#I want to focus on characters but my brain says what about infrastructure? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

windienine · 4 months

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YOU. Kicks my legs like we're at a sleepover. Who was the character u were posting about in the tags.. spill..

kicking my legs back, ready to paint your nails at any time soooooo

okay i already dedicated a whole 2k word post to his partner goddess weird animal who bites him sometimes personal jester friend (?) Ysmé, so this time I'm going to spill about Loïc Ard from Soul of Sovereignty (prelude), an hour-long adult fantasy visual novel preview (< link here) that arrived on itch late last year courtesy of webcomic artist GGDG (if you're familiar with Lady of the Shard or CQ, you know their work)

So. This idiot.

look at this character design. the people hunger for men with strong cheekbones and glasses. look at the robes that attach at the fucking fingertips to draw attention to the position of his hands.

He's very soft-spoken and sweet. He knows a lot about the history of his world, as well as the biology of what lives there. He's staggeringly generous to others, even complete strangers. He's good at cooking. He knows how to sing.

He's the viewpoint character for the lion's share of the story atm, we get to look into his brain a little more often than Ysmé's for reasons that Will Become Rapidly Apparent As You Play.

Loïc is a middle-aged guy (late 30s? early 40s?) who works in an unofficial capacity at an inn in bugfuck nowhere (Tarn, a northerly village miles from anywhere else and regularly frozen solid by blizzards, with a population of Not Enough To Maintain Infrastructure), helping to cook, clean, and care for its mostly non-paying clientele, who his friend Alma, the proprietress, is allowing to stay for free. It's become a glorified sickhouse and shelter. No one is paying to stay in Tarn, but Alma can't turn her back on what she considers her hometown and Loïc can't turn his back on Alma (and he's here for other reasons too) so the inn is just kind of slowly decaying as conditions get less and less profitable. This sucks.

Especially because Tarn was built less than a century ago as an adventurers' hub for treasure hunting squads looking to uncover temples and relics right nearby, and the inn used to be full of good people and good food and fire and light and Alma wants all that back so bad it hurts and she refuses to say it's cooked and move back to the big city (in this case, the Mosaic, an ark-like vertical metropolis that housed humanity for hundreds of years after their world's apocalypse. After the outside was deemed safe again a century back, many people wanted to try and make a living documenting and salvaging stuff... but most of it turned out to be decayed, empty, and/or worthless, after so much time had passed.) The Mosaic is bright and lively, but it's a restrictive place to live for a lot of people-- cultures outside the dominant (very fantasy-Catholic) one are suppressed and the focus on making money to survive is exhausting.

But Loïc makes things a little less miserable. He's got a calm and pleasant bearing, he brightens up the place with flowers and greenery he manages to get growing even in this climate (he's a florist), and he's someone to talk to. He's witty, he's thoughtful, and he's almost a little too willing to dedicate all of his time and energy to helping people, and overall he's this mundane nice fella... with one big caveat you learn real early on.

Loïc is a mage, and a really unique sort.

The floristry bit isn't just his job or a characterization quirk, it's the whole basis of his magic. Species of flowers in this world each hold a unique concept-- fire (pallisia), calm (lavender), light (white dawn's eye), mundanity (dandelion), memory (cloud sage), you name it, there's probably some obscure botanical species that represents something in the ballpark of it. A god of language (Fayim) allegedly imbued a meaning into each, and if you can commune and reflect and experiment around hard enough to unravel the concept of one, you can turn that concept into something real.

Think of it like magical linguistics -- [correct flower] + [expressed meaning] = [physical effect], like [correct phonetics] + [contextual meaning] = [language]. You can even chain a couple of them to make a more complex spell, like turning words into compounds, phrases, and sentences, but you do have to understand what it actually means to do so. You're forming a connection to Fayim's power by talking. This burns up the flower, but Loïc's extreme dedication to botany means that he's got a regular supply of the spells he uses most often.

Loïc can hand you a golden pallisia blossom, start waxing poetic about the nature of warmth, and the firelight kept inside will radiate out and keep you comfortable even in Tarn's frigid weather. It's rare and potent stuff, doubly so because worship of Fayim is dwindling-to-nonexistent in the Mosaic, where the only faith and magic most people are familiar with at all are those revering the Builder, the creator deity who erected the Mosaic and saved humanity from the apocalypse in the first place. Everything else? False gods. Loïc himself doesn't worship Fayim or the Builder; he uses Fayimic magic but is pretty disconnected from his own background + faith in general. He's interested in the theology but doesn't use prayers in his invocation if he can help it.

Magic's not foreign to this world (most people in this world know at least a little artisanry, a more logical and physical approach to magic which lets you stitch together bespoke objects out of thin air, used heavily in both art and industry), but flower reading is a rare and dying language. Loïc's cute little flower shop back in the Mosaic was also a spell broker for people in need of small miracles. Given that the Mosaic worships a creator deity, I guess this implies that magic, generally, is something humans tap into extant divinity to borrow.

So, Loïc is holed up in Tarn studying magic and using mending spells (yellow rose) to cure people of minor injuries, but everything goes to hell when a certain sickly blonde washes up at the inn's doorstep begging for help escorting her to a nearby temple please please you gotta, she'll die from turbo tuberculosis otherwise, god (not the builder, some other guy, don't ask who) said so. Oh my gosh, you will? Thank you so muchhhhhh

[paraphrased very hard]

alma: this is definitely a scam of some kind. please just talk her out of this so she doesn't get eaten by mutant wolves.

loïc: oh for sure but you don't try for scam this obvious unless you're really desperate. idk what she even wants here, let me feel her out. i have nothing worth robbing. maybe this is a trauma thing or a money thing and i can talk to her about it.

alma: loïc, that's literally not your problem. loïc there's this weird pattern where you prioritize the hypothetical wants of strangers over your own proven needs. loïc no.

loïc: loïc yes

So, of course, it ends up coming out that Loïc is in Tarn specifically because he is a single father with a daughter named Lelia who is comatose from an unspecified illness. Her prognosis is extremely grim (low chance of survival that dwindles the longer she stays out, probably terminal.)

Specifically, he's on a hopeless little snipe hunt for a rumored species (the glass bell) that could act as a panacea for any illness, if harnessed correctly in a spell, and it might either be extinct or entirely fictitious.

He knows he can't find it alone. If it even exists, it is a needle in an impossibly massive haystack. He is consumed inside-out with a compulsive need to do something about it, and when that proves impossible, it starts spreading into a compulsive need to do something for anyone. The grief of admitting that Lia is already in a prolonged state of death would eat him alive, so if he can transfer that feeling of purpose onto anything else he can buoy himself. He is spinning his wheels because confronting the fact that he has outlived his own daughter and has to go on without her is impossible.

But like... he's dying slowly, too, in this state. Like Lia. Like Tarn. It's only a matter of time before there's nothing left of himself to give, and at the impetus of the story that's basically what he wants. There's nothing left for him.

... Unless...!!

OTHER THINGS:

would give blessings to his daughter every day before she went to school

apparently has a puppy and a kitty back home

loves lavender and sunflowers most

sometimes casts so hard he passes out

including other people and making his casting into a conversation is a quirk he does and that's just super cute

carries pictures of his daughter around in his spellbook maes hughes style

besides his suspiciously alb-and-chasuble looking mage robes, wears an apron and skirt around the house + gg regularly draws him in cute dresses. this is a known victor's weakness.

the in-game glossary has botany notes from him, usually paired with him waxing poetic about each species' meaning. this nerd shit is a known victor's weakness.

you see his general bearing and a lot of people assume he's kind of this easily-flustered anxious disaster type, but he's actually very serene and difficult to get a rise out of. he'll play along with most jokes you try to throw at him. if he does actually freak out at any point, you know something is up.

we don't know what happened between him and his ex, but there are dialogue clues that point to it being weird and messy. he's played very interestingly as far as divorcee characters go (conflict-avoidant rather than desperate for love, wants to be the better person at every opportunity), what with being a man who has primary custody of his kid (and a good relationship with her!) and taking on a position that the audience would probably identify as more motherly than fatherly, in terms of western gender roles. there's this fun contrast where he's very confident in his looks and presentation and bearing (very charismatic guy!!), but a lot of that is traditionally feminine. he's just very genderous.

(all of this tragically forgoes the meat of his special connection to ysmé, but that is the core premise of the prelude and if i got into that here it would really and truly give away the whole plot. i need you to experience her for yourself. (for ten dollar.) if you do not have ten dollar i will stream the game for you and give GG an additional ten dollar. this is a threat.)

(what i WILL say is that if you read lady of the shard, looked at the "sexualized mind control" tw beforehand and went "well now i want to read it more and not less," there is a delicious taste of that here and it once again intersects heavily with themes of control and coercion over the self, skewed power dynamics, and the emotions that arise from them.)

whatever horseshit this confluence of circumstances makes you assume he will pull, i guarantee you it is not the full picture of what actually happens.

