#Hide a skimmer

[paulsaladino]

Hide a Skimmer Cover - #stonecreationsoflongisland #pool #skimmers

http://www.instagram.com/stonecreationsoflongislandinc

#longisland #masonry #pavers #pools #outdoorliving 

[thelampisaflashlight]

Dew, standing on the edge of the abbey's outdoor swimming pool: "The outdoor pool is only open for a couple months out of the year, and every year, without fail, Rain tries to build a den in the deep end." -watching Rain get bullied by the pool skimming robot- "It's going about as well as to be expected." Rain, bubbles rising up to the surface: -hissing and trying to hide from the robot- Dew: "You'd think he'd learn his lesson and surface already and just make a den next to the pool, but the last time he did that, the groundskeeper threw one of the regular pool skimmers like a spear and nailed him in the back of the head."

[kkpwnall]

wanted: pool boy at the vampire mansion

for my darlingest louseph @cheatghost who a few days ago sent me the words "pool boy steve at eddie's vampire mansion" at 6 in the morning and immediately got my brain whirring. like 0 to 60, dead asleep to wide awake and writing. so here's less than 1k words of pure ridiculous fun.

[also on ao3]

It’s not a bad gig, really. Even if it stipulates in his contract that he has to be shirtless while he’s on the property. But Steve also signed the contract in his blood so he’s not sure how legal it is. 

Plus the pay is insane. He quit his other jobs, and he’s basically got free reign of the pool all day. So he takes his time with the skimmer fishing out all the leaves and dead bugs, swims laps for a while. Spends the rest of the day in a lounger before adjusting the chemicals so it’s perfect by morning.

What do vampires need with a pool anyway?

The four guys stay in the house whenever Steve comes by, but they're friendly enough and wave at him through the dark tinted windows. 

One guy ogles him the whole time he works. Not that he really minds. So what if Steve gets to work early, just to put on sunscreen? Who’s gonna know if he puts some extra flex in his muscles while he works? And who cares if they’ve got the cleanest pool in all of Indiana? It’s not hurting anyone. 

But Steve's drawn to him the same way he was drawn to the ad in the first place, with his long dark curly hair and unending collection of black band shirts. His crooked smile and dimples and shining brown eyes.

It's just... they've never once spoken. And Steve is dying to get to know this guy who makes the goofiest faces at him. Who was pissed when Steve laughed the first time he did, hands up like devil horns, tongue lolling and eyes crossed. Until Steve made his own face back. 

This guy, who plays elaborate charades with Steve through the glass, trying and failing to do the classic walking-down-stairs bit. Who went boneless when one of the guys in his band (? coven? pod? Ask Dustin what a group of vampires is called.) dragged him away while Steve mimed crying, waving an imaginary hanky at him. This guy, who clutched his heart and fell over when Steve lowered his shades and winked at him one day.

And it's because of those shades that Steve has to drive all the way back to the mansion late one night to retrieve them from his usual chair.

When he gets there, someone’s floating in the pool. Someone, with long curly hair spilling all around their head. Someone, wearing all their clothes, and Steve can't tell from the weak pool light if they're face up or face down, but they sure as hell aren't moving. 

His lifeguard training takes over between one step and the next, as he bolts for the pool, launching into the water, and throwing himself forward with broad strokes. 

Except when Steve gets to him, the guy isn't drowning, he’s sputtering and swearing and pushing away from him in the water. “What are you doing here?!”

“You're not drowning...” Steve says blankly, trying to catch his breath as he treads water. 

“No! And thank you for the rescue, Lancelot, but you need to get out of here.” His long hair streams over his face as he spins while Steve paddles around him to make sure he’s really alright. 

“Lancelot?” he asks, just to keep the guy talking, to hear more from his honeyed voice. Better than anything he could’ve ever imagined. 

“A knight in shining armor,” the guy mumbles, trying to hide his face. “A hero rescuing fair damsels and slaying vile beasts.” 

Steve chuckles, but doesn’t miss the venom in his last words. He catches him by the upper arm to stop his spinning. “No, I know who Lancelot is, it’s just–”

It’s just he’s even prettier close up. It’s just his skin is freezing cold in the sun-warmed pool water. It’s just he’s looking at Steve, caught somewhere between a grimace and a grin, and his teeth are so so sharp. 

“I’m Steve,” he says, moving closer. Entirely entranced by the pool light, the moonlight, the starlight, glimmering in his eyes. Steve’s hand has a mind of its own, rising out of the water to cup the guy’s cheek with a wet palm, “And you’re…” 

Gently traces his lower lip, runs his thumb over the sharp canine, careful not to touch the pointed tip. 

“You’re beautiful,” Steve breathes. 

The guy surges forward, reeling Steve in with a hand on the back of his neck, and kisses him fiercely. Steve kisses him back just as fervently, wraps his arms around his waist and kicks out with his legs to keep them afloat, as his tongue slides past the guy’s teeth to swirl and dance with his. 

It's messy and uncoordinated and they sink and bob in the water as they move against each other. The guy's fingers tangle in the shaggy hair at the base of his neck, twisting and snagging. Steve groans and stretches a broad palm up between the guy's shoulder blades, pressing further into him, drinking all of him in.

“It’s Eddie,” he says, pulling back and panting when they finally part. “I’m Eddie.”

Steve grins at Eddie and kisses him again, pushing them through the water towards the edge at the shallow end of the pool. He can think of better uses for his legs right now.

[babyleostuff]

okay idk how to explain this well but i was thinking about how some members still live together, i was thinking abt mingyu & wonwoo in particular since they do and wonwoo said when he asks mg to make ramen for him at home he makes it while grumbling, so i was wondering if u could write something a little silly like reader & mg are secretly dating cuz it's still very early but also the secrecy is a little fun but mg has had to hide u in various awkward stuffy places of their apartment cuz ww tends to come home early with no warning but this time ww wants ramen so now mg has a reason to grumble over it making it, ww def almost finds u & then he insists on eating it in the living space so u gotta stay hidden uncomfortably even longer but in the end mg promises to make it up to u

ramen | kim mingyu

summary | you had to hide from Wonwoo, who demanded ramen from Mingyu for the hundredth time

genre | fluff

word count | 1k

author's note | this is such a cute request! hope you enjoy this one <3

“Did I just hear the door open?” you whisper-yelled at your boyfriend, smacking him with a kitchen towel. He let out a grunt and massaged his arm where you hit him.

“What? That can’t be possible,” he frantically looked around himself, knocking down a wooden spoon and a saucepan in the process. You cringed at the loud noise caused by your clumsy Mingyu, wishing you could evaporate from the room. 

For a second, you froze like statues looking at each other with big eyes and panicked expressions. The door opening could only mean one thing - Wonwoo coming home. 

You let out a quiet shriek and hit him once again, only harder. He swore his roommate was supposed to come home a lot later that night.

And now you’d have to hide. Again. 

“You’ve got to hide!” Mingyu yelped in a hushed tone, pushing you out of the kitchen while clutching a skimmer in one hand and a pack of ramen in the other.

“You don’t say, genius,” you rolled your eyes, trying to locate the nearest hiding spot you could occupy for the next few minutes. 

Hearing footsteps quickly nearing the kitchen, Mingyu pushed you harder in the direction of the living room. You looked around to scold him for treating you so harshly, but instead, you almost laughed out loud at his expression. 

His pupils were dilated and he looked as if he was about to cry, while his mouth was in a slight pout. He looked like a small kid that just broke something expensive and now has to hide it from his parents. 

Not knowing what else to do, you quickly rolled under their armchair, making sure that nothing was sticking out. Mingyu tore the blanket off the couch and covered the chair so you couldn't be seen. 

“That doesn’t look suspicious at all,” you hissed from under the chair, annoyed that you didn’t just run to his room when you had the chance. 

“Sorry, baby. I’m sure he’ll be gone in a second,” he said.

Re-entering the kitchen, Mingyu was greeted by the sight of no other than Wonwoo. 

“Did I hear you talking to someone?” he asked while taking a seat at their kitchen table. 

Mingyu gulped nervously, trying to hide it with a giggle that sounded more than forced. He was never good at keeping secrets from others and especially not from his dormmmate. Wonwoo was also very hard to deceive, so he usually knew when Mingyu was up to something.

“No, I was just talking to myself. I have to keep myself entertained, you know,” he laughed and put away the stuff that he was still clutching in his hands. 

“Oh, you’re making ramen?” Wonwoo gasped. 

“Yeah, I was about to,” Mingy said slowly, knowing exactly where this was going. He knew that Wonwoo loved his ramen. 

“Great, then you can make some for me too,” he said, making Mingyu grunt in annoyance. 

“Can’t you make your own food for once?” 

“But you were about to cook it anyway, so why not add some more for me?” he asked, not bothered by the younger's annoyance. Mingyu always grumbled and huffed under his breath every time Wonwoo asked him to cook anything for him. 

“Okay. I’ll get it to your room when it’s ready,” he said and opened the cabinet, looking for another package of ramen. 

“I think I’ll eat in the living room tonight.” 

“What?!” Mingyu yelled out in surprise, simultaneously dropping a packet of flour on his head. The white powder splattered all over the countertop, most of it landing on Mingyu's head and his shirt.

