True love’s kiss…

Would Spock really change back? For him?

“Ribbit.” Get on with it, he seemed to say. It is illogical to waiver when there are no other avenues open to you.

Kirk took a steadying breath through his nose—

—and raised Spock’s little frog lips to his own.

Heat tingled and blossomed between them. If the sun could be contained within a being, then Kirk thought that this was what that might have felt like. Kirk couldn’t pull away, even if he had wanted to.

The air crackled and swirled around them. The frog he had known to be in his hands grew larger and larger, expanding until a heavy weight settled comfortably in his lap, his hands laying on either side of it.

Kirk couldn’t hear anything outside of the roaring in his blood. He was overwhelmed by the sensation in his lips, in the pressure there, and in the soft caress of a nose against his cheek.

Spock pulled away, but Kirk didn’t want to open his eyes.

The weight in his lap, the mass in his arms… it had to have worked… but he was terrified that if he opened his eyes, the spell would be broken.

This spell, the spell of the true love that Kirk had kept himself from dreaming of.

“Captain,” Spock’s deep voice reverberated through his body from where they touched. Almost a purr.

Kirk allowed his eyes to flutter open and he found exactly what he’d always wanted: Spock, close to his face, his hands resting on Kirk’s chest, with his head tilted and the forbidden ghost of a smile on the edge of his lips.

Kirk wanted very badly, very suddenly, to kiss him again.

Bones grunted and had an obnoxious coughing fit, drawing both of their attentions.

“Now, we are all very glad that Spock is Spock again, and I will tell you that I told you for the rest of your life, but if you two are going to keep canoodling like that, you need to find a different room to do it in.”

Spock shook his head. “Doctor, after my dubious treatment at your hands, I believe that ‘you owe me.’”

Bones spluttered. “Dubious!? I didn’t feed you flies, did I? Get out of my office before I make you wish you were still a frog!”

#trekbingo2020 #Star Trek #TOS #Spirk #Star Trek: TOS #The Original Series #Jim Kirk #Mr. Spock #Bones #Fiend writes

8 notes · View notes

somnilogical · 4 years

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transgenderer: okay so you know the trope where when you get too much eldritch knowledge and suddenly you start seeing giant monsters everywhere that are invisible to everyone else? that’s what being a trans woman is like.

this cluster of abilities keeps being instrumentally useful to model for reasoning about transfems. promethea and bendini independently talked about this:

[08:56] Bendini: This sounds like parody, but with californians it is difficult to tell

[image of fb post:

Daniel Powell: That report claims both that all entrances were blocked and also that a police vehicle entered and exited the camp; was that because the police vehicle was capable of offoad movement that typical vehicles are incapable of? My heart goes out to the kids on the high course who were subjected to unjustifiable physical pain or mental suffering as a result of seeing people in Guy Fawkes masks, and all the people who had their personal liberty violated.

Like Reply 11h]

[09:02] Bendini: also this is a lot less credible if you haven't forgotten what happened with Brent

[09:02] Bendini: regardless of whether Anna is secretly a transphobe

[09:03] Bendini: rather than just scared of one particular trans person

[09:03] Bendini: the same sort of defence was trotted out for brent, and he was guilty

[09:05] Bendini: yeah, ziz is crazy and a lot of stuff posted is just ramblings

[09:06] Bendini: but I can see the model of everyone being sufficiently cowardly that the crazy bring forward the accusations before the courageous do

[09:23] promethea: gotta love how nobody can quite agree exactly how the people involved are Bad and Evil but people are nonetheless confident that they are schizophrenic/narcissistic/abusers/violent and must be confined and put on chemical mind control

[image of fb post:

Romeo Stevens: I'd recommend whomever has comparative advantage to familiarize themselves with the narcissism/bpd/aspd cluster, more evocatively called energy vampires. Such people are not stable and can grow violent when they are deprived attention they believe they are entitled to. The book Character Disturbance is fairly good for a start. It is a known falilure mode for communities of people who have faced their own social isolation to fail at filtering. To be clear, such people deserve compassion, but they need professional help. They don't benefit from a bunch of people whose time is valuable (one of the reasons they are attracted to such people because more validation) paying attention to their narratives.

9h Edited]

[09:24] promethea: there's been an awful lot of "not saying, but just saying" of a type that screams of monkeyball hysteria and attacking any characteristics that can be painted as vulnerabilities open for attack

[09:26] promethea: (also Ben the reason why you find Ziz's blog full of "just ramblings" is that you have a particular neurotype that is very... I don't have a good value-neutral way of expressing the difference but maybe "mundane" as opposed to "eldritch")

[09:35] Bendini: yeah the idea of someone saying get professional help is a strong sign they have not thought through what they are saying

[09:36] Bendini: like, a quick glance at what professional mental health treatment looks like in the US (therapy in the UK is afaik good for low hanging fruit, but not much else)

[09:37] Bendini: "these people should be reported to the mental health authoritities to be dealt with"

[09:37] Bendini: "Uhhh, I mean get the compassion they need"

[09:38] Bendini: I have to say, you would be the first person in the history of ever to call my neurotype mundane

[09:39] Bendini: I see what you are getting at

[09:39] Bendini: but it is like, how many standard deviations of weirdness are you on

[09:39] Bendini: and I said most, not all

[09:40] promethea: I think it's more like what direction your weirdness is in; "grounded" or "basic bitch" were other words I considered

[09:40] promethea: it's similar to the difference between EAs who want to find out how to best help the global poor, and the ones who get very preoccupied over whether insecticides are causing catastrophic suffering

[09:43] Bendini: "tethered to reality, somehow" would be an alternative

[09:45] Bendini: I think it's due to having like 50% really normie emotions

[09:45] promethea: "tethered to consensus reality" is how I'd adjust that phrasing

[09:46] promethea: it may be something to do with a sense that the world is fundamentally sane but just really bad at its job, vs the world being fundamentally insane and only aligned with the actual reality by little more than grace of gnon

[09:49] promethea: and probably some kind of a fundamental unshakeable-to-barely-shakeable prior rather than something that responds to ordinary reasoning

[09:50] Bendini: what do we mean by fundementally sane vs insane here?

[09:51] promethea: good catch, that's a nightmare to unpack

[09:53] promethea: a lot of the early LW stuff is comparatively eldritch in this sense, especially for the context of not having had LW yet

[09:56] promethea: in an environment where being trans isn't normal trans people have a certain inherent eldritch-ness, but a person fitting neatly into a third gender social role in a culture where that has always been a thing is not eldritch in that way

[09:57] promethea: it's the difference between "other people are trying their best even if their best isn't that good" vs. "other people are systematically gaslighting you about everything until proven otherwise"

[10:01] Bendini: ah

[10:02] Bendini: I'd put the difference down to people being really really crap at explaining things because the message is in there but it's between the lines

[10:02] Bendini: not intentionally, but because they don't know how else to do it

[10:03] promethea: https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/sYgv4eYH82JEsTD34/beyond-the-reach-of-god this is probably the most explicit work by EY on what I've been calling the eldritch

[10:04] Bendini: and if you don't have enough of the fuzzy experience knowledge to do it, following what they are saying will be experienced as gaslighting

[10:04] promethea: and specifically, Beyond the Reach of God is trying to shake a component of the fundamental sense of security and move people towards the eldritch side

[10:05] Bendini: this sounds like the fundamental autist experience which cleaves into paranoia or extreme submissiveness to authority

[10:08] promethea:

I'd put the difference down to people being really really crap at explaining things because the message is in there but it's between the lines

not intentionally, but because they don't know how else to do it

and if you don't have enough of the fuzzy experience knowledge to do it, following what they are saying will be experienced as gaslighting

I'm thinking more of the thing about "seek professional help"

[10:09] Bendini: the yud post does not

[10:09] promethea: a mundane interpretation is "professional help isn't actually that helpful but I don't know that" while an eldritch interpretation is like "these people should be reported to the mental health authoritities to be dealt with"

[10:09] Bendini: as I'm rereading it

[10:10] Bendini: I do not believe the world is just

[10:10] Bendini: or that things will work out fine in the end because they always do

[10:11] Bendini: given, y'know, that I used to be a prepper

[10:15] Bendini: also I may have figured out how to reconcile "anna is a transphobe and admitted it outright" with what has been said

[10:16] Bendini: which I suspect pete knows based on what he said, but he doesn't say it outright

[10:18] promethea: "eldritch" isn't about just-world beliefs, it's closer to "a quality that makes one faster to disalieve things like just-world or other aspects of consensus reality"

[10:21] Bendini: I think there's some conflation between beleif in verbal consensus reality and belief that you can anticipate what other people will do probabalistically

[10:22] Bendini: I do not beleive in the former, but I think I had enough natural talent at the latter to reach a kind of escape velocity

[10:24] Bendini: i.e. have enough to build on/enough peices of the jigsaw put in that I could keep filling it in

[10:26] promethea: it's not about "eldritch means you can't model other people"

[10:29] promethea: if anything, mundane models are the ones that are sacrificing modeling ability

[10:30] promethea: ...seeing patterns where people insist is only noise but that noise just so happens to be awfully conveniently shaped...