#soulsov #brainrot #kayla i love you for asking this xoxoxo #come talk to meeeee

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 months

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may i pick ur brain wrt something? you write such a large variety of characters and i think you have great skill in following through with a character's characterization (lol) to their sexual life. i was wondering what do you choose to focus on or how you approach figuring out a character's sexual style (?) when you write? im pretty new to writing smut (i write in general but i usually just fade to black) and im having trouble translating a character's neurosis into sexual acts, particularly when you move beyond the vanilla missionary etc sex (which im not particularly interested in writing even tho i think it can be emotionally poignant in its own right).

what i have most trouble with is like figuring out if a certain act fits character a or character b in my ensemble, say, and then moving through with that. i've been trying to approach it like fighting styles bc of the character's physicality, but there are certain temperamental and moral tensions informing fighting in particular (as a deliverance of violence, i mean) that make it hard for me to pinpoint how to translate that to sex without it feeling shoehorned. for example (and this is just for reference), i have a character who's like a gunslinger and whose style is very explosive and wild and a little bit cocky, but when u look at it under the microscope, his approach is polished and precise and meticulous. and THEN his internality is of a young man with a lot of anger and stunted growth, who really just wants acceptance and affection deep down, and who is so very tired. now i can translate each of those things and its combinations a hundred thousand ways, but which is correct? or faithful to him? at one point it all seems unfathomable to me. and then bc i can't make up my mind i fear everything i write ends up being too plain, or ill-fitting, and because my cast is large, it also all ends up feeling too same-y. has this ever been an issue for you?

first of all - i want to say thank you for entrusting and believing in my writing abilities enough to want to pick my brain about this. i'm not entirely sure what the appeal of my writing is to other people (not in a negative way but more in that its my own stuff so im always critical of it) but i put forth a lot of thought in characterization and translating that into sex as i am primarily a smut writer so while im not the most confident u should come to me for advice, im deeply flattered and will do my best anyway

i'll be real though, the best advice is genuinely just not to overthink it and go with your gut. have some faith in your own writing voice and ideas etc. but anyway

there are a lot of layers to this question and i'll do my best to go through it bit-by-bit. and i don't know if this will really help you since it might come off vague

if i can offer you any advice on characterizing well in a smut scene, it's to not view the smut as a separate entity to your work but as an integral part of it's infrastructure. do not treat the smut scene as part of the work, but as a pillar of it.

the other thing is understanding what is personally compelling to u or arousing about this characters storyline or personality. and not arousing as in physical lust, but what concepts tickle you and make you want to write.

the truth is there's no objectively correct way to characterize a character especially if they're nuanced and complex. which is why all writing is subjective in a sense.

ultimately, it's your job as the author to choose what characterization you like best and convince the audience it's the correct one.

for example, the character you're describing is multifaceted. there are several ways you can take the direction of the story

their outward persona is being a cocky gunslinger who is inwardly polished, meticulous, sensitive and tired. all of these traits can be expanded upon into sexual acts based on your will as the writer - so you have to ask yourself, what aspect of this character is the most arousing to you as a writer or what is this sex scene intending to display about a character. what trait of theirs are you hoping to highlight through sex?

to translate these things into sex gets really tricky and is honestly something you have to experiment with until you feel it click.

for me - if i were attempting to write this character, the breakdown process would look something like this.

this character has a personality gap of being a cocky gunslinger but is actually polished and meticulous

this means they they are likely concerned with appearances.

something in their past must've brought them to that conclusion. if they are continuing to outwardly project themselves as a reckless gunslinger - it is is likely not their "true" self.

what would make a character with this many defense show their true selves, or what other characters cause this character to demonstrate to their true selves?

the translation process of eroticism can go in a hundred different languages. if i personally were writing this character, i might pair them with an older mentor type of character, or a nonchalant rival. i might put them in a situation that requires a different kind of vulnerability and forces them to expose some of their nature for the sake of their ideals

as an author, im aroused by the idea of them showing their submission and affectionate side. trying to subconsciously appeal to authority figures might be interesting if i'm trying to demonstrate their lack of validation. the opposite can also be true, that a character like this might resent mentor / authority figures that impede their own ideas and trying to highlight their anger. writing this gunslinger lashing out at a fellow gunslinger they respect can easily be turned into erotica.

you could pair this character with a nonchalant rival type. a direct opposite that challenges a characters morals ideological belief or perhaps - understands them through their differences. this rival character pays enough attention to the gunslinger to know that they are polished and special. while they are rivals, there's something legitmate in their dynamic to this sensitive, tired character who puts up a facade and wants to be understood.

your own arousal as an author comes in here and where you have to make choices.

lets say then, i go with the latter. i would then structure the story or chapter around this idea through by demonstrating the push and pull of their relationship. i would subvert this characters personality through the framework of submission and a desire for acceptance. i'd write the erotica about the slow crescendo to sex with their rival who seems to accept them fully. i'd write about their different meetings, choosing small things to represent larger themes. maybe their rival praises their technique or offers them a listening ear. i use those small moments to build up to the intimacy and weave the erotic stuff into the story itself so when the sex comes it feels gratifying and releases tension (lol)

for the actual sex stuff you just have to go with your gut and distinguish things based on what traits you're showing. maybe this characters need for affection and rest makes them a whiny bottom. as a writer, i'd monopolize that. i'd point out their eagerness to please through desperation like kissing or nuzzle, and i'd have their words contradict their actions to display their personality gap etc

for me being structured around erotica means going through that kind of mental process and and building a story framework from the ground up and aiming for a proper sex scene. the erotica process is weaved into the plot mechanisms, the metaphors, the stories ideology. the smut is the point, and every action is central to emphasizing what is going to end up happening. my better examples of this lately are probably uncle sukuna rip

ive been writing smut for long enough now that i do not struggle with it and it's easy for me to come up with a unique character voice and do all the above sort of automatically in my mind. and i know it can feel intimidating.

the best advice i can give you though again is don't overthink it which ik seems contradictory to all of the above advice. but sometimes you just have to let yourself go with the flow and believe in your own abilities. trust your gut and just shoot straight ahead.

i hope this was bale to help u some!!

#return to sender #writing advice #im so sorry if this is incomprehensible i literally cannot keep my eyes open at all right now btu i wanted to answer this before i forgot #if u have more questions pls do ask me when im not fighting the pull of sleep so fucking hard #im sure the typos r so bad.. lord

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4noki-vns · 1 year

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Consummation Proof of Concept: Fun Facts

Interested in getting these posts in your email inbox when they come out? Consider subscribing to my newsletter here!

Time is nothing but an illusion… in many ways.

If you haven’t read the demo for Consummation ~wind above the dragon sea~ yet, then I recommend checking it out first! It’s a short hour long read introducing you to a much longer yuri chuunige that I’d like to make in the future.

Download @ https://4noki.itch.io/consummation-prototype

my childhood dreams

You may have seen me say that Consummation is a story that I’ve wanted to create for a very long time. How long; how long is very long?

To answer to that question: almost ten years.

I can’t quite remember when exactly this story entered my brain and decided not to leave, but I can vividly remember drawing the characters on notebook paper during my high school freshman year Biology class. (Consummation, by the same name, was probably conceptualized that year.)

The Four Gods, four territories.

A freelancer called Suzukaze, beloved by the wind.

An info broker called Qin, wearing a qipao.

And a beloved “Senpai” by the name of Kagura.

Those are the key factors that existed back then and still exist to this day.

Of course, since high school, lots of things have changed as Consummation sat around in the ideas document waiting for the light of day, being dusted off now and then in different forms.

For example:

The protagonist switched to Qin from Suzukaze for a period! (Although we’re back to my wind-blessed freelancer daughter)

Senpai (Kagura) was explicitly dead in most early iterations of the story, making it a revenge plot

Characters like Belka and Juhyeon were only created within the last two iterations of Consummation

I’m looking forward to seeing how Consummation evolves from now on, still so much the same yet so much changing.

But for now, I’m happy to ramble a bit about the parts that were exposed in the prototype demo!

Q. world building?

First, let’s talk about the world building. Consummation is set in an unspecified era after the world as we know it was destroyed by a calamity that left the majority of the world uninhabitable and dangerous to return to.

We can consider the genre to be modern fantasy, the setting post-apocalyptic.

The plot takes place on an artificial island built in the Sea of Japan, a smattering of cities built upon the artificial land and manufacturing/infrastructure set below the earth in order to sustain an island that has no external trade. The level of technology is similar to ours but possibly slightly more advanced, even as the end of the world would have destroyed a lot of progress.

Whether or not there is any life beyond the island is unknown to the people living on the island; the belief is that they are the last humans on the face of the earth.

The island, which is usually referred to as just the island, is split into four territories in the four cardinal directions, each territory ruled by a group from each of the countries that helped create the island.

Fun fact: It used to be called the “Scrapyard.”

Should we call this a confederacy of dictatorships? Certainly, it wouldn’t exactly be false. (The island is not a democracy.)