Used to his clumsiness, Wonwoo only snickered under his breath and shook his head. Mingyu observed him, as he slowly made his way into the living room, praying that you had managed to escape from under the armchair.

As soon as his dormmate left the kitchen, he quickly made his way to his room located at the end of the corridor. He quietly opened the door not to bring Wonwoo’s attention and closed it behind him without making any noise. 

“Baby? Are you hear?” he whispered into the darkness. 

“Yes, I’m here you dumbass,” you whispered back, putting your arms in front of you so as not to bump into him. He swiftly turned on the light, making you squeal in surprise. 

“What happened to you?” you laughed, taking in his head covered in the white powder. “I know you wanted to distract Wonwoo, but I think this is a bit too much,” you said and dusted off some of the flour from his cheeks and nose. 

“You look cute though,” you smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

You could feel him smile as well, his nose nuzzling yours. You both giggled under your breath, especially when Mingyu wiped his forehead against yours, leaving it full of flour. 

“Now you’re cute too,” he giggled and shook his head, dusting more flour off and covering your head with it as well. 

You looked up at him and took his powdered face into your hands, placing another kiss on his lips. As he placed his hand on your hip and the other on your neck to deepen the kiss, you came up with a great idea.

"What would you say about a shower, honey? We'd take it later anyways, so..." you dragged out the last vowels, making Mingyu smirk into your neck, where he was currently placing teasing kisses.

"Who am I to deny you," he said, making you clap your hands with excitement.

The only thing you haven't thought of was that flour and water are not the best combination. It's safe to say that your shower took a very long time.

[evlynmoreau-blog]

The Dreamer

Back to my Signalis TTRPG (thanks for the encouragements)

This part is about setting up the bioresonant dreamer who was experiment on by AEON and who is causing the reality breakdown.

The dreamer is a gestalt unit and their memory prompts are determined by their planet of origin. The GM and possibly the players will use these prompts to explore the dreamer memories, kind of like the first person memories of Arianne.

Another conflict that could be explored if the GM want to bring back parts of Arianne is that the dreamer could be slowly merging with her memories laced into the recovered signal, one of the things at stake could be to find out if the dreamer will remain themself or get rewritten into an Arianne persona (kind of like Isa, in a way).

The GM can pick or roll the origin of the dreamer.

Busan (The Sun card)

Running through the busy and opulent city street, notice an EUSAN ship fly toward the spaceport.

Being assigned as a guide to a young EUSAN diplomat, they look so stern

Visiting an art museum, the EUSAN diplomat is awestruck by the display of culture, your hands touches

In the diplomatic suite, the EUSAN diplomat look for spying device, then show you a EUSAN tarot deck

Hiding from imperial troopers in a locker, the EUSAN diplomat holding you tightly

The bright light of the sun, viewed from the window of the EUSAN diplomatic craft leaving Busan

Vineta (The Tower card)

Sitting on the roof of a ruined building, watching fragments of the moon burn throught the atmosphere 

Playing on makeshift docks with friends, suddenly you slip and splash into the water 

Helping the EULE units distributing food to starving gestalt workers

Watching STAR units drag something out of the water, you have a scary premonition

Alert siren, people running to shelters and battle stations, being separated from a friend 

Traveling in a fast skimmer over the waves, smiling as you approach the hovering EUSAN spaceship  

Kitezh (The Lovers card) 

Preparing your farm for the sandstorm, noticing a small EUSAN craft crash in the distance

Walking through the red sandstorm, dragging the wounded EUSAN pilot in a brancard

Inside your farm bedroom, taking care of the recovering EUSAN pilot, they notice your divination sand mandala

Working the field, the EUSAN insist on helping you even if they did not yet fully recover.

Climbing and fixing a dusty radio antenna with the EUSAN pilot, watching together the patterns of the Kitezh dunes.

An EUSAN spycraft land near your farm, your friend tell you to hide but too late their masked robotic units saw you.

Rotfront (The Moon card)

Arriving at the meteorological station, meeting your new coworker, she offer you some warm coffee.

Taking ice samples at night, hearing eery cracking of the ice, imaging a dark shape moving under your feet

Clear day, taking some reading outside, your coworker laugh and start a snowball fight with you

Looking for your coworker in the snowstorm, seeing her silhouette in the distance, the ice crack, the shape…

Waking up at the meteorological station, red painted ration chips left for you on the table, it is mondfest day

A STAR unit is interrogating you, while another one is looking at sketches of red eyes and a strange creature

Heimat (The Star card)

Entering the Heimat university hall, feeling small and lost, bumping into another student

Studying astrogation charts with your new friend, talking together excitingly about astronomy

Looking at star charts microfilms, your notice your friend reading a Penrose Program pamphlet  

In your bedroom suddenly having an inspiration, frantically scribing astrogation calculation

Military parade in the street, moving through the crowd to meet your friend, both of you excited

Rainy day, a crumbled Penrose pamphlet in your hand. You watch the long trail of a starship leaving Heimat fragile atmosphere

Leng (The Death card) 

Walking out of the space shuttle with other political prisoners, noticing the cold stars above

Being stuck in a malfunctioning elevator with another gestalt unit, she slip you a note

A gestalt unit fall down due to fatigue and exhaustion  

Predicting safe wall code while your friend note them down, someone else is doing the lookout

Sneaking into the radio room, the radio suddenly start playing music

In the interrogation room, the light glitches, a Storch tell you that you have been selected for transfer

I may rework some of those, not certain if the prompts need to be less specific or not.

[serpentface]

In what context would you have effigies of evil spirits? Or objects carrying curses in general

I haven't really specifically invoked folk religious practices in the Wardi sphere (though a lot of what I've talked about includes it), a LOT of stuff revolving around curses is derived from folk magic traditions.

Folk religion here means magical/spiritual practices that develop out of common practice and may be Informed by religious doctrine but not Controlled by it. The Faith of the Seven Faced God is a state religion, but its broader sphere includes dozens of folk traditions (some heavily informed by and interactive with core doctrine, and some that are very distinct from core doctrine and have developed independently, or are heavily syncretic with foreign practices, older Wardi practices, or those of other native groups).

There's also major separation between the practices of priesthoods and lay folk (even in the urban context in which religious authority is based). This divide is fairly stark across class lines (as the upper classes are heavily integrated with the priesthoods, and Most priesthoods take their members from nobility (with Galenii being the only major exception)). However, virtually all members of society will include Some folk religious aspects in their practice. For example, the wearing of skimmer-woman amulets is Not derived from official doctrine, it is Not a canonical representation of Pelennaumache (with whom it is usually associated) this is just a very widespread folk practice (to the point that many priests wear them too). The Faith of the Seven Faced God is not proselytizing and prioritizes core orthopraxy being maintained (both on a public and private level, but the private levels are not actively policed). So these folk practices are not condemned unless they outright defy/supercede expected elements of practice.

This is the context for a lot of what I'm talking about wrt curses and magical practices outside of official rites. So like, belief in curses and evil spirits is basically ubiquitous in the Imperial Wardi cultural sphere, but folk traditions have unique ways of dealing with these threats (or inflicting these threats upon an intended target) while religious doctrine attempts to address these via blessings and public rites.

So to actually answer the question: a very common folk religious practice is to produce effigies of an offending evil spirit as means of confronting it. Some variants attempt to specifically trap it within the effigy in order to contain or destroy it, others attempt to wield power over it via the effigy (sometimes to destroy it, sometimes to redirect it to another target). Other effigies representing evil spirits in general are used to scare off real ones (the hats of the new years dancers are an example of this that has found a place in official public rites).

Attempts to cast spells and inflict curses usually involves objects as mechanisms. This most commonly comes in the form of writing your intent on a small object (frequently pieces of broken pottery, which is easy to come by) and then burying or hiding it in a secure and relevant location (ie- a curse or love spell might be buried near the home of your target). If it's targeted, parts of the other person's body (most commonly hair, best case scenario blood) will be bound to it in order to direct the spell. Somewhat lazier curse and spell attempts involve scrawling your desired effect onto a public wall as graffiti. The outer walls of temple grounds are sometimes targeted specifically for this purpose in hopes of getting God directly involved (this is Not Condoned, though will not get you executed like defacing the temple itself).

Other methods involve attempting to imbue a nondescript object with the intended curse/spell (often in order to get it close to the target without being questioned). This often integrates aspects of traditional medicine, using the Essence of various items (plants, animal parts, minerals, etc) to imbue an object with their effect (usually while speaking your intended spell/curse. Some folk traditions involve animal sacrifice to work magic- the animal is killed in offering to one of God's Faces (which are often interpreted more like a pantheon in common practice, especially those distanced from religious centers) so that the deity will perform the desired effect, imbue an object with the desired effect, etc. This IS condemned as heretical- official doctrine holds that ONLY priests can perform killing sacrifices, a layman does not have the necessary education and practice to do so properly, and attempting to is at best disrespectful and at worst spiritual defacement to the body of God (which the animal becomes at the moment of death). (Laymen can buy or provide animals to be offered on their behalf, but themselves can only offer their own blood or food/drink/flowers/incense/etc). It's particularly heretical when done to inflict curses - doctrine holds that God does not curse and only maintains order and blesses, curses and other spiritual harm come from being partly severed from God's influence and/or disruption of the body's living spirit (something all people are susceptible to). Laymen (and unofficial priesthoods/sects) sometimes do this regardless in secrecy (and it's very common in rural parts of the region with little access to religious centers), under the belief that this will make their magic substantially more powerful.