[10:30] Bendini: if I am defined as the non-eldridch side, this sounds like something that could be falsified

[10:31] promethea: I'm feeling like this is a beautiful meta-level illustration of the difference between the neurotypes but way less useful on the object level or to someone who doesn't already have an unspeakable sense of what the difference is

[10:33] promethea: I don't know how to get the qualia across to someone who doesn't already have the thing and be thus able to possibly grok it from what I'm vaguely gesturing at

[10:34] Bendini: is there a way to demonstrate information transmission between 2 eldridch people?

[10:36] promethea: ziz's blog has a lot of content that makes perfect sense to people who have a quality that's probably strongly aligned with eldritch, but apparently looks like ramblings to people who don't

[10:38] promethea: some things are just ordinarily difficult to understand in that they require a lot of work, while others are actually mind-bending to properly comprehend, and eldritch minds are more bendy in that way?

[10:41] promethea: which also increases vulnerability to infohazards, cognitohazards, overfitting, demonic possession and generally going nuts, but the idea that eldritch is inherently less sane only applies to socioculturally mediated definitions of sanity

[10:42] Bendini: my immidiate reaction to "socioculturally mediated definitions of sanity" was "yes, and creditworthyness is a social construct"

[10:43] promethea: if reality is less well-matched with consensus reality then the bendiness of eldritch minds means that they can more easily construct accurate maps of the territory

[10:44] Bendini: can you think of a way to compare viewing that map to the territory?

[10:44] Bendini: as in, not being able to show the map is a given

[10:45] Bendini: but the outputs of the map

[10:47] promethea: seeing power, seeing prejudice and bias, seeing other things polite society pretends aren't real...

[10:49] promethea: and it's polite society all the way down

[10:49] Bendini: that's not really what I meant

[10:50] Bendini: I mean for example, using the ability to see those things to predict other things in a way that can be isolated from fuzzy confirmation bias

[10:51] Bendini: like I can very much believe ziz's blog is relatable and intuitive to you

[10:52] Bendini: and you have to do less interpretive labour to get a true insight from it

[10:53] Bendini: but the thing I'm pointing at as ramblings is seperate from that

[10:58] promethea: would it make sense if I rephrased it as "less cognitive filtering"? being able to see more signal in noise, especially where the signals are something you aren't supposed to be seeing for some reason or another, but at the cost that you're more likely to see signals where there is only noise

[11:02] Bendini: that makes sense

[11:03] Bendini: but it assumes that all people who don't do the eldrich thing can't go down the abstraction ladder

[11:04] promethea:

can't go down the abstraction ladder

can you elaborate?

[11:04] Bendini: what is salient to someone isn't completely a choice

[11:05] Bendini: but what you notice is based on what you've learned is useful to pay attention to

[11:07] Bendini: I could say something about forests leaves and trees

[11:07] Bendini: but it would be a bit cliche

[11:08] Bendini: something that might sink in would be more like someone paying attention to what is going on at the binary level as bits are moving between the hard drive memory and cpu

[11:09] Bendini: yes, it is useful to know what is going on so you understand other things

[11:10] Bendini: but hyperfixating on that while you are writing code on a much higher level of abstraction

[11:10] Bendini: in a sense, you are "seeing things that others have been trained not to see"

[11:10] Bendini: or don't understand

[11:10] Bendini: but doing that on a frame by frame level rather than an intutive "you know what's up" kinda level

[11:11] Bendini: is going to result in glaring errors from the stuff you aren't paying enough attention to

[11:15] promethea: it's not autism except possibly to the degree that autism weakens one's priors

[11:16] Bendini: agree, there are plenty of basic bitch autists

[11:17] Bendini: but like, the autistic catgirl cluster

[11:18] Bendini: it is a recurring pattern that some of them obsess over social reality in the way ziz does, yet keep getting into abusive relationships which were predictable from the outset

[11:18] Bendini: which idk, maybe this is a bit of a basic bitch take here

[11:19] Bendini: but this seems like the opposite of what should happen if they had reached the higher plane of knowledge that cannot be explained in words

[11:20] promethea: I'm not expecting all men to be able to do twenty pull-ups just because testosterone improves upper body strength

[11:22] promethea: the "eldritch" neurotype might also be called "psychoticism" but in the sense of a personality trait like extroversion and not in the sense of mental illness

[11:22] Bendini: no, but if those men claim to be much stronger because they have the magical testosterone elixir

[11:22] Bendini: and they keep getting beaten up by 5ft anorexic girls

[11:23] Bendini: at what point do you say "no, you do not have the thing you claim to have"

[11:30] promethea: no what I've been trying to say is that there appears to be a neurotype-level difference in how people process some types of information with predictable (in terms of not requiring loads of epicycles) upsides (having an easier time making accurate models where they contradict consensus reality) and downsides (having an easier time making inaccurate models where they contradict consensus reality)

[11:30] Bendini: the psychotiticism framing does help explain part of it

[11:31] Bendini: but that feels like the motte

[11:31] Bendini: it's the bailey I have trouble with

[11:31] promethea: I can't comment on the precise situation with the Bay catgirls because I'm not familiar enough with it to feel comfortable making non-obvious inferences

[11:33] Bendini: okay

[11:33] Bendini: I wonder how my experiences with psychedelics map into this though

[11:34] promethea: a bit of a shitpost-y formulation might be that high psychoticism-as-a-personality-trait is like having the safety guards off the [insert power tool that best fits the analogy] of your mind; it makes it easier to make some cuts that you'd otherwise struggle with, but it also makes it easier to cut things you wouldn't actually want to cut like yourself

[11:34] promethea: psychedelics would be expected to increase psychoticism-as-a-personality-trait

[11:35] Bendini: you'd expect them to do it while on them though

[11:35] promethea: both temporarily (very strongly) and permanently (from what it seems)

[11:35] Bendini: I seem to get neither in some important ways

[11:36] Bendini: like certain kinds of art and music

[11:36] Bendini: it was a sanity check of sorts

[11:37] promethea: (this also fits with my experience that when my dopamine levels are increased I get better at the thinks but also more likely to be overconfidently wrong, and that most antipsychotics are dopamine antagonists, etc.)

[11:38] Bendini: if I cannot see mediocre art as anything more than mediocre art while I'm hallucinating, it really isn't a case of me not being open to it

[11:39] Bendini: it's a case of wine in expensive bottles

[11:40] Bendini: I do think I have had some changes though

[11:40] Bendini: more sympathy to points of view people cannot express verbally

[11:46] promethea: I don't think "finding deep meaning in mediocre art" is any kind of a necessary characteristic of increased PAAPT (psychoticism-as-a-you-know-what), especially given that "mediocre art actually has deep meaning when on drugs" is the social reality

[13:28] Bendini: I mean more the ability to be open minded and see the beauty in things

[13:28] Bendini: because I could totally see the beauty of a brick wall

[13:28] Bendini: just some girl showed me her pretty mediocre drawings

[13:29] Bendini: and I was pretty speechless because the mediocrity was the salient characteristic

[13:30] Bendini: I find it suspends judgement for a longer period

[13:31] Bendini: but when my mind speaks out to me my concience is much louder

[13:32] Bendini: this does not seem to be the standard reaction to psychadelics

[13:32] Bendini: the basic bitch lurks deep in my lizard brain

(dont agree with all of promethea's characterization of the phenomena; but its clearly seeded from looking at the same phenomena that i am. bendini does not get whats going on at all here.)

ive referenced leveraging this to do what seems impossible or unpredictable to normies as creepy transfem mind powers. then people are like 'saraaah ccc somni said trans women have creepy mind powers thats crazy talk right?' and sarah c's like 'well yes its true trans women have a high iq'.