For someone like our protagonist Suzukaze, the specifics of government and politics are beyond the scope of her focus, but you’ll see how the characters live on the island regardless.

Q. What are the four territories?

In story, the countries that built up the island are Japan, Korea (unspecified), China, and Russia. As such, the territories are split between their groups and mostly run along their ethnic lines although movement between territories is not difficult.

There also exists a neutral city-territory, governed jointly by the four groups ruling over the territories, called Central, the location of the main story.

Fun fact: While the Chinese territory and Japanese territory existed in the earliest iterations of Consummation, the other two territories were initially different groups (Italian and MENA).

However, taking into consideration the focus on East Asian mythology and the location of the island, I decided to go with countries from within the geographical region around the Sea of Japan that would be reasonably involved in the joint development of such an island.

(Maybe my Italian and MENA girls are somewhere out there in their own version of an island…)

Q. Who are the ruling groups of the four territories?

However, despite speaking in broad strokes of countries above, it quickly becomes clear that the ruling groups of the four territories are not quite the former state governments but rather families with the blessings of the Four Gods (the cardinal beasts, however you would like to call them).

The ruling groups can be considered powerful families that existed in their respective countries before the end of the world. They were able to gain positions overseeing the island before the collapse and then consolidated power as the de facto government after the collapse.

In earlier iterations of Consummation, the story was also more focused on gangs and gang warfare (a mafia story?). However, for the sake of certain plot points, the four groups turned from their initial characterization as string-pullers influencing a weak government to the government themselves.

This is what we call the monopoly of legal violence.

Q. Cults?

Yes.

Q. language?

Given the four countries that led to the four territories, it would make sense that multiple languages should be spoken on the island.

At the very least, Russian, Japanese, Chinese (Mandarin), and Korean are spoken on the island. For the time being, I won’t specify if there’s a common language used for cross group communication or if everyone can just magically understand each other like Tekken characters. (o´▽`o)

Q. Senpai?

But you might notice that a very important character is referred to as “Senpai.”

Given the differences in types of relationships that exist across cultures (e.g,, there are so many ways to refer to various relatives in Chinese), I was unable to find a good word to describe the relationship between Suzukaze and Kagura aside from “Senpai.”

Perhaps if they were in school, then I’d call it something like “upperclassman” or “senior sister” (haha, no way), but it’s something that I can only describe as “Senpai.”

As such, you may see terms like “Senpai” used throughout the story for character relationships that are difficult to describe in English.

Q. What about honorifics?

However, I will refrain from using honorifics throughout the story. It would quickly become confusing with so many in-story languages, and my familiarity with Korean and Russian is relatively poor.

The lack of honorifics may be considered a loss of information, but as the story is originally written in English anyhow, I imagine that shouldn’t be a huge problem. Overall, I’d like to be consistent within the story.

Thus, no honorifics here!

Maybe next time.

misc

Q. Who are the heroines/love interests?

Given that Consummation is a yuri game, I figure that I should specify who the love interests are before I close off this ramble.

They are Qin, Kagura, Juhyeon!

My daughter Juhyeon will get revenge for her flirting being ignored…

(There is a minor chance of Belka having a route as well, but currently no plans are in place for a Belka route.)

I hope I’ll be able to elevate Consummation to active project status soon. There is currently no timeline for that change, and I have at least one project queued up before Consummation.

So, for now, stay yuri!

shino

#yuri #worldbuilding #vndev #indiedev #indie game development #visual novel development #devlog #newsletter #interactive fiction #fun facts #wlw #gxg #yuri game #yuri vn #consummation vn

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momtaku · 2 years

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Hi mom,I don't believe anyone among the scout would support the rumbling(I wouldn't have thought that of even Eren back then till I saw that was the direction yams wanted his story to take). My problem with Hange's action is the fact that she never even thought of making moves to protect Paradis and just focused on stopping Eren without thinking about anything else(similar to what King Fritz did then with Eldians).Erwin would stop Eren no doubt,but he would have made more logical decisions

I hear your frustration, but I'm going to have to defend Hange by saying that it wasn't their job to babysit Eren, or even to save the world. Hange's focus during the four years seems to have been on development of the weaponry and infrastructure of the Island, which they were wildly successful at. Narratively, I'd say the story points fingers more at Armin and Mikasa for not seeing what was happening with Eren, and at Armin for not having ideas. With Hange, the blame was about not seeing the Jaegerists movement growing in their ranks.

A way to protect the island was really on the shoulders of Zackly and Historia, with advisement from the top levels of the military (Nile, Pixis and Hange). We only saw a little of the behind-the-scenes with that, and of course the SC reconnaissance mission to Marley.

It's been an unfortunate pattern for Isayama to sacrifice his characters for the sake of the plot. Not allowing anyone to come up with a reasonable plan for diplomacy is just one example of that. It's ridiculous that after four years of knowing a problem exists, the smart people of Paradis were all still just shrugging their shoulders, but Isayama needed that collective shrug to make Eren's genocide seem like a reasonable reaction for him.

Killing Erwin and intellectually kneecapping the Hange, Armin and really anyone with half a brain in the final part of the story is something I have to roll my eyes at. The plot needed the situation to be bleak and desperate and black and white when it never actually was.

Thanks for the ask!

#chatting with friends #hange zoe

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flame-shadow · 3 years

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Thoughts on areas like the Soul Sanctum, Deepnest, or the Mantis's area?

(My brain doesn't wish to cooperate with the name)

you’re going to get all three because two of those areas are faves of mine and the last one has one of my fave boss fights :3c

[i don’t have the wiki pulled up or anything so obligatory disclaimer that i might misremember some things. also, im gonna throw all of this under the cut because this is going to be more of a stream of consciousness than an actually coherent thing]

SOUL SANCTUM

let’s just get this out of the way first - love love love love love the music holy shit. it’s not something i’d listen to when i want to chill out, but oooohhhhh those organs. and when the whispers are in there too?? and “Mage Under Glass” with the laughter??? yesss

Anyway. In general, I’m a sucker for unethical laboratories in stories and games. There’s so much potential for fucked up and creative ideas within canon and in the fan characters/interpretations (I’m looking at you, Fraught. i love you, you fucked up spider <3).

How do you get soul? you harvest it. and you get on the king’s bad side in the process of course. and the watcher’s too, im sure. lurien’s like, ‘hey wtf those bugs are citizens under my watch. stop it’ and ‘well fuck you, im gonna point my telescope right into your office window, you soul bastard. i can read all the notes on your fucked up experiments now. whatcha gonna do now?’

How unethical were the experiments before the radiance’s insidious presence became a factor? Even if the Sanctum started as a safe place of learning, I think it wouldn’t have taken long for at least some of the bugs to start doing questionable things. Not everyone needs a moth to nudge them to cross the ethics line. But when the soul master changed course, set the scholars to study immortality, what did they focus on? improving the body so it won’t slow and cease its function as time passes? prolonging the stability of the mind so age doesn’t corrupt memories or cognition? focusing on a bug’s own soul to do something that way? any combination of this could fuck up the stability of the mind and/or body of the subjects. That’s where we get the mistakes/follies, right? too much soul for some that cause melting pretty quickly. for others that don’t have a negative reaction right away, maybe a dependency on soul is built up and must be maintained to stave off negative effects of withdrawal, then of course there’s a shortage. you can’t harvest bodies forever. maybe the souls of the infected bugs aren’t viable, maybe the infection taints them, spreads the infection to whatever bug absorbs it. there are options here.

There’s also the soul warriors. They have dream dialogue where they say something about not remembering how they have these moves or how to fight or something like that, right? so what if those bugs had souls of trained fighters like city sentries implanted in them? they suddenly have new instincts for situations that they themselves didn’t experience or train for. i kinda get neuromod vibes from this concept (from the game Prey).

Also, the parallels between the soul master and the pale king are neat. they both have corpse pits. they both think they’re hot shit (and to be fair, they are both powerful even if they’re in different leagues). the radiance directly fucks with both of them. neither of them admit defeat in their final dream nail dialogue. (iirc, arty-cakes has made a similar observation about the parallels, but i noticed this long before they made their post. still, it’s a good observation)

uhhh okay i’ll stop there for the Sanctum

DEEPNEST

...skitter skitter skitter skitter...

i feel so sorry for anyone who has arachnophobia and couldn’t enjoy the game because of this area. that sucks. this is one of my fave areas specifically because of the skitters and clicks and snaps and wibbly music/sound effects that occasionally made my skin crawl.

im a fan of spiders and centipedes, and deepnest delivered!

i have a lot of headcanon stuff for deepnest society and beasts that has little to do with the game or established lore, so i’ll leave that for another time. But for more game-related stuff, let’s see...

i think nosks and corpse creepers and grub mimics, if not different life stages of the same species, are at least related. like how wild cats and cheetahs and panthers are related but not the same. nosks have the most developed shape shifting capabilities, and they have a sort of pocket dimension that they can fold their body into so they can fit into smaller disguises (how else do you explain how large the infected nosk actually is compared to the much smaller knight that it ran around as to lure the player in? magical dimension powers is what i’ve decided)

the weaver’s den showed much more development of architecture. more metal and arches and stuff. i can’t recall to what extent the basic shapes and materials reflect parts of hallownest, but i think that place was a more recent development compared to the rest of the Beasts’ infrastructure.