Bottom line is there are all sorts of methods to make cursed objects, so it's pretty common that people will find objects suspected of being cursed (or that actually Have been placed with intent to inflict a curse/spell), and in that context need methods of breaking the curse. Blessings from a priest are thought to dispel most common attachments to the body, but this is not always accessible and the object itself must be neutralized. This is sometimes accomplished by simply Putting It Somewhere Else so it becomes another person's problem, but there's a chance that the curse could be highly directed to oneself (maybe bound with your hair or etc). Most practices include a combination of neutralizing, destruction, and purification. Neutralizing is done via deflection (like the method mentioned in the prev post, though there are many other strategies), at which point the object may be safely destroyed. Lingering attachments are removed through self purification (at the most basic, this is performing one of the gestures against evil and bathing oneself).

The wearing of most apotropaic amulets hope to prevent curses from reaching their targets from the get-go. The pelatoche works to deflect the evil eye and minor evil spirits and curses, the phallus imbues masculine protection of the sanctity of the body, transforms bad luck into good, and threatens reprisal for curses. etc. These kinds of amulets are worn on all levels of society, but tend to be relied upon more fully by the upper classes (which are more closely looped in with the priesthood/state religion). Someone like Janeys wears at Least one pelatoche amulet constantly for protection but thinks most other folk-magic attempts to dispel curses are silly commoner superstitions, any harm that cannot be prevented by this sort of protection needs an official blessing and purification to be dispelled.

[cyber-sec]

New Linux Malware 'sedexp' Hides Credit Card Skimmers Using Udev Rules

Source: https://thehackernews.com/2024/08/new-linux-malware-sedexp-hides-credit.html

More info: https://www.aon.com/en/insights/cyber-labs/unveiling-sedexp

[spook-study]

From Heathers to Jennifer’s Body, from The Craft to The Burning, from Carrie to Evilspeak, bullies are not something horror is want of. They litter the genre. As antagonists, as antiheroes, but most often as victims. And for good reason! It’s easy to cheer the demise of a bully. The more gruesome or wild the death, the more it is enjoyed. There’s a sense of cosmic justice, a ‘they got what they deserved’ mentality. They’re easy shorthand for inducing sympathy on behalf of the bullied, making it easier to connect and root for an underdog or outcast character. Audiences easily supplicate their own bully for whomever is shown on screen and watch as the silly fantasies of their teenage years are acted out for all to see and enjoy. Assholes are excellent horror movie fodder, particularly if the movie is going for multiple kills. There’s that…

And then there’s Piggy (2022).

There’s a special brand of cruelty associated with young women. It’s complicated and deep-seated, a slithering thing that even people involved in the exchange might not be able to catch. More than traditional bullying between boys, female bullying tends to be more insidious. Maybe that’s why female bullies tend to stick in our minds more, and why those stories remain points of fascination; Carrie is a classic for a reason, after all. There’s a certain level of cruelty between women that feels almost intimate. More intimate than getting beaten up, in any case.

Piggy, Cerdita in its native Spanish, is no exception to this rule. In fact, the movie hits all of the highlights, making it difficult at times to watch. The title of the movie and the star leave no question as to the source of the bullying. Sara, the title character’s real name, is fat. Perhaps one of, if not the most common thing someone can be bullied for. This group of girls snicker behind her back, or just at the edge of her line of sight. They feign politeness in front of her parents before uploading cruel videos with even crueler descriptions. Their eyes are mocking, without a hint of compassion, and there’s nothing quite like knowing that people hate you just because. And, because no one is being physically harmed, there’s almost nothing to be done about it. This is made worse by the fact that one of the bullies, Claudia, was once a childhood friend. Both Sara and Claudia still have their homemade friendship bracelets from those sandbox days. But even Claudia is one false step away from being bullied herself, teased by her friends for even her past connection with Sara. It’s beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sara is more than miserable, potentially even suicidal, though it’s never mentioned. If it had been a different kind of movie, maybe.

Being quietly decried is one thing, being maligned and sneered at are horrible, life-ruining things, but then things are taken a step further. Sara goes to the pool alone, after everyone else in her community has left, a thing done in private due to her discomfort with her body and how she looks in her swimsuit. The girls pass by on their way to a party, and can’t help but berate Sara in the pool, making fun of her size, the way she looks, the way she moves, even the way she tries to hide. They force her underwater with a pool skimmer, almost drowning her.

But there are worse things.

They take her towel. They take her pack, with her phone. They take her clothes. They leave her to walk the long distance home in only her bikini, completely alone. This would be a terrifying situation for any girl, but the fact that Sara is fat adds to it. Harassment and violence are much easier to perform when the victim is considered on the outside of society. Still, Sara has no other options. She begins the long walk, skin burning under the sun, arms crossed, desperately trying to cover her body. She is made fun of and accosted by a random group of men passing by in a car, not offering her help, or a ride, and steering her off the main thoroughfare. She’s sobbing, she’s miserable, she hurt, and she’s humiliated. It’s a wonder she’s walking at all and not crumpled on the ground. And then she sees it. Her old friend Claudia, now her mildly reluctant bully, has been thrown in the back of a van. Bloodied and terrified, she slams her hands against the window, begging Sara for help. Frightened and not knowing what to do, Sara freezes. Only to have the Stranger, the Assassin in the English translation, drop a towel on the ground outside for her.

And then he drives off.

While female bullying can belie a certain level of intensity and carry almost sexual connotations, they left her practically nude, after all, the bathing suit covering even less than underclothes, it is rarely seen how that closeness would extend in the opposite direction. How would the personal attacks be returned? What does the opposite of this kind of bullying look like? In Piggy, it looks like sorrow, fear, and most of all, indifference. If these girls sunk their claws in and tore at the most vulnerable and sensitive areas of Sara’s very existence, how poetic that it is her lack of passion that abets the kidnap. A towel is now worth more than trying to save a life.

This level of connection trumps even the undoubtedly lifelong dance Sara has had with her bullies. What could be more intimate than a shared crime? How closely two beings must entangle in order to have both participated in lawlessness and violence. To have committed, enabled, and kept that moment to themselves. This man, who would kidnap and kill young women, was the only person to offer Sara even a modicum of kindness. To offer her help when she so needed it. How desperate must her heart have been that a stranger, holding her bosom friend in the back of his van ostensibly to kill, offering her a bloody towel was the most kindness she had ever been shown. Here was one of the girls who had thrust Sara into the situation in which she found herself. A girl who so callously caused her pain with the thoughtless cruelty of youth. A girl who had stood there with her friends, who spat the word “Piggy” again and again, who oinked at Sara, and did nothing. A young woman who had taken Sara’s towel, leaving her bare and exposed. Normally, an audience would cheer. Would say those girls were going to get what was coming to them, good riddance, and whatever happens they deserve it. But that feeling never comes. In its stead, there is only greater sorrow for Sara’s plight.

Sara, unfortunately, has no relief no matter where she goes. Not only is she bullied in her social life, her mother is a domineering, seemingly uncaring woman who speaks over her, bosses her around, and often calls Sara names herself. Her father does nothing, her younger brother only adds his own mocking. When it finally comes out that the missing girls bullied her extensively and called her “piggy,” her mother stands up for her until the minute they are home, where she feeds Sara a plate of salad and tells her the way to solve the issue for her to lose weight. It is intense performative care, going through the public rites of motherhood and then rescinding that care in private. Though she herself and her husband are also fat, it is only Sara who is deprived of the family meal, surely making her feel even more an outsider in her own home. She sneaks sweets and snacks when she can, she stress eats, she takes comfort in food, what little comfort it can bring, and her mother takes even that from her.

In Piggy, the desire to be seen and accepted transcends beyond normal social boundaries in the extreme. When Sara runs into the Assassin again, the two hide together, as she has continued to keep the secret of what she saw and what happened. They are close, face to face, staring at one another, his left hand over her mouth, a knife in his right. His left hand drops, and there is nothing more than a breath of space between them. It’s sexual, it’s tense, and, daringly, it’s romantic. Alone in the world, Sara clings to it, the only offer of intimacy she’s ever had.

Piggy is a fantastic and captivating movie. Often, killers are seen as attractive only after the movie has come out and some group of fans lay their hands on the subject, like Jason. Others, like Ghostface, are given a sexual nature that showcases their creepiness. Piggy has neither of those. The Assassin is not a particularly handsome man. His violence is brutal, unforgiving, and torturous; yet it is he whom our heroine finds attractive. What could be more evocative as maintaining such a tenuous and frightening relationship? Heartbreakingly, it seems to be the only positive relationship Sara has, or maybe has ever had. He may be evil to others, but to her he has only ever been silently understanding. The movie shows that her pain is profound, and that is what makes the situation believable.