but this is kind of eliding over different kinds of intelligence as neurotypes and collapsing it all into "iq". transfems and ashkies arent just generically "intelligent" theres specific neurotypes behind the inteligence. like for ashkies the sort of things that get recorded in metrics are high "verbal" iq and "math" iq and average "spatial" iq. thats a specífic signature.

see: http://web.mit.edu/fustflum/documents/papers/AshkenaziIQ.jbiosocsci.pdf

"high intelligence" can look like hyperlexia and it can also look like dissociative mind powers that let people see through the matrix and be unnervingly good at reasoning over embeddings of yourself.

like as intelligence increases, general capacity at solving problems increases. but maybe you shunt symbols instead of rotate objects to solves a problem. which affects what kinds of problems you can easily solve, given some are more amiable to one approach over another. there are many instances where visual proofs without words are much shorter than doing lots of algebra and vice-versa.

these specificities allow high-inteligence subpopulations to collude within neuroclades along these lines of similarity. downstream of this is that a lot of ppl accuse both jews and transfems of conspiracy and being "friends" with each other when a lot of mutual information comes from neurotype similarity not meeting and deciding on a plan. (thats not to say, you know, that there are never meetings about how to take over the multiverse...)

its amusing how like transfems will talk with each other about stuff and then ppl will be like "arghh!!! my eyes! this writing is painful static! its an infohazard!! its a glitch in the matrix!! AIEEEEGYRGHLSMERGLEGLunk pshhhur" and then say they dont understand what you are saying but it probably means you are a creepy violent misogynistic deeply sick male who is experiencing a psychotic break or something. give me tokens of submission to prove me wrong. if you were really prosocial youd drop this act right now and "act like a human".

part of the reason im writing this is reading things like:

<<promethea: gotta love how nobody can quite agree exactly how the people involved are Bad and Evil but people are nonetheless confident that they are schizophrenic/narcissistic/abusers/violent and must be confined and put on chemical mind control>>

has a healing quality. like i independently derived this. people keep trying to erase these simple shapes of how things fit together. try to destroy peoples ability to build common knowledge and talk with each other. the authoritarians dont usually try to give good excuses about why they pretend its wrong besides saying "its absurd". when you are in a prison planet surrounded mostly by people who have decided to be cops or submit to them, reading this is like:

https://youtu.be/DSTknzzBT9Y

youtube

you have to fractally reason through warpy things like people distantly noting "patient appears to be suffering from delusions of persecution'. and people trying to tell you that you are psychotic when like hi im writing this and not "psychotic". and you dont even have the social reality of people doing actual info-processing and at the end saying "well yeah its pretty obvious you arent suffering from a psychotic break, weird that anyone would claim that".

what you have is people giving you strange looks and acting like what youve written is a tear in the fabric of reality releasing trillions of shrill screams from a place beyond time.

its not because they dont understand, its because they have chosen not to. with different social groups of humans, different things elicit this response. like in a plural server i joined i talked about maybe there could be something in between being plural and being a singlet and they acted like id spoken static until someone said "oh thats [short handle for this concept]" and then everyone relaxed and stopped acting as if they couldnt understand what i was saying because there was no longer any local social threat to dynamically processing this information in front of other humans. they learned from the exclaimer that it was a Thing in their culture.

when people cant anticipate a priori where dynamically processing information in front of a lot of people will land them wrt the local overton window, as a solution they will just refuse to do this. one way to refuse to do this is to say "im sorry i dont understand what you are saying its like painful static. ack! stop trying to explain i dont want to understand it might turn me evil or something!!" which is an accurate assessment if they were coerced into using the words good and evil to mean alignment and disalignment with local social consensus respectively.

like the strategy of people who want to contain those floricdly hemorrhaging eldritch knowledge all over the place is to have a constarnt investment of authoritarian power to suppress this:

<<Reject invest-y power. Some kinds of power increase your freedom. Some other kinds require an ongoing investment of your time and energy, and explode if you fail to provide it. The second kind binds you, and ultimately forces you to give up your values. The second kind is also easier, and you'll be tempted all the time.>>

https://squirrelinhell.blogspot.com/2018/01/superhuman-meta-process.html

unlike true things which will keep reforming and can be lazily evaluated from looking around you with no memory. you dont need as much energy poured into constantly refreshing the cache of who you are supposed to pretend is having a psychotic break.

the authoritarian strat loses out in the long term against anarchist cooperation between agents that have learned enough to be able to consistently exploit their knowledge of Dread Horrors of the Abyss. who no longer need to dodge bullets.

#i was going to reblog but then tumblr ate my reblog #and i OCR'd it from screenshots #which i almost always take before posting on tumblr #but then afterwards realized i wrote a post instead of a reblog

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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Daughter of Dr. Jekyll

John Agar’s in this. So, for that matter, is Gloria Talbott from Girls Town and The Leech Woman, and it was directed by Edgar G. Ulmer, who brought us The Amazing Transparent Man. It was released on a double-bill with The Cyclops, which I’ve already reviewed, and while all that seems to promise us an utter crapfest, the premise at least sounded intriguing. Then I actually pressed play, and was greeted by an opening consisting of gray fog, theremin music, and a bored narrator. Oh, yeah. This is gonna suck.

Said opening narration very (and I mean very) quickly introduces us to the tale of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, in which a distinguished scientist used a strange potion to turn himself into a werewolf! Wait… that’s not what happened in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde at all. Wasn’t it a story about how every person has the capacity for evil and that’s part of what makes us human, and… aw, fuck it, this is a John Agar movie. Okay, sure, a werewolf. Whatever you say, Portentous 50’s Narrator. Moving on.

Janet Smith and her fiancé George Hastings arrive at her family’s palatial home, which she will inherit on her upcoming twenty-first birthday. That’s not all that’s come down the family line, though. Janet’s last name is not Smith, but Jekyll, and she was born after his experiments in lycanthropy had begun. Might she pass it on to her children? Or might Janet herself not be affected? Or is her father’s old friend Dr. Lomas an evil hypnotist using her for his own ends? Wait… what?

After sitting through crap like The Incredible Petrified World and Creatures from the Abyss, I kind of want to give extra points to Daughter of Dr. Jekyll. It’s actually fairly well-constructed for the most part, it’s rarely boring, and the sets representing the Jekyll family estate are very nice. There’s a plot I can follow, I know who the characters are, and so forth… my standards have dropped so low, that’s actually kind of impressive. The creepy delivery guy who hangs around whittling stakes and sowing discontent is pretty effective, himself, even though he’s a very one-dimensional character.

There’s still plenty of badness to be had, of course. The movie appears to be set in the first decade of the twentieth century, but it’s not very committed to that. The sound is frequently weird, from the absolute cacophony of frogs at the opening to musical cues that I swear were stolen from Robot Monster. There’s a random cameo from a very 50’s pin-up girl who appears, gets killed, and vanishes without us ever even learning her name. The climactic fight between George and the werewolf is extremely shatnery and the werewolf makeup is even lamer than in Werewolf in a Girl’s Dormitory.

Even worse, there’s an entire subplot that kind of doesn’t even bother happening. Most movies that are going to involve angry villagers have some scenes in a local pub or something to show the rabble being roused – even The Giant Spider Invasion had that. In Daughter of Dr. Jekyll we hear about angry villagers from a couple of different people but never actually see them until the pitchfork-toting crowd appears out of nowhere at the end. It’s like an angry flash mob. All we needed was a few thirty-second scenes, but I guess this movie couldn’t afford villagers. The whole climax is obscured by fog that makes it very hard to tell who’s who and what’s going on.

As usual, we’re confused about who our main character is supposed to be. The person whose eyes we see the story through is Janet. It’s Janet whose arc we follow, and Janet who we learn the most about, but she’s a very frustrating character because she is entirely without agency. The only choice she appears to make in the entire film is agreeing to marry George, before this story begins. Otherwise, she’s letting him or Lomas tell her what to do, completely incapable of making her own decisions (she even says as much, when George asks her if she’d like to go to London and elope). When the action occurs, she’s drugged with sleeping pills or in Lomas’ hypnotic thrall.

Even the very premise strips Janet of control over her own fate. She is not the heir to a scientific legacy (as other descendants of Henry Jekyll in other movies have been) but to a genetic one. Tanya in Lady Frankenstein chose to continue and improve on her father’s work. She might not have. Janet, on the other hand, cannot opt out of the family’s potentially tainted DNA. This lack of control is reinforced through smaller events as well: George won’t let Janet change her mind about marrying him, and when the young couple tells Lomas they don’t want his money or estate, he reveals that both were actually Janet’s the whole time. Like Eddie in The Beatniks, Janet is basically a victim even when good things are happening – they always happen to her rather than because of her.