PK reeeaaallllyyyyy wanted to get a tram all the way across deepnest, didn’t he? we get one tram to the eastern edge which conveniently takes riders to the ancient basin below where most of hallownest’s citizens are. but then the failed tramway that heads for the distant village. could it have been one of the lesser conditions of herrah’s and pk’s agreement? but herrah would be asleep so she wouldn’t need the tram to visit the palace or have hornet visit her. but why else would a tram be intended to cross to there? idk that one doesn’t make much sense to me. maybe i’m forgetting a detail, but whatever.

deepnest is a horrible maze that i will continue to get lost in.

[bonus - okay i’ll share this: one of the made-up swears i use for my beast character is “writhing mass” in reference to the skittering, scuttling pit of writhing things found as an area hazard in lieu of acid. like “bloody hell” or something haha. also it’s just fun to say.]

MANTIS VILLAGE

Alas, i don’t spend a whole lot of time in this area. I think the mantids are cool and honorable, and i apologize for my weaverlings attacking friendly mantids, but sometimes a little deepnest should be allowed to cause mayhem in the mantis village, okay?

mantis lords/sisters of battle are great boss fights. the choreography and smoothness and reflexes and aaaahhhh yeah

i seriously wonder what’s up with all the giant spikes though. like. not even deepnest has giga-spikes like that. ......actually. i wonder if those spikes are there in case the beasts overrun the village. they’d certainly be painful obstacles to beasts trying to climb out of the village and into the fungal wastes.

I think it would’ve been cool if there had been some bit of dialogue or a lore tablet that hinted at the mantis traitors. i know there’s the broken throne, but i didn’t notice that; it was pointed out to me after i’d already played once or twice through the game. don’t get me wrong- it’s a cool little thing to look back on and be like ‘i see what you did there’. environmental storytelling or whatever. but i’d like a little more anyway.

i wonder how the fungal folk feel about the mantids. i imagine they occupy their own sections of the fungal wastes and just mutually don’t bother each other. i wonder how diplomacy would work between a mantis of individual mind and a mushroom of shared consciousness? they make a nice contrast in a sharp and cutting/soft and bludgeoning way as well as a swift and silent/energetic and noisy way with how they attack and stuff.

okay that’s it. thanks for asking! if you read all of that, have a cookie

#alskdflasf maybe this is why i shouldn't make posts with takes #i just ramble instead of having cohesive ideas #still! this was fun to ramble about!#thanks for sending the ask!#rambling #flame answers #even though i feel like i asked a lot of my own questions too haha #alistairillustrates #the pale king #the radiance #soul sanctum #soul master

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juliandev0rak · 4 years

Text

Earl Grey

She makes him tea, he lends her his coat, and it’s all a bit too domestic for Beatrice to handle.

Beatrice is forced to confront the truth, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of earl grey tea.

a continuation of the Vianan series because I couldn’t help myself 🦉🐰

characters: Beatrice Viano my apprentice, Lysander Lonan, and Leila Lonan (@leila-of-ravens’ ocs)

pairing: Beatrice Viano x Lysander Lonan / Vianan

words: 2094

warnings: more nerds pining

read about their first meeting written by the lovely @leila-of-ravens

and part 2 here

Beatrice wakes up in a haze, noticing that it’s much brighter outside than it usually is when she wakes up. The clock on her bedside table tells her that it's nearly 11:30, and she’s very late to the library. She hadn’t meant to oversleep, but it had taken her hours to get to sleep last night, her thoughts plagued by a dark haired man with chalk on his face.

On her way to the library she stops by the kitchen, deciding that working on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea. She asks Hestion the cook if there are any leftovers from breakfast and is handed an entire tray of pastries, somehow still warm despite the late hour. On her way out she eyes an empty teapot and decides to ask for tea as well, her brain reminding her that a certain research partner is fond of earl grey.

She manages not to drop anything on the walk to the library but has to knock on the door to be let in because her hands are too full. A few seconds pass and the door opens a crack. Lysander’s face appears in the crack and he opens the door further when he realizes it’s just her.

“Good morning, Beatrice.” He says, his face pulling into the tiniest smile. Beatrice is quiet for a minute, taking in the familiar face she’d been trying not to think about all night. Finally she clears her throat and steps into the door he’s holding open.

“Good morning, Lysander. I’m sorry I’m late, but I brought tea!” She says, managing an only slightly altered tone of voice as she brushes past him. He shuts the door and they walk to the work table together where Beatrice sets down the tray of pastries and tea.

“I was wondering where you were, you’re usually very punctual.” Lysander says, taking his usual seat across from her.

“Yes, I overslept.” She explains, grabbing a tea cup for something to do with her hands. “Would you like some tea?”

“I can make it.” He reaches to grab the cup from her but she shakes her head, causing his hand to falter in mid air.

“It’s no trouble, I’ll pour.” She doesn’t know where the urge came from, but she’s determined to make this cup of tea for him. It’s the least she can do for being two hours late to their planning meeting. He watches her silently as she pours the tea and carefully adds a splash of milk. She hopes he doesn’t notice the way her hands shake slightly as she hands the cup to him

“Thank you.” He says, accepting the cup. He takes a curious sip and finds it perfect, just how he would have made it.

“You’re welcome. Have you found anything interesting yet this morning?” Beatrice asks, reaching for a croissant from the tray.

“Yes, actually. I was just reading about attempts to start a school in Vesuvia nearly two hundred years ago.” Lysander replies, his voice rising in volume as it always does when he’s about to explain something.

“Really? I wonder why they were never successful? There’s been plenty of interest in a school, I can’t imagine it’s only a recent development.” Beatrice ponders, now busy preparing her own cup of tea. She plops in three sugar cubes and a large splash of milk, turning her tea the color of parchment.

“Do you always take your tea with so much sugar?” Lysander asks, his eyes trained to her as she takes a sip and then adds yet another sugar cube. She deems it good enough and takes another sip before answering.

“Yes, I like things to be quite sweet.” She explains. “It’s a bad habit, perhaps, but I can’t stand bitter drinks.”

“You must dislike coffee then.” He says, perhaps not even aware that he’s smiling at her more widely than he usually does. “Somehow I suppose I should have known you would like overly sweet drinks.”

“Hey, it’s not overly sweet, just sweet enough.” She laughs, taking in his expression with a matching grin. “I think maybe I need sweet drinks in order to be sweet.”

“I think you do that on your own.” Lysander takes a sip of his own tea, his facial expression and tone of voice betray nothing of his emotions. He seems wholly unaware of his offhand comment’s effect on Beatrice whose face has turned bright pink in response.

“So uh.” Beatrice stutters, not sure what to say now. Lysander seems completely unabashed as he continues to sip his tea. “What else did you find in that book?”

“Oh yes, it detailed the first Count of Vesuvia’s attempts to start a school, but it seems there were always more pressing matters. Vesuvia was busy at war for many years, and there wasn’t much time to think about infrastructure such as public education.” He explains. “Or a proper sewage disposal system.”

“Hey! Don’t insult Vesuvia just because Umbra is the pinnacle of modernity.” Beatrice teases.

“You’d be surprised how far Umbra is from modern.” Lysander says quietly, and although his tone hasn’t changed, Beatrice can sense that it's a sensitive topic and decides to drop it.

“Well, I suppose I’d better get to work then, we wouldn’t want people to think that Vesuvia’s headteacher is slacking off.” She smiles, reaching for the stack of books she’d been going through the night before. The two of them lapse into their usual routine of silent, focused research.

“We should finalize a list of subjects so we can assign teachers.” Lysander says after an hour or so has passed. Beatrice looks up, slightly startled by the break in silence and nods. He walks over to the chalkboard in the corner and Beatrice stands to join him.

“We’ve already decided on reading, writing, literature, and history.” Beatrice says and Lysander nods and writes them on the board. His handwriting is neat and somehow very like him and she can’t help but remark “You have very lovely handwriting.”

He turns to look at her but doesn’t reply, just half smiles and turns to continue the list. She chides herself for always making things awkward with her weird compliments, but she can’t seem to help the words from bubbling out of her. They finish their list and soon enough return to their respective book piles.

She finds it difficult to focus, however, because the library is cold. Beatrice reaches to put her hands in her cloak, only to find she isn’t wearing it, she’d been in such a rush to get to the library that she’d forgotten it. She suppresses a shiver and tries to cast a warming charm on her thin blouse and trousers. It does the trick for a few minutes but she’s quickly shivering again and decides she should probably just run back to her room to get her cloak. Just as she’s considering standing up she looks up to see Lysander watching her intently.

“Are you cold?” He asks.