The ending is a doozy, and one that should remain unspoiled, but you won’t be able to deny the anguish that comes from the battle between what is right but harder for oneself, against what is wrong but what one desires. What are people willing to forgive, to look past, when offered the right amount of attention and care? Where is the line drawn when those around you stand only to hurt and harm you, while the other stands to hurt and harm them? How much pain must be laid before revenge is justified? Will you cheer if the bullies end up killed? Piggy allows us to contemplate morality in a deeply personal and intense way. It strikes to the core. Who deserves to be forgiven? What would you, as a viewer, forgive? Bullies will always be a staple in horror, that won’t ever change. As long as there are underdogs, there are bullies. Bullies are there to be killed and for audiences to cheer at their death.

Piggy asks more.

It asks, if you were in Sara’s position, what would you do? How far would you go? And it never stops asking. It demands you to think, to feel, to fear.

What made Piggy so great was that it brings to the focal point things that horror can overlook. It’s easy for horror to slide past morality or reflection or grief. Hell, it can even overlook pain, at least the emotional type. Piggy grabs you from the very first frame and never lets you go, making demands of you from the first minute. The dread surrounding the story feels personal and real; real young women and men truly do go through that kind of horrendous bullying. It’s barbarous, vicious, and deadly. Piggy confronts the audience with that and puts them through an emotional wringer of right and wrong, kind and cruel. Piggy is a movie that aches.

Well paced, well written, and well filmed, Piggy rounds out its strong story with a powerhouse performance from Laura Galán, without whom the movie may well have fallen flat on its face. The oily nature of the movies makes it slick and hot. It might not be the prettiest movie you see this year, it definitely won’t be the goriest, but there’s a tang and a grit to Piggy that will have you rolling it over in your mind for days to come. Piggy is a movie with weight, with staying power, and, most importantly, with passion. You would never guess it was based off a fifteen minute short film, as each second feels full and earned. Unlike other short film adaptations, Piggy doesn’t feel drawn, slow, or slipshod. It feels rich and deep, a staunch departure from the wafer thin story and writing that usually accompanies extended shorts. This was a story that deserved a full length feature, and the horror world is all the better for it having happened.

Impactful, stunningly acted, incredibly culturally and socially relevant, Piggy (2022) is a movie of its time and for its time. I can’t wait to see what director and screenwriter Carlota Pereda will show us next. 5/5*

[helluva-world-innit]

Late to the party but finally making an entrance is Envy Ring!

I'm sure you can see similarities between it and Greed which Levi is less than pleased about. Mammon swears he's just trying to give Hell's denizens a lively, entertaining place to spend their Souls/jewels and exploit their Sinners, not copying Envy's bright and alluring aesthetic. To be fair to him, Envy's light is largely bioluminescence whereas Greed must rely on the soul energy that flows into and around Hell from Sloth Ring (we'll get to that house of horrors when we get there). As such, Envy and Wrath Rings are the only ones to have natural light (biolum and lava). Go figure. Green is the main color here though it's not allowing me to photograph it properly. The windows in the palace are actually light green, not white. My gel pens did not want to cooperate and I think I gave up at that point too. Anyhoo, coral reefs were defs an inspiration for this place. As well as the deep sea and fish just being fish.

As is the case in the open Earth ocean...everything in Envy can and will fucking kill you (yes, that is a giant crab). From the flora to the fauna to the fucking ROCKS to the crushing pressure and scathing shade thrown by the Ringmaster or their Overseers, Delta and Ray, everything is designed to leave you bleeding for the sharks here. Even the few landmasses that dot the massive Ring aren't safe. Above the waves live horse-sized creatures that look like pelicans under an x-ray machine. The bone skimmers, as they are known, are notorious for attacking and eating any demons that come too far up to the surface. The rare tourist spot or transport station above the water have to have hounds patrolling around the clock to keep the hellish birds at bay. Naturally, everything is more expensive in Envy proper, where only those who can breathe the sulfuric water of Hell may dwell for any length of time. It is a place of privilege, beauty, and attitude. All of which has been cultivated by its Ringmaster, Leviathan (that big ol' tentacled thing by the palace? that's him playing peekaboo; like an iceberg, we just see the tip).

There is a natural current of soul energy that courses through Envy (crevice, bottom left-ish). Here is where many of the higher echelon of Envy live and work since it's a well-spring of power and very bright here. Named the Ring of Influence, it runs around the entire Ring like a smaller separate ring of Hell itself. The Ars Goetia who live here may as well be gods the lower hellborn are always vying for the attention of and Sinners know no peace if they happen to become entangled in the tendrils of this privileged and isolated kingdom. They form an entirely unique enslaved underclass here and Envy is the biggest generator of Broken Sinners in Hell as a result (we'll get to the Broken later too). The housing and such you can see in the background up there are where the middle-class worker bees live mostly. Also the occasional poor Hellborn or Sinner that would rather die (again?) than fall into the Ring of Influence where life could very well be worse for them depending who gobbles them up. It's like whalefall, I guess.

Now, the tubes. So Hell's got these elevators, right? Hell-evators, if you will. Well, most Rings hide or blend them in to the environment. Not Envy Ring. Demons can see exactly what part of Envy Ring they're traveling to or through thanks to the reinforced glass of the Hell-evators here. Naughty demons even break them sometimes as illustrated above. They have the tech to build a new one and do so, no problem. The general mindset here is 'yeah, we know you want what we have but you could never pull it off like us so die mad' even if every Envy citizen is a literal fish out of water in any other Ring they might travel to. Sure, they're someone that matters there, but would anyone in Gluttony give a shit? Or Pride? Hard to say.

Leviathan is cold, calculating and about the only being stronger than Lucifer in Hell. What stops these two from coming to blows like how Satan and Luci did all those millennia ago to decide who would rule Hell is Levi likes being behind the scenes. Anything that keeps God's attention off them and the prophecy to kill them and serve them up like sashimi to humanity is *chef's kiss*. While they question the decisions their king makes, they still have a frightful amount of respect and love for Lucifer and Satan...just not really anyone else. Including Charlie. Especially not Asmodeus, who is the youngest of the Sins by far.

Notable characters from this Ring are Nifty, Chaz and his family, Verosika, Alessio/the majority of Crimson's gang still, and Baxter. The Overseers of this Ring are the aforementioned eel twins, Delta and Ray. Also planning on doing a map view of this Ring later so I can paint a better picture of where everything is in relation to each other.

Up Next (though who knows when): Sloth Ring!

[macgyvertape]

Thoughts on Season of the Wish

Its funny that Mara has now been the focus of 2 extended seasons. Overall I love how this expansion year has had a lot of female antagonists, and conflicts between characters who are against the Witness but not allies like Mara vs Riven, Eris vs Savathun.

Also Bungie has really been able to iterate successfully with randomized maps and enemies in seasonal activities. Its fun to have modes where abilities or weapons are boosted like Asha’s Gifts, the Arcana Cards, and buying things from Riven it can really let niche or non meta builds shine.  Gameplay:

Is Mara’s outfit more shimmery this season or is it just my better graphics card? It really is a good design for space royalty

Understandably the devs wanted to get their full use of the Riven’s paths, but between appearing in the story missions, Riven’s Lair activities, and The Coil I was tired of running them by the season end. I’m not sure if it was a limitation of how randomized areas worked, but it was annoying to have one extra connecting hallway and portal from the start to the first combat area. 

The Coil once scoring was buffed was a very fun activity, Riven’s Lair however didn’t seem to have rewards worth it until Bungie started the daily red borders from activities. Frustrating however that the reprised Undying weapons weren’t included in the red border buff. 

The Guardian Games skimmer has been so much fun to use, especially how it can cross gaps or height differences that are meant to block sparrows, shame that getting it was obviously set as a player engagement grind; watch twitch a lot, be lucky with your personal schedule for focus activities to compensate for bugs, or compete with the streamer try hards for top 10%. 

I noted in this season the other player engagement metrics; “please login each week” with the free bright dust but the 20% silver sale popup felt much more predatory, especially how there still isn’t a silver package that directly matches the silver price of one season.

Blind Well got a buff in difficulty which is understandable since the power sandbox has changed. However I wish the Ada bounty would be reworked to compensate, since it's not worth the time spent.

Never thought I’d say it but had a great time with the Crucible seasonal challenge. I haven’t touched mayhem in a while but running arc staff hunter, Shinobu’s vow exotic, and demolitionist perk Mountaintop led to some really great combo loops. 

I enjoyed Onslaught a lot, however I wish instead of a short playlist mode that isn’t rewarding, there was a 30 minute based mode since an hour for a full run is a big time commitment. No wonder 2 rounds in Legendary then leave became so popular as being most value for time vs reward.

The Archie quest was cute and a lot of fun, nice to go back to older areas for hide and seek. 

I thought Pantheon was fun and I hope a version of it comes back since sadly I didn’t do more than week 2 due to time constrictions and trouble finding a group. I’d love to play through the 2 Rhulks especially at a less than -20 power difference. 

Plot

I love summoning Riven ended in a dramatic “I refuse”. Sloane and Ahsa's storyline was about trusting someone’s good intentions, this season was about a “bargain not based on trust” just the mutually assured consequences of breaking it

Really like the song that plays in boss fights in the Coil as a remix of Forsaken tracks. I hope it appears on the Destiny Music archive eventually since this season didn’t have a soundtrack released

I can’t believe after all that hype we don’t even get to see a Harbringer

“I yearn for you to stop talking” IMO Crow is at his most enjoyable when he has a bit of fight to his comebacks. This really is the season of re-evaluate my feelings on Crow, where I really disliked him in season of the Risen and have overall been bored by him since he got his memories back. 