The character who actually tries to take control of the situation, and who I think we’re supposed to see as the ‘hero’, is George – but we know nothing about George. He loves Janet and he has terrible fashion sense, and that’s really it. It’s her family we learn about, and her mental disintegration that follows. George spends most of the movie just hovering on the sidelines watching, and even at the end he doesn’t do very much. He explains what’s really going on to Janet and the audience (though we’ve already figured it out) and gets his ass kicked by a geriatric werewolf. The monster is actually killed by the mob of villagers, while George just stands there with Janet sobbing into his shirt. The movie probably wouldn’t have been much different without him.

The thing that really takes the viewer out of the movie, however, and does so repeatedly for its entire seventy-minute running time, is that it can’t make up its mind what its monster is supposed to be. I already mentioned the narrator’s conviction that Mr. Hyde was a werewolf, but it gets way weirder and more confusing than that.

The servants at the Jekyll house also talk about werewolves, and tell Janet and George in threatening voices that they know how to deal with such creatures. On the other hand, when Dr. Lomas himself tells them what happened, he tells the story we’re familiar with: Dr. Jekyll wanted to separate the good and evil parts of a person, and ended up giving the evil in himself a free agency of its own. This made me think maybe the servants were just a bunch of superstitious peasants? Maybe they called Mr. Hyde a werewolf because they didn’t know what else to call him? That almost started to make sense… but then George picks up a book about werewolves, and in its pages he reads that a werewolf leaves its tomb on the night of the full moon so it can drink blood, and can only be killed by a wooden stake through the heart.

Wait. What?

That… that’s not werewolves! Werewolves are killed by silver bullets! Stakes through the heart are vampires! Werewolves don’t have tombs! What is going on here?

By the time the climax rolls around, we’ve already figured out Dr. Lomas’ evil plan, and sure enough, it turns out he’s hypnotizing Janet into believing she’s a werewolf so she will commit suicide and he can have her family’s money. That makes sense in a Scooby-Doo kind of way, I guess, and I can accept it for the sake of the movie… but then he actually turns into a werewolf and goes out to suck blood! What? What? How did that happen? Was he playing with Jekyll’s formula? But Jekyll turned into Hyde when he took the drug, not at the full moon! What the fuck?

The movie never explains itself. We’re just supposed to take this bizarre conflation for granted. But vampires, werewolves, and Mr. Hyde are three totally different types of monster! Vampires are undead corpses who avoid decay and death by sucking blood. Werewolves are living people who transform under the full moon and kill out of animalistic rage. Mr. Hyde was Dr. Jekyll’s repressed evil side given form. You could probably argue that all three have the same root, in our need to conform to certain standards in order to make society work, but Daughter of Dr. Jekyll doesn’t try to do that. It just mixes and matches story bits at all, combining conflicting mythologies and leaving very visible seams. In fact, we may as well consider this a Frankenstein movie, too!

I can only imagine the fun Mike and the Bots would have had with this confusion. I’m picturing a game show in which they must match the weapon with the monster, and if they lose, they get eaten. Tom would have figured out that you survive by picking what ought to be the wrong answer. Crow would not.

The opening narration of Daughter of Dr. Jekyll notes that Robert Louis Stephenson’s book is a classic, and it is so for good reason. It’s an exploration of the evil within us all, the intrusive thoughts and secret desires we would rather attribute to an alter ego than ever admit to anyone, and the fact that the sinner is as much a part of each of us as the saint. Daughter of Dr. Jekyll throws all that out the window by equating its villain with a vampire/werewolf, making him a sort of mindless monster. It’s confusing and annoying, and its compelling source material deserved far better.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #daughter of dr jekyll #oh shit it's john agar #50s #you is a warwelf #just fuckin weird

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kinsie · 5 years

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Game Impressions from PAX Aus 2019

Wake the fuck up, samurai. We've got a city to burn.

Every year I go to PAX Aus with some close friends to check out the Incredible Future of Games that everyone else already checked out six months ago, along with some cool weird indie shit and some awesome retro stuff. And every year, I write a little diary of what I saw to share my impressions with my friends. This is that diary.

Doom Eternal

Okay, let's get this out of the way. I played Doom Eternal pretty much as soon as I got on the show floor. It may shock you to know that it is, in fact, good.

No pictures of the demo units, sorry, so have this big logo.

The demo started with a little grey-box tutorial map just to teach you what you need to know for the demo level, since it was taken from the middle of the game. It looked very Snapmap-y and had some Doom 2 MIDI music playing. After that we were given about 25 minutes to acquaint ourselves with the lengthy "Mars Core" mission they've been showing since E3. I was at the start of the first arena of the hell bit when I ran out of time. :(

Here are some scattered thoughts from playing:

Your standard running around and double jumping feels much the same as in Doom 2016. The dashing feels great, although I think it might reduce your air control a little afterwards as I had some trouble overshooting a platform in the floating debris bit.

Climbing walls felt a bit weird to me. You have to press E on the wall manually to grab onto it, which feels a bit unintuitive when you're plummeting past it. Also feels a bit odd considering mantling up walls is automatic. You can auto-grab onto walls if you dash into it, but I think it's only for the first bit of the dash? Maybe I'm just bad at videogames.

I think the Combat and Super Shotguns now use different ammo types? I could have swore there were situations where I could select the Combat Shotgun but not the SSG.

The Chainsaw now no longer has even the slightest pretence of being a "real" weapon. It's now just a swing animation when you press the button, like a melee attack, before bringing your weapon back up.

When you have the SSG's Meat Hook attachment, a little meathook icon appears below the crosshair. When you're close enough to an enemy to grapple onto them, the icon floats over them, indicating that it has some kind of auto-aim mechanic to reduce frustration.

There was a monster with swords on its arms that acted an awful lot like the Baron of Hell (might have been the Hell Knight, looking at the Quakecon footage of the same fight) but it looked quite different. Looked fuckin' cool, whatever it was.

The platforming but in the debris section with the giant floating red barrels was actually kind of frustrating. It wasn't always clear where you needed to go, and the climbable bits tended to blend in with the rest of the world. Then again, keep in mind I have a frankly abysmal sense of direction. Thankfully falling into the void just whacks you for a paltry five health and teleports you back onto safe ground.

The locational damage stuff is really fun. Breaking a monster's guns has a satisfying metal "PING" sound to it to inform you that the dude got fucked up and is weaker now, and that you should keep doing it.

When I picked up one of those "?" secrets, the pop-up box told me that they unlocked "collectable dolls" and "cheat codes". The former is vague, but I suspect they'll be like the mini-Doomguys but of more characters. I'd imagine the latter will be like in Rage 2.

Oh, and it looks a million bucks, too. Though you probably didn't need me to tell you that.

All in all, I'm pretty happy with what I saw and it's even more of a pity it's not coming out next month.

Not Indie Games, But Also Not Doom Eternal

The Vive Cosmos felt really comfy - the lack of cabling and the decent display resolution made it feel a lot more natural than the Gen 1 Vives I've previously used. The game they were using to demo (Audica), however, was pretty lame. A rhythm-target shooter that didn't really take advantage of the medium at all.

Bleeding Edge was not inspiring. It was basically the control point mode from TF2 or Overwatch, except every character was a third-person brawler with little emphasis on projectile weapons beyond the occasional special. It felt like someone making a claim at TF2 or Overwatch's throne several years late while bolting a weak character action game on, which is fairly odd considering how innovative and critically acclaimed Ninja Theory's previous game was.

Dreams is fairly fascinating in its potential. The creation tools weren't available in the demo build so I can’t really judge them, instead there was a choice of eight developer-made experiences ranging from Mario-inspired obstacle courses to videogames as art.

I didn't get the chance to actually play MediEvil, but I watched some folks play it and it basically just looks like the PS1 game with more triangles, with all the slightly wonky 32-bit gameplay that entails.

The demo unit for Monkey King: Hero Is Back had some utterly bizarre graphics settings for some reason that made it look like I was playing a JPEG file, with big whopping compression artifacts surrounding each character. Weird!

Not happenin’.

Indie Games

Grabimals is a brilliant local co-op puzzler where players roll around as shapes and link together to solve puzzles like catching a falling water droplet, crossing a gap or casting a shadow that matches an example image. Supposedly it's still a ways off from release, but it's already impressively polished (disregarding one hilarious crash bug we found by accident!)