“Oh, I- uh, yes a little.” Beatrice replies, crossing her arms to keep a bit more body heat in. “I forgot my cloak, I think I’ll head back to get it.”

“No need, you can wear my coat. I’m not cold.” Lysander says, already shrugging out of the sleeves. She watches in surprise as he hands the dark fabric coat over.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get cold, it’s not a far walk to my room.” She protests, face already turning an embarrassing shade of pink again.

“I’m not cold, honestly.” Lysander insists, still holding the coat out. “It’s more efficient than going to get your cloak.”

“Well alright, if you’re sure.” She says, grabbing the coat from him. “If you need it back let me know.”

He simply nods and turns back to his book. Beatrice gives him a smile that he can’t see and pulls the coat on, trying not to notice how it smells like him, earl grey and fresh parchment. The coat sleeves are a bit too long for her and she rolls them up, trying to focus on her book rather than her swirling thoughts.

A few hours later she remembers that she’d agreed to visit Leila today, and it's already getting late.

“Lysander, shall we take a break to see Leila? We said we’d visit her at the shop today.” Beatrice says, shutting the heavy history book she’s been reading.

“Oh yes, I’d almost forgotten. We’d better leave now before she’s left waiting too long.” Lysander’s voice is laced with affection like it always is when he talks about his younger sister.

“Oh, here let me give you your coat back.” Beatrice stands up, pulling the coat off.

“You’ll be too cold outside.” Lysander says,“You can just give it back to me later.”

“Oh, alright, if you’re sure then, thank you!” Beatrice smiles, trying not to stammer through her words. She usually prides herself on being quite eloquent, but of course it goes away around the one person she’d most like to be eloquent around.

They leave the library and hail a carriage to the shop. Beatrice would’ve normally preferred to walk but she remembers that Lysander isn’t fond of crowds and decides not to suggest it. When they arrive Leila is already standing outside waving at them.

“I was wondering when you two would show up.” Leila smiles, pulling first Lysander then Beatrice into a hug. After the greetings have been exchanged she guides them inside and to the corner booth Beatrice always sits in when she visits her friend.

“Lysander, why don’t you look over the menu while I show Beatrice something.” Leila suggests, pulling Beatrice up from her seat. Beatrice looks at her in question but Leila just gives her a knowing look and turns back to look at her brother

“We both already know I’ll order earl grey.” Lysander says, sounding slightly confused.

“Yes, well, check over the menu for grammar errors then.” Leila replies. He looks at her blankly but decides to humor her, dutifully picking up a menu. “Come along then, Beatrice.”

“Will Lysander be ok alone? I feel bad leaving him, what did you need to show me that you couldn't show him?” Beatrice questions once they’re out of earshot.

“He’ll be fine, the shop’s nearly empty.” Leila smiles, continuing to pull her friend into the back of the shop where nobody can hear them. “And I just needed an excuse to talk to you alone, Beatrice.”

“About what?” Beatrice asked, still confused as to why she's been towed away. She fiddles with the sleeves of Lysander’s coat and the always observant Leila immediately notices.

“Is that Lysander’s coat?” She laughs. “Oh Beatrice, you’re in deep.”

“What? He lent me his coat because I was cold, there’s nothing to it.” Beatrice says defensively, burrowing her hands into the coat’s pockets. She finds a piece of chalk and pulls it out to look at it, a smile growing on her face before she can contain it.

“See, this is what I’m talking about. You like him!” Leila grins, pointing a finger at Beatrice’s face.

“What? Who?” Beatrice sputters in confusion.

“Now you sound like Brigit.” Leila jokes. “Who else, silly? Lysander!”

“I do not like Lysander!” She argues, “I mean of course I like him, just not in.. that way.”

“Oh come on, Beatrice, don’t make me get Lysander to use his veritomancy on you. You like him, admit it!” Leila pokes another finger at her in the air and Beatrice sighs, she knows she’s been beaten.

“Well... maybe a little.” She concedes. It’s probably about time she admits that fact to herself, though she wishes she didn’t have to.

“I knew it!” Leila says happily, almost in a screech.

“You knew what?” A voice says behind them. Both girls whirl around to see Lysander standing there, still holding a menu.

“Lyse I thought I told you to wait at the table!” Leila frowns, but there’s an undercurrent of affection in her tone that matches Lysander’s.

“I could still see you from the booth,” He laughs, and it’s a sound Beatrice really hopes she’ll get to hear more of, “Can I order my tea yet?”

“Oh fine, one earl grey coming up, sir.” Leila says in faux exasperation, her smile giving away her real feelings, “Anything for you, Beatrice?”

“I’ll have what he’s having.” She replies, looking up to find that Lysander is once again staring back at her.

“Yeah.” Leila says, still grinning smugly. “I bet you will.”

#vianan shall rise #i'm too invested in these nerds #vianan #beatrice x lysander #beatrice viano x lysander lonan #apprentice beatrice #lysander lonan #leila lonan #the arcana fan apprentice

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simplifyingforces · 7 years

Text

Prepare to Interface [AO3 link]

Rating: Explicit Fandom: Red vs. Blue Characters: Dexter Grif, Dick Simmons Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons

The Temple of Procreation has an algorithm. Simmons doesn’t understand it.

Simmons' HUD vitals flashed ominously at the edge of his vision as he stumbled down the hallway toward the base's storage wing. It wasn't supposed to end this way. Years of waiting, hoping, wishing -- all undone by something as monumentally stupid as this.

He stopped for a second to catch his breath, slamming his hands against the wall. If he could just make it to those sweet, solitary, air conditioned storage units, everything would be fine. Perfectly, forgettably fine. Like he wasn't about to lose his virginity courtesy of an alien-made, planet-wide aphrodisiac fine.

God, he hated Blue Team sometimes. Stupid Tucker and his stupid alien sword, casually activating temples without even entertaining the possibility of something so minor as actual, real life consequences.

Statistically, the number of pregnancies alone would put the planet under a level of strain so severe that it could cripple the entire infrastructure before they even had a chance to rebuild. He'd said that at least twice, along with a lot of other good, solid reasons backed up by peer-reviewed empirical data. He just couldn't remember them all at the moment.

"Never thought I'd see someone so set against losing their virginity," Simmons whispered to himself mockingly. That had been Tucker's only response to his perfectly sensible objections. Like it was all personal for him.

Like anyone wanted their first time to be someone coerced into wanting them.

And there it was. The other main reason for his concern, otherwise known as consent and immediate impact on individual, familial, and communal dynamics! Just because it sounded like the subtitle to a scientific study didn't make it any less true.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t open to the potential merits of the temple. He’d conceded that Chorus might benefit from a jump start to the reconciliation process, and it made some kind of weird sense on a macro level to give everyone 24 hours of ”ravenous sexual frenzy” as a means to accomplish it. He supposed.

But his own micro level life didn't need that bullshit.

Forget what Santa had said about sensitivity to the intricacies of consent as plotted into the temple's algorithm, too; if someone had been interested, they would have spoken up by now, what with him being a war hero and all. Tucker had made that perfectly clear. Tucker had also been much more of an asshole than usual lately.

Simmons absently rubbed at his collarbone. Even with the slightest pressure from the armor bearing down on it, he imagined the stitches pulling against his skin and drew his hand away. They'd been so lucky, again. Again and again, and hopefully they would no longer need to be. Church wouldn’t need to, at least.

He violently pulled his thoughts away from the Staff of Charon and started back down the hall. The heart rate monitor in his HUD placed him at 142 BPM and rising. What would happen if he didn't fuck? Santa hadn't even talked about that. He could already see the headline: War Hero Dies, Determined to Remain a Virgin.

Grif would love it at least; assuming Grif wasn't also dead from a decided lack of temple-induced fucking. He hadn't even been there to know that there was temple-induced fucking to worry about. Grif had shown zero interest in showing up at the temple today -- or for any other mission lately, for that matter. Maybe if he had been there, they wouldn't be in the position they were currently in. Grif could have-- could have-- well, probably not done anything at all, if Simmons was being perfectly honest, but at least he'd have been aware. At least he wouldn't be on his own, wondering what was happening to him right now and why.

And how would Grif be taking all this, exactly? His physical fitness had always been notably well below par. The effects of the temple already felt like the slow grip of imminent death to Simmons and he was at least ten times healthier.

It was also impossible to forget just how much Grif had completely disregarded his own safety on the Staff of Charon. His chest had absorbed countless hits of enemy fire, just because he’d insisted on taking point with the Grif Shot halfway through. The exact sound of Grif’s small grunts of pain had played in surround sound via comm as Simmons bled out through his armor. It wasn’t until the end -- Tucker surrounded by dead and dying and the room suddenly horribly quiet -- that Grif had stepped down, armor burned black and smoking.

He didn't need to contact Grif. Grif was probably absolutely fine. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Usually. At least forty percent of the time. When they weren't in a crisis situation.

It wouldn’t hurt to check on him. Just a casual hello, maybe a little update on the temple.