Riven imitating Shaxx and then threatening to imitate Sjur was really mean, and really funny direct nod at the Shaxx/Mara fanon. I really enjoyed the mutual antagonism this season between Riven vs Mara, Crow, and Petra. Really curious how bad Riven would twist the wish of the Dreaming City safe that she dares them to make

Hearing the Oracles in the one mission was startling enough to gimme flashbacks to hours spent in VoG. It's an unsettling tone, though musically I’m not sure why, or if its just that my raid role was oracle spotter.

The “can only send 1 person reveal” sparked such a fun fight between Mara and Riven that it made it my 2nd favorite season this year. I really have missed the story element of people on the same side being antagonistic towards each other

“You and I will see where the river flows” Riven has been the most interesting character this season, and this has been my favorite Mara character writing since her brief appearance in Forsasken. It felt like a good final send off for Riven, with the slight possibility that she could come back if there was an interesting enough story reason

Lmao Crow Mara special twin bond magic, and he says it was his purpose. I dislike this being his Destiny (pun intended) or that any of the Sovs have a fated path vs making their own choices.

“I’m tired Mara I’m ready for what comes next. It's ok to admit you are too”. Osiris was a side character this season but I really like his character arc about being excited there might be a resolution, an end in sight. Hope that works out for him

Its a big contrast to Petra who starts the season worn down by the curse in the dreaming city and fighting an unwinnable war, and ends the season saying that her focus has to be on her people in the future, with the implication the attacks by the Vex will be The Final Straw (pun intended)

Awwwwwwwwww I feel so sad finishing the story and getting [defeaning silence] when doing The Coil. I then stopped doing seasonal activities in that character and didn’t finish the story in the others

Lmao Crow hammer firing Hawkmoon then using melee recharge dodge when no enemies were around. His ass is not proccing Paracausal shot (there’s a reason I deleted Hawkmoon and don’t use it)

Interesting that during the Crow vs Cayde standoff “Thin Line” which is Uldren’s leitmotif doesn’t play. It did of course play when Uldren shot Cayde but also when Zavala discovered who Crow was. I feel like Crow shooting Cayde has been covered exhaustively so I hope that isn’t a major point of The Final Shape. 

Also I’ve been saying Rheasilvia wrong. Rey-a-silvia. I’ve also been pronouncing Jolyon wrong all these years

[dansnaturepictures]

09/07/2023-RSPB Strumpshaw Fen

Pictures taken in this set: 1. A lovely Grey Heron, a key bird of the weekend trip. 2. The majestic Marsh Harrier we so enjoyed seeing from a hide, seeing others well on the walk round. They are such beautiful and striking birds, one I do really love seeing and I've had a fantastic year for them so far. 3. Follow the leader: Mute Swan cygnets. 4. Delicate meadowsweet and great willowherb. 5, 7, 8, 9 and 10. Views at this picturesque Fen reserve including of the expansive and lovely River Yare. 6. A Woodpigeon with a twig in its mouth on a gate which was a feel good and quirky image to take away from the day.

It really was a brilliant walk round this rich reserve, with seeing my first ever Norfolk Hawkers - exquisite emerald eyed dragonflies dashing around stream and vegetation - the key moments from the day. I feel so lucky we saw them. Brown Hawker, Black-tailed Skimmer, Emperor, possible Southern Hawker and Common Blue Damselfly, Banded Demoiselle and darter were other great dragon and damselflies to see. Comma, Red Admiral white butterflies including Small White and Green-veined White I believe, Large Skipper, Silver Y moth, Kestrel, Sedge Warbler, Jay, Swift, Common Tern, Great Crested Grebe and chicks which was good to see somewhere different to Lakeside, Little Grebe, Mallard and ducklings, Great White Egret a very key bird of the weekend away, ladybird, possible ladybird larva, Common Red Soldier beetle and a marvelous Muntjac Deer shuffling over the path right at the end - a magical and euphoric moment I love seeing them - were other highlights. Other key plants of the many seen on the walk were hemp agrimony, purple and yellow loosestrife, white clover, pineappleweed, heath-spotted orchid, self-heal, herb-Robert, red campion, marsh bedstraw, hedge woundwort, thistle, bird vetch, valerian and plantain.

[kkpwnall]

i felt like making a cover for this and posting it again before it's officially autumn. we go by the celestial calendar in this house

wanted: pool boy at the vampire mansion (rated: t | <1k words)

steve answers an unusual ad in the classifieds that’s pretty sparse on the details…

[read on ao3, or full ficlet below the cut]

divider by @saradika

It’s not a bad gig, really. Even if it stipulates in his contract that he has to be shirtless while he’s on the property. But Steve also signed the contract in his blood so he’s not sure how legal it is.

Plus the pay is insane. He quit his other jobs, and he’s basically got free reign of the pool all day. So he takes his time with the skimmer fishing out all the leaves and dead bugs, swims laps for a while. Spends the rest of the day in a lounger before adjusting the chemicals so it’s perfect by morning.

What do vampires need with a pool anyway?

The four guys stay in the house whenever Steve comes by, but they're friendly enough and wave at him through the dark tinted windows.

One guy ogles him the whole time he works. Not that he really minds. So what if Steve gets to work early, just to put on sunscreen? Who’s gonna know if he puts some extra flex in his muscles while he works? And who cares if they’ve got the cleanest pool in all of Indiana? It’s not hurting anyone.

But Steve's drawn to him the same way he was drawn to the ad in the first place, with his long dark curly hair and unending collection of black band shirts. His crooked smile and dimples and shining brown eyes.

It's just... they've never once spoken. And Steve is dying to get to know this guy who makes the goofiest faces at him. Who was pissed when Steve laughed the first time he did, hands up like devil horns, tongue lolling and eyes crossed. Until Steve made his own face back.

This guy, who plays elaborate charades with Steve through the glass, trying and failing to do the classic walking-down-stairs bit. Who went boneless when one of the guys in his band (? coven? pod? Ask Dustin what a group of vampires is called.) dragged him away while Steve mimed crying, waving an imaginary hanky at him. This guy, who clutched his heart and fell over when Steve lowered his shades and winked at him one day.

And it's because of those shades that Steve has to drive all the way back to the mansion late one night to retrieve them from his usual chair.

When he gets there, someone’s floating in the pool. Someone, with long curly hair spilling all around their head. Someone, wearing all their clothes, and Steve can't tell from the weak pool light if they're face up or face down, but they sure as hell aren't moving.

His lifeguard training takes over between one step and the next, as he bolts for the pool, launching into the water, and throwing himself forward with broad strokes.

Except when Steve gets to him, the guy isn't drowning, he’s sputtering and swearing and pushing away from him in the water. “What are you doing here?!”

“You're not drowning...” Steve says blankly, trying to catch his breath as he treads water.

“No! And thank you for the rescue, Lancelot, but you need to get out of here.” His long hair streams over his face as he spins while Steve paddles around him to make sure he’s really alright.

“Lancelot?” he asks, just to keep the guy talking, to hear more from his honeyed voice. Better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

“A knight in shining armor,” the guy mumbles, trying to hide his face. “A hero rescuing fair damsels and slaying vile beasts.”

Steve chuckles, but doesn’t miss the venom in his last words. He catches him by the upper arm to stop his spinning. “No, I know who Lancelot is, it’s just–”

It’s just he’s even prettier close up. It’s just his skin is freezing cold in the sun-warmed pool water. It’s just he’s looking at Steve, caught somewhere between a grimace and a grin, and his teeth are so so sharp.

“I’m Steve,” he says, moving closer. Entirely entranced by the pool light, the moonlight, the starlight, glimmering in his eyes. Steve’s hand has a mind of its own, rising out of the water to cup the guy’s cheek with a wet palm, “And you’re…”

Gently traces his lower lip, runs his thumb over the sharp canine, careful not to touch the pointed tip.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve breathes.

The guy surges forward, reeling Steve in with a hand on the back of his neck, and kisses him fiercely. Steve kisses him back just as fervently, wraps his arms around his waist and kicks out with his legs to keep them afloat, as his tongue slides past the guy’s teeth to swirl and dance with his.

It's messy and uncoordinated and they sink and bob in the water as they move against each other. The guy's fingers tangle in the shaggy hair at the base of his neck, twisting and snagging. Steve groans and stretches a broad palm up between the guy's shoulder blades, pressing further into him, drinking all of him in.

“It’s Eddie,” he says, pulling back and panting when they finally part. “I’m Eddie.”

Steve grins at Eddie and kisses him again, pushing them through the water towards the edge at the shallow end of the pool. He can think of better uses for his legs right now.

[also on ao3]

[storyunrelated]

Bad Dreams - Part Three

I saw a man. A man perhaps a little older than Rose and myself, and clearly not in a good way. 

A man who had, at some point, decided to have only a loose relationship with eating and with hygiene and who, as a result, had got both angular and pungent. Greasy in places, dark under the eyes and pale just about everywhere. He did not inspire confidence.

