#I power up an excavator; I use my 4

[skullzy20]

ok I found a good frame to use but I still gave up because this takes too long to do solo

the grendel farm makes me experience pain I never thought possible

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: parrotfish

Which fish hangs out on a mermaid pirate's shoulder and repeats what she says in a high-pitched voice? The parrotfish, of course. Or at least in fiction they should (certainly will in my D&D world). But even in real life, parrotfish are still pretty interesting.

(Image: a common parrotfish (Scarus psittacus) seen from the side in front of rocks and corals. It is a brightly-colored fish, mainly light blue but with patches and stripes of yellow and pink on the fins. Its mouth is open, revealing what appears to be a beak. End ID)

Parrotfish are fish famous for their mouths and eating habits. There are about 90 species known. While they were historically considered their own taxonomic family, they have since been reclassified a subset of the wrasse family and there is still some debate on how to classify them. Most species are on the smaller size, but a few can get very large. The largest species is the green humphead parrotfish (Bolbometopon muricatum) at 1.5 meters (4.9 ft) and 75 kg (165 lbs) while the smallest species is the bluelip parrotfish (Cryptotomus roseus) reaching 13 cm (5 in). I could not find an average weight for the bluelips. What makes parrotfish really stand out visually is their colors and their mouths. Most species are very brightly colored, with distinct markings and males are usually more brightly colored than females. Their mouths are dominated by what appear to be beaks, which gave them their common name. These beaks are actually made of approximately 1,000 teeth arranged in 15 rows. As the teeth wear out, they drop off and are replaced by the row behind them. The teeth are made of fluorapatite, the second hardest biomineral int the world. To support their hardness, the fluorapatite crystals that make up the teeth are woven together in a structure very similar to chainmail, resulting in very hard teeth that measure in at a 5 on the Mohs scale of hardness. For reference, iron is a 4 and higher numbers are harder. The teeth can also handle 530 tons of pressure. You could put the weight of 200 black rhinos on a tooth and it would be fine. The beaks are powerful enough to bite through rock. Which is what they use it for, but more on that below. Another unusual feature of parrotfish is how they sleep. Some species make their own sleeping bags, which would be adorable if they weren't made of mucus. The mucus is produced using glands in the gills and looks like a transparent bubble. The fish sleeps in the mucus cocoon and when it wakes up, it eats the cocoon. There have been several proposed benefits of the cocoon. It contains chemicals that harm skin parasites while also providing a barrier that keeps new parasites from reaching the fish. It also likely blocks the fish's scent, helping it hide from predators.

(Image: a green humphead parrotfish (Bolbometopon muricatum) swimming over yellow coral. It is large and mostly a uniform green color, except for the front of its head, which is pink. It has a large, fleshy lump on the top of its head. End ID)

(Image: a close-up of a parrotfish's beak. The top and bottom beaks are divided into two halves, left and right. The beak is bade of small, circular teeth that overlap each other. End ID)

(Image: another common parrotfish seen from the front. It is inside of a mucus cocoon, which appears as a transparent bubble around the fish. Bits of sand dot the cocoon's surface. End ID)

Parrotfish live worldwide, though the majority of species are found in the Indo-Pacific. They live in warm, shallow waters with lots of rocky reefs, especially coral reefs. They use those powerful teeth to eat and what they eat most is algae. There are three main types of feeding behavior: excavating, scraping, and browsing. Excavators bite into rocks to get their food, scrapers crape food off of the surface of the rocks, and browsers go after larger food sources like seagrass and sponges. Some of the larger parrotfish species also make coral a large part of their diet. When they eat, they naturally get rock in their mouths, moreso in excavators. Because their food clings to the rock, spitting the rocks out would deny them food. Instead, parrotfish use pharyngeal teeth set in their throats to grind the rock into sand, which then passes through the digestive tract. When it exists the digestive tract, it is in the form of fine grains of rock. Or to put it another way, parrotfish eat rock and poop sand. A single parrotfish can produce up to 40 kg (88lbs) of sand yearly, and bigger species can produce even more than that. The process of rock being broken down by living things is called bioerosion and parrotfish are one of the most famous sources of bioerosion. The sand they produce can serve as the basis for new growth of coral or other species and helps reinforce nearby islands. In places like Hawai'i, the Caribbean, and the Maldives, it's estimated that up to 80% of the famous white sand is produced by parrotfish and they serve as a major source of incoming earth to support the islands. This makes parrotfish ecosystem engineers. Their eating of algae is also majorly important to their ecosystems. Algae can overgrow and smother delicate ecosystems like coral reefs and seagrass beds and decaying algae draws oxygen out of the water. Parrotfish help the health of their environments by keeping the algae population at healthy levels. Parrotfish also eat seaweeds and sponges that grow much faster than coral and can smother coral reefs. Parrotfish are considered keystone species in many reefs, including the great barrier reef and their population dropping correlates with reduced health of reefs. Damaged reefs tent to have larger parrotfish populations and those populations drop as the reef recovers.

(Image: a group of many parrotfish feeding on coral. They are all the same species and are mostly blue, with yellow heads and stripes on the face. They appear to be biting the the coral. End ID)

Parrotfish are protogynous sequential hermaprodites. This means that all parrotfish are born female and can become male later in life. The transition is usually triggered when there are too many females or not enough males in a location, though in some species any fish that reaches a certain size will become male. Some parrotfish are solitary while others are social. In social species, the social groups consist of a large male and a harem of females that he protects and claims mating rights with. Other males will attempt to fight the male for dominance via headbutting and threat displays and occasionally one of his harem members will become male to challenge him. Males are usually more colorful than females, which they use to woo females, but also puts them at greater risk of predation. If the harem leader dies and is not replaces, one member of the harem will transition to male and replace him. Many species perform courtship dances during nights of the full moon. In non-social species, males will perform displays and fight with each other to attract females. In social species, the dominant male will mate with his harem while smaller males without harems will try to sneakily woo claimed females or sneak in and mate without being noticed. Parrotfish are broadcast spawners. The female releases her eggs into the water and the males releases sperm to fertilize them. The eggs will drift on the current until settling, after which the larvae will hatch. As with most fish species, only a very few of the larvae will reach adulthood.

(Image: a Mediterranean parrotfish (Sparisoma cretense). It is mostly bright red, but with a yellow patch above the tail and a yellow stripe around the eye that runs down to the belly. A large patch behind the eye is blue. End ID)

Thankfully, most parrotfish species are not particularly endangered. The largest threat to them comes from habitat loss as pollution and climate change harms coral reefs. Reintroducing parrotfish to damaged reefs helps them recover. All species are edible, though there is no commercial fishery for them. While parrotfish are capable of delivering powerful bites, there are few reports of humans getting bit. That being said, I found one case where someone had skin on his penis bitten off by a parrotfish. And yes, that link has pictures. Enjoy.

(Image: a blue parrotfish (Scarus coeruleus) looking at the camera. It is a blue fish with darker patches around the eye. Its snout is bulbous and the beak points downward. End ID).

[cutestkilla]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

Thanks for tagging me @theearlgreymage @wellbelesbian @shrekgogurt @orange-peony @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @youarenevertooold and @thewholelemon!

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

The only WIP I’m really actively working on right now is Hiding Out in the Open.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Psychology Podcast Hidden Brain + AU where Simon and Baz never got together but Simon still lost his magic and got spelled by Smith = Non-linear AWTWB-era Baz negging Simon with podcast links but actually secretly being sweet the whole time until they’re having real conversations and like, excavating some trauma until Simon figures himself out (or does he?) (He does, I’m not a monster.)

(I needed more terms for this equation, a few higher powers maybe.)

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

Well, so far I’ve warned for anxiety/panic attacks, implied/referenced child abuse, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of eating bugs, AND mentions of animal cruelty. SOUNDS FUN RIGHT?

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

So this fic is titled after a Feist song. The alternate title was a combination of a Ron Sexmith song that Feist did a great cover of and the name of the fictional podcast in my story:

Secret Heart, Invisible Mind

5. ⚠️Which WIP you're most likely to finish or update next?

Oh, it’ll be this one for sure! I have nothing else even approaching any kind of written state.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Well, it’s just titled after the fic. But before I had a title and was just dreaming things up, I had a doc titled “Hidden Brainstorms”. There’s also a doc in the folder for this titled “Enemies Closer” that’s filled with research I did for an episode I have to invent…

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

“You stood him up? What the hell Basil? I cancelled my plans for this.”

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

Okay so I am an idea hoarder, I rarely fully scrap an idea until I’m done writing a story, I just park them all in a dumping ground at the end of my doc for ongoing review. But one for sure scrapped idea I had for this back in the start was that Shep would co-host a podcast at some point in this story.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Welllllllll, I may have an entire (shared) Trello board for a fic that @artsyunderstudy and I have been excitedly talking about co-writing. I won't say much but it’s a Canonverse AU, featuring older strangers-to-lovers Snowbaz, and it’s a ghost story. Your basic SPOOKY SEXY SAD CATHARSIS type of deal.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

Actively? One. Two if you count the Trello board which I periodically add ideas to. Three if you count the Wedding fic draft I have 20K written for and could start writing on again at ANY MOMENT.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

Well, I’m about to be struggling with writing the scene where Baz listens to the podcast episode I have to completely invent. I have a full first rough pass at this chapter done, except that part where I just copy pasted a bunch of research notes to come back to…

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

🙏YOU get a kudos, and YOU get a kudos, and YOU get a kudos!

Tags in case you wanna: @artsyunderstudy @hushed-chorus @ivelovedhimthroughworse @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @facewithoutheart @skeedelvee @emeryhall @mooncello @monbons @angelsfalling16 @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @run-for-chamo-miles @brilla-brilla-estrellita @best--dress @onepintobean @martsonmars @messofthejess @ileadacharmedlife @urban-sith

[arisenreborn]

Okay here's my outline for the gist of how Olivia and Emrys's different cycles go, without getting too into the nitty gritty details. Mostly just how they end. Spoilers for sure and big gratuitous headcanons of course. <3

CYCLE 1: 

The Bad Ending. Emrys goes ‘purgener mode’ in the Unmoored World, mostly kills Olivia*, and then proceeds to wander through other worlds until killed. Time restarts and loops back for them. 

(*I think she was kept very slightly alive, the tiny thread of her remaining life 'elongated' by being fused into a dragons heart, but obv in a not very pleasant way or sense, and for a blessing she wouldn't have been very aware of it.)

CYCLE 2: 

‘Dream’, or False Cycle. This is a really warped, distorted cycle. It happens, but even more outside the typical parameters of the world than usual. It's a result of being the ‘bridge’ dragon!Emrys created, connecting the failure of the first cycle to a true, renewed attempt in the third cycle after a fashion. 

(Basically, he's creating the parameters for the time loop, using his connection to the Brine/greater powers via dragonsplague. The implications here are pretty big but we won't see more of that until the True Ending.)

Emrys is the Arisen, Olivia (fittingly after her death, an ‘empty vessel’) is his pawn.. It ends with the bittersweet victory of Pawn!Olivia sacrificing her newly realized will, prompting Emrys to realize this isn't 'how things should be', and the world loops back again.

CYCLE 3:

The Unmoored World goes very differently. Emrys seemingly overcomes the dragonsplague to help her defeat the Pathfinder Dragon, Olivia disappears for several months after the final battle. When they find her she has none of her memories, and it takes over a year for them to finally start to return - whereupon she is officially made Sovran. 

It’s a good, happy ending - until many years later their son, Idris, is made the new Arisen. They realize that while they may have gotten rid of the Pathfinder and Brine, the Dragon’s Dogma itself remains. When their son tragically perishes, time loops back once more.

CYCLE 4: 

The Final Cycle, The True Ending (Until I start getting more bright ideas.) I like to think the Pathfinder would be slightly more of a threat here -when- they realize they were overcome before, and were only returned to their ‘rightful place’ by… means unknown even to them. 

Ultimately a new order is created. Emrys ascends up the dragon ladder, overcoming dragonsplague and subsuming the Pathfinder/Brine. He essentially becomes a new class of dragon, holding that role in perpetuity, with Olivia as Sovran and Seneschal. 

Basically they become living gods and re-define the Dragon’s Dogma. 😌 (And they have their kids later and Idris never has to become Arisen.)

Notes!

Cycle 2:

It's almost dream-like/nightmarish in the way I imagine it is, yes, close enough to the basic DD2 story experience, but Emrys's actual perception of things is often skewed. His personal memories don't always add up, essentially, because they were cobbled together 'on the spot'. Basically he didn't actually 'exist in the world as a human' in the history leading up to him awakening at the excavation site when time looped back - he’d been a pawn up until that point. The chaotic result of Cycle 1’s ending and him trying to patch things back together, trying to ‘fix Olivia’, but ‘Olivia’ being ‘gone’ resulted in him getting slotted into the role of Arisen and a haphazard backstory shifting into place between the fell curse of amnesia.  It doesn’t all exactly make ‘sense’ because I just want to be able to slap an Arisen!Emrys cycle in there and it’s just inherently not right on any level.

Cycle 3 has the most alternative endings that are genuine, AU endings, that don't really fit in the scheme of continuity... but they're out there. 😂

The Neutral Ending. After several bad turns with Dragonsplague, Godsway, and dealing with Olivia’s brother, he begs her to give up her charge and simply leave with him. Though reluctant, she eventually agrees. They live out their days, sometimes avoiding and other times assisting new Arisen. The Happy Ending. Despite their son becoming Arisen, he later manages to truly break and end the cycle, and all is well. Some of it has overlapping plot points with the True Ending, but with Idris playing a more central role. It’s likely in this one Olivia and Emrys would eventually grow old together.

[neopuff]

ALWAYS ON MY MIND

chapter eight: keep me in mind ships: sasha/milla characters: milla, sasha, oleander, hollis, otto word count: 4784 ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53435410/chapters/137330257

[chap 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

-

Five and a half years was a long time.