Hamster Scramble is a really fun take on Puzzle Bobble, with platforming elements, team play and the ability to jump over to your opponent's screen and fuck their plans up directly. It's an absolute blast and didn't feel like it was almost a year away from release.

Fork Knights is a platform fighter with an emphasis on one-hit kills. The character designs are cute, but I can't really say the gameplay itself struck me, to be honest.

Baron is an eight-player single-screen local multiplayer dogfighter. Fairly simple mechanically, but pretty fun all things considered.

Broken Roads had some lovely hand-painted art assets and some interesting ideas like a literal moral compass, but the demo build showcased was waaaaay too early to be shown off to the public. Of the eight or so areas present in the demo, only two had any characters, interactivity or really anything other than wandering around set up, and the combat side of things was extremely rough and sequestered off to a side area as a "well, if you insist..." kind of deal.

Misadventure In Little Lon is a true-crime adventure game for mobile with a unique mechanic - each "scene" is integrated into the real world via AR, with characters (that resemble Poser models more than a little bit) speaking to you directly. Not sure if it holds up over an entire game, but it's attention-garnering at least.

Speaking of true crime, The Black Window tasks players with using an Oujia board to question Australia's first female serial killer, with responses taken from court records and letters from the time. The well-acted performances of the actual individual in question's words lends it an impressive atmosphere, which the booth added to with a big wooden oujia board type thing you could "type" on. Sort of.

ACID KNIFE is real, real early, but the aesthetic is awesome and the pixel art is great. Hopefully it grows and expands into something special.

The Vigilante Proclivities of the Longspur is an oldschool Lucasarts-inspired point-and-click adventure with a custom demo scene set at an oddly-familiar videogame convention. Pretty promising so far, but could do with a good bit of polish - I'm pretty sure there was only one sound effect in the entire demo, and dialogue was often lacking in punctuation.

I didn't get to play Hot Brass but I watched over shoulders and talked with the developers, and it looked pretty cool. It's basically a take on SWAT 4's rarely-imitated brand of tactical copwork, but with a Hotline Miami-style top-down perspective, but with all the characters abstracted down to simple board game like tokens - a circle with a coloured outline denoting attitude towards the player, with a weapon icon if armed.

Blood Metal... Blood Metal is not good. It is extensively not good. Development seems to have only started in July, so one can still hope that the bad AI, unsatisfying gunplay, buggy collision detection and complete lack of damage feedback (outside of some ridiculous, sight-obscuring gouts of blood) get fixed over time. The 80s action movie aesthetic and low-poly artstyle forces it to be compared to Maximum Action, which is at least a fun kind of jank...

This Starry Void is a real-time, tile-based 3D dungeon crawler set in an abandoned spacecraft. It seems pretty cool so far, but it could probably use some UI/UX tweaks. The attempts at a "graphic novel inspired" visual style for the environments could probably benefit from looking at how Void Bastards did things, as well.

Lethal Lawns and Beam Team are fucking arcade games with massive cabinets. In 2019. Granted, they're also on computers and coming to consoles and stuff as well, but still! They're both pretty simple games, and therefore best played in cabinet form.

Unpacking is a "zen puzzle game" by the developers of Assault Android Cactus about the second-worst part of moving house, unloading an unseen character's packing and getting a glimpse into their lives as a result. I wasn’t able to play it due to an unexpectedly-crowded booth, but the pixel art is quite lovely.

Feather is a chill game about being a bird and flying around an island trying to find its secrets. I tried the Switch port, which played alright but obviously (and understandably) toted a lower framerate than the demo PC.

Topple Pop is a cute puzzle game that blends together elements of Tetris, Puyo Puyo and that one joke game that was Tetris but with a proper physics engine. Looks cute, with a fun gimmick!

Shooty Skies Overdrive is an VR spinoff of the popular mobile shmup, and basically similar to that one shmup minigame in Valve's The Lab. Weave your plane, which is attached to one of your hands, through incoming bullets and enemies like a toy! The 3D effect on the incoming projectiles looks great, but they can tend to get in the way of the action sometimes.

Dead Static Drive has been at like the last three PAXes and it looks better every time I see it. I hope it comes out this decade.

Snow Mercy is a third-person shooter/strategy thing where you hunt down icecubes to spend on an army of snowmen to crush your opponent's base before they crush yours. Not a common genre combo, reminds me of C&C Renegade a bit.

The Adventure Pals has graphics straight out of mid-2000s Newgrounds and level design out of pretty much any european platformer, but it didn't seem too bad from my brief prodding at it. The player character is perhaps a bit too small for my elderly eyes in Switch portable mode, but that's about as far as my gripes go.

#gaming #paxaus2019

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thecorteztwins · 5 years

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Obviously, Aireo and Aqueduct are low-key faves of mine, so I wanted to do a little thing with them in it. Haven facilitates this as the damsel in distress that has to be saved by Big Strong Monsoon; sorry, she’s not exactly a Wonder Woman/Carol Danvers/etc., but you know what I love her anyway. Also, I’m sure Aireo and Aqueduct would actually have a PRETTY COOL fight with Monsoon, given their respective powers but um I’m not into writing combat, so yeah, we end on an “oh shit!” cliffhanger!

Haven was seated on a chair, and she didn’t have much choice in it, as thick ropes bound her there. Her hands were similarly bound behind her, and a cloth gag was tied around her mouth. It was a pretty standard kidnapping setup, and her two kidnappers were in the room with her, waiting on her ransom to be duly delivered. Both were white men of average height, one heavyset with short wavy red hair, the other extremely thin with a long strawberry-blond ponytail. Both wore the same costume, but in different colors--the thin one wore white with sky blue accents, while the heavier one was clad in sea-green with mute turquoise. Haven did not know who they were, but their names were Aireo, alias Skybreaker, and Peter Van Zante, alias Aqueduct, formerly The Water Wizard. As the Water Wizard, Aqueduct had been a very unsuccessful solo villain, while Aireo was an Inhuman had previously been a rebel against Black Bolt’s rule, and exiled for working under Maximus “the Mad” against him. They had come together when they were hired by the eco-terrorists “Project Earth” to represent the elements of wind and water in “Force of Nature”, Project Earth’s mercenaries who each wielded one of the four elements. They had stuck together fairly well, though who was “fire” kept changing, and even worked for Norman Osborne’s Initiative as the “superheroes” assigned to protect Oregon, which had been a FANTASTIC gig with GREAT benefits...but it was over now, and they’d disbanded. Terraformer, grievously wounded in the invasion of Asgard, had retreated into some distant forest to heal among his fellow plants, and as for the others...well, their last fire person, Sunstreak, was trying to go straight, their first one, Firewall, had changed her name to Silk Fever and joined some kooks called The Folding Circle, and who knew WHERE Firebrand had got off to? Thus, Aireo and Aqueduct were left alone to try to make a living. With Aqueduct’s criminal record---dammit he was told that would be wiped when he registered with the Initiative!--and Aireo not having any kind of experience relevant to the human world (the only reason he stayed allies with Aqueduct, he claimed), they’d gone back to the only thing they knew how to do---being criminals. And kidnapping some rich lady for ransom seemed like a good way to make a lot of money fast. It had gone well so far too; she’d been completely cooperative and authorized the demanded payment to be sent to them. Now they were just waiting, and keeping an eye on her in case she did try anything. Aqueduct doubted it though. She seemed downright docile and delicate to him. Apparently she was some kind of heiress turned philanthropist, helped kids and mutants and stuff. Not exactly the usual target, but desperate times, right? Still, she was so pretty, and looked so worried, he felt sorry for her. She must be terrified. And to his surprise, it bothered him. Aqueduct had fought female superheroes before, and gone up against---even killed, deliberately so---normal human men on missions, soldiers in Trans-Sabal or workers who were clearing the rainforests...but he’d actually never had to deal with a female civilian, especially one who, unlike the other targets, hadn’t actually ever done anything wrong except be rich. So it was understandable he might feel pity for her, that he wouldn’t have for, say, General Halladah. Her pleading eyes turned towards him, and, realizing he was watching her, she started trying to speak behind her gag. Urgently so, too. She was probably freaking out, trying to bargain for her life or be let go, demanding to know what they were going to do with her, typical hostage stuff. “Aw, hey, calm down, it’s okay,” said Aqueduct in what he hoped was a soothing sympathetic tone, putting a hand up as if trying to physically halt her distress. “Be silent, human, you have no cause for distress,” said Aireo, who was perturbed by her, but in irritation rather than pity. “What he means is, once your people deliver the cash, it’s gonna be fine,” Aqueduct assured, “You told them to already, so it’s all good, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Haven shook her head from side to side. “What’s she trying to say?” Aqueduct looked to Aireo, “Can you tell?” “Isn’t it obvious? She has some other concern,” Aireo sounded very disinterested. Clearly he had no plans to bother with finding out what these concerns were. But Aqueduct did, and he stepped towards Haven, reaching towards her gag. “What are you doing? Stop that!” Aireo realized what his partner was about to do. “Why not?” Aqueduct looked back to him, “What’s the harm in letting her talk? Don’t see why we kept it on in the first place...” “Because she will SCREAM and I will hate it! I have no desire for the piercing shrieks of a--” “Ok, leave the room. Sheesh, Aireo.” The Inhuman took his advice, tossing his hair in a snit as he exited, not slamming the door but shutting it with a punctuated carefulness that was somehow far more reproachful. “Sorry, miss,” Aqueduct turned back to his captive, “Shoulda done this sooner.” As soon as the gag was off, she breathed deeply, looked up at him, and spoke, “Thank you. Listen, please, you need to let me go, now.” “Hey, we will,” he said in the same attempted-assuring tone as before, feeling like a big strong man for making this poor panicked lady feel safer, “Just like I said, we need the money fir--” “It is not the money. It is what will happen to you if you do not.” At this, Aqueduct’s kindly expression changed to a frown, and his red brows furrowed, “Hey are you threatening---” “No!” she sounded urgent again, which his misinterpreted as scared, which mollified him a bit since he liked to feel like the strong one, but then she continued immediately, “I am trying to warn you! My brother is coming for me, and I do not wish for him to hurt you!” His frown was replaced by an amused grin, “Aw, wow. Listen, lady, there is no way your brother can--” That was when the roof blew off.