Sorry to judge by appearances, but you can tell quite a bit about someone from these things sometimes and context is important - the scrawny, pale man in the dark house with newspaper on the windows makes the mind go certain places.

All of the above was also elevated to new heights by the final detail of the man being shirtless, but being shirtless in such a fashion that suggested it was more because he’d entirely forgotten about putting shirts on, rather than by having made an active choice to be shirtless.

Top to bottom the immediate, overwhelming impression was of someone who’d become so focused on something other than themselves they’d rather let it slip from their minds that they were there in the first place.

Not a great start. Oh well.

“Evening,” I said, giving a wave with one hand and putting the other hand behind my back. The other hand was the one holding the crowbar. Best to try and make as good a first impression as possible, being an intruder in the man’s house notwithstanding. 

The man did not move a muscle. He then blinked, which counted as moving a muscle in my book.

“Who are you?” He asked. Surprisingly restrained given the circumstances.

I could have answered this, but instead I chose not to.

“Terribly sorry, we were expecting to find a witch,” I said instead.

“I am a witch,” the man said, maybe a touch testily, as though this was something that he ran up against a lot. Though maybe it was also because we were in his house. Maybe a bit of both.

I looked him over, tip to toe.

“...where’s your hat?” I asked.

“We don’t have to wear a hat,” he said and this time he was definitely testy and it was definitely about the witch thing.

I looked Rose over, tip to toe. Particularly the tip, where the hat was. Where the hat almost always was. In fact, no ‘almost’ about it - where the hat always was. Not a day had passed since she’d got the thing when she’d been without it. I thought those had been the rules.

“I like my hat…” she mumbled.

The man cleared his throat to get attention back on him.

“My next question - before I call the police - is going to be why are you in my house?” He asked. 

You’d think he’d sound less calm, being confronted by two housebreakers. I certainly wouldn’t be so cool and I was one of the housebreakers. Right then I was mostly running on nerves and gut impulse, my brain clinging on for dear life and only able to react after I’d said anything.

Maybe he got a lot of this sort of thing?

“We’re here about the dream skimmer you got sticking out the chimney,” I said, pointing upward, in case there was any confusion about where the chimney was.

He went very quiet for a moment. I think I heard him swallow.

“Ah,” he said, at length.

He looked like a man who knew he’d been caught out. Because he was a man who had been caught out. 

“Still feel like calling the police?” I asked.

“No, ideally.”

“Would that be an admission of guilt?” I asked. He looked at me like I was an idiot.

“That would suggest I have anything to be guilty of in the first place, which I reject. I’d just rather not get any more people involved and stomping about the place,” he said.

“Naturally. But since we’re already here and stomping about the place you’ll humour us?” I asked.

“If that is what it takes for you to go away,” he said through gritted teeth.

“How very obliging of you. How is the dream skimming going, just to ask? Well? Skimmer doing what it’s meant to be doing? Skimming?”

I could tell my breezy attitude towards what he plainly considered his hard work had got under his skin almost immediately, as much as he might have tried to hide it. Him and Rose too - witches were a touchy lot when it came to their witchy-business, weren’t they? Presumably it’s important to them.

Fair play, I guess. Must be galling to pour work into something and then have someone like me come in and be a smartarse about it. Would I like it if someone broke into my house and started undermining my confidence? Probably not.

“It is performing a little over what I expected,” he said, coolly.

“Delightful. Show me.”

His mouth worked a little. Whatever he’d expected it hadn’t been that.

Why else would I be here?

“I don’t think you’ll be able to appreciate the mechanism, especially given that you are not a witch and wouldn’t even be able to perceive half of the work that’s gone into it. You wouldn’t understand it. You can’t,” he said.

I didn’t think I was missing much, honestly.

“Humour me,” I said, pulling my crowbar hand from behind me and proceeding to stare him down.

Normally I’m not very good at staring anyone down and it’s not something I have a lot of call to do, but this was a special occasion and so I really poured myself into it, really meant it. I imagine that I was holding a crowbar helped a bit as he folded pretty quickly, all things considered, breaking eye contact and seeming to collapse in on himself a little bit, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Fine, fine…” He said turning around and gesturing for us to follow.

The very picture of sullen, he was.

“Come on,” I said to Rose, who squeaked.

“Really?!” She hissed.

“If all else fails I’ll crowbar our way out,” I said.

“That is not reassuring!”

She still followed, however unreassured she was, and we went up the stairs after the man. Cautiously, admittedly. I’m relaxed but I’m not an idiot. Hence the crowbar.

Downstairs had been house-like. In need of a clean, but house-like. Upstairs had been mauled. Doors were removed, plaster was exposed, holes had been knocked through walls, tubes and cables and wires ran everywhere and while I was getting nothing the wince on Rose’s face suggested a lot of magical jiggery-pokery going on.

The man, still sullen and now also mixed with open annoyance at us lollygagging, was stood waiting for us by an open doorframe.

“In here,” he said.

“After you,” I said again, giving him the nod. He glared but went in, and we followed again.

Was this going how I expected it would go? Not really. But it seems to be going well enough.

I think. I have no precedent for this sort of thing. Feels like an adventure though. I think.

We entered into what was one room that had plainly been two rooms before he’d had his way with them. He’d apparently knocked through a wall to link the two together. Not properly, I should point out. Bits of the wall remained here and there and the whole affair was held up by bits of wood the structural capacity of which I did have much confidence in. Professional it was not.

But that wasn’t the main thing, nor was that really the thing that I was paying attention to. The reason why he’d mangled the rooms together was on account of the great, sprawling, tinkling, hissing, gurgling thing that had been built and which took up most of the available space.

The dream sifter, presumably. Really didn’t look like much this close. Look like a still had had a run in with a milk churn and then left in the rain for a day or two. It was leaking in more than one place. Leaking what though was harder to say. Something.

“Very nice. Should it be leaking?” I asked, pointing to the more prominent leak. He looked, hissed, and swept up a roll of gaffer tape and quickly and liberally applied it. From the looks of the thing this was his standard response. There was a lot of tape, not to mention discarded rolls piled up in the corners.

Probably should have just made it less leaky, really. He’d save money on tape.

“Right. You’ve seen it now. Go,” he said, tossing the tape aside and glaring some more. He wasn’t getting out of this that easy.

“Hold on, hold on,” I said. “Explain this thing to me. What does it actually do?”

“You really wouldn’t understand,” the man said.

“Well, you can try. And if nothing else I’m sure Rose would appreciate hearing it. Right?” I asked, looking over to her. She was really coasting on this whole thing so far and leaving most of it to me but, in fairness, this whole thing had been my idea so I could hardly blame her.

“Um. Sure,” Rose said. She was squinting. The man was too, I noticed. Presumably the room was swimming in witchy nonsense that I was entirely unaware of, being so mundane and inert and all.

I looked back to the man and he stared at me in open, exasperated disbelief for a moment before his shoulders slumped.

“Fine. But will you then please leave me alone?”

This was another question I chose not to answer. Just gave him a winning smile instead.

He tried to explain it and I tried to follow his explanation, I really did, but I am as has been said magically inert and on top of that I’m also not that bright, so he got about three words in before I lost the thread completely.

Broadly speaking, I understood what he said something like this:

The bulk of the sifter sat in the room where we were, looking at it. It was the big ugly thing which was leaking. The delicate, sifty bits went up the chimney. Those were the bits we saw wafting about over the house, doing the sifting. 

Alright, that made sense, I could follow that.

The sifty bits sifted. Shocking, I know. They sifted dreams out of the air and snatched them before they reached their proper destination and then drew them down into the main part. He did not explain how or why or where or when or anything about why dreams were just floating about loose instead of being entirely inside people’s heads but that was fine, I was beyond that, I was comfortable knowing I’d never know.

Magic. Whatever.

And then once in the main part of the sifter the dreams were condensed and distilled and filtered and whatever whatever. Basically the thing took dreams and through a series of arcane and fiddly processes turned them into some kind of liquid. Dream liquid, liquid dreams. 

And this stuff was good stuff, he said. You could use it to do a variety of dream-related activities, apparently. Dream whatever you wanted. Live whole imaginary lives doing the impossible. Marry a cloud and have a whole family of raindrops, whatever tickled your fancy.

I thought you could just learn how to lucid dream. Couldn’t people do that already? Maybe that wasn’t good enough?

The man did mention, offhand, that a side effect of people having their dreams sifted or intercepted or whatever was that the ensuing void tended to invite bad dreams to come in and fill the space. Again, how that worked was something that was glossed over completely but here at least we finally had our explanation as to why any of this bad dream business was happening in the first place.

It was happening as a side-effect. This wasn’t the intention at all. The intention was this dream liquid the man wanted. The bad dreams were a consequence of the process. Somehow that’s even more galling than if it had been on purpose. Poor Nisien’s screaming and exhaustion and my bad nights were an afterthought. 

In fact, no, not even an afterthought, not even a thought at all. Just background noise.

Grr. 

I felt I’d heard enough.

“Why?” I asked, cutting in as the man warbled on about some point to do with the bottling process. He blinked at me.

“Why what?” He asked.

“Why did you decide to do this?”

“...I don’t understand. I did explain how it worked, didn’t I?”