As of 1985, Morceau Oleander had been with the Psychonauts for almost thirteen years, and he’d never seen Sasha Nein work so consistently with another person. It was fascinating, if he was being honest. He hadn’t thought it was possible. But Milla Vodello was nothing if not a miracle worker.

Morceau liked the two of them. Well, he liked Milla. He tolerated Sasha in appropriately small doses, as the lanky man did to him. 

But having a friendly relationship with them wouldn’t change his goals. Oleander’s grand master plan was finally going to get in motion. After five years of agonizingly slow and pain-staking hard work, the Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp was going to open its doors to the first group of psychic children that would someday power his army of brain tanks. Once he figured out all the other details, anyway.

Whispering Rock Valley was a perfect location. The large psitanium deposits meant psychic powers would be amplified, there was a beautiful lake for normal camp nonsense, and it was a remote-enough area to avoid interference from locals. The past five years had been spent planning, excavating the grounds, building the campsite, creating psychic safety measures to ensure safety for the kids and counselors, and then more planning. It was the biggest project he’d ever worked on, and Oleander was damn proud of it.

For the very first summer of Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp, they’d just have one camp session per month and just a handful of kids per session. Oleander would be a counselor at the camp every session, but the other two (or more!) counselors could swap. He didn’t really care. He was more concerned about working on his actual plan, and enjoying how the psitanium would enhance his natural psychic abilities.

The first session was set to begin on June 9th and end on the 16th. There were only seven kids signed up, and they were all the children or relatives of Psychonauts, but Oleander wasn’t deterred. The first summer was guaranteed to be slow! Their name wasn’t out in the world just yet.

“Morceau,” Otto commented one day while walking through the Motherlobe lobby. “I think all that psitanium exposure could be good for Ford. You should bring him along and let me know if you see any improvement.”

“You want me to bring Agent Cruller to the summer camp?” Oleander had asked, thoroughly baffled. It wasn’t like Cruller could do anything about his plans, not when the man was so mentally messed up, but the thought still made him nervous. “But then…who’s gonna sort the mail? Clean the bowling shoes?”

Otto glared at the shorter man. “We can always find replacements for that. Take him with you.”

Oleander did as he was told - after checking with Grand Head Zanotto and Lesser Head Forsythe, of course - and decided to embrace it. Cruller being around didn’t need to be a setback. It was just an inconvenience that ultimately wouldn’t change anything.

“Please be gentle with the children,” Milla said to him the day before he left for camp. “They can only handle so much of your…intensity.”

“You could always come along, you know!” Oleander responded with a toothy smile. “I’ll bet you’re great with kids!”

“Ah…I, um. I’ll think about it,” she’d answered shyly, then floated away.

Morceau thought that was an odd response, and Sasha’s appearance next to him made it even stranger.

“She used to work with children. It’s been a while,” Sasha said quietly, adjusting his sunglasses. “Perhaps we’ll join you next summer.”

Oleander glared at the taller man. “I didn’t say you could come, too, Nein. You’d scare the kids half to death!”

Sasha glared back, looking slightly offended.

Morceau decided not to give the other man a chance to talk back. “I know you two are connected at the hip, but there’ll be no time for smooching at my camp! It’ll be psychic training all day, every day!” He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled.

“You are intolerable,” was Sasha’s only response as he floated away.

Notably, in the same direction that Milla had just gone. Nein wasn’t doing anything in his favor to fight the rumors about the two of them and Oleander thought it was very, very funny.

X

Milla was excited to talk to Morceau as soon as he returned from the first session at Whispering Rock. He'd gone with Agents Aaronson and Whittaker, neither of whom seemed all that excited about the opportunity, but were both asked to keep things in line. The two of them looked absolutely exhausted when they returned - like they'd been on the battlefield instead of babysitting a bunch of children.

“It was…too much,” Agent Aaronson said when Milla caught up to him. “Oleander already stresses me out. Add a bunch of preteens and I was ready to rip my hair out!”

“Oh.” Milla was disappointed by Aaronson’s reaction, not sure if she'd have felt the same. It didn't take her long to find Whittaker, who looked similarly worn out.

“You ever work with kids, Agent Vodello?” Whittaker asked, not expecting an answer. “Think about all that energy. Think about how much they don't like to listen. Then give them psychic powers and try to stop the five-year-old from setting the fourteen-year-old’s hair on fire.”

She nodded, not really sure what to say. Milla wasn't going to pretend that she didn't have a vested interest in Oleander’s camp project. But it sounded very scary. Especially the idea of children being able to create fire with their minds.

It stressed her out to think about it too much.

After talking with the two of them, Milla finally found Morceau - he'd just finished up a briefing with Truman and Hollis and looked much lighter and happier than his two compatriots.

“How'd it go, Morry?” she asked, a bit hesitant after the bad reviews she'd already heard.

“How'd it go? How'd it go?” he responded, getting louder as he spoke. “It went amazing! These kids are hungry to learn! And Zanotto’s little girl, you should've seen her! I never could've imagined such a young mind could be so powerful!”

Truman’s daughter, Lili, was the youngest camper to attend the first camp session. Everyone knew about it because Truman talked about it constantly. Ever since his divorce, his daughter had become his entire world. Milla wondered if he was trying to make up for the time he didn't spend with his ex-wife.

Milla and Sasha had met Lili a handful of times when she came to work with her father. She was feisty and adorable and occasionally difficult to keep track of. Very adventurous, always wandering off on her own.

The idea of her creating fire with her mind made Milla feel very nervous. Five-year-olds shouldn't even use a stove yet, let alone start fires spontaneously.

“The parents were so excited, too,” Oleander continued. “Everyone took a handful of pamphlets, probably to hand out to fellow psychics with their own psychic kids. This is gonna be a gold mine, I'm telling you!”

“How many children are signed up for July?”

“A week ago there were just five, but a bunch of the campers asked to come back right away so we're already up to nine!” Morceau was smiling bright and looked immensely proud of himself. “I'm telling you, Vodello, the next generation of Psychonauts is gonna be the strongest yet!” 

She smiled at him, despite the unease she still felt. Strong wasn't a word she liked attributing to children. They shouldn't have to be strong. But it was hard to deny that they'd be safer if they were properly trained on how to use their powers, especially when those powers involved fire.

“I'm happy for you, Morceau,” Milla said, still smiling. “I'm glad you worked so hard to set this up. You're really going to change those kid's lives.”

Sasha watched the two of them talk. He'd been casually observing them for the entirety of their conversation, but only because he'd been looking to talk to Oleander and Milla got to him first. Sasha had been paying attention to Morceau’s camp for a while, knowing that his partner would eventually, undoubtedly, want to participate.

Years ago, before meeting Milla, Sasha wouldn't have even considered it. What Morry said two weeks ago was right - Sasha did tend to scare kids. He wasn't good at being around them. But he knew that Milla would want to check it out, at the very least. 

She’d struggled to be around children for too long in the aftermath of her incident, but in the past few years she'd worked through a lot of those feelings. It was true that she'd never get rid of the nightmares, not entirely, but she made them weaker. A little at a time. And he was proud of her.

He watched as Milla gave Morceau a little kiss on top of his head, which Sasha found himself frowning at for no discernable reason, and then he frowned deeper as Morry shouted at her retreating figure. 

“Save the smooches for your partner!”

Sasha had told Morceau on more than one occasion to stop with the comments, but knowing he was making them to Milla as well made him especially unhappy. She didn’t need to deal with that sort of thing.

As she left the lobby, Sasha levitated to where she just was and stood right next to Morceau, who took a second to notice the new presence next to him.

“Nein,” he said sourly.

“Morry,” Sasha responded, hands in his pockets.

“What do you want?” Morceau glared up at him. “Don’t tell me you suddenly care about the camp.”

“Do you already have counselors assigned for the rest of the summer?”

That question earned Sasha a suspicious stare. “July’s covered, but August is still open. Why? You’re actually considering this?”

Sasha crossed his arms over his chest. “Why is that so surprising to you? I’ve no issue with spending time outdoors. Or with…children.”

“Are you kidding? You spend every hour of every day in your lab! Do you even know how to swim?” Oleander threw his hands up. “We’re teaching these kids real life skills! How to use their psychic powers to protect themselves, but also how to find community and feel like a hero! Do you think you can handle something like that?”

It was an interesting question. Sasha hadn’t thought of the camp in such a melodramatic way before, he mostly thought of it as some sort of training facility for kids. But he didn’t attend any kind of summer camp when he was a boy, so he didn’t really have experience to compare it to. He didn’t hate the outdoors, though, he just preferred his lab because he liked getting work done. There was nothing wrong with that.

“I do know how to swim,” was Sasha’s immediate response, though it felt kind of silly to say out loud. He didn’t know how to swim well, but he wouldn’t drown if thrown into the water. “I see no reason why I couldn’t do my usual work at Whispering Rock.”

Oleander sighed deeply. “This is why I didn’t invite you, Nein. You’re not focusing on the kids! You’re just thinking about yourself. If you really want to be a counselor, you have to be a counselor. Got it?”

Sasha pouted slightly. “Got it,” he answered, hating that he was being scolded by Morceau Oleander of all people. It wasn’t like Oleander didn’t have a point, though. Sasha knew he’d have to put aside real time to pay attention to the campers and not just work on his own projects. Which would be difficult, since he often lost track of time when he was working.

But he knew that Milla would want to go and he wanted to be there with her. It would be worth it to try something new.

“We'll join you in August,” Sasha said after going over his thoughts.

“Uh-huh.”

“I'm serious.” Sasha clenched his arms tighter across his chest and tapped a pointer finger against his arm. “I…promise to pay attention to the children. I'll be on my…best behavior.” It was causing him physical pain to speak like that to a man like Oleander.

“Talk to your partner about it first, why don't you?” Morry opened a little notebook and wrote something down. “I'll hold the space ‘til the end of the day, but no longer than that!”

Sasha took a deep breath. He was so easily irritated by him. “I appreciate that.”

“But I meant what I said before, Nein. This isn't some lovey-dovey vacation for you and Vodello to cuddle by the campfire! You won't get any of the silly romantic alone time you're looking for. It's real work! And it's hard and unforgiving and you'll want to pull your hair out sometimes!” Oleander shook his head and held a hand dramatically to his chest. “But it's worth it! Trust me, it's worth it.”

“...I have absolutely no expectations for anything romantic,” Sasha said after a moment of hesitation. He never knew how to respond to Oleander when he got all intense and weird. “You need to stop with the comments, Morry.”

“You're such a tight-wad, Nein!” Morceau rolled his eyes. “But y'know what? If you can actually manage to be an attentive camp counselor for an entire week, I swear you'll never hear a joke about you and Vodello ever again!”

That got Sasha’s attention. If that was what it would take to stop the comments, then that was exactly what he'd do. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

With a grumble about being late for something, Morceau left the lobby, and Sasha stood there awkwardly for a few moments. He needed to go find Milla.

Sasha made his way down the hallway towards his lab and turned to look at the office next to his - the office that now belonged to his partner, Milla Vodello. She'd just earned the space recently and he couldn't have been prouder.

He could feel that she was in there - Milla tended to keep her mind open to him, allowing him to speak to her telepathically any time he wanted. And he was similarly allowed to enter her office any time he wanted, so he quickly stepped up and allowed the Thinkerprint lock to open the door for him.

Milla wasn't levitating in the middle of the room like he'd expected - instead, she was organizing some books and photos on one of her bookshelves.

“Hello, Sasha!” she chirped happily, still looking at the books in front of her.

“...hello,” he responded. Suddenly, Sasha felt a bit nervous. He could've just told her that he'd volunteered them for camp counselor duty telepathically, he didn't need to come all the way over to her office just to inform her. But he wanted to be present for whatever reaction she had. Maybe she'd be mad and tell him she's not ready, or maybe she'd be very happy and give him a hug.

He liked getting hugs from her.

“How's your day been?” Milla asked, levitating over to him.

“Fine.” Sasha kept his hands in his pockets, but he suddenly had an urge to smoke. He didn't usually have that urge around Milla anymore. “I…I have an important question to ask you.”

She tilted her head adorably. “What is it?”

Sasha stared at her for another moment before answering. “Um…would you be interested in being counselors at Oleander's camp? This August, perhaps?”

Milla’s eyes practically sparkled. “Really?”

“Really. I already asked him about it and there's no one signed up yet.”

She smiled at him - toothy and bright, but a little nervous. “Oh, darling, I-I would absolutely love that! But…”

He raised a single eyebrow curiously. There was a but?

“...I don't want you to force yourself to go just because of me.” She clasped her hands together and held them over her chest. “I'm not even sure if I'm…if I'm ready yet, so we can-”

Sasha interrupted her, not wanting to hear her spiral. “It's not just because of you. I'm very curious about Whispering Rock and seeing what the young psychics are capable of.” He paused, then added, “And for whatever it's worth, I think you're ready.” Sasha hesitated for a moment, then reached out and placed one hand on her shoulder. “You've made a lot of progress since you first started here, Milla. I think you owe it to yourself to try.”

The smile on her face grew bigger and bigger as he spoke, until finally Milla launched herself forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and shoulders.

Sasha took a deep breath - he was trying to get less embarrassed when she hugged or kissed him, but it was difficult. He was embarrassed. But he didn't want her to stop.

He still felt himself turn rigid as much as he tried to stop it, and slowly he moved one hand to her back. He could hug her, too. No reason why he couldn't.

Then Milla moved her hands to his head and held it in place while she left multiple little kisses on his cheek. She was definitely very happy with him.

Sasha was soaking up the feeling of her lips. One of her kisses was only an inch away from his own and it was difficult not to sweat at the thought.

“Thank you, Sasha!” Milla finally said, pulling back just a bit but allowing his hand to linger on her back. “I love this idea. I love it. August, right? I can go talk to Morry and see if we need to bring anything…” She sighed deeply and squeezed him tight again before pulling away completely. “We should talk to Hollis and Truman, too, just to make sure it's alright. But I'm sure it will be.”