#writing #fic

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djsmain-blog · 5 years

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Sorry Hagrid. You got JKR’d

I’m gonna go on a bit of a meta rant. I do my best to write every character fairly. Especially ones I don’t like, since I’m more likely to make them unlikeable, but the struggle is fucking real when I think the character design itself is offensive.

I’ve been writing a first year fic and, of course, Hagrid is there and just... Why JKR. I can sort of understand how it happened. His character is an archetype in Middle Grade fantasy: a large, physical imposing person who introduces the protagonist to the magic dujour, but is a fluffy bunny on the inside.

We’ll start with his accent. It’s very thick. It’s very noticeable and, to my dismay, written out how it sounds. This is almost always a recipe for being accidentally offensive, but JKR takes it one step further by using a thick country/rural accent and perpetuating the harmful stereotype that people with that accent have low intelligence, poor hygiene and poor social skills. It’s not as bad as writing him with a thick AAVE dialect, so don’t think I’m completely up in arms about it, but still, we can do better.

Then he’s biracial. Now, this is JKR, we cannot pretend that this is an accidental conflation with how hamfistedly she paints the allegories. Then presenting his mother as particularly bestial in nature? So we have all of the accent problems now also projected onto a biracial person. Then we go one step further into bad writing town by having Madame Maxine be the perfect picture of society, so there’s not even the vellum-thin defense of it just being a result of the non-human blood.

Madame Maxine could have been great. She was a very large woman with influence, a strong personality and confidence to back it up, but then JKR just turns her into nothing more than a love interest for Hagrid. Hagrid is not even considered an adult by wizarding standards because he never completed school. And ignoring wizarding standards, he relies on Dumbledore for everything and has almost from the moment he was expelled. They’re not equals in any area except size and Hagrids awkward attempts at flirting are done for laughs from the audience and the teenage characters. For shame.

It’s reductive to call him stupid because he clearly possesses a great deal of knowledge about magical creatures and the caretaking thereof, but he lacks the, pardon the D&Dism, wisdom to use that knowledge effectively. Someone with average wisdom would not trust a class of 13 year olds to all show respect to hippogryffs. Someone with average wisdom would not respond to the failure of that first lesson by reverting to flobberworms. That’s a childish response and Hagrid is painted as at a loss for what to do. He knows how to hatch and raise a dragon, but not how to fireproof his living space. He lacks the forethought to consider that Norbert(a) will outgrow his hut in short order.

He’s portrayed like Forrest in Forrest Gump, but the audience is expected to mock his attempts at romance with Jenny rather than feel sorry for him or conflicted at best. FG clearly shows that it’s not a relationship of equals and it’s uncomfortable all around, whereas Harry Potter tries to play it off like Hagrid is being a Nice Guy or something. I don’t know. It’s just all bad.

It’s hardly the worst instances of representation in HP, but I’m writing him and he’s just awful. He’s a caricature, not a character and the responsible adults working in and around Hogwarts should have removed him from the grounds because he is a danger to the students.

It’s tricky because my OC professor would not stand for it under any circumstances and would not so easily bend to Dumbledore’s will. I have some things outlined for how to handle it, but it’s just annoying that I have to.

Sigh.

But then again, if I wanted fantastic, diverse canon characters I’d be reading Rick Riordan.

#negative #meta fandom #character negative #character critical #harry potter critical

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th3okamid3mon · 5 years

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Gisaengchung (Parasites) [SPOILERS]

A lovely tale on why you shouldn´t trust people!

Sinopsis:

A family barely subsists in a basement they call home. Unemployed and at the border of misery, a job opportunity is presented to the older son Gi Woo, which consists on giving english classes to the daughter of a high class family. Step by step he gains the trust of the owner and begins to introduce his own family as workers in hopes of getting more money from them.

Writing and characters (+some acting):

I am not very familiar of Korean movies, I´ve heard about some good movies but never actually watch any from the country. Now, I´ve heard about Bong Joon-Ho since I watch one of his previews works called Snowpiercer and even though that kind of movie is not exactly my favorite I have to admit it was really well written and the visuals were really creepy but pretty in some twisted way.

Gisaenchung´s story is really well thought, all the details fit together like a puzzle of 500 pieces or more. It had to be meticulously written so to make some sort of sense and even then some things dont make so much sense, but Joon-Ho has a cover: this movies is a drama, suspense and dark humor movie. When you have a super dramatic rich family with their over the top reactions and mannerisms in an only drama movie it would be seen as a joke if they were trying to look serious or be taken seriously, in this case works perfectly since they are used as comic relief, specifically the rich mom being the most gullible and most dramatic of all. Their purpose is accomplish perfectly and the sheer dumb and naive nature of the mother works in favor of our bunch of vermin.

It is a very understandable and digestible plot: you have a poor family of scammers, they get an opportunity to scam a family, they proceed to scam the rich family by pretending to be strangers to each other and working as a house keeper, a driver and 2 teachers, and then they get discovered. At the simplicity it doesnt sound that entertaining I suppose, everything in between is simple yet complex and then it goes into fucked up territory almost from 10 to 110 really quick.

This family are assholes! Like... Complete assholes, the name of the movie is after them! They take advantage of a character that is super anxious about her children and is super naive and is really lonely because of his husband leaving for work a lot and completely destroy 2 lives in the process too! They get the husband´s driver fired by framing him as a sex addict with a kink and the housekeeper is fired by making her look like a tuberculosis patient. This people are awful! They are manipulative, dangerous, assholes! And yet... you kind of root for them? That´s how good the writing is. You know they are awful, you know they are manipulative. Hell, at the beginning they use manipulation to probably get someone fire and get money from a small pizza company they work for as box benders. AND THEY FUCKED UP AT LEAST A QUARTER OF THOSE BOXES! They are not good!

...But who can blame them for being like that? They are living in a really bad situation, they are stealing wifi from a neighbor so they can check a WhatsApp to see if the pizza place send them a message. They were talented at sports, the daughter knows how to work with programs like photoshop and probably other types, the son is really smart reason why he was given the job as an english teacher and to be honest he is kind of good at it. They are not lazy people. The situation is not good for them and they can´t exactly get a good job due to not having a degree. It´s actually kind of sad to see their potential being wasted due to their economic situation. Of course anyone would survive in however manner they can, even if that makes them a bad person in the process.