“Well enough, sure. I mean why did you think this was something you had to do? Dream liquid? Why did you build this instead of just not building this? Why aren’t you playing pinball right now or literally anything else?”

Not a complicated question, I thought. He blinked at me again as he was having some difficulty working out where I was coming from. I could see him working through a slow formulation of an answer in his head, trying to hack his reasons down into something someone else might understand.

What works in our head is often difficult to put into the heads of others. Often it doesn’t survive the journey. I’m aware of this. I gave him time.

“With access to the raw, distilled essence of dreams I’m able to fully control the dreamscape. Lucid dreaming is a crock and a waste of time and beneath me, anyway. Total control is the real deal, I can do whatever I want, anything at all,” he said, eventually, slowly.

This was not a compelling answer to my not-very-complicated question. It was barely an answer at all. I pointed to the sifter again, just for emphasis.

“So this machine is sucking in the dreams of just about everyone within a however-many square mile radius, leaving a void that bad dreams rush into, and you’re basically melting all those dreams you’ve effectively stolen down into something that you fiddle about with and inject into yourself so that you can have whatever dream you want?” I asked.

“That is a ridiculously oversimplified and crude way of-” he started, but I did not let him finish.

“It’s a yes or no question and I’m holding a crowbar.”

His eyes flicked to the crowbar.

“...yes.”

The crowbar gets results. Humanity really did peak with that one.

Certainly a crowbar was infinitely superior to this dream-snaffling whatever. All these dreams all sucked in so one person can benefit? Those numbers are shocking.

“That’s spectacularly inefficient,” I said.

“Yes, but-”

I wasn’t finished though:

“Not to mention overwhelmingly selfish.”

But that should have gone without saying.

I mean honestly, I’m not even sure how anyone could get anywhere with a plan like this. How could you even start? How could you not run through it in your head, see how horrendously selfish it was and realise that, as an exercise in theory it’s diverting but in practise it would just be disgustingly self-indulgent and therefore something you shouldn’t do?

Was I missing something? Was this just me?

“Selfish?” He asked, as though the word had been a slap in the face.

“Well, yeah. If you can’t figure that out on your own I’m not sure where to start. If you eat someone else’s lunch that’s also selfish, did you know that?”

“It’s not selfish,” he said, pouting. Actually pouting.

“Feels pretty selfish from where I’m standing,” I said and he bristled a moment before replying.

“I’ll admit it’s unfortunate that some people are having bad dreams but there’s really only so much I can do about that.”

Big of him to admit that it was unfortunate.

“You could always not do it. You could do that,” I said.

He ignored this.

“It’s only in it’s prototype stage. I’ll admit it’s far from perfect now, but it’s getting better every day. Soon, pretty soon, I’ll have the ratio all the way down to one-to-one. That’ll just be one person maybe running the risk of having a bad dream - which they might not even remember anyway! - so I can dream whatever I want. Do you have any idea what I can do in those dreams?” He asked instead.

“I shudder to think.”

That took him a second.

“Not like that!”

“Hmm.”

I was thinking. I was always thinking, obviously, as are we all, but right then I was thinking about this whole thing, this whole business. Thinking about it and what I should do about it. Clearly I should do something, shouldn’t I? But what, and why?

Questions, questions.

This was a bad thing he was doing, yes? Yes, I think I can comfortably say that. Deciding that your personal enjoyment ranks above the discomfort or outright suffering of however many other people. Especially since this particular type of enjoyment is the explicit cause of that discomfort. That’s a bad thing.

I think I can follow this so far.

With that being the case what was I meant to do? Was I meant to do anything? Were any of us meant to do anything? 

Maybe I’ve got a bit beyond the scope of the issue, there. Let’s pull back in a bit.

Let us say that he is right when he says the thing can be improved. Let’s assume that for a moment. Even if he got that machine down to one-to-one efficiency that’s still ensuring someone else has bad dreams so he can have good dreams.

What if he rotated who the machine picked? Isn’t it likely someone is going to have a bad dream anyway? Where’s the harm, really? Would they even notice? In the grand scheme of things, does it even matter?

Yada yada. Questions like these serve to pluck away at your energy, slow you down and divert your attentions, make you doubt yourself. Sure, if you ignore them you might make a mistake, but if you listen to them all you might end up doing nothing, and doing nothing is usually what someone doing something they shouldn’t wants you to do.

Sometimes a Gordian knot just needs cutting. Sometimes you just have to say bollocks to compromise and go full-on hey diddle diddle, straight up the middle.

So no dice. Decision made. No dream stealing. Not on my watch.

You want to have good dreams you wait for them like anyone else. Or do it in a way that doesn’t attract my attention, and the attention of my crowbar.

“Rose, you might want to step outside,” I said, which seemed to snap Rose out of whatever quiet funk she’d slipped into. Seriously, she’d really clammed up ever since we broke into a guy’s house and been confronted by the guy whose house we’d broken into.

“Huh?” She asked.

“I’m going to draw a line under this,” I said.

“Oh, right. Okay. I’ll just - I’ll go. Meet you outside,” she said, shuffling out of the room with only one or two backwards glances. The man was suddenly just a touch nervous. I could see this.

“Where’s she going? What are you talking about? What do you mean draw a line?” He asked.

“You’re a clever fellow, I’m sure you can figure it out,” I said.

Though of course I actually started smashing his sifter before he figured it out. Ain’t I a stinker.

I’m not an expert at smashing but I like to think I did an alright job. I aimed for one of the leaking spots with the pointed end of the crowbar, wedged it in, heaved, and managed to lever off a good half of the thing away from the other half. Made an awful noise and sloshed clear liquid all over. Seemed a good start.

“What are you doing?!” The man squealed, lunging but clearly unsure what to lunge at. Did he lunge at me to stop me or lunge at his machine to try and save it? He hesitated, and while he hesitated I kept going. I pried more bits loose, I whacked the crowbar into the bits that looked like they’d crumple best, I hooked the curved part over dangling bits and yanked.

I made a frightful mess. And in a very short time, too. Maybe I have hidden talents.

In a few seconds what had been a ticking, whirring, leaking device was now several bits of wheezing, leaking, non-ticking, non-whirring junk strewn across the floor and sat in puddles of clear whatever. Presumably that stuff was dreams? Condensed, liquified dreams? Didn’t look like much.

“How selfish of me,” I said. Zing.

The man was on his knees, scrabbling. Again, he obviously didn’t know what to scrabble for first and was just halfway scrabbling at everything in his hysteria.

Sort of ineffectual for a witch, you’d have thought. Maybe if he’d had his magic rod to hand he might have had better luck in beating me off. Aha. I imagine he just found the whole thing a bit overwhelming. Everything’s easier after the fact, isn’t it?

“Do you know how much that cost?!” He wailed at me, eyes glistening. I think he was about to cry.

And I wasn’t sure what this was meant to make me feel, this line about cost. Was I meant to feel worse because he’d spent more money on the thing than I might have suspected? If he’d been frugal, should I have felt less bad? Is a questionable decision that costs more easier to defend? Hmm.

If people wanted to spend money doing something they probably shouldn’t that’s perfectly allowable. Just not clear why it has any bearing on what I do or think. Value is, after all, largely subjective, is it not?

I don’t really know.

“Lots?” I asked.

“Yes! Lots! Fucking lots! Oh God, most of those components were bespoke, too!” He shouted, holding up a handful of bits that had fallen out of loosened casing. The bits glistened. They certainly looked fragile and fiddly.

“What a shame,” I said.

The man deflated, a sob wracking him. He looked down at the puddle he was kneeling in.

“And you wasted all these dreams! Wasted! You wasted them!” He said, angry now, pointing at me.

“Yeah, sure. This was all my fault.”

Mean, this exact thing was my fault, I’ll admit. The smashing bit and the making a mess was my fault. But the greater blame really can’t be ignored or moved here, come on. This is like when the bad guy says it’s not their fault they murdered people, but the fault of the good guys for trying to stop them. 

Not quite like that, but similar. Right? I know what I mean.

“Strictly speaking you wasted them. I just made your dream-wasting machine fall over. But that’s splitting hairs. In future if you’re going to make my housemate’s life miserable so you can enjoy yourself, don’t. Pleasant dreams, now.”

If I’d had sunglasses I’d have put them on then. I don’t care if it’s nighttime, that’s a great sunglasses line. Kind of felt bad to waste it, but chances to drop lines like that don’t come around often and the real waste would have been saying nothing.

My hands were tied.

He didn’t say anything after that, which was good because if he had it would have ruined the moment. So I left him sniffling in his puddle of dreams and went back outside to try and find Rose.

I couldn’t find her out back because she’d gone out the front and was there standing under a streetlight looking like she’d prefer to be anywhere else other than on a street waiting under a lamppost.

“Well that’s sorted,” I said, cheerfully, giving her a wave as I wandered over.

“What did you do?” Rose asked.

I considered saying something else pithy and cool but I was far too tired to come up with anything else off the cuff so just stood there gormless and silent for a second before just coming out with it.

“Smashed his thingy with a crowbar,” I said, waggling said crowbar just so Rose knew which crowbar the thingy had been smashed with. Rose did not look impressed.

“How very direct,” she said.

“It did work pretty well. Last I saw he was crying on the floor so I think we can write this one up as a roaring success.”