Sasha’s arms felt cold and empty without her warmth. He stared at her with an absentminded smile, hoping his cheeks weren't as red as they felt (they definitely were). He couldn't fight the little smile on his face and watched as she did a little levitating spin.

“Thank you for this, darling,” Milla said cheerfully, coming down to his level again. She leaned in and gave him a peck on his other cheek. “Thank you, I love you, I'm going to go talk to Morry! I'll let you know what he says!”

She rushed out of the room, leaving Sasha behind to marinate in what just happened. His cheeks were bright red and he felt sweat all down the back of his neck.

She said I love you.

Of course, it wasn't the first time the word love had come up between them. It could be a very playful, platonic term in certain contexts. But usually she'd say it around other people - when asked how their partnership was going, she'd say I love working with Sasha or it's absolutely lovely! or something along those lines.

Never before had she privately told him I love you.

Sasha knew a memory vault would've been forming in his head if not for the detailed filing cabinet of memories dedicated specifically to her. He could hardly believe the Milla Vodello cabinet started out as a single folder.

He continued to stand there in Milla’s office, taking deep breaths and trying to will his heart to stop beating so fast. He was an adult and she was his partner and he needed to figure out how to accept her affections without losing his motor functions. Hugging her back (even a little bit) was somewhat helpful. Perhaps his next step would be to kiss her back.

Sasha’s face heated up immediately at that thought. He would not be doing that. 

He…he needed to find some work to do.

X

“Morry!” Milla shouted, waving at the shorter man.

Oleander turned to look at her, a curious eyebrow raised, but then he seemed to remember something and smiled. “I'm guessing you and Nein talked?”

She levitated closer and smiled. “We did! August works perfectly for me.”

“Alright! That's good to hear!” Morceau opened his little notebook and wrote something down. “I trust you with this more than Nein, but I'm gonna say it anyway. This isn't gonna be some lovey-dovey romantic vacation, got it? Your jobs are to train these kids and that's what I expect to happen!’

Milla tilted her head slightly. Morry made the occasional joke about her and Sasha’s relationship, so it wasn't particularly surprising to hear that he also made them to Sasha. But after the little faux-pas she just committed (saying I love you to her partner was a bit much!), she felt especially embarrassed about it. But how would Morry know that? He was just being the same as usual.

“You don't have to worry about that,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her hair. There was definitely no chance of something romantic happening between them on a normal day - when surrounded by children? Out in the woods? Even less. Negative chances. “Do we need to bring anything?”

Morry shook his head. “Nothing special. Clothes, toiletries, the usual camp stuff.”

“Oh, good. That'll make it easy,” she said with a smile, happy that he didn't try to stick to the subject of romance. “I guess I'll go tell Hollis and Truman-”

“No need! I already took care of it!” Morceau smiled up at her. “Hollis pre-approved any agents who showed interest in the camp for the first two years! And you'll get paid overtime, too! Trust me, Vodello, you're gonna love it there. The great outdoors, the fresh air…and Agent Cruller has been amazing!”

“Huh?” Milla stared at him curiously. “Agent Cruller is there?”

“Mentallis suggested it. Figured the psitanium would be good for the old man’s brain.” Oleander seemed to think of something and then quickly wrote it down. “I don't know if it's been good for him, but he's been cooking and cleaning all over the camp! Making my life a lot easier. At first, I was worried about having him there, but it's been great!”

She nodded, surprised to hear all of that information. “I suppose Agent Mentallis tends to have good ideas.”

“You bet he does!” Oleander said with a smile. “Ooh, speaking of good ideas, I've been thinking about ways to promote the camp to kids who don't have psychic parents.”

“How's that?”

“We need to keep it sort of secretive, y'know, since the average person doesn't understand psychics or Psychonauts or anything we do. But we still want people to be interested, so there needs to be lots of details out there for them to see.”

Milla nodded slowly, no idea where he was going.

“And what do kids love, Vodello, that adults ignore and dismiss as silly?” Oleander spoke like he wanted her to respond, but immediately answered himself. “Comic books!”

Milla stood there awkwardly. She was never much of a comic book reader. “I'm not sure I understand.”

“Hear me out, okay? We produce a series of comic books that detail the exploits that we Psychonauts go on! Psychic kids will read them and know it's real, but random adults will assume it's just another fictional story they can ignore!”

She didn't even know how to word her next question. What the hell was he talking about?

“You seem confused. Let me give you an example,” Morry said, opening his notebook and flipping to a random page near the end. On it, there was a pretty decent drawing of a much younger Grand Head Zanotto shooting out a PSI-blast at an unseen enemy. “This issue would be all about Truman taking down the Psychic Scrambler! I'm just realizing you weren't here for that, but maybe you know about it anyway. The comic would show him at the Motherlobe, getting the assignment, then fighting the Scrambler and taking him back to base for processing! Kids will love it! They'll see this and desperately want to learn more about the Psychonauts!”

Milla held one hand to her chin, still completely confused. “Y'know what, Morry…if you think it'll work, then it's at least worth a shot, right?” She smiled at him, but she also felt like she needed a coffee. “I'm sure Hollis will like it.”

“What will I like?”

The two of them turned to see that Second Head Forsythe had entered the room and was levitating closer to them as they spoke.

“Hello, Hollis!” Milla said with a smile. “Morceau and I were talking about Whispering Rock. Sasha and I just signed up to be counselors in August.”

Hollis smiled and nodded. “That's great to hear. I was wondering when you'd take part.” She turned to look at Oleander. “Is that what I'm going to like?”

“I was telling Vodello here about an inexpensive advertising campaign for the camp!” Morry said with a proud smile. “And it'd be sneaky, too! Only fellow psychics would understand!”

She put a hand on her hip and smiled at him. “Oh, really?”

As Morceau explained his comic book idea to her, Milla watched them and wondered when their relationship had improved so much. Sometimes it felt like she was so focused on her work with Sasha, that she barely paid attention to anyone else anymore. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd hung out with Sherri, and she never worked with Agent 33 anymore. Though there were rumors that 33 avoided working with Sasha whenever possible, so that could've been the reason.

“Y'know what, Oleander?” Hollis said, pulling Milla out of her thoughts. “If you can find an artist for this, then we'll do it. We made so much money from this first week of camp - you've clearly got some great ideas in that head of yours.”

“Yes!” Morry pumped a fist in the air. “I know just the gal!” Then he ran off in another direction, not even bothering to say goodbye.

Hollis looked at Milla and smiled gently. “I'm glad you're going, Milla. Truman will be, too. He was just telling me how he knew you could convince Sasha to go with you.”

Milla chuckled at that. “It was actually the other way around,” she said shyly, tugging some hair behind her ear. She still felt a little embarrassed talking about her partner after what she'd said to him. “Sasha suggested it and convinced me to go!”

The older woman frowned. “Really?”

Milla blinked at her. Why would she lie about something like that? “Um…yes, really. Why?”

“I'm just surprised, is all. Kind of thought Sasha hated kids.” Hollis shrugged, like the suggestion wasn't strange at all. “He's always so awkward around Truman’s daughter.”

Hate seemed a bit strong, in Milla’s opinion. It wasn't like he'd had the opportunity to be around many children before.

“Well, I should be fair to him. He can be awkward around a lot of people. Except for you, of course.”

There were clearly a lot of thoughts running through the Second Head’s mind, and Milla decided she should do her best to clear them up before she said anything else about her partner that wasn't super polite. “Ah, well! Sasha is always supporting me and my, um, mental health journey, so he was probably trying to encourage me! It's very sweet of him.”

Hollis nodded her head slowly and put her other hand on her other hip. “He's really blossomed from working with you, Milla. Honestly, if you saw what he was like when he first came here, you'd hardly recognize him.”

“That's what I've heard,” Milla responded awkwardly. She really wanted that coffee.

“Well, that's good to hear. I hope you two have fun at the camp.” Hollis suddenly closed her eyes, looking like someone was talking to her telepathically. “I've got to go, but I've got a new assignment for the two of you, so make some space in your schedule for a briefing later today. Maybe around 2.”

Milla nodded, happy at the change of subject. “Of course! I'll let Sasha know.”

And then suddenly she was alone in the middle of the lobby. Milla felt oddly vulnerable - the room was too quiet. It felt like anyone and everyone was listening in on her conversations the entire time, even though she knew that wasn't true.

Probably not, anyway.

She ran her fingers through her hair and finally made her way to the Noodle Bowl. She could talk to Sasha again after getting herself a coffee.

Oh, actually - she would get a coffee for him, too! He'd probably like that.

[southern-god1]

Here’s a story a friend and I collaborated on. Credit goes to my buddy Downbelow82 on Coiledfist.

This was set in an idea I was exploring at the time, where the Civil War is won thanks to Southern giants, and this is set shortly thereafter. Fellow history buffs will notice some famous names: Eiffel is known for his Eiffel Tower, while Bartholdi was the designer of the Statue of Liberty. I loved that ironic touch. Also loved the “tour of devotion” idea for Yankees. And, of course, the cocky country boy Confederate soldier titans!

Anyway, hope y’all like it as much as I did.

-

While it had only been a few years since the war had officially ended, the monuments to the honored, victorious confederates sprouted up and down the Eastern seaboard. While there was no shortage of statuary in the heart of the South itself, usually constructed by an army of enslaved, the Confederate High Commission on Battle Monuments paid especial attention on the construction of monuments in the “Occupied North.” While the monuments in the South were sizable in their own right, the statuary constructed in the captured northern cities, or rather the remains of these cities, from Philadelphia to Boston, were to be mammoth in size.

These massive leviathan structures would rival nothing since ancient times when the Colossus strode the harbor at Rhodes. Much of Washington, the jewel of the former Federal union, was cleared away for the construction of a veritable Valhalla to the honored victorious Army of the South, vast monuments and temples on what used to be the capital city. The construction there continues. From the day of victory to the present day, wage slave laborers and outright slaves work round the clock to bring this sacred sight to fruition.

However, other cities were not without their honored places. In Philadelphia, for example, in the “Night of the Reb’ Purge” as the locals called it, behind closed doors, much of the cities famous sites of Revolutionary fame were destroyed.

At Independence Hall, where that famed document cementing North America’s divorce from the British Empire was signed, all that remained was an empty lot. The old Georgian hall had suffered at the wanton destruction and mercy of the Confederate Super Soldiers and their Giant Legion. While the mass of bricks, timber, and other ruin were carefully excavated from the sight, the massive bootprints of the giant soldiers were purposely left behind, a stark reminder of the power of the Arisen South and their superior military might.

While the massive indentations were left as is, with just the ruins moved out, one exception was made. In one particularly massive boot print were the crushed remains of the once famed Liberty Bell, which was tolled in a fateful July some 4 score and seventy years earlier, as an ex Northern politician once notably put to words. The new masses of second class citizens were made to visit, from separate viewing platforms than the ones used for tourists from the South. The honored Southern tourists watch in amusement as these lower citizens and chattel were made to literally bow before this now deemed “sacred” sight. The way a pilgrim would bow in Lourdes or Mecca, the newly incorporated citizenry would be made to bow with great reverence at the boot print and crushed bell. Before their “tour” was complete, a kiss was required on the banner of Confederate Battle Flag (to which they would also bow, the Battle Flag now a sacred symbol across the nation) and the Stars and Bars. Once done three times in each month, their monthly “service of devotion” was completed, as mandated by law.

Not far from the former site of Independence Hall was a specially constructed, Athenian inspired temple, housing more sacred relics. A pair of massive boots of one of the honored veterans of the Battle of Philadelphia were put on permanent display. The leather of the huge boots, particularly on the tongue area, was faded pale from the hundreds of hands touched upon in daily, rubbing for good luck and reverence. A huge battle flag was proudly on display, to which Northerners bowed and Southerners proudly saluted.

This was all well and good but was not satisfactory enough for the Battle Monuments Commission or the government in the burgeoning metropole of New Richmond. No, something much more groundbreaking would be constructed in the backdrop of the ruins of Independence Hall. While Europe was still in turmoil over the events in North America, maintaining a very uneasy neutrality, a flurry of entrepreneurs flooded into the Confederacy for a chance at opportunity and the age old pursuit of lucre. This included many great European architects and sculptors. A noted many, including a civil engineer named Eiffel and a sculptor named Bartholdi were encouraged to emigrate by the government in New Richmond.

The project in Philadelphia, like many monuments across the great nation, would commemorate the Giant Soldiers of that great war. It would take months of back breaking labor, resulting in the deaths of numerous workers, but an amazing structure would emerge to tower over Philadel,’ nearly 300 feet in height. An ingenious skeletal structure was surrounded by sheets of hammered copper. It was a glorious site to behold as it neared completion. A 300 foot tall recreation of a Confederate soldier, complete with an immensely handsome young face and musculature not so subtly covered beneath his gray battle uniform. In his massive right fist was a towering flagpole, with the Stars and Bars raised and proudly flowing mid air. His left arm held tightly his trusty rifle that had slaughtered easily so many yanks. His even more trusty weapons, his left boot and right boot made their own respective statements.

The massive right boot was frozen in a pivot, grinding a marble sculpture of the old constitution of the Defeated Federal Tyranny. Under the massive left boot, a recreation of the old White House that once sat proudly in Washington City, was in the midst of being crushed by the weight of the powerful young soldier. While the old Republican minded Frenchman, Bartholdi and Eiffel were a bit uncomfortable at the subject matter of this construction, they realized this was the new way of things and were grateful for the work. All effort was put into making the statue a work of perfection and immaculate engineering and structural integrity.

With just one day before the officially planned opening and unveiling ceremonies, an impromptu visit by certain “authorities” was made known to the builders with virtually no time to prepare. The visitors were dispatched from the Confederate Base on the Delaware River, Fort Davis. The occupied cities were no strangers to the giant soldiers who continued to patrol their streets and wreak havoc..or rather, law and order as they saw fit. Philadelphia was no exception.