Simmons switched over to their private channel and signaled in. Grif almost always picked up there.

No answer.

He swallowed drily and started walking faster. What if Grif was with someone? What if he wasn't and was already dead? What would Sarge say if sex (or lack thereof) literally killed half of the Glorious Red Team?

Anxiety roiled in his gut, and he groaned in irritation. Ugh, he couldn't think about Grif right now! It wasn't like he could do anything for him anyway.

The storage wing doors came up on his left and he keyed in the entry code. A couple of lieutenants ran past him as he went through the doorway, completely oblivious to his presence as they giggled and tripped over one another on the way out. His eyes followed them as they passed, face warm and heartbeat racing as he took in their roaming hands. Jealousy was stupid. Who would he even want to fuck on this planet, anyway?

He closed his eyes as a deep shudder ran through his entire body. Fucking someone, anyone, right now sounded incredible. He was actually amazed at how good it sounded. He'd put a lot of effort into not thinking about sex for so long, circumstances being what they were.

Did it matter if he thought about one person over another? Say, Tucker versus Donut, or Carolina versus Kimball?

As if on cue, images started flowing in. Very graphically.

He slapped a hand against his helmet hard enough to sting.

Focus, Simmons. Keep moving.

Around the next corner, he finally spotted the individual unit doors and let out a sigh of relief. One of them had to be available.

He yanked on the handle of the first one and let out an angry noise when it didn't budge. It wasn't like he wanted to fuck all over the canned vegetables! He just needed space and time alone, where he didn't have to worry about running into anyone and embarrassing himself for the rest of his military career. The thought of actually seeing Carolina, Kimball, Tucker, or Donut right now made him want to throw himself off a cliff.

"Let me in, come on, one of you, any of you," he demanded as he went down the line, pulling at each handle. Locked, locked, motherfucking locked. Sweat was starting to form on his brow. Heart rate at 155. He was steadily ignoring anything below his waist.

Focus.

His eyes finally lit on a door wedged open with a broom handle in the far right corner. "Thank you, god," he whispered as he bolted in, kicked the broom away, and let the door swing shut, darkening the unit almost completely. He unclasped his helmet and let it fall to the floor as he leaned back against the wall. Cool air blasted from the ceiling vent onto his sweaty hair, pushing it downward.

If Simmons had been himself, he would have checked his surroundings on entry. As it turned out, intense manufactured arousal made it incredibly difficult to focus on anything other than...well, being aroused.

And in that time, someone else in the unit had noticed him.

"Simmons?" that someone else called out from behind a wall of opened, empty cans of food. "I think there's something wrong with me." The voice paused. "Like, really, really wrong, dude."

Simmons' eyes shot open in panic.

"What the -- Grif?!"

Most of the people Simmons had met over the course of his enlistment held the same ideas about the existence of a higher power. Sim troopers, freelancers, and the people of Chorus had no reason to believe some omnipotent being looked after them from behind the scenes. Not with everything they'd been through.

Simmons had never been in that camp. No, he was confident that God existed -- in fact, God had always had it out for him specifically. He'd known that since his fifth birthday, when his dad made him cry in front of his entire kindergarten class for getting last place in Pin the Tail on the Donkey.

Moments like this just continued to confirm it for him.

"Why are you in here?!" He pushed off the wall and gestured angrily at Grif's canned food wall. Grif was just on the other side of it. Close enough to touch, if he just took a few steps forward. Not that he wanted to or anything.

"I've been coming here for weeks, dumbass! Why are you in here?!" Grif responded in kind, and maybe if Simmons had been thinking straight, he would have thought about the likelihood of Grif holing up here with endless amounts of food and dark space and silence. He would have just assumed Grif's laziness for not answering a comm instead of being dead or in the middle of orgasm. But he didn't, because half of his blood was no longer in his brain.

"God damn it, Grif!" He kicked his helmet away and slid to the floor. If he held his arms against his cheeks, he could cool himself slightly off the armor metal. It helped him focus well enough to hear Grif's indignant, irritating response.

"What the hell, dude? I tell you I'm sick -- after you barge into my space, by the way -- and you get mad at me?" Grif began to haul himself up and make his way over to Simmons' side of the room.

"Stay back!" Simmons scooted away hurriedly, slamming his back against the door. Grif didn't know. He didn't know anything, and that was dangerous as hell.

"Okay, chill," Grif said, taking an exaggerated step backward. Simmons saw his head tilt down slightly, taking him in. "Wait. You look like how I feel, which, by the way, is really, really shitty. What's going on?" Grif picked Simmons' helmet up off the floor, sweaty skin shining off the dim light of the HUD as he peered into it. He clicked the headlamp on and set the helmet on a shelf so that they could see each other more clearly.

Simmons slightly hated him for that.

"Well, if you had bothered to come to the meeting today, you would know." Simmons rubbed his temples, looking away. Of course Grif would hang out in the storage closet in his undersuit -- why wear full scale armor anymore? The war was over, and Grif's bruises probably felt a lot better that way. Unrestricted beneath breathable fabric and open to the cool, cool air. Simmons swallowed thirstily.

Silence reigned for a moment, until --

"Seriously, that's all you're going to give me? I'm trying not to die of heat exhaustion and--and-- whatever this is," Grif said as he flailed his arms in confusion, "and you're going to hang missing a meeting over my head? Cut the shit, Simmons."

"I am trying," Simmons said measuredly through ragged breath, "to focus." He clenched his fists tightly before setting them to work on his own armor. Grounding himself in simple tasks could work. Plus, he was just so hot. Maybe if he could cool off a bit, he could warn Grif. Grif needed to know.

"Focus here then, Simmons, and tell me what's going on," Grif said shortly. Simmons could see his fingers tapping against his folded arms in stiff, agitated motions in the lamplight. It was very un-Grif-like. Simmons could grab them, just for a second, put them where they'd be of better use, and --

With shaking hands, he pulled his chest piece off and placed it on the floor. Santa's algorithm was clearly bullshit. He took a knee and started methodically working on a leg, staring intently at the ground. Cool down, Simmons. Cool. Down.

"Simmons," Grif ground out impatiently, and fuck his voice, honestly, for sounding so beautifully gravelly deep.

"Grif," he said hoarsely, fumbling with the clasp on his calf. "Stop." He'd never thought of Grif's voice as beautiful before. Once he got out of this mess, he was going to write these reactions down just to prove how right he'd been.

"Stop what? You stop! No, wait; you start! Tell me why I woke up feeling like I have the biggest case of blue balls known to man!"

"Fine!" Simmons yelled, and it felt good to do it, like the smallest, greatest release. He stood and pelted the wall with the rest of his armor, satisfaction growing with each loud rattle to the floor.

"If you had gone to any of our meetings since the battle, you'd have known that conducting alien tech research is a top priority for Chorus right now." He paced as he drew on his anger to maintain his train of thought. "And Tucker's sword makes us the perfect candidates to do it. Not like you care, since you've been MIA for every mission." He paused for a second to let that truth bomb sink in, a bomb so full of truth that he actually wanted to hear Grif's inevitable excuse-laden reaction.

Instead, he got nothing but silence. "Are you even listening to me?"

And then, he made the stupid, stupid mistake of looking at Grif's face. It was unnerving how intently Grif was staring at him. Grif's body had lost all of its usual studied calmness and looked ready to spring. At him. Imminently.

Simmons let out a long, shaking breath and felt himself sway slightly, the room closing in on him and Grif in the small beam of light. Was he getting lightheaded? What was his heart rate right now?

"Forget it." Grif's voice cut through the quiet, hurried and high-pitched. "You're totally right, Simmons. I don't care enough, so you should just go ahead and take your nerd explanation somewhere else. Yeah."

"Um," Simmons responded eloquently. His anger had dissipated, leaving nothing but wanting in its wake. He should turn around and walk out. He should stop staring at Grif. He should move his ass, immediately. Right now. Any moment --

"Look," Grif continued, completely unaware of his inner turmoil. "You can tell me later, okay? I can't do this right now, with you -- I mean things! Being, you know --" He trailed off and fluttered his hands in Simmons' general direction.

The thing was, Grif had never really been the type to tell Simmons what to do. That had always been more of a Simmons-to-Grif dynamic. So Simmons should definitely go. It would be reasonable to leave. If he could bring his body back online, he would honor Grif's request, because he was someone who did the right thing. Really, he was. He didn't want to do this to Grif. He didn't. He just needed a second. Just a second to --

Without warning, Grif lurched towards him. Simmons fell backwards as Grif gave him a graceless shove, almost as if he were undecided between pushing Simmons or falling down himself. And then, inexplicably, Grif's hand clamped down hard on contact, and he pulled Simmons back towards him, making their heads bump together in the whiplash.

Simmons hissed through his teeth. Grif's touch burned through the fabric of the undersuit, and Simmons felt every part of himself radiate toward it.