You have a rich family that supports and loves their children, shown as getting both of them private ¨teachers¨ (not enough love I guess, due to not fucking checking this people up in the first place and only trusting the recommendations of a college student). They aren´t bad people, they treat their workers fairly and they respect them and when there´s reason to fire someone they try to do so respectfully as not to damage their reputation or shame them (so much). You should feel sorry for them because they are so nice and are being scammed but you can´t shake the feeling that they kind of deserve it for being so naive. Well, at least not the children, those kids have 0 control over who their parents choose. THE PARENTS ARE SO DAMN DUMB! The mother specially! So anxious about your children learning and exploiting their talents but not so anxious to get the first whoever that crosses your ears? You feel bad, for them and maybe you dont get angry, they antics are not anger inducing, they are hilarious because, as i explain before, they over react A LOT. I don´t know if that was a directors decision or if the actors did what they pleased, they fit too well in the scene to not be planned.

One thing that stood out to me were the dialogues, they made sense but they became a bit descriptive in certain points.There were really good silent scenes, there was a good balance between dialogues and silence, though I don´t know why I felt certain dialogues were too much? Maybe it was with their reactions as well, Korean and older Mexican movies have a thing in common and that´s a level of exaggeration. Sometimes it´s good, sometimes it gets the spotlight and not in a good sense. With the rich family there was no problem, it was with certain characters like the daughter of the scam family that overreact in one scene. Since they were drunk it kind of made sense but it there wasn´t exactly a follow up of his outburst. it passed relatively quick so it wasn´t much of a problem.

Sound and music:

The dialogues were well said, there was no difference in volumes and it had no noise. The silent parts had a good sound, whether it was background noises or music, it never felt out of place. The sounds were actually relaxing at some point, specially with the rain or water flowing. It had a good crispiness on them, they sounded natural and not manufacture with materials. The music wasn´t over used or overbearing, it was mostly in the background. It wasn´t almost present in certain scenes, you could hear it but it was very low. It didn´t had weird spikes and it was kind of nice. Not exactly the most memorable.

Photography and art:

First... Some examples:

I mean... WOW. The different lights, the shadows, the colors, the difference in lighting from each set. EVERYTHING IS GORGEOUS. Easily identifiable, with that I mean if you see this screenshots you would probably recognize them immediately. I don´t know how original the setting is from other movies but MAN is it gorgeous. The shots are most of the time open, details are hidden in the background (even when they can be a bit blurry, sometimes there something behind), the lighting is the first thing you´ll notice. There´s so much contrast between the highlights and shadows, even though most of them are not really strong.

The colors schemes for each place are not entirely different, I think the reason is they wanted to portray that both families have certain similarities, mostly the only difference being the living situation. It´s really interesting how you can find warm colors in both families, they all love each other, both families support each other and their interests. The parents praise their children (even though the scam family probably shouldn´t praise illegality but, meh...at that point it can be consider too late)

The art department went OFF with this one. You can feel the filthiness and close space they live in, their living situation is bad but they manage. The other family is clean and clear and it has to be perfect that way. I think there were 2 parts where they work even harder.

(This is a kind of Spoiler for the end) When they use blood, it tends to look fake in some movies, in here it looks really, really red and dark. The makeup for the strangled neck also was a nice touch and look really good.

The other part I think was really well accomplish and that also might have taken FOR EVER TO MAKE IT WORK, was the flood, because it not only involved flooding and ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOOD, it involved a toilet spewing black water out as if it was puking. How did they manage to do all that? HOW MUCH WAS THE BUDGET? Geez, How many TAKES TOOK TO ACCOMPLISH THAT?! It look hella gross and the way it was spewing water was very realistic.

There´s an entire sequence where three members of the family gets out of the rich house and walks towards their home and each step they take they descend even more, but that´s not all, it is raining and water is flowing and pouring, it looks fantastic and the neighborhood gets flooded and there´s stuff out getting fucked over. The makeup and the art design were crazy here, I wish and hope and pray they got paid well because MY GOD this was hard work at its finest.

Conclusion:

I need to watch more of this foreign movies and so do you! If you haven´t seen any movie out of Hollywood, you should do so. Maybe this one is a bit too much though. It goes well but there are certain parts that are a bit slow and then it goes fast and then slow again, it can be a rollercoaster and I´d be lying if i wasn´t expecting the movie to finally end. It is entertaining and it isn´t that long (2:12 hours), it doesn��t have any popular references. This movie was thought to be seen by an international audience. If you as an USA Citizen (´cause I´m not calling you Americans, America isn´t a country and USA is not the center of it) feel uncomfortable to be shown or for your culture be mock, well TOO BAD GET USED TO IT! Nah, I´m kidding. The kid in the movie has an obsession with indians and the family acts like USA is like high standard but in a mocking kind of way? My brother actually thought it was a Get Out situation so...

This movie has a perfect blend of suspense and humor, the drama is palpable, it is there, the suspense and dark humor are the spotlight though. The actors are really good and the dialogues are not complicated to follow. It is pretty funny, heartwhrenching at points (specially the end) and entertaining movie, if you want to start watching foreign films you could start with this one.

The worst part of the story is that both sides are right to react the way they did, and it´s kind of sad.

This is what I took from it: Poor or rich, it doesn´t matter. People are humans and they all have needs. And those needs will be satisfied one way or another. When you have a family, You will do whatever it takes to make them happy and sometimes drastic measures will be used.

Go watch it, you won´t regret it.

-Sincerely creeped out, T.O.D

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the-mountainsflame · 5 years

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Waiting

((Or: Sage has to consult with some hunters.))

===

Iron Sights was not particularly keen to be called on by herself to talk to an Ahtyn; thankfully, it had been easy to convince Long Shot to accompany her, though the huge Roegadyn woman was as silent as ever under her seemingly-endless layers as she settled heavily on the other side of the smaller campfire near the edge of camp, forming a triangle with herself, Sights, and Sage.

Not that Sage didn’t send Sights a bit of a look for the extra company. But before she could open her mouth, the Ahtyn seemed to double-guess herself on it and actually said nothing to dismiss Shot, speaking directly to Sights instead. “I take it you both have something to report.” A statement and not a question—and one that Sights quickly agreed to with a nod.

“You bet.” That and she was always amazingly jittery under Sage’s intense, unblinking focus, but she had the basic sense not to say that out loud. “Been scouting out the Ghimlyt Dark, like you asked us to, though she took the north half and I took the south half, and they are still keeping low over there, apparently...”

Sights glanced sideways at Shot, and Shot made a few signs with her heavily-gloved hands. Signs of agreement, thankfully, though there was a strange sharpness to the motions that betrayed Shot’s tension easily to someone who knew her as well as Sights did.

“So,” Sage replied with a frown, leaning her elbows on her crossed legs and in turn leaning her chin on her folded hands. “That’s...it?” She didn’t even sound convinced of that. “You had to have seen more than that.”

“Other than them killing each other when they run across another group of their own that they don’t like?” Sights paused. “...Were you expecting something more exciting, Ahtyn?”

A bold question, and judging by the raised eyebrow Sights got, that had probably been too cheekily phrased, even by her own standards.

“Sorry.”

“Hm.” Sage dismissed it with that single short noise. “I also want what your impressions of it are, too. Not just the facts of what you’ve been seeing.” Sights blinked rapidly and exchanged glances with Shot.

“I’m sure both of you have your own opinions on what’s happening or not happening,” Sage continued, her impassive face remaining impressively so as she stared into the flickering flames. “You’ve both been out there more than any of the other hunters here because of your skills—namely, the ability to kill things at a distance and get out of there if you have to.”

Admittedly, Sights couldn’t help but be a little put out by that remark! “Almost makes it sound like you’re calling us cowa—“

“Let me finish.” Sage just narrowed one eye at her until she finally looked away. “Anyway, my point is, you asked whether I expected something more a moment ago. And given what we know of Garleans? I was. Even with them suddenly trying to kill one another because their Emperor died and apparently all of their soldiery’s leaders can’t help but throw their men against one another in a whirlwind of gore in order to steal it for themselves...” Her tone made it exceedingly clear what she thought of that notion. “...I would have expected at least someone to try and make a name for themselves by catching us filthy savages off-guard. Especially while a number of warriors of light are off somewhere else. I refuse to believe that they haven’t noticed, especially with that one Legatus and his daughters seeming to be on the hunt for our war-leader and her friends. It’s the perfect shot to attack us, and they haven’t taken it. It is concerning.”

She looked between Sights, then Shot, then back again.

“If you’ve seen or even felt anything suspicious—anything, I’m keen to hear it from people who have been out there. As the only Ahtyn, our war-leader’s forbidden me to go out there myself, the arse,” she added in a hiss under her breath. “So I’m relying on you.”