By noon, the ground began to tremble with a sinister rhythm. A shadow soon cast over the building site. Thousands of laborers froze in place as the team of behemoth white soldiers approached. They were young, between the ages of 18 and 20, and were sent by the Base commander as a show of arrogance. Their huge grey uniforms fluttered in the gust of wind that blew in from the riverside. The bills of their peaked caps kept the upper portions of their faces in shadow, leaving only their smirking mouths visible to the bug sized people below. Finally, the oldest soldier in command, a 20 year old LT stepped forward, his massive boot obliterating a horse and carriage that was unfortunate to be in his path. The god sized soldier spoke, his sexy Southern twang unmistakable.

“WELL…WELL…WELL. WHAT HAVE WE HERE, BOYS? LOOKS LIKE THE CITIZENS HAVE CONSTRUCTED A LIL SOMETHING IN OUR HONOR. WELL, HO-LY SHEE-IT. LOOKS PRETTY DAMN GOOD.”

The men grumbled and laughed.

The foreman cautiously approached the soldiers face, from high atop the wooden scaffolding surrounding the statue. At least a hundred other workers remained frozen in place atop that same scaffold.

‘Please….Monsiuer…we ‘ave labored very very hard…with this great construction….umm…for the honor of your um…les militaires…your giant soldat, Sir.”

The soldier giggled at the heavy accent of the foreman.

“GODDAMN, BOY. YOU SPEAKIN’ WITH MOLASSES IN YOUR MOUTH…YOU NEED TO LEARN SOME ENGLISH NICE AND PROPER, YA HEAR? THAT GOES FOR ALL Y’ALL. THIS IS CONFEDERATE AMERICA, RUNTS. WE FUCKING SPEAK ENGLISH HERE!”

The forman cowered.

“Oui!…Oui, Sir. D’accord!”

“WELL, BOYS…WHAT DO YA THINK?”

The giant young men mumbled to each other.

One Private spoke up.

“LOOKS GOOD, SIR….BUT NEEDS A SLIGHT…”ADJUSTMENT.”

The Private winked, and the other soldiers laughed in agreement.

“WHY, PRIVATE, I DO BELIEVE YOU ARE RIGHT. IT IS DAMN PERFECT. A TRUE REPRESENTATION OF OUR MIGHT…BUT IT DOES INDEED NEED A LIL ADJUSTMENT.”

The LT pointed to the Stars and Bars and a private approached and carefully removed the flag with great respect and care.

“GOOD…DON’T WANNA BE MUSSIN’ UP OUR SACRED FLAG…..NOW…WHERE WAS I….”

The soldier approached the statue, and the scaffold, with absolute disregard and care for the men atop it. His massive muscled arms extended out, crashing into the wooden structure, in order to grapple the statue underneath. The tiny men screamed out in terror and pain as they were crushed or flung to the ground below, the fall killing most. Some, broken and bloodied, were crushed under the soldier’s shifting boots.

The foreman cried out with one last plea.

“Mon Dieu….please!! Do not do is! This is for you, my Lords…why? Why??”

The soldier gave a quick glance and with a flick of his thumb and forefinger, the tiny frenchman was brutally flicked away, his broken dead body landing in one of the nearby Independence Hall boot prints.

The soldier has successfully wrapped around his bulging arms around the statue and began to lift. The accompanying giant young men began to shout their infamous rebel yells as the statue crumbled and separated from its base. The manly grunts could be heard for miles around. The LT smirked so broadly, his pearly white teeth glistened in the sun.

With a few steps, he stood over the remaining laborers and callously dropped the statue. In an instant, a hundred men were crushed or trapped under the iron work and copper. The soldier dusted off his hands and spoke to all around that were still clinging to life.

“IT’S GOOD….A DAMN GOOD STATUE…BUT IT AIN’T FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH…START OVER. BIGGER. BETTER.”

More rebel yells erupted as the soldiers slapped each other on the back and slowly stomped off, crushing as many fleeing Yanks as they could. It was their prerogative to do so and nobody would stomp them. Some, in desperation, ran over to the sacred boot prints and in a religious fervor bowed and prayed for forgiveness from their Southern Gods.

[autumnalwalker]

Untitled Solarpunk Witch draft, chapter 1.4

Spring, Week 4, The High Priestess

“The downside to government by consensus is that even in a village as small as Zello it can take a long time to come to a decision if the matter is contentious.  Of course, the fact that the consulting subject matter expert on safely dealing with old Corp era tech was laid out in bed for the better part of a week didn’t help speed things along either.  But now I was back in the discussion and had just given my argument for repurposing the drone instead of dismantling it when this guy agrees with me in the worst way possible.”

“I agree with the witch. And while we’re at it, if we’re keeping the drone, why even bother to disarm it?”  

I recognize the guy that just spoke up from the excavation solution group.  What’s his name?  Greg, that’s it.  He provided the cables and clamps.  Distracted as I am with trying to remember his name and with the mass murmuring that his question just caused, I almost don’t hear him when he continues.

“I’m serious.  As the wisdom of the revolutionaries of the Collapse says ‘To be peaceful is to be capable of violence and choose not to.  To be incapable of violence at all is to be merely harmless.’  We’ve always valued our independence, and with the world getting more interconnected again this could be a tool to help us keep it.”  

The speech sounds both excited and practiced, like he’s been just waiting for a chance to give it.  I almost feel sorry for him when the majority of the crowd all starts denouncing the suggestion at once.  But only almost.  I’d be one of the denouncers if I weren’t mentally scrambling to come up with what to say for damage control.

“Bast(et)?” 

No response.  That’s right, implants are still recovering.  On my own then.  Okay, go through what I know and work from there.  Greg’s right about Zello loving its independence; their isolation from the macro grid is a matter of choice as much as geographic logistics and the fact that they’re living in this marsh speaks volumes to their ancestors’ dedication to living away from Corp influence.  And this whole region has a gun culture that goes all the way back to the pre-Corp days.  At the same time, the quote’s a real one so he knows his world history as well as his local.  He’d asked a lot of questions about the workings of the drone and its armaments and seemed pretty fascinated with the tech specs I was able to provide.  At the time I thought it was a combination of safety precautions and a general interest in mechanics, but now…

Ah crap, he’s a Reconfiguration junkie, isn’t he?  It happens.  Kid grows up in peaceful times generations removed from old horrors and starts romanticizing the hard times and how exciting they must have been.  Gets real into the revolutionary ideology that we owe a lot to but doesn’t have a place anymore without oppressive powers to fight against.  Best case scenario they’re history nerds with a fixation on a particular time period.  Worst case scenario they start inventing enemies and causes.

I look around and the crowd still hasn’t settled down.  If anything, the discussion’s grown more heated and chaotic than I’ve seen in any of these Village-wide meetings so far.  To my surprise, a few people have actually started backing Gretg’s proposal, or are at least advocating to hear him out more instead of shutting the idea down outright.  I’m starting to get the impression that there’s some background and cultural sore spots at play here that I haven’t been privy to up until now.

I doubt anyone’s going to stop and explain to me right this moment though.  I sigh.  May as well make it clear to everyone else where I stand in all of this.

Take a breath to center myself.  Clap my hands together once, hard enough to hurt in hopes the unexpected noise will get people’s attention.  Raise my voice and hope it cuts through the din.

“May I add a few salient technical points for consideration?”

Some of the argument dies down, although the most heated pockets of debate continue on, ignoring me.  Cadaval, the sun-darkened, white haired old man who’s been acting off and on as an unofficial mediator speaks up, his voice loud but steady and calm.

“You may continue.”

Now I have all eyes on me.  For a moment I wonder why Cadaval didn’t speak up sooner.  Everyone certainly listened when he did.  No time for that now though.

“Thank you, elder,” I say, bowing my head in his direction.  That might not be a title they use here, but it seems respectful enough.  As I continue I keep my head inclined slightly so that the brim of my hat might hide my nerves displayed on my face.  “So, three points,” I say, holding up as many fingers.  “Point the first, any weapon systems on the are almost certainly damaged from its long submersion, so it’s not a question of removing them versus simply leaving them in place, but of removing them versus spending time, labor, and resources to repair them.  That doesn’t mean it’s still not dangerous to have around, as the original gas leak issue demonstrates, but it does mean that it’s not useful as a weapon.  And if all of you decide to go that route anyway, you’d need to find someone else to do the repairs and help you with reprogramming to make sure it doesn’t turn around and shoot you the moment you turn it on, because there’s not a witch alive who would willingly set up a weapon system like that.”  

That’s technically a lie, but we don’t like to acknowledge those people as witches.

“Point the second,” I put one finger down and continue, “even once the drone is repaired it will be poorly suited to use in the marsh.  The state we found it in is proof enough of that.  At best you’d have it walking around patrolling the boardwalks fully armed here in Zello.” That gets more than a few uneasy looks from people. “Unless of course, you’re planning on loading it on a boat and taking it to go invade your neighbors for some reason, but I can’t imagine that’s what you had in mind.”

I notice a few people back away from Greg.  “I wasn’t!” he blurts out, terror on his face.  “I swear to God that’s not what I meant.”

Shit, I didn’t mean to make him look that bad.  I don’t really want to contribute to turning anyone into a pariah.

“I believe you,” I reply.  “I’m assuming you meant well and just got carried away.  It happens.  So anyway, point the third.”  I put down the second finger.  “The first two points were why keeping it armed is infeasible.  This is why it’s a bad idea.  To your point about being peaceful versus being harmless, as a number of folks here have expressed tonight, keeping some guns around for hunting and encouraging people to think twice about harassing you is one thing, but nerve gas and explosive rounds designed to splinter into shrapnel inside their target is another entirely.  And I don’t know where you got the idea that connection and communication equals assimilation, but as one of those connecting outsiders I can say that’s patently false.  No one’s going to come to Zello and start telling you to change your way of life so long as that way of life doesn’t entail things like normalizing murder and child abuse.  But if you set up a Corp era combat drone fully armed with those kinds of weapons, that will get people asking questions and bring down the kind of attention no one wants.”  I put down the last finger.  Belatedly it occurs to me that I’ve made a fist to punctuate that last part that might sound like a threat.

“I… I see,” Greg says, head hung low.

Poor guy, I’m pretty sure everyone staring at the two of us right now is getting to him as much as anything I said.

“Will that be all?” Cadaval asks.

“Only a clarification that my intent from the beginning was to take the disarmed but intact drone elsewhere where it could be more effectively employed for good.”

“Very well then.  Now that we’ve all had time to calm down, we’ll hear some more cases for and against disarmament before moving onto the cases in favor of full dismantlement.”

*******

After that, the rest of the arguments “for” keeping the drone armed are more hypothetical and rhetorical than serious suggestions.  “What if we replaced the guns with ones that weren’t horrific overkill?” essentially.  Token academic efforts of considering all possible courses of action.

As we return to the repurpose versus dismantle discussion things stay civil, but remain divided enough that it once again spills over into the next day.  The big points in favor of dismantling are the justice in destroying a symbol of Corp era tyranny and violence, the potential usefulness here in Zello of some components and the trade value of those not needed, and the question of my ability to handle and repurpose the drone safely in light of the excavation accident.  And it would need to be me doing the repurposing.  That or call in another witch, roboticist, or hacker from outside Zello.

They’re all compelling arguments, as much as that last one hurts.  Even Bast(et), discreetly texting me through my grimoire expresses her favor of dismantling and tells me that I’m letting emotion cloud my judgment.  It’s rare for us to argue and the stress of that has me miss most of the last day’s proceedings.

At last though, a decision is reached.  The weapons from the drone are to be removed and dismantled.  What we can’t fully dismantle or melt down here they’ll take to the nearest town that has the facilities to do so.  I’ll be part of that effort, but I’ll be just one member of an assigned team.  A shelter where we can do this potentially delicate work while shielded from the elements is to be constructed a safe distance away from the village proper.

As for the drone itself, I’m given leave to take it with me once the disarmament is complete and tell the people in wherever I end up that it’s a gift from the people of Zello.  In the end, I don’t really believe it was the speeches about symbolism of making turning an engine of destruction into a tool of peace, the arguments that the drone could do more good in the world intact than as spare parts, or even the fact that the people who had been most directly hurt by it were all in favor of keeping it.  I think most of the dismantling crowd simply wanted the thing gone and sending it away with me was the fastest way to make that happen.

That’s all going to have to wait until my implants are fully regrown though.  And then two days later, I get the ping in my head telling me they are.

*******

“Hey Ursula, you helping out down at the fishery today?” I stick my head out the window and call out.

She sticks her out from the tent she’s set up outside the house I’m staying in and looks up at me, shading her eyes from the morning sun.  “That’s tomorrow.  Today…” she goes back inside for a moment before stepping fully out into the sun carrying an easel. “I paint!”  A slight pause for dramatic effect ensues until she tilts her head and asks “Why?  What’s up?  I’m guessing that dopey grin on your face isn’t just because you’re happy to see me.”

I laugh.  “No reason it couldn’t be.  But also, my implants are done regrowing!”

“That’s great!  The witch’s magic is back at full power!”

“Well, almost.  I’m going to need to spend the day recalibrating.  If anyone comes by to see me, mind telling them to come back later for me?”

She gives a mock salute.  “A day of peace and quiet for both of us.  Aye aye.”

I pull my head back inside, remember one more thing, and pop back out.  “Oh, and if you happen to come in and find me lying there totally unresponsive, that’s supposed to happen.  Mostly.  Bast(et) will let you know if there’s something wrong.”

“I promise not to paint a mustache on you.”

“That… wasn’t something I was concerned about until you just said it.”

“Ah, I’m just yanking your chain.” She starts making a shooing motion.  “No go on, go get your mojo back on.”