"What the hell," Grif whispered, wide-eyed and half-shadowed from the narrow beam of the headlight. This close, Simmons could see one iridescent eye, and it was the clearest he'd seen Grif maybe ever. As long as Simmons had known him, he'd been awed and slightly jealous of Grif's uncanny ability to maintain the most dull and uninterested stare, regardless of person or situation. To add insult to injury, Grif's eyes were so dark that his pupils were practically invisible, giving him an added layer of immunity from the betrayal of any instinctual reactions.

Simmons had actually thought for an embarrassingly long time that Grif's eyes were black. It hadn't been until after the surgery, when Sarge had shined a flashlight in Grif's face during an implant check-up, that he'd finally realized they were a deep, warm brown. Hidden depths, he'd thought ridiculously at the time, but it didn't make it not true.

Now, Grif's closeness had let Simmons see everything, and it was so much. Too much.

"Grif," he said, and it was whiny as fuck, so annoying, he hated everything about it. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't equipped to handle this. Grif didn't know. It wasn't his fault. It definitely will be Simmons' fault if he lets this happen.

Grif released a heavy breath through his nose before releasing his grip. The loss of contact felt like losing a piece of Simmons’ own self, and it was...sad? How could a body be sad? What was the temple doing to him?

"Simmons, just...leave." Grif paused. "Please." His hand was now running through his hair, fingers agitatedly pulling at the strands as if to keep it from flying forward onto Simmons again. But he looked more at ease now. That was good. Safe.

"Well," Simmons tried to say lightly, "if you're going to bust out the niceties." He fumbled blindly for the door handle behind him.

"It might help to turn around," Grif said absently. He dragged his hand down to rub at his cheek. "Just a...just a thought."

Simmons tore his eyes away from Grif's hair, which now looked really well-tousled instead of like its usual greasy tangle. "Right." He spun around clumsily, banging his shoulder against the door.

"Fuck," he breathed, jiggling the handle. His arm still burned where Grif had touched him. "It's locked." He paused. "Wait. Why is it locked from the inside?"

Realization hit him like a lightning bolt. I've been coming here for weeks, dumbass. Weeks in which Chorus leadership had noted in meetings -- meetings Grif had skipped! -- a concerning drop in food supplies and begun creating fail-safes against smuggling. Grif's exceptional fatassery had finally gone a step too far. Why hadn't he thought for one second about the purpose of that goddamned broom handle.

Simmons stared at the door as if he could will it to open. There was nothing else to do. If he turned around, though -- if he looked at Grif -- his body sang at the thought, and he pushed down on it, hard.

"Simmons," a voice suddenly whispered against his neck, because Grif was shorter than him and holy fuck when had he gotten so close? "Simmons." Grif's exhaled breath tickled his skin, and he shivered. All he could think about was Grif touching him again. Why hadn't Grif touched him again? Grif couldn't touch him again, or it would all be over.

Simmons braced his hands against the door to stop his knees from shaking. There had to be another way out of here; all he needed to do was find it. Then he wouldn’t even have to explain the temple. It would be the most sound, practical solution to this...problem. For the best, really.

"Something's wrong with me," Grif muttered against his neck. "Talk to me, Simmons, come on, you always talk, say something, give me anything--"

Okay, Simmons, think. No other exits, no windows, nothing but Grif and his helmet’s headlight shining on their backs.

Wait. His helmet?

"I'm sorry," he said to the wall, and then pushed back hard, sending Grif sprawling with a yelp of surprise.

Simmons turned and leapt forward, fumbling for the helmet, the light careening wildly against the walls. "Come in, hello? We're stuck!" he cried out as he jammed it on his head. His hands itched to touch Grif's skin. "In here. Alone. Anybody?"

Comms couldn't be down, not for all of Chorus. That was impossible. He scrolled frantically through his HUD until he got to the alerts screen and read:

COMMS SHUT OFF FOR DURATION OF TEMPLE EFFECTS BY ORDER OF PRES. KIMBALL

"Right," he sighed, shoulders drooping. "Of course. Privacy is important, and," he let out a short, defeated laugh, "who'd be able help us right now anyway?"

He pulled the helmet off and dropped it on the floor. The light faced somewhere left of them, leaving them in semi-darkness. Below him, Grif was concerningly silent.

“Grif?” He looked down, heart pounding. “Did I kill you?”

“No. Not yet at least,” Grif muttered. Unlike the unnerving panic attack from earlier, he’d seen Grif like this before. You know, relatively calm, but also bright-eyed, slightly flushed and...wriggly, for lack of a better term. It had never been personally directed at him. Some things you just couldn’t avoid after sharing a room for long enough. Especially when your roommate decided to look at porn with you in the room.

This still wasn’t personally directed at him, Simmons reminded himself firmly.

“Look,” Grif said from the floor, "can we be real for a second?" He bit his lip and let out a soft, frustrated noise as he shifted restlessly. "I need to get off. Like, now."

Simmons could actually feel the flush that spread across his cheeks as he took Grif’s words in. This is happening. This is happening. This is happening, his brain supplied helpfully. His body stepped in to painfully remind him that it was completely and totally on board.

Grif glared up at him. "Come on, dude. Throw me a bone here.”

Simmons swallowed. Grif was proposing it, so it was fine, right? Or the algorithm made it okay for Grif to propose it. And for him to accept it, if he was understanding it correctly. "Me...me too. I guess.”

Grif nodded in satisfaction, and squirmed on the floor for a bit longer before settling on an apparently slightly more comfortable position. "So, obviously neither of us are happy about it or anything. But I -- we -- gotta do it, man."

"Right, okay.” Simmons paused. “Do what exactly?"

Visions swam in his mind of what Grif could say. What he wanted Grif to say. Correction: what the temple wanted him to want Grif to say. Obviously.

"Uh, the bare fucking minimum. Also, losing your virginity like this would be pretty awful, so. Win-win."

"Win-win," Simmons echoed, voice cracking slightly.

He was going to touch Grif, and they were going to get off. Together. Grif was going to touch him and he wanted him to. He could admit that, right? It was the temple, after all.

"Okay," he said, heart in his throat.

"Okay," Grif repeated, and it was so anxiously giddy, Simmons felt himself grimace. It wasn't Grif's fault. It wasn't Grif at all actually, so Simmons might as well make it easier.

He knelt down next to Grif. "Uh." What came next, exactly? He made an aborted motion towards Grif's chest. “Should I...?”

Grif reached out and pulled Simmons on top of him by his undersuit.

The effect was immediate. "Oh god," Simmons breathed, eyes squeezed shut. He could smell Grif's sweat. Only two layers of undersuit separated his suddenly embarrassingly hard dick from Grif's leg.

Grif let out a pained sound before his hand landed on the back of Simmons' head, sifting through his hair in a way that would have been soothing under literally any other circumstance. He reflexively bucked against Grif instead, scalp tingling from Grif's fleeting touch.

When Grif pushed back, he felt hardness against his hip and moaned. Actually moaned, like a horny teenager. Jesus Christ. The sound of it rang out disgustingly in the almost silence.

Almost, because of Grif's loud breathing, which Simmons had attributed to Grif's general state of health until he actually listened to it. He'd never made anyone respond like Grif, not in almost thirty years of living. It's the temple, his mind whispered at him, as he hitched a thigh between Grif's legs, craving another breath, another sigh, another anything at all.

"Fuck," Grif choked out, chest vibrating against Simmons. He slid his hand down to rest on Simmons' neck. The heat of it felt like jumping into a hot tub on a cold day, scalding water that made his skin break out in goosebumps.

He clenched his jaw tightly to suppress a new wave of noises from escaping into the room.

And now he sounded like a duct taped hostage. How incredibly sexy. The temple was a miracle worker if Grif’s libido survived all of that intact.

Wait, why did he even need to sound sexy? Simmons shook his head, planted his hands on either side of Grif, and pushed up and away for better leverage. It was so much easier to remember how things stood from here. They had been forced into this, Grif was the least intimidating person he knew, and so if it had to happen, who better? Just two guys helping each other out in their time of need, totally casual and mutually rewarding. So what if Simmons could still feel everything: Grif's fingers digging into his wrist and Grif’s stomach expanding outward to brush against his arms and Grif’s dick grinding on his leg, gradually making his undersuit wet? That was fine. He was just the most convenient option.

Simmons closed his eyes and concentrated on the steady, agonizing slide of pleasure until it began to lead to a rhythm that made his mind go hazy. Below him, Grif kept taking in long, shuddering breaths. It was the perfect spot, perfect pressure, more euphoric than any jerk-off session.

And then Grif did the worst possible thing. An unforgivable thing. He started fucking talking.

"Holy shit, Simmons," Grif whispered frantically, bringing him completely out of the moment. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit." Simmons felt Grif's hands on his hips, patting him as if to convince himself that Simmons was actually there.

"Simmons, ah --" His breath hitched and he arched up, hands gripping tightly. "That's good, so good, it's perfect -- you're perfect --"

Simmons jerked forward roughly enough to move both of them a good foot across the floor. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

"Simmons? Do you like it?" Grif babbled beneath him. "Does it feel okay, or good, or --"

"Shut up," Simmons said tightly as he pressed down against Grif's leg. He desperately fixated on Grif's Adam's apple, ears prickling. It wasn't Grif. It wasn't him. It felt so good, though, hearing his name that way.