“Well...” Sights had just thought she would be interrogated about what she had seen, not what she thought of it, and so she had to pause to think for a moment. “Well, yeah, we’ve both been out there a fair amount. Gotten fairly close to them, actually—“

“I did warn you not to do that.” But Sage’s irritation was tempered by her own curiosity. “If you get caught, we’re going to have to fight them to get you back, and that may very well remind them all of who their ‘real enemy’ is enough to snap them out of it.”

“I know, I know, but I’m better than that.” Sights, yet, remained undeterred, even sending an irrepressible smile at her silent compatriot. “At any rate, yes, we’ve heard a few mutterings about that Legatus; apparently they consider him and his kids a little nutty, and they keep wondering if he’s lost the weapon he supposedly has.”

“What kind of weapon?”

Sights shrugged. “Didn’t say. Then again, didn’t our war-leader fight a Weapon, you know, with a capital ‘W’ and everything? And Sorin and that screwed-up Miqo’te friend of his have one too, just a different one—“

“They what.”

...That was right, she hadn’t told Sage that yet, had she? “I ah, thought our war-leader would have said something, since she was there too...”

“She did not, no.” Sage’s voice grew tight with annoyance. “But continue.”

“She’s been...busy, I suppose. You know, I wonder if that may be the Weapon those Garleans were talking about—the one that Sorin and friends have, that is. Sorin did say that he liberated it from somewhere.”

“Hm.” That only drained the smallest hint of tension from her Ahtyn’s shoulders, though... “Anything else?”

“Just gossip about who’s attacking who. Changes every other bloody day, I swear.”

“Shot?”

Both of them were looking at Long Shot, now. And Long Shot in turn looked at both of them, pale gold eyes locking with Sage’s blue ones, and then Sights’ grey ones. And she signed; thankfully, the both of them were fairly well-versed in the hand-signing of the old tongue enough that neither needed to translate for the other.

||They are definitely planning something.||

Shot glanced between them once more.

||Why are we waiting, Ahtyn?||

Sage tilted her head to one side with a frown. “You’re awfully eager to charge into battle with them, aren’t you?”

Shot huffed. ||No. This is not a matter of revenge. Those that starved and then slaughtered and burned my village are long gone. I hold no hope of finding those who lit the torch and held the blades. I am no battle-mad animal.||

She stared pointedly at Sage, who was quick to speak up again.

“That wasn’t what I was saying...” But she shook her head, cutting off her own indignation in favor of a curt apology. “Sorry. I won’t say that again. Keep going.”

Shot gave her a long, long stare, but did eventually blink in acknowledgement and started moving her hands once more.

||But I do not wish to wait until they ambush us with something terrible. The Black Rose, the Weapons, their machina, as Sights keeps calling it—||

“It’s the proper term, damn it, that’s why I keep calling it that!”

||—the longer they have to hide behind their front line and prepare, the more likely it is that something truly terrible will be unleashed. I do not want any of that for us, or the other soldiers we fight alongside.|| Shot sighed, but kept signing. ||They will not stop, Ahtyn. Not unless they are stopped by others. Even with their numbers thinned by civil war, they are dangerous to us.||

Sage was quiet so long that Sights began to wonder if Shot’s extended ‘talk’ had lost her somewhere—Shot could indeed move fast, to the point that even someone skilled in it like Sights could lose the thread a little.

“...I see.”

Sage spoke so suddenly that Sights jolted a little, and had to hurriedly smooth her dark hair back down in a little subconscious vanity.

“Sights?”

“Y-Yeah.” She left off playing with her hair and nodded. “I mean, I feel the same? It’s weird that they’ve gone quiet for so long. Makes one think that they’re about to do something either dreadful or stupid or both. Even if that Black Rose nonsense really was destroyed in full, they clearly have more than one Weapon, and I don’t doubt that the madmen probably have more hiding away somewhere—and ones that are probably not as secure behind their bureaucracy as they used to be, what with said bureaucracy currently trying to off each other for power.”

Sights looked up and pursed her lips a moment in thought. “I have a feeling that this nut’s been cracked open and there’s no putting it back together, or stuffing the insides back into it.”

“You think so, Sights? You’re not just agreeing with your friend?”

But Sights bristled a little, despite herself. “You do know I used to hunt their ships in the sea for a living once? Saw my fair share of that lot; even privateered alongside some of them, for that matter, even if they did their best to hide that for what I hope are obvious reasons.” It did her heart good to talk of the good old days, though, and she just kept running that thought on with pleasure. “Got friendly with some of those, and sure, a couple of them were stupid enough to think they could double-cross an entire pirate crew because of course they were, but a number of them were perfectly fine to turn tail on their country for one reason or another. And those ones talked—some of it just being petty family drama...er, petty in the scheme of what we’re talking about, anyway,” she added with a wince.

“But some of them? Some of them used to be researchers. Scientists. Mechanics, even, and that last one loved to point out every weakness of every blessed thing they used to work on, especially when it was hauled back around to try and bring them back ‘home’. And not just in terms of the machines and the bizarre science experiments—they talked about their politics, too. The only thing keeping certain madmen from using utterly awful shite against their enemies was their own bureaucrats being a little hinky about the notion of messily wiping out an entire continent and poisoning it beyond repair or things of the sort.” She shook her head. “If that goes away, then things are most definitely going to take a tumble into the wrong hands, and I don’t think I need to tell either of you just how bad that could get. We’d be lucky if it was just Weapons or machina coming to pay us a visit.”

A silence stretched between the three of them. In fact, so extensively so that Shot started rather contemplatively whetting the point of the repurposed fishing gig she also used as a weapon—to deadly and messy effect, but Sights cut the thought off before it could turn into a spiral of anxious nonsense. Thankfully, Sage spoke before she could really lose her mind.

“I think the same.”

“Then...why are we just sitting here?” Sights ventured.

“We’re on the back foot on everything right now, that’s why.” Sage stared back into the flames over her folded hands. “A chunk of us are off on a different world, you know full well that there’s a specific set of ridiculously powerful Garleans very intently trying to have a go at our war-leader and her friends and us by extension—all of those friends being our allies, might I add...”

Sights twitched. Oh, she did indeed know. It was very, very difficult to forget the armored bastards that had not just beaten her but had also taken a shot from a bloody powerful gun and not done more than reel back a moment.

“And as much as I dislike saying it, we also can’t necessarily just make a one-sided decision to drag the Alliance into it, and they will be dragged into it if we start shite.” Sage’s eyes narrowed slightly at the thought. “Even if we did use that Weapon thing you keep talking about to try and make it look like not us, there’s a fair chance that it may just spook them into unleashing whatever they have on-hand as well.”

As much as Sage could be a bit of a shite in Sights’ estimation, she certainly couldn’t fault her logic...for now, anyway. “Well, aye, you have that right, I guess.”

“And one more thing: where is the Prince?” Sage’s voice hardened. “We were told he was the one that started this entire thing, but he’s completely disappeared since then, and the last thing anyone needs to be doing is making a spectacle of themselves and, Halone take us all, making him interested in what’s going on. Things die when that happens.”

Shot stiffened at the mention of Zenos. Sights, admittedly, got a bit nervous about the thought, herself. She hadn’t seen him in person like some here had, but the man’s reputation vastly preceded him, and she had heard as much as anyone else in the Swarstral had that even their war-leader, blessed by Halone and wielding the power of a particularly powerful wild-spirit in Her name, had only fought him to a standstill, not beaten him.

”...Point,” Sights noted shakily with a shudder. “That is the only rhyme or reason he has for jumping in the middle of things, isn’t it? And if our war-leader’s busy, too...or even if she’s not, it isn’t like bloody anyone succeeded in actually killing him even after he practically cut his own head off—“

“Enough, Sights. But yes. We can argue about specifics for entire moons if we wanted, but there are a few reasons specifically that we can’t ignore.” Sage closed her eyes a moment. “The Alliance one being first and foremost, to be frank, and the one about Zenos finding the absolute worst timing to stab everyone in the back being the other. We have to settle for being ready instead.”

“Well, if that’s that...” Sights stood, stretching widely with a yawn. She was almost immediately dwarfed by her much larger companion, and even Sage when the Ahtyn rose as well.

“That is that. Both of you go back to camp. I need to think a bit more.”

Sights quickly took her leave, as did her ever-silent friend, but her mind was still whirling. They had to ‘just’ be ready...but how long would that last?

#; writing #; Sage #i...really need to write up an 'about' for iron sights and long shot lol

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