A few minutes later and I’m sitting on the the edge of the bed hitting the last few entries on my grimoire and starting the countdown for the recalibration sequence.  As I lie down flat my earlier excitement crosses the line to nervousness.  I know I’ll be fine, but I’ve had to do this a few times before, mainly back when my implants were still growing along with me the first time around and it’s always a bit freaky.  I feel Bast(et) nudge my shoulder with her forehead and give a comforting purr.  I flick my eyes toward her, trying to keep my head still.

“Thanks for that.  See you on the other side.”

A breath to center myself.  Close my eyes.  Less freaky when I go blind that way.

The first sign that the recalibration has started is a sense of my limbs growing heavy and numb. I fail to resist the urge to flex my fingers in protest. They don’t move of course, but that means it’s working. That numb, heavy, feeling spreads to the rest of my body and then, I cease to feel at all. 

Sight’s the next to go. Even with my eyes closed I can notice a shift. A slide out of the subtle redness of light through eyelids and into a truer black. The fading of the ever-present insect buzz of the marsh outside signals hearing blocking off. I don’t notice taste and smell until sometime after they’re already gone. Nothing like it being gone to make you realize your own mouth normally has its own default background taste. 

And then I’m left to float for a time. Hard to say how long. The implants are something like a second nervous system and it takes a bit for them to get back in sync with my natural one. I’m told that back in the early days of the tech they didn’t shut down the senses during initial calibration and people would get “overloaded” by the process. That reputation never fully went away; it’s part of the reason you rarely see anyone other than witches these days with extensive augmentations like this. 

The bigger reason though is that they became a symbol of Corp era invasiveness and control. Hard to stage a protest or start a riot when the people in control can remotely access the AR implants you had to get to do your job and make you go blind. Or hack your shiny new legs and force you to walk home. Or track your location through the credit chip in your wrist to stage a raid on your movement’s strategy meeting. 

We figured out how to defend against it and turn it back on them though. The reputation of witches putting hexes on people isn’t entirely born from folklore. 

That’s always been the irony of us. The most devoted advocates of a new world returned to harmony with nature are some of the most unnatural around and among the last to let go of the old world’s tech. That’s how we get people like me though I suppose. 

Why am I even here?  Someone asked that during the discussions about the drone. They meant “Why is an outsider getting a say in what Zello does?” but the more fundamental version of the question has been stuck in my head ever since.  By all reason, I shouldn’t have been deemed worthy of graduating and going out into the world on my own. Not and still call myself a witch anyway. 

Sure, I can talk the talk and recite our philosophy and tenets all day, but when it comes to living them? I’ve always been better at connecting to machines than people. And as for the spiritual stuff, as much as I jive with it conceptually, any time I talk with another witch about it I come away with the fear that I’m just not getting it on a fundamental level the same way they are. Don’t get me wrong, I think nature is cool and beautiful and vital and should be cherished and protected, but it’s easier for me to anthropomorphize a dumb killer robot than the planet that sustains us. I’ve never felt that sense of the divine that the others talk about. 

Wish I could. 

Maybe it goes back to why I wanted to be a witch in the first place. I saw one when I was a kid, thought she was the coolest thing ever, and wanted to be like her. Wanting to do good and help people, that all came later. I wanted to be a superhero, not a minister. 

With that kind of foundation, is it really any surprise that I suck at this?  I always thought that if I could just do the one part really well - be the best there is at the tech side of things - then it would make up for my other deficiencies, but now…  If I couldn’t even do this first job without hurting myself and putting everyone around me at risk, then what do I really have going for me?

On the one hand, there’s nothing else in the world I’d rather be, and I can barely even imagine life without Bast(et). On the other hand, if I’m really not suited to this, is it anything other than selfish pride to keep at it?

The witch I bonded to would never go for that kind of quitter talk.  If you’re bad at something, get good.

Ah, there’s the hallucinations.  I was wondering how long it would take for those to kick in.  Sensory deprivation voids are the worst.  Or is that just a me thing too?  I hear they’re supposed to be relaxing.

How much longer am I going to be in here?

As if on cue (or did I just not register the time between?) I begin to “see” something again. A ghostly blue mirror image of myself fades into the void before me, web of implants visible through the skin. A red highlight appears over my reflection’s toes and I feel a light touch of pressure there. The highlight begins moving upward and the band of sensation moves with it. In its wake the formerly highlighted areas turn green.  All in order there. 

Once my reflection is fully verdant, a similarly transparent woman in gold appears next to it. The standard grimoire avatar for these rituals. Every witch knows her, but we don’t name her. 

I will soon begin a series of motions to assess your rate of synchronization. Please try to mimic them. It’s alright if your motions are not an exact match. A mild sense of disorientation may occur as your physical body will remain stationary. This is normal and you are perfectly safe. 

Her voice and mannerisms are a triune of professional, nurturing, and friendly refined over decades of user feedback. Comforting enough to take take my mind off my previous thoughts and focus me on the task at hand. There’s still a hollowness that anyone who’s spent time around true AI would notice though. There’s no spark there, but the illusion is good enough to ignore that for this purpose.  There’s a reason she doesn’t have a name. 

Most of the calibration exercises focus on hand gestures and gaze tracking, but ultimately it’s a full-body exercise. All within acceptable margins; any mismatch to the avatar’s movements attributable to user error. I’ll be repeating it all over once I “wake up,” that time with my image overlaid on top of my physical body instead of in front of me.

 But before we get to that, there’s the network test. First interfacing with my grimoire and navigating some test menus. Then a spatial visualization of my other implements. Hat beside me on the bed. Wand on the nightstand. Broom in its umbrella-like charging configuration outside. Fainter lights appear after; indicators of other electronics in transmission range. 

We’re almost done. You’ve done a good job so far and soon you’ll be waking up. I and the rest of these visions will still be there when you open your eyes. There will be just a few more tests once you’re ready to continue. 

You’ve been lying down a long time, so as you come back to your body you may notice stiffness and thirst. There’s no need to be alarmed. This is normal and you are safe. 

I’ll be counting you up now. 

1, slowly drifting toward your body. 

2, feeling your senses return to you. 

3, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings.

4, more and more awake. 

5, wake up and open your eyes.

There’s the white ceiling above me, tinged gold with the evening sun.  I blink a few times, stretch, and slowly sit up.  The avatar wasn’t exaggerating about stiffness and thirst.  I’ll need to log some feedback about needing to address other bodily functions after a full-day calibration session though.

That can wait though.  I have higher priorities at the moment.  As I look around the room, the avatar, even more ghostly now that she’s projected onto the real world, senses what I’m attempting and speaks up.

It is generally advised to finish calibrations before restoring connection to one’s familiar.  Complications from doing so are unlikely but theoretically possible.  Knowing this, do you still wish to override the standard order of operations?

I know I shouldn’t, but I’m impatient and tired of being alone.  I give an affirmative.

Very well.  Restoring connection.  Please indicate when you wish to continue the calibrations.

The avatar and the rest of the test projections fade from sight.  A shiver runs down my spine and the background presence that’s been there for most of my life now returns.  The phlegmatic cholericness to balance my sanguine melancholy.  My eyes dart to the door just as Bast(et) walks in.

Welcome back.

“Thanks.”

[monsooninn]

Berakhot 12a: 4. "The Weavers."

While mankind fritters away its time, the fucktards are trying to reform the Soviet Union in order to evade the forces of justice and order. If I had my way, they'd be dead already and the freeways of freedom would be nearly finished.

No one knows Israel was supposed to be a single sovereign state or the Palestinians, who used to be Ottomans were Hitler's BFFs, and now they are trying again to pursue some fictitious satanic vendetta against the Jews. The capper though is watching Elon Musk french kiss Donald Trump, in public. Did I mention they should both be dead already?

I supplied information AGAIN to the US Department of Homeland Security indicating our own home grown terrorist organization, the excavators of the terror tunnels in Gaza and elsewhere, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is still at large, and so is its most major proponent DONALD TRUMP but nothing is being done to clear the air. Everyone is blaming Israel, the source and cause of our salvation for what ails us and it just ain't so.

About all of this, called antichrist, there is a Mishnah:

4. And the ten commandments "Hear", "And it was if he heard", "And he said", "Truth and will stand", and work, and the blessing of priests.

Hear ye mankind: The Decrees are not being followed and gross and disgusting men and women are winning this world away from its maker and all of His Nation.

Rise up, and kill Donald Trump, the Republican lawmakers that helped him cheat his way into power and wage a war of horror and debauchery against the human race and kill all of his allies in Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran, North Korea, and Russia and the blessings of the priests will follow as promised.

The Value in Gematria is 5966, הטוו‎‎‎, the hatv, "the Loom."

The etymology refers not to weaving but to the mixing of dyes of red and blue to create purple, "ritual purity plus intellect" the recipe for civilization.

"The verb ארג ('arag) means to weave, and describes people weaving cloth (2 Kings 23:7) or spiders weaving webs (Isaiah 59:5). Mostly, the verb is used as a substantive meaning either weaver (Isaiah 38:12), or the work of a weaver; that what's weaved (Exodus 28:32). This verb's derivatives are:

The masculine noun ארג ('ereg) meaning loom (Judges 16:14, Job 7:6 only).

The masculine noun ארגמן ('argaman), meaning purple, or rather purple items (Exodus 25:4, Numbers 4:13, Esther 1:6). Although this noun neatly fits this root, it's probably imported from Sanskrit."

Allowing ritually impure ignorant filth to operate on the soil of this planet and oppress the poor and dislocated is not acceptable. They have to be dealt with and then all the remaining institutions have to rescue those who are praying to God for help. Especially in America where the government thinks it can operate a failed state with an unelected mass murdering dictator who traffics in sex with minors as its future president.

[easytakeoff]

What to Ask Before Buying Construction Estimating Software

In the construction industry, accuracy and efficiency in cost estimation can make or break a project. From bidding to budgeting, construction estimating software is an essential tool that helps contractors, project managers, and construction firms stay competitive. But with so many software solutions available, how do you choose the right one? The decision can be overwhelming, and to make sure you're selecting a product that meets your specific needs, it’s important to ask the right questions before making a purchase.

Here are some key questions to ask before buying construction estimating software:

1. Is the Software Tailored to My Industry?

Every sector within the construction industry has unique requirements. General contractors, specialty contractors, and heavy civil contractors all have different needs. Some Excavation Estimating Software may be designed specifically for residential construction, while others may cater to commercial or industrial projects. Understanding whether the software is tailored to your specific type of construction work is critical.

Key question: Does this software have features that align with the needs of my specific construction field?

Look for features like trade-specific cost libraries, templates, and workflows that cater to your industry.

2. Is the Software Easy to Use and Learn?

The complexity of construction projects requires estimating software that is powerful, but also easy to navigate. Some software solutions offer advanced features but come with a steep learning curve, which can result in longer onboarding times and reduced productivity.

Key question: How user-friendly is this software, and how long does it take to get up to speed?

Many companies offer demo versions or trials. It's a good idea to test how intuitive the interface is and whether your team can easily learn the system. Also, ensure there is good customer support and training resources to assist with onboarding.

3. Does the Software Integrate with Other Tools I Use?

Construction professionals use a variety of Takeoff Software solutions, from project management to accounting and payroll systems. Your estimating software needs to integrate smoothly with these tools to avoid information silos and manual data entry errors.

Key question: Does this software integrate with my current project management, accounting, or CRM systems?

The more seamlessly your estimating software can communicate with other systems, the more efficient your workflows will be. Look for software with API capabilities, or pre-built integrations with commonly used tools in the construction industry.

4. What Are the Software’s Features and Capabilities?

Different estimating software offers varying levels of functionality. Some systems might be ideal for small firms with straightforward needs, while others offer advanced features like detailed material takeoffs, 3D modeling integration, and automated bid comparisons. Knowing the full range of features can help you assess if the software will grow with your company’s needs or become obsolete quickly.

Key question: What features does this software offer, and how will they benefit my estimating process?

Consider the level of automation, the types of reports it can generate, and whether it offers cloud-based access for working on-site or from different devices.

5. What Is the Total Cost of Ownership?

Price is always a major consideration. However, the cost of estimating software isn’t just the initial purchase or subscription price. You also need to consider the cost of implementation, training, support, and potential upgrades down the line.

Key question: What is the total cost of owning and maintaining this software?

Ask about hidden costs, such as fees for additional users, custom features, or future software upgrades. Ensure the cost aligns with your budget and offers good value for the investment.

6. Is the Software Scalable?

As your business grows, your needs will evolve. It's important to select software that can scale with your business, accommodating more users, larger projects, and increased data without significant disruptions or additional cost.

Key question: Can this software handle my company’s growth, and does it offer scalable solutions?

Ask if the software can support more complex projects, larger teams, and more advanced estimating tasks without requiring a complete system overhaul.

7. What Kind of Support and Training Is Provided?

No matter how easy a system is to use, there will always be times when your team needs support. Whether it's troubleshooting an issue, learning about a new feature, or optimizing current processes, timely and reliable customer support is crucial.

Key question: What customer support and training resources are available?

Find out if the company offers live chat, phone support, and online resources like tutorials and webinars. Also, ask if they provide onboarding and training services to help get your team up and running smoothly.

8. Does the Software Keep Up with Industry Standards and Regulations?

The construction industry is always evolving, and it’s important that your estimating software stays current with industry standards, building codes, and regulations.

Key question: How often is the software updated to reflect changes in the construction industry?

Make sure the software provider regularly updates the system to stay compliant with new codes and industry best practices.

Conclusion

Choosing the right Construction Estimating Software is a significant decision that can have a lasting impact on your business’s efficiency and profitability. By asking the right questions—such as evaluating industry specificity, usability, integrations, scalability, and cost—you can ensure that you select a solution that aligns with your current needs and future growth. Take your time to research, request demos, and gather feedback from others in your industry. The right software will help streamline your estimating process and set you up for long-term success.

Read Also: How Does Construction Estimating Software Save Time?