“Your definition of success…” Rose tailed off and sucked her lip a moment. “I don’t know how to finish that sentence.”

“That’s fair. You were very quiet in there,” I said.

“You seemed to be on a roll. And I couldn’t really think of anything to say. Felt weird being inside someone’s house when we weren’t meant to be, even if he was, you know, doing something like that. It was kind of nerve-wracking.”

Now that it was done I could feel the tension that I’d been ignoring starting to get the better of me. The trembling had nothing to do with the encroaching chill of night, let me tell you.

“You’re not wrong,” I said, looking at my hand.

Oh God, what had I done? What had any of that been? What had I been thinking? Had I done the right thing? Had I done the right thing the wrong way? Had I done the wrong thing? Was I going to get into trouble? Was he going to tell anyone? Had it even worked? Had I just wasted an evening? Why did I feel so sick all of a sudden?

Eurgh. Worries. I hate those. I stuck my hand in my pocket and bit my tongue.

Ow.

“Can we go?” Rose asked.

“Probably wise.”

So off we went. We didn’t talk as we went. There wasn’t much to say that we hadn’t said before we set off home and besides it was late. Wouldn’t do to be talking in the street and waking people up. Proper sleep hygiene had been the motivating force behind this whole endeavour, after all.

Hadn’t it?

I bid Rose a good and restful night once we got to hers and then carried on back to mine on my own, thinking about the evening, about what had happened. Was that what an adventure felt like? Was this what you were supposed to do after one had concluded? Just go home? Was there something else I should have been doing? Was I going about this all wrong?

Was there a book I could read?

By the time I’d got back home and got in and put the chain on the door I’d stopped worrying about it. Or, rather, I was still worrying about it but was confident that a proper night’s sleep without any nightmares would make me feel a lot better about it. That is to say, everything would make sense in the morning and there wasn’t anything to be gained fretting about it in the dark.

Everything is always the worst it can be in the dark. This is pretty widely-known.

Nisien was still on the sofa, but had clearly rolled around enough to dislodge the blanket I’d laid over him, because that was on the floor. Despite this, he actually looked quite peaceful. Certainly looked more peaceful than he had any night that I’d seen him recently. Sleeping happily, comfortably.

That made me feel much better about the evening. That was an accomplishment. I might have done adventure wrong, sure, and maybe I’d made lots of mistakes, but I’d still fixed what I’d set out to fix. If nothing else, Nisien was going to get a proper night’s sleep. And this was good.

Objectively good. In my book.

I put the blanket over him again, obviously, because that was the nice thing to do. He stirred as I did so.

“Nngh? Wassis? Sorry, sorry...” he mumbled blearily, blinking, squinting. I patted him on the head.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” I said.

“N’okay…” and he did.

Yes, definitely an objectively good thing. Solved a problem for a friend. People might question my methods but my results are impeccable.

And so to bed. Knackered me out that adventure. Popped the crowbar back under the bed, stripped off most of my clothes at least until I ran out of energy, crawled under the covers and did my best to quiet the churning, raging thoughts rattling around inside my head. All the loose ends could be sorted out tomorrow. Didn’t have anything else that needed doing, and it was unlikely there’d be another adventure so soon.

Well that was exciting.

END

[starlightsuncrow]

Starting my round of descriptions with one of my favorites! Crow( he/they), a stubborn and observant mesmer with a talent and obsession with knives, often can be seen near water and he’s not one for long conversation, a good listener though. Personal scout of the commander and partner, they’re the one who drags away Caoimhe from duties to relax ( as much as the guy can..) (has an actual original story too but...lets go over the gw2 version)

Now onto the JUICE

Crow is just a name he got during his years of hiding between people, a name he considers quite dear and much easier to use than his real name: Selkastra. A saltspray who fled from the Jade Wind, ends up concealing himself for many years among the different races, to find aid for his kin. Only recently they decided to stick with the sylvari as their proper form, thinking the young race could conceal the less human features they got.

Before meeting the commander and the hell the Jungle was, Crow found a friend in Sparrow, while he was snooping around in the Priory,  and Teia, a charr that he freed from an inquest facilty where she had been  made to carry a curse, which was accidentally transfered to Crow in the form of a bite. (both Sparrow and Teia belongs to @cheddargoblin​ !) With a curse placed by his own recklessness, they can no longer normally consume magic, or better: the magic they produce and consume simply won’t stay in them much anymore. Constantly chasing after magic in any form, consuming blood and the like has been the most effective due to his love for fights. Crow met the commander during Heart of Thorns while helping with survivors, not enough time to properly know each other but enough to learn to trust someone in the battlefield. After HoT Crow and Caoimhe started sending letters, first about updates on how the jungle was doing, then to Crow’s travels and more friendly banter, until both started considering each other close friends. S3 is what sealed the deal of Crow becoming Caoimhe’s personal scout, he was extremely stubborn and Cao had to give up fighting him on that. S3 is what also sealed these two catching feelings. Crow is sent to scout the desert just a little before the commander travels there too. This is where they learnt they weren’t that ready for the desert yet and ended up collapsing somewhere near the Skimmer Ranch. While recovering, he lent a hand helping with skimmers, to the point of raising one himself. He’s very proud of it. They were there to help Cardamomo recover from Balthazar’s fight and consequences of it,  they decided to stick together from now on. He’s more than just a scout at this point. With the news of the commander “landing” in Cantha, Crow literally swims to home without a word, discarding his disguise. Not being immediately able to change back, he thought Aurene could help without revealing he’s a saltspray to Caoimhe and friends. Of course with his luck that was a bust. Goes into hiding after a mishap to recover physically and clearing his head to decide how to approach everyone again. Thanks to Kuunavang’s reveal and the hurry of putting an end to the chaos approaching, the accident was forgiven but not forgotten, with a promise of discussing it when everything was done and at peace. With his secret out he’s now able to help much better around, sticking around Arborstone to help friends and whenever the commander goes as much as he can. Ok some fun facts ! -Crow is also known for being a fishing champion despite NO ONE knowing how, considering he barely uses a fishing rod. -He adores the feeling of wind on his face, reason why he’s easy to find flying around on his mounts, especially on griffons. -He has  a scar on his cheek, courtesy of that Inquest raid he did. -a skilled virtuoso, in long fights he ends up clawing and biting enemies

[irisarchborn]

This has been a busy month for me X3 between mother’s day my birthday and my dog turning 3, I’m amazed I got to finish this big guy! This is an entry for @far-side-skies art challenge, he based off the bleeding heart dove.

~Info~ Name: Rowan Stonewall Age: 31 Race: Wallop Gender: Male Sexuality: Gay Job: Talon Soldier/Weapon Smith Status: Traitor Last Seen: Fleeing Terra Cyclonia Current Location: Unknown ~ Rowan Stonewall is your normal run of the mill Wallop..or at least he use to be. As a young calf he wanted nothing more then to be a skyknight with his own squadron, now his a bitter and angry adult whose wasted 13 years of his life to the wrong side of the Atmos. 

After setting off an explosion that put several weapons, skimmers and air carries out of commission, Rowan hightailed it out of Cyclonia course he had a few talons on his tail, a few carefully timed dives down to the wastelands took care of them fairly quickly after which he gunned it to get away before Snip, Ravess or even the Dark Ace were sent after him, while yes he can hold his own fairly well taking on three talon commanders is a mad mans quests in his mind.

Being on the run isn’t easy, since he can’t return to Terra Saharr, where his boyfriend is waiting for him, going back there would put not only Rut in danger but the rest of that terra as well, He’d go to the skyknight order for protection but feels they wouldn’t believe him and simply lock him away due his ties to Cyclonia. So now he lays in hiding waiting and planning his next move, try and help restore Atmos and pay back what his taken away.

[panseemia]

Wind season uwu

The skyblaze desert despite it's rather normal appearance similar to most other deserts hide a intriguing secret. While on one half of the year the desert is much like any other desert:harsh,dry, and scorching, there is a reason why it is call "sky blaze". On the second half of the year is where the fun begins, with humidity and winds passing over the northern mountain border to the sea is the start of the wind season as hundreds of skimmer larva finish their first stage of life deep in the sand and begin to take flight making a bounty of food for the entire desert, with winds blowing so hard the local culture built sandsailors just for this occasion. As a whole the wind season is the more celebrated season of the two as the skimmer migration give much in food and riches while lowering fauna aggression as food is no longer as scarces. While the trade off may be increased sand storms the explosion of food and they wealth they bring is well worth it for the local population.

Wildlife log: skimmer

wildlife: skimmer: the supposed "life blood" of the sky blaze desert during wind season, these small size creature spend most of their life under the dunes. eating moss algae found in the underground cave network below the shifting sand and burrowing to sleep, weaving a cocoon to pupate for the upcoming wind season. during the wind season is their seasonal nuptial flight where they will start their great migration from desert to swamp to mate and reproduce with females flying back during the closure of the wind season to lay their eggs before dyeing. this make them great prey during their flight as both local predators and locals will catch these creatures by the hundreds. the locals their pale white shells cover in intricate light blue or more rarely iridescent markings make for a great decorative piece on furniture or jewelries as their meat and eggs are consider a fine delicacy for many.