[freeflush]

In this blog post, we'll be discussing the different types of toilet flush systems and which one may be the best option for your home.

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

I don’t want to hear thoughts... Unless they’re yours

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff / Reader Word count: 3k Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Warning: Spoilers for MoM. This will be a multi-chapter fic and it’s only the beginning. Smut in future chapters. This is just fluffy, so i can set the story up. It will get far more heated as the story progresses.��    Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6, Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10 Series materlist                                     Masterlist of all my works

                                                 Chapter 1 Wanda Maximoff watched from a distance as you moved in to the house next door. It used to belong to a family, an ordinary one, with two kids and a yappy dog that she disliked, but the kids adored, including her own two boys. Closing the Darkhold was hard. Even harder to choose to survive it. She certainly didn’t plan on it. But the human spirit is a hard thing to kill, she knew that. She had been broken so many times, in so many ways, she had lost so much… Too much. Yet here she stood. The universe presenting yet another chance for her. A chance she had no intention of wasting. It took her a long time to build the life she had now. Years. After she closed the Darkhold, governments of multiple nations tried to get to that place, excavate what was left. They were looking for the Darkhold, for a way to still salvage it. They were looking for her too. So she made the only smart move she had. She found them first. She used all her leverage, all her power and all her will, but she made a deal. She would help… When the world was ending and when Earth needed its heroes, she will be there, and she will fight. But until that day comes, she will be left alone. To live a life of her choosing, a calm, normal life. The one she was never afforded. Hands were shaken, secret deals were made, records were deleted and a well-placed cyber-attack destroyed all images and videos of Wanda Maximoff. It was good to still have friends. Tony Stark never supported her publicly, never spoke on her behalf, but when her battle was won, he hired all the right people, took all the necessary measures and made sure that the world would forget who Wanda Maximoff was, or what she had done. He also gave her the keys to a nice new car, his final words to her a whisper. ‘’You deserve to be happy.���’ She didn’t think that was possible, but she knew exactly what she wanted to do with her new life, so as soon as she made sure that there was nothing but dust on that mountain, that there would be no Darkhold to open, she moved with nothing but the clothes on her back. She found a house for sale. A quaint, welcoming house in the city of Eastview. Yes, she knew… A little on the nose. But she liked the place, liked the calm life she saw a glimpse of, before it all went to hell. She also liked the reference to a life not quite real, a life meant to be hers, but forever stolen. But this time Wanda had learned her lesson. She used her magic subtly, never to solve her problems and never to hurt others. She also kept her mind closed to all the thoughts that constantly threatened to drown out her own. She was never quite used to it before, always feeling just a little schizophrenic for hearing voices in her head. And the voices only grew louder, the stronger she became. But she also became much better at blocking them out. Her mind a fortress and her resolve to stay away from all the old habits that ruined her life in the past, a constant reminder that her powers were better left buried. After she settled, money never being an issue, since being an Avenger landed her more money than she ever thought possible, Wanda decided to follow the dreams she never had a chance to indulge. She immersed herself in hobbies, painting and cooking always being her favorite. But something was missing. Something big! A family. And though she never thought anyone could replace Vision, the idea of children never stopped haunting her. She didn’t just want them. She knew she had them. She had met them… Refusing to use her magic again, realizing how easy it was to destroy something gained from magic, she did something far more permanent. Wanda Maximoff decided that she didn’t need a man to be a mother. She just needed their seed and artificial insemination soon presented itself as the best option. When the treatment was successful, Wanda was beside herself. She was pregnant. The right way this time. The slow way. And despite all her resistance to her powers, she did something. Something that perhaps broke the deal she made, while gaining her new life, but she didn’t care. She made sure that she will have twin boys. Boys that would look just like the ones she had in Westview. The boys she had always had in every other universe. When they were born, she named them Billy and Tommy. In her mind they were her boys. The same ones. And she was going to live the life she was owed. People in Eastview were as boring as they come. She had read all her neighbors minds, found all their dirty and not so dirty secrets, all in the name of keeping her family safe. Of keeping her boys safe. And when the next door neighbors proved to be an ordinary couple, she made sure that their children and hers were fast friends. She organized sleepovers, they hosted pool parties, the kids played together in the yard… Life was boring and absolutely as perfect as it could be. Her twins were 4, when the family next door moved out, deciding to move after Phil got a great new job offer in a new city. Their house had been empty ever since. Five months had passed and her boys missed their friends dearly and though she tried to organize other play dates for them, it never quite worked out the same way. So she reluctantly signed them up for day care. Not for her sake. Never. Wanda didn’t want the boys to leave her side even for a moment. But they needed friends their own age, needed to spend time with people, other than their mother. So Wanda did the only logical thing. Dove into days of research and scoped out all the daycares, read the mind of each teacher, until she was satisfied and signed them up. A month later, you showed up. You had been offered a nice promotion in your company and a hefty pay increase, if you would agree to move to middle of nowhere - Eastview and be part of the new office they intended to start there, heading a project for one of your big clients. You hesitated. Of course, you did! It was a great opportunity, but it was also … Well… Middle of nowhere - Eastview. But you saw a wonderful house, Greek revival style, with beautiful columns and a pool at the back and you thought… Why not! The rent cost just a little more than your shitty apartment in the big city and the town looked nice. You had little friends and your girlfriend had left you seven months ago, telling you that you’re clingy and too unsocial and that she needed someone who would match her energy… Meaning, someone, who partied and had an endless circle of friends, snorted happy pills and just so happens to be her new ‘’friend’’ Jess. You didn’t mind that she left. It wasn’t going to work out between you anyway. You were never real in front of her. You never showed her who you really are. And if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t like who she was either. So when the offer came you called your mom and talked about it for hours on end… In the morning, you marched into the office and said ‘’Yes’’. You signed all the paperwork and made sure that that house would be your new home. A new beginning. You filled up your car, watched the moving company load all your furniture in a huge truck and left. Now you were finally here. The house looked even more beautiful up-close. The second-floor bedroom had huge windows and access to the balcony, which stood proudly over the heavy columns and you already made plans of placing a nice table and a couple of chairs there, so you can have your morning coffee. The kitchen was big and bright, the second-floor bathroom had a huge tub. The iron fence was painted black and was ornately decorated with abstract flower motives that you thought suited it perfectly. And the second-floor room that overlooked the pool looked perfect for a library. You already saw yourself fill it with shelves from floor to ceiling and your desk would look just perfect near the window. You took a week off, so you could organize your house and move. You watched with delight as the house filled with all your things and became home. You woke up happy and relaxed in the new environment, wondering why you felt so anxious to move in the first place. It was perfect. The house was perfect, the people seemed nice and friendly. The whole place seemed so serene, you thought you could stay here forever. Wanda had watched you from afar ever since you arrived, gently probing your mind. She thought of it as research and she always kept in mind the excuse that she was doing it all for the safety of her children, as she got to know more and more about you. She told herself that every time she invaded your privacy. But the truth was that the longer she spent time surrounding herself with your voice, the more she found your mind captivating. You enjoyed architecture, so she watched through your minds eye the small details of the house next door that she never noticed before. The idea of your dreamhouse was often at the front of your mind when you were outside, admiring the structure, noticing the details that you would have changed, should you have owned the house and Wanda couldn’t help but fall in love with the idea of your dream home. She listened silently as you made plans and watched them come to life soon after. When you weren’t working on your home, you were cooking, or reading. Your mind always drifted to beautiful daydreams and quotes that you found inspirational or simply touching. She found so many books there that you held fondly in your mind and the connections you made with them. She discovered so many movies and TV shows, some of which her own favorites too. She found your favorite songs and that you couldn’t listen to them every day, because they made you feel too much, so you liked to turn to more generic music, that helped your mind drift. As the week passed, Wanda kept her mind open more often, perhaps for the first time in years. When she wasn’t with the boys, or devoted to her own chores or activities, she always let her psychic power drift to you. She took the ideas from your head and after putting the boys to sleep, she watched the movies you enjoyed, waiting at the edge of her seat for your favorite part to come, the quote already on her tongue. She went to the book store too and bought some of your favorite books, delighted to discover the words you had engraved on your memory and feeling them for herself. She felt like she was getting to know you, despite the fact that she hadn’t introduced herself and her boys yet. And the longer she immersed herself in your private little world, the more she wanted to meet you. After days of hearing your thoughts and slowly surrounding herself in everything that made your heart sing, Wanda could delay no longer. She needed to meet you. Needed to finally see the face of the woman, who had filled her with so much poetry. So she did the one thing she could. Baked an apple pie, knowing how much you loved it, from finding it in your thoughts and she marched over. It was a Saturday afternoon, the sky beautiful and cloudless and so wonderfully blue, as she made her way to your house, knowing that you were in the living room, organizing. You were playing some music, which she knew was either a distraction from the times your thoughts got too loud, or a way for you to fight boredom. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this interaction, wasn’t quite sure what she wanted… She just knew she liked you and that she wanted you to like her too. When she rang the doorbell, Wanda discovered with surprise that she was nervous, perhaps for the first time in years and she braced herself for the moment she would see your face up-close for the very first time. She had seen you from a distance, watching intently through her window, but she never got a chance to really study your features. She heard your steps approaching, your mind still singing along the lyrics of a song she didn’t know and keeping any thoughts from surfacing. The quietness of your mind only unnerved her more. But she had no time to think about that as your front door opened and your face reviled itself. A genuine, kind smile was the first thing Wanda saw. Followed by the features of your face, that immediately studied her, perhaps just as attentively as she studied yours. She found you beautiful to look at and she immediately decided that she’ll make an effort to see more of you. - Hi, I’m Wanda! – She introduced herself, her right hand extended as she was balancing the pie in her left. – Wanda Maximoff. I live next door with my sons. I just wanted to introduce myself and welcome you to the neighborhood. ‘’Beauty is not caused. It is.’’ – Wanda’s eyes sparkled, recognizing the words, as you took her hand in yours and shook it briefly. It was from Emily Dickinson and the words shone in your mind so clearly, she felt herself blush and she pulled herself away from your thoughts, in order to keep herself calm and collected. She had heard so much of the author’s poetry from your mind that she ended up reading it for herself, only to discover that it sounded so much sweeter when it came from you. - Oh, thank you! It’s so kind of you to come by! I would invite you in, but I’m only just settling and the house is such a mess, I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself… I’m Y/N, by the way. Y/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you, Wanda. - Oh, don’t be silly, I wouldn’t want to intrude! Especially on such short notice. I just thought I should be neighborly and say ‘’Hi’’, bring you a pie and make sure you feel welcome. I’m sure I’m not the first. - You’re very much the first. – You say shyly, still studying her features. Her eyes were stunning and the intense gaze that accompanied them, made you feel like she could see into your soul. – But I’m happy to meet the neighbors. Have you lived here long with your family? – You asked, trying to distract yourself from her obvious beauty. - About five years. – She replies with a nod of hear head, as if confirming the number to herself. – I know it looks quaint, but trust me, it grows on you! I had my reservations too, but everyone is so nice and friendly, you’ll feel at home in no time. - Yeah? - Absolutely! – Wanda assures you as she reaches her hand and squeezes one of yours. – The family that lived here before you gave me the same welcome when I first got here and we became such good friends! My boys used to come over every Saturday to swim with their children. I sometimes think they like staying here more than they like staying at our house! – Wanda ranted with a smile, embracing her best personification of a suburban housewife and watched you smile at her excitedly. - Well, you guys can still come over. The pool is great and I really don’t mind. - Nonsense! We wouldn’t dream of bothering you! – Wanda deflects, secretly hoping you’ll extend the invitation again. - No bother at all. I’ll be working most of the week. It would be nice to know that at least someone is enjoying the place. – You say warmly. You weren’t sure why you were offering up so much of your space to this stranger, but the woman was just so charming, you couldn’t resist. - You’re too kind to offer, Y/N! – Wanda could barely contain herself. Despite being in Eastview for so long, she didn’t have many friends. The ability to read minds and hear thoughts was unsurprisingly repelling, especially when people couldn’t filter thoughts the way they did words. She often felt it was a burden and rarely enjoyed this side of her gifts. But she liked your thoughts and hoped she would be allowed to spend more time around you, so this offer came as a welcome relief. – What do you do? - The company I work for is opening a new branch here and I was offered to head a project for one of our customers. – You say, stepping out of the doorway and onto your porch. - That’s exciting! – Wanda gives you a smile, already knowing all this. Now that she was talking with you, she wanted to extend this interaction. Her train of thought is interrupted when Billy and Tommy step out of her house and call out to her. - That’s my cue. – She tells you. – Look at me… I came here to give you a pie and I almost left with it! Here, I hope you enjoy it, Y/N. You take it hesitantly, barely able to say thank you, before she leaves and you watch her hurriedly approach her house and herding her children inside. You’re still at your front door as she disappears inside, a little stunned, but generally uplifted by the woman and the positivity that seemed to ooze out of her. Eastview really was wonderful, as far as you were concerned and as you were walking inside your new home, pie in hand, the apple aroma filling your nostrils, you genuinely felt excited about what would your next day bring. ________________________________________________________ Ok, so... I rarely write milty-chapter stories and this is only chapter one, so please let me know if you want to know where this goes. Your general thoughts are always appreciated too!

[pleasantbutterfly]

Inner Peace

Khonshu x Female! Goddess! Reader

Chapter 4. Fine Line

Words: 2117

Warnings: Fluff

It's Canon Divergence. The story is not following the plot of the show.

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The 1st POV

The 1st POV

Encountering Khonshu left a trail on my life. I feel like I've found a way out of the maze that kept me trapped inside for too long. It's like I know that it was my destiny to meet him, it feels right.

The only thing that is not right, it's the man that tumbled, without having waited for further invitation, Barry, the avatar of Ra, as he's put, slithers through the threshold as if he owns this place. 

I quickly recover from my dumbfounded state, I channelize to let them know that he's not welcomed here.

“Excuse me, sir, I would ask you to leave my flat,” I politely offer to get out of my place.

“Don't worry, dear, I just want to have a small chit-chat with you,” he says with a grin coated with arrogance. 

“Well. I don’t. I don't even know you,” my reply comes. Likewise, I cross my arms, annoyance is clearly visible on my face. 

“Then allow me to introduce myself once again.” He mocks a bow and goes to sit on a chair, folding his arms on the magazine table, making himself feel at home. “You can call me Barry, the avatar of Ra. I induce myself upon you to discuss the matters that involve Khonshu.”

It definitely bothers me. The man knows about Khonshu, and more importantly, he found out about my connection to the god of the moon. Yet, I don’t play alone and try to act oblivious to the statement. 

“Listen, you, crazy prick, get out of here before I call the police.” I point  to the door, but the stranger doesn’t even budge. 

“So you don’t know about Khonshu's plan?” His sentence intrigues me, turning a gear in my head. Barry just sits with a cloud of arrogance around, one hand is holding his head and the other is tapping his fingers on the table. I falter and silently ask him to go on. “Take a seat, dear. It’ll take some time.”

“What’s your purpose?” I inquire, carefully placing myself on the opposite chair. 

“To light the path,” he answers smugly, but without waiting for my reply, he carries on. “Have you ever wondered why you can see Khonshu, while for the others he is unreachable? What about your bizarre dream? I can see how these questions are running inside your head right now, looking for the answer. But finding none, right? To make it easier for you, I assure you, it’s not destiny, no other mighty power brought you together. Just Khonshu’s manipulative nature. The old bird won’t tell you anything.” Then Barry takes his phone out of his pocket, showing me a news site.

I slowly examine a one-day-old article, dedicated to the British Museum. ‘Egyptian relic stolen by unknown’ the head says. Having read it, I learnt that an ancient Ankh, which was found in recent excavations, was taken just the day I saw Khonshu for the first time.

I don’t know how to react. It’s like a glass world around me has been smashed by reality the minute I finished reading the article. Khonshe made Steven steal the Ankh. But what role do I play in this fraud? What’s the use of me?

I look at the avatar of Ra, but no words leave my mouth. While I have nothing to say, the man certainly has something on his tongue:

“When you see Khonshu next time, just ask him one simple question: ‘Who am I?’ Because you are not sure about the key to this puzzle, are you?”

“How are you positive I’ll meet him?” Even though I can't know for sure, I muse. 

Suddenly, I get a strange weight in my guts. The atmosphere in the air shifts when Barry gets up from the chair, coming closer, his tall frame looms over me. I notice a strange light dancing in his eyes, but I blame the lamp in the room. 

His face is stone-hard when he utters the following statement: “Well, who else is going to rescue you from the fire?” And hell breaks loose. 

Barry’s hands are ignited in fire, the temperature instant rises around him. I fall from the chair from the proximity and try to claw away from the crazy man, but he throws a ball of fire that nearly hits me, burning a piece of floor. The air burns my lungs, with every passing minute my breath is getting heavier. 

I try to stand up and run away from here, but Barry swiftly catches me and throws at the nearest fall. 

“lₒₒₖ wₕₐₜ ₕₐₛ bₑcₒₘₑ ₒf yₒᵤ, Mₐₐₜ” And then I blank out. 

…

Khonshu’s POV

Khonshu knew he shouldn’t have left her alone, especially after a drunk man attacked them with a knife. Something is going on, and he let it be.

More and more spontaneous assaults are happening around. But it’s not just burglars or other perpetrators, it’s purposeless massacre, from which the attackers gain nothing. We need to find the roots that poison the minds of people. 

Khonshu feels uneasiness in his soul, making him weak in the knees.  His girl is in trouble, in grave trouble. 

The god of the moon and his moon knight immediately go to the sensed danger.

Khonshu rarely feels fear, but the moment he sees his beloved goddess in the body of a mortal lying motionless on the burned flood, the emotion bites his heart, spreading the venom of dread through his body. And at the same time, it makes Khonshu furious: the Enneads made his starbringer this weak and helpless, they made his once a mighty deity that could make the most terrifying creatures shake with fear, a fragile mortal.

The god kneels beside her, gently checking if life is still floating through her veins, and to his relief, he finds it. Khonshu places the girl’s head on his lap, slowly stroking her head, while his right hand is rubbing circles on her forearm. Silently, he awaits her to come back.

He has an idea who it was, and if his assumption turns out to be true, it’s a miracle that the girl still breathes.

…

The 1st POV

In my world of the oblivion, in my sand maze, I’m enjoying the night sky, enjoying the feelings of my lover besides me. His hands are roaming around my body, his touch is filled with love. My head is nested on Khonsh’s lap, the proximity of our bodies gives waves of pleasure.

“Nights change so fast.” I take Khonshu’s hand and kiss it. “Yet, I remember every one we spent together. Every moment. Every sensation.”

I don’t receive a reply as the world around me disappears, and a soft “Maat” rings in my ears.

When my eyes fly open, I realize that I'm still in the flat. The smell of burnt wood makes me cringe. The floor is littered with dark scars of fire, still nothing else is damaged. 

I notice a man adorned in white attire and a tall figure behind him.

“Steven, Khonshu what’s going on.” My brain needs a few seconds to register the events.

“I’m Marc, actually,” the man reveals in an American accent, and for a moment a sign ‘error’ runs into my head. But when Marc’s clothes change into a white three-piece-suit, my mind is blown. “It’s me, Steven.”

“Do I need to know how?” I ask them, looking at Khonshu. Right now, I’m not sure whose head is more twisted.

“Perhaps later,” the English accent replies. 

“How are you feeling,” Khonshu asks, coming beside my bed. But I remember Barry’s words and decide to interrogate the god.

“What were you doing in the museum the other night?” I shoot. 

“Is it important right now?” Khonshu replies, and without using words, he tells Steven with his head to leave us alone.“Do you know who has attacked you?”

Since he hasn't answered my previous question, I strike a new one: "Who am I, Khonshu?" 

Khonshu stiffens, shoulders tense, like he's ready to defend himself, when I jump off the bed. I stand straight, though my size is insignificant in comparison to him. 

"You know something, Khonshu, do you? You have the answer I'm seeking." I won't let him fence with the question. 

"It's for your own good."

"Then go away." With that I turn away from him. My eyes burn from the unshed tears of frustration. I thought there was a strong connection, that he had a key to blocked life. Perhaps I was wrong, or perhaps he just has no intention of using it.

I expect him to leave, since he clearly has no intention to satisfy me with the keys to my quiz. To my surprise, a strong hand falls on my shoulder, the touch sends millions of sparks to travel my body. 

“How about we discuss it in a more pleasant way?” I shiver because of his rich voice being so close to me. “It’s such a breathtaking night for a date, don’t you agree.” A weak sound of agreement leaves my mouth. 

Khonshu’s hand covers my eyes, my breath hitches in anticipation, but when he opens the curtain my sight with an amazing view: my home clothes have altered into a pretty dress. The corset is white, while the long skirt of the outfit is pitch black that is adorned with small shiny stones. The dress fits like a glove. 

When I look at Khonshu, I behold a not so tall god wrapped in a nice-tailored suit. 

“You look stunning, my goddess.” The compliment colours my checks into the red. “The carriage is awaiting us.”

When we go out the building, a white limo is parked at the entrance. Khonshu opens the door for me to sit.

Inside the luxurious car, I notice a man, a driver. When he turns to me, the face that is peering over me is Steven’s or Marc’s. But something tells me he’s not them.

“Jake,” Khonshu, placing himself across from me, dresses the man, “you know the place.” Jake just silently nods, but then looks at me and grins. It’s not Steven’s shy smile, for sure. Not to be impolite, I awkwardly wave at him.

“It’s Jake Lockley,” Khonshu explains, “Marc’s another part. You already know Steven.”

“Are there more?”

“No, that is all components of my package deal.”

…

We arrive at the park, where a small lake, like a mirror, it reflects the night sky on its water. The moon is especially mesmerizing: its lights, as if silk fabric, spread over the still surface of the lake.

“Khonshu, what are you hiding?” I ask the god, whose hand is holding my waist.   

“Nothing that can make you doubt me, sweetheart.” I can feel his gloved hand rubbing the material of my corset. “But one answer I can grant you. I stole nothing in the museum. Neither did Marc. But the Ankh was indeed taken. And we went there to investigate. Your other question is a mystery for me, as it’s for you. Yet, a part of the answer I have, but only once it’s out-and-out I will present it to you.” The god slightly bow down his head.

When I gaze over the deity, I feel a reality melds into a different scene. The surrounding melts, the lake is still here, but the park has faded into the familiar gold desert. A warm feeling reminds about itself with tugging of my heart and sweet pulsation of my blood. I take the thread that is squeezing my soul and slowly but surely pull it.

“Khonshu, I—” But everything shatters when a yelling from a drunk man booms.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “What was that?” I ask Khonshu about the vision. But I don’t get the reply as the god takes my hand, making me look at him. 

“Something has just come out. Marc and I need to deal with it. Wait here till my return.” With that, he disappears, leaving me alone with the night sky. I have nothing else to do but to enjoy the sight. 

I hear light steps are coming to me, turning to the source of the sound I am met with an attractive woman. 

“The moon is gorgeous,” her soft voice rings out like a fine bell. I look wary at her, not sure how to react. “The most beautiful creation I’ve ever seen. So bright, but yet so distant. Even if it takes overcoming the sky to make it mine, it’ll do it without hesitation.” 

I have no time to realize anything, when my body hits the cold surface of the water, absorbing my body and bringing it down.

----------

I want to apologize, it took longer that I expected. The story ends in two or so chapters.

Thank you for the reading, and your feedbacks. Especially @loki-s-wife @coldcola @4rin4 for small comments of the encouragement.

Taglist: @a-hopeless-fan @thepurpleaccount @4rin4

[uwmspeccoll]

Fashion Friday:  Adopt a Pompeiian Dog

For my fashion inspiration this week, I turned to ancient Pompeii, an urban land that succumbed to the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 CE, located on the western coast of Italy, southeast of Naples. The ruins of the city laid buried under ash and earth until 1748 when murals and bodies posed as action figures frozen in time were revealed. While much has been excavatied, today, there are still over 50 acres of land yet to be explored, with growing access to the public as the archeology dig expands.

The allure of Pompeii lies in the catastrophic and immediate deaths of so many who failed to escape, becoming concrete mummies in situ.  Recent discoveries in a nearby villa have shown scholars that life in Pompeii was not to be envied, with slavery paramount and social welfare nonexistent.

In spite of the tough Pompeii society, the urban streets were very multi-cultural where theatre was performed in Greek. Street vendors and food stalls provided Roman urbanites with stews of sheep, snail, and fish. Graffiti was found everywhere. Inside one food stall is the mural of a chained dog, with graffiti scrawled on the mural’s painted frame, blaspheming a snack bar owner.

Carnal proclivities were not uncommon in ancient Pompeii. For instance, an excavated fresco of the Spartan queen Leda hints at the everyday homage to the eroticism of mythology. In this story, Leda is seduced and raped by Zeus in swan-form bearing heirs whose power continued the deity tradition of wickedness.

Fortunately, today's leaders of the Great Pompeii Project are using $137 million of EU funds to reach a vast audience, including Instagram and Twitter followers. Prior to this joint effort, the ruins of Pompeii suffered from environmental overexposure, looting, and Italian red-tape while being nestled in a region of organized crime. In fact, packs of stray Pompeiian dogs are now available for adoption as the archeological site leads modern conservationism efforts by abating tourism blight and corruption traps.

My first fashion plate is titled "Dog Paws Dress," highlighting the round velvet foot-pads of our furry friends. The remaining designs are similarly inspired; can you spot these single inspirations?

Here is a listing of sources from the UWM Special Collections and the New York Times, which I have augmented with digital color and outline to emphasize particular details of my inspiration: 

1, 3, 4, 8). Photographs of ancient Pompeii frescoes and two Roman bodies, published by The New York Times, written by Elisabetta Povoledo, 2018 - 2020. Images 3 an 4 inspired my own designs for the Swan Wrap Dress and the Curly Rooster Dress.

2, 8). My interpretation and contemporary design of the Dog Paws Dress inspired by David Hawcock's pop-up book, The Pompeii Pop-Up, published by Universe Publishing in 2007.

5) Costume illustration of Roman warriors with animal predator as hooded cloak, in Geschichte des Kostums, published by E. Weyhe in 1923.

6) Woodcut prints by the illustrator Kurt Craemer as published in The Last Days of Pompeii by the Limited Editions Club in 1956.

7) Works Projects Administration illustration of Roman warriors as published in the Costumes of the World, 100 Hand Colored Plates from Ancient Egypt to the Gay Nineties in 1940.

9) Jewelry of the Roman civilization with several animal motifs in Alexander Speltz's plate collection, The Coloured Ornament of All Historical Styles, Part I: Antiquity, published by Baumgärtner in 1915.

10) Ornamentation of Roman aesthetic as seen in Giulio Ferrari's Volume 1: Gli Stili Nella Forma e nel Colore, Rassegna dell' arte antica e Moderna di Tutti i Paesi, published by C. Crudo & Co. in 1925.

View my other posts on historical fashion research in Special Collections.

View more Fashion posts.

—Christine Westrich, MFA Graduate Student in Intermedia Arts

[vanaglori-ah]

eternals (a review)

spoilers ahead in case anyone hasn’t seen it!!

disclaimer: this is my opinion so please do not come for me (especially if you’re a cishet yt male marvel fan).

keep in mind: eternals means i’m talking about the movie, eternals means i’m talking about the ensemble

so i finally watched the eternals and i procrastinated in actually writing this review so this is a few days late. but here’s everything i have to say about it.

general impression

i had a lot of fun! eternals was a fun movie! not necessarily a good movie but a fun movie!! idk i enjoyed going “omg jon snow” “omg robb stark” “OMG SALMA HAYEK” every time the respective actor was on screen. it was a fun movie and i think the cinematography was absolutely stunning!! the pacing was...slow. the pacing was BAD guys. i hated the cuts and how they went about the flashbacks. like they were poorly placed within the story. like WHO WROTE THE STORY LIKE THIS IT HURTS MY HEART AS A WRITER!!! eternals also could easily be a 4 hour movie with 3 hours dedicated to the characters ALONE. on a more technical note, the movie is TOO DARK! can’t see shit. the cast of characters was definitely too big for this film to cram within 2 1/2 hours. i wish we got to see what their lives were like before reuniting. like imagine makkari overseeing sites of archeological excavations, gilgamesh’s daily routine in caring for thena (can you imagine him asking her what kind of pie she likes and she doesn’t know so he ends up making multiple for her to try!!), phastos everyday routine, kingo getting up early so he can film (cue montage of him getting ready on set). i also remember a lot of people on my tiktok fyp going crazy over the ships and i expected to see...more and got crumbs. i partially think that’s because of filming restrictions which, in turn, doesn’t let the movie fully flesh everyone out. the only person’s routine we see is sersi and speaking of the ensemble...

ajak

my god my jaw dropped when she died because why? WHY KILL AJAK OFF SO EARLY? it makes me so mad because we don’t REALLY see her connection with the other eternals? we don’t see her fall in love with earth and with humankind. i think they severely underused salma hayek and i would like to see her return at some point because she’s amazing and marvel really missed out.

sersi

listen i love gemma chan but sersi? sersi was boring. i was not interested in her in the slightest. i’ve never read any comics with the eternals in them but sersi is boring. i think her character development is small and a lot more subtle but it’s not interesting to watch. her powers are definitely very interesting and i would like to see her use them more in daily life. like a daily routine with a superhero twist. i’m also curious about her relationship dane. what’s different? what comparisons can we make to her relationship with ikaris? does dane remind her of ikaris sometimes or never at all? how did they meet? how did they start dating? i think they showed sersi’s compassion for humanity well in the flashbacks and her love for humankind. i would imagine her to take part in political movements and yeah i want to see more of her throughout modern history.

ikaris

oh no! a white man! all jokes aside ikaris just fits as an antagonist, as a white man. nothing much i have to say. he doesn’t exactly leave an impression on me other than him being with sersi. he also killed ajak. will not forgive him for it.

sprite

i think we all hate sprite. “ikaris you’re the strongest! ikaris you should lead us!” really gonna turn on sersi like that? who you live with? no surprise she’s a white woman too. sprite’s reasoning for turning on sersi, too, sounds unbelievable. like you want to experience everything humans experience? then how about they show us sprite envying other humans? i guess the scene of sprite at the bar shows us but i just want more. also why even fall in love with ikaris? like what makes ikaris SOOOO special?

makkari

sweet beautiful makkari. i wish to see more of her! her powers are simple and there isn’t much to say about makkari because she’s only a side character. i would watch a whole show of makkari trying to get the emerald tablet and finding different archeological artifacts. and her and druig? please give me more!! that’s all i ask!

druig

i didn’t expect to find druig so attractive but he’s very attractive. and i wish we saw more of him. i am more excited to see him in the potential sequel because he is going to have a bigger role in rescuing sersi and the others. i think his personality fits with his powers, being that he can control the minds of humans and generally doesn’t want to be near them which, i think, makes him an interesting foil to sersi in a way?

gilgamesh

i cried when he died. enough said. this man is so gentle and he cares for thena and i just want what they have honestly because he’s sweet. i felt so sad when his pie fell from the skillet.

phastos

i think phastos is the more human eternal. i think he represents cynicism with stem and scientific development in general. seeing his reaction to america using the atomic bomb on japan was heart wrenching, gut wrenching. and why shouldn’t he be disillusioned by humankind? we’ve committed so many atrocities against one another and all of them have been justified by some bullshit reasoning! i do love him and his husband and family and i would love to learn more about phastos after world war 2, how he met his husband, what kind of college major he was (definitely can see him turning to humanities after world war 2).

thena

i am gay for a reason! i did cry at gilgamesh’s death but what got to me the most was thena’s clear expression of pain. she’s perfectly played as a tortured warrior and i think this contrasts well with a lot of angelina jolie’s characters (since she’s more known to play stoic action heroines with no depth and are victims of the male gaze). she’s given insight in small scenes which is why i would like to see more of her in the future. what i don’t like about thena’s character is just how mahd wy’ry seems to be an afterthought with her. i would like to know how she came to terms with her illness, if there was a way for her to control it without continually wiping away her memories, how gilgamesh helped her managed if possible.

kingo

there’s not much to kingo that i can give insight on since i haven’t dipped my toes into bollywood. but i think he’s funny, he’s fun. a little superficial but that makes a lot of sense considering he’s been bollywood’s leading man for like a century.

conclusion

eternals would’ve been better as a tv show than a movie. about 13 episodes with 10 episodes being more episodic to showcase each eternal (so one episode per eternal) and about 3 episodes dedicated to the plot. the first episode, i would start off with the death of ajak and the eternals reuniting and then the second one starts with sersi, her life with the eternals and, most notably, after they separated. go in whatever eternals order you want (ajak should go after sersi since she is dead) and then at episode 12 you pick back up with the plot (or something) having caught up with all the eternals AND having gotten to know them personally. this is definitely a film not for the standard cishet yt male marvel fanbase. also i’m sorry but WHY EARTH? WHAT MAKES EARTH SO SPECIAL?

final score

6/10

[monstersdownthepath]

Theme Bestiary: Hive Warriors and Workers

CR 5

Neutral Evil Medium Aberration

Horror Adventures, pg. 237

Yep, that’s a Xenomorph if I’ve ever seen one. Paizo went ahead and painted it green, but we know. We all know. I may give it guff, but it’s all in good spirits I assure you; I LOVE the whorling metallic patterns on the Hive creatures. It gives them just as much personality as the Geigeresque organic piping on the Xenomorphs, and the way the designs bend and twist makes it look like they were literally twisted into shape. I mean, check out the corkscrew pattern going down each arm! The juxtaposition of the nigh-robotic armor plating stuck together with organic fibers that look more like they’re being used as glue than musculature! That’s how you know they were designed to be destructive.

Bereft of the need to eat or sleep, Hive Warriors and Workers toil tirelessly to expand their nests and their numbers. You may be wondering why I’m saying “warriors and workers” in a single article, and that’s because the book states there’s two distinct castes with two distinct sets of powers, yet their actual bodies are statistically identical. Warriors have significantly stronger jaws and possess the ability to spray their incredibly destructive acid out as a projectile, while the Workers can secrete and shape a resinous substance the Hive nests are made up of. At the end of this article, I’ll give you my take on that particular quirk since the book doesn’t actually have Worker mechanics!

With that out of the way, why not have a quick look at what else these Xenomimics can do? I mentioned that Warriors have strong jaws and acid spit, and boy howdy do they. Their Acid Spit is their most devastating but most seldom-used weapon, this ranged touch attack dealing 8d8 Acid damage on a successful strike, and dealing the same damage again each round for 1d3 more rounds. This attack is, ironically, mostly used for excavation rather than battle, as Hive Warriors are purely concerned with taking prisoners alive to be used to expand their brood. Their acid is used mainly against creatures that they either have no use for (like Constructs) or against creatures that have proven to be too dangerous to try and take alive (like Barbarians).

Their Rending Mandibles deal damage to the armor of any creature they strike with a critical hit from their bite, their 1d6+4 jaws crunching down on the clothes and shields of anyone they’re attacking. While unlikely to destroy--or deal significant damage to--magical gear, at the level a party is engaging these creatures, they shouldn’t have many of those. As you may expect, being more or less based directly on the famous Alien of Alien, a Hive Warrior (and Worker) has natural weapons and skills that make them terrors to stand up against. They’re able to disassemble nearly any 6 HD or lower encounter with a CCB and a tail slap on top of that, their bite dealing 1d6+4 damage, claws 1d4+4, and tail slap 1d6+2. A Full-Attack from a Hive Warrior HURTS, and it’s their natural weapons and Stealth (+13) in tandem with their Climb speed (20ft) that let them easily get enemies into a position where they’ll HAVE to take the Full-Attack. With Vital Strike at their disposal, they can pull off the ever-faithful Xenomorph Tail-Stab against any creature that hasn’t yet noticed their presence, potentially slicing a sizable chunk of health off anything with a d6 hit dice. If only they had Sneak Attack... which they can, because they’re intelligent enough to take class levels.

As promised, by the way, here’s a potential take on the Hive Worker’s resinous abilities for your own games:

Secrete Resin (Ex): Twice an hour, a Hive Worker can produce enough thick resin as a standard action to fill a 10ft square that it is adjacent to with thick globules and strands. When this resin is first produced it is incredibly sticky, acting as the Web spell with a save DC of 16, except the resin is immune to acid and fire damage, and it does not need to be anchored between two points. This DC is Constitution-based. After 30 minutes, the resin hardens into a substance statistically identical to stone, except it is immune to acid and fire damage. Any creature still entangled by the resin when it hardens become encased in this substance, and the DC to escape it raises by 10.

Shape Resin (Ex): A Hive Worker can secrete a specialized dissolving agent that quickly evaporates at will. This substance briefly softens the hardened resin secreted by a Hive Worker and allows it to be formed into whatever shape the Worker desires, as if it were using Stone Shape. Sculpting resin requires 1, 5, or 10 minutes of work, depending on the complexity of what is being crafted, at the DMs discretion.

You can read more about them here.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Wednesday 11 April 1838

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12

fine morning F58° at 8 20 and went out talking to George Naylor (wheelwright) who came this morning to mend carts, harrows, etc – then talking to John Booth – to brew every 3 weeks 46 gallons from 6 struck of malt – came in at 8 ¼ - A- had William Keighley who asked 3/. a foot for oak wood for gates – and she had also Robert Scholefield – waited for her a few minutes – some little talk – out again at 10 about an hour pulling out dead wood from hazels in the walk – with Robert Mann + 5 at the meer embankment breach making up – then went with Robert to see about walling up between Wellroyde and the Lower brea wood – then by the new road to Sun wood quarry – Mrs. Robinson called after me – promised to take the 2 trees away tomorrow – then sometime at the quarry – the road done – SW. was right as I told Hartley 15/. would have been enough – said I should put the quarry under Mr. Bentley – a minute or 2 at Listerwick pit in returning finding fault with John Manns’ boy for beating Mangnall the gin horse, over the head – came in about 12 ¾ - sat with A- at her luncheon – some talk – mentioned her riding to H-x to see about Holroyde the tailor to make a suit for George – A- could not possibly ride both to Cliff hill and H-x – this led to the subject of her being ill etc. allusion to what she said yesterday and my deep regret that it was so totally out of my power to be of any use to her – to have so uninterestingly used her hardly twice was grievous enough – it was still worse that I could not have the consolation of making some reparation – a little explanation calm and gentle on my part – no wish of mine to make automata nor did I care at all for the colour of the servants coats – green, black or blue – if one colour would make A- more comfortable than another, I should be thankful to choose that – Poor A- who seldom stoops to reason took refuge in her usual silence, and walked off to the north parlour, probably to waste her health and happiness in unnecessary tears! How melancholy! I said in sorrow that as it was so totally out of my power to do her any good, I was of no use – perhaps I was better out of the way than in it – Poor soul! – she sees all thro’ a false medium – she thinks herself ill used! what can I do? – had just written so far at 1 50 heard her in her room and just went to say I had come to ask how she was poor thing her temper had given way and all got right again! all this is tiresome wearying work to me but my mind is made up  I will be the [saster] or be off   she promised to be a good little one and so as I told her  poor thing she is little fit to be left to herself – with A- from 1 50 to 3 – then wrote the last 4 lines and went out at 3 10 took George Naylor to Lower brea and with him there about an hour cutting up the 2 ash trees for the cart to bring home tomorrow – sawing and going and returning took up about not quite 1 ¼ hour – then from about 4 ¼ to 6 ¾ with Robert Mann + 5 at the meer – had Robert + 2 (James Mann and Jack Green) getting down (into the excavation into the hill side in Charles Howarths’ acrefield) the 36 yards band stone from Listerwick pit wheel-race – home about 6 50 dressed – dinner at 7 ¼ - coffee – read last nights’ and tonights’ London papers – tiresome when Mrs. Bagnold sends me 2 together – came upstairs at 10 50 just when I had finished – the newspapers and at which hour F39 ½° - drizzling rain came on about 6pm and as I returned home a heavy shower – high wind all the afternoon – and highish in the morning – finish day till about 6 pm – Kind letter tonight from Lady V.C. dated Auchinbowie stirling 9 April – 3 pages and ends to announce the birth of little Sibbella at 2 pm on the Tuesday 20th ultimo – V- has recovered exceedingly well – very indifferent account of Mr. Cameron – good account of Lady Stuart – ‘lucky in never being without a companion Mrs. Gordon is with her now. I regret that I have not so good an account to give as I could wish of my dearest Donald – he is far from strong – he has no positive complaint but weakness in his back, and numbness in his limbs – they tell him it is an affection of the spine and a slight symptom of pasly – leeches cupping and blisters reduce him sadly – his mother has taken the most violent alarm about him at Leamington, which worries me extremely, and they want us to give up going to the Highlands this year which is also a very great worry and disappointment but it is not settled yet – you  [are] a good doctor dear Miss Lister, will you tell me if your opinion coincides with the Edinburgh people, or can you ask me any questions to throw further light upon the subject – his feet are always cold yet he inclines to flush – the bairns are all well – ever affectionately yours V.C.’ – Poor V-! how strangely blind the poor Donalds’ fearful state – his mothers’ alarm seems but too well grounded – had just written so far now at 11 10 pm – Charles Stuart travelling in Egypt, regretting that his going to Jerusalem is put off for this year –