From Grif. His mind stuttered and came to a halt.

The lazy back-and-forth that had been so mind-numbingly good before was now woefully inadequate. He felt impatient with need. It burned him from the inside out, and he leaned into it.

“Okay.” Grif’s voice broke and wavered. Simmons jumped slightly at the sensation of Grif’s fingers running against his stitches. It was a weirdly gentle gesture. “Good.”

Simmons sniffed loudly as the pressure mounted under his skin. Grif’s irritating, insistent touch made him want to scream. Why were his eyes watering?

And then, Grif’s soft, shaking fingers slid away and upward to stroke his cheek, less delicate than clumsy. He could look up; it would be easy enough. Grif swallowed hard, the Adam's apple slid downward, and Simmons felt his stare, but kept holding on and away, grinding down hard and fast and panting. He was close, so close, fuck.

If Grif would just stop talking, they could finish getting off and forget this ever happened. But Grif had never listened to Simmons, not once in all their years together.

"You -- your face -- Simmons," Grif stuttered, and it was wobbly and wanting and full of unspeakable things. Grif pushed up hard and let out a startled sound from deep in his throat before falling limp, chest heaving.

"Goddamnit, Grif," Simmons gasped. "I'm gonna -- gonna --" He went taut as he shuddered into climax. "Nnnngh."

He let himself lay on top of Grif for a moment and tried to catch his breath. He had never even hugged Grif before, and now he felt like he was falling into a chasm, dark and terrifying.

He needed to get up.

"Uh, Grif, about the temple," he started haltingly, before he lost his nerve. "It causes --"

A rumbling snore interrupted him.

Simmons sighed and shifted slightly over to Grif’s side. There was come drying in his undersuit and Grif shouldn't have this much pressure on his bruises. But he was warm, and there was nowhere else to go. Also, sex with another person had been a lot more tiring than Simmons had thought it would be.

For awhile, he lay in a state of sleepy semi-panic. Should he get up? Would Grif think it was weird that he hadn’t gotten up earlier? Who cared what Grif thought anyway? Did he care? The algorithm had clearly been all wrong -- it had made two people who couldn't even procreate fuck, hadn't it? So neither of them should care about any of it, least of all some post-coital napping.

But what if Grif did?

"Shut up," he murmured to himself as he concentrated on Grif's even breathing. Eventually, he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Simmons woke to bright light flooding behind his eyelids.

"Oh look, Freckles, we have found more best friends laying down together in the dark!" Caboose's helmet stared down at them, framed by fluorescent light. "Santa says you can come out now."

Simmons pulled away from Grif so fast, his head hit the floor. "Caboose! Uh..." He looked up from the ground and groaned when he saw pink armor.

"Heyyyyy, guys! I can't believe it! I mean, I can believe it -- well, we all can, really --"

"Fuck. Off. Everyone," Grif's flat, tired voice came from behind Simmons. Simmons sat up abruptly and discreetly checked himself for decency. Somehow, Grif had found the time to put his own helmet back on. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Fine, Mister Grumpy Pants," Donut pouted. "And here I'd thought you'd be a little more happy." He stared meaningfully at Simmons before following Caboose down the hall, leaving Simmons scrambling to catch the door before it closed.

He cleared his throat as Grif made his way back behind his canned food wall. "Do you, uh, want to talk about it?"

"Did you or did you not hear me the first time, Dick?" Grif said, voice devoid of anything beyond irritation.

"Oh, thank god." Simmons grabbed his armor and fled, propping the long-forgotten broom handle in the doorway on his way out.

Simmons never directly tells Grif about the temple. He knows Grif knows when he joins Simmons at the lunch table the next day and says, "Fucking Santa and fucking Tucker," and they leave it at that.

When Donut and Tucker come in and ask for a million details, Grif threatens to gut them with the Grif Shot, and Simmons is infinitely grateful. It’s honestly better than any other conversation they could have mustered up on their own.

Simmons is also infinitely grateful that Grif doesn’t bring up his terrible sex noises or his pathetic almost-tears.

No one mentions the algorithm at all.

Simmons sees Grif in the showers later and locks eyes with the wall until he leaves. No one says anything to anyone, really, since most of the room's got their own horror stories and the scars to prove it. Thank god he has his own quarters. He has no desire to see anyone else out of armor for the foreseeable future.

That night, he jacks off and thinks of Grif's voice, just to see. Simmons, you're so good, Grif-in-his-mind says, you're perfect. He thinks of how Grif's open face might have looked, his gasps, all the things the temple made him do.

It fucking sucks.

#dexter grif #dick simmons #rvb #grimmons #red vs blue #fanfic

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helshades · 6 years

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Thank you for this beautiful answer! Evidently, it inspired me a few things, gathered thereafter if you feel like having my opinion. It remindeed of multiple aspects of the red cap crisis that I had forgotten, eg. the start of it on a (kind of) fuel protest, as with the current protests. I want to underline that you mark the beginning of the movement on the June 18th. As I remembered, there was protests before that and the free distribution of headwares by Armor Lux. Concerning that, ---

I think that it provided mainly free Mützen, which is an offer few are able to turn down =) Anyway, I didn’t feel that the implication of company leaders was felt like a more decisive factor than a welcome but potentially uncomfortable support to the protesters, particularly the slaughterhouses employes and FO. So as usual there, it’s a awkard alliance between regoinal politics, laborers forces, and capitalists interests. Personnaly, I wasn’t more thrilled by the quite anti-eco mindsetsthan I’m now. I’ve no sympathy for the mass-producing low-quality FNSEA. If they’re backed into a corner, too bad. Yes, I lament the loss of the eco-tax because of it.

However, at this point of the text, I feel the need to tell that I’m breton. However, I won’t tell you a thing more, please imagine yourself how I reacted to what you wrote. If we thought we’re Wales politically, what does it have to do with the language? By the way those 3 are brythonic celtics, as close as french anditalian. No, we mainly don’t dream of independence. Now sadly I see in your text the old mindset, “province is a playground of aristocrats/medef since they can’t think of what is good for them i.e. the nation.” Of course these forces try to play on other interests. Maybe the difference is that in Brittany we are ready/forced to ally with unsavory characters to advance our (whatever) goals. It’s always like that. Melenchon has good points here. Comparing with today, I agree that the reforms are now not at all emerging from a deputies consensus unlike in 2013. But in Quimper protested far-left independantists and not far-right. Troadec is not far from being a Melenchon twin. He ends on a dismissal though, as he doesn’t see the compromises that are in place. So who have a less popular basis?

I didn’t speak about legality of protest. Nationalist as in considers the nation as it’s defined by it’s ideology and I’m sure you now how the french nation is defined. And why care about the upper echelons, nation or federation of nations, as long there’s a reasonnable say on a smaller scale. France is not a more logical/natural/whatever structure of control that the EU is. From Brittany, Marseille isn’t more local than Frankfurt is. Well, consider the french institutions as supranational and they indeed decide globally, removing power from the populations. Is it a good or a bad thing? If only it could allow a differentiated application of the eco-taxEU institutions let differentiation happens all the time. Only time will tell how it turns out. Sorry for the discombobulation and thank you for your time.

P.S.: I saw your addndum and understand. You correctly pointed at the differences between the two movements and have been of great assistance to help me refine my thoughts on these subjects. Thank you again.

Thank you! It was a good exercise to brain this, considering I hadn’t given enough thought to the bonnets rouges in a while either, which was a mistake. We shouldn’t let comparisons like this slide when they are being made by politicians such as Édouard Philippe, who I suspect is less politically clueless overall than Emmanuel Macron himself.

Concerning the intent behind the 2013 protests, I think protesters who came to demonstrate freely to defend their rights cannot be held responsible for unsavoury groups joining the free cortège. Manipulated or not, the protesters in 2013, with or without a red cap, were sincere, and I’d wager there were many more ordinary citizens than big business honchoes demonstrating. And they were making many salient points. Where I get Mélenchon’s probable frustration is that ‘awkward alliances’ have historically hurt the French Left quite a bit, and it always takes a lot of time to reconstruct.

I tend to approach the eco-tax issue more from an economic and political perspective than from an environmental one, I’ve come to realise. I didn’t translate it in my previous post but Mélenchon in the same text I quoted (‘The bonnets rouges farce’) made a few crucial remarks about the tax itself:

‘Let us observe the facts. The contract is allowing for proper plunder of the State, which has committed itself to pay [private company Ecomouv] a monthly rent of over 18 million euros a month, starting from 1st January 2014. This makes 20% of the expected takings of the eco-tax, around 85 millions per month. 220 millions a year! And that rent must be paid even during the ‘suspension’ the Prime Minister announced, whereas the State will not perceive a penny. Customs officers have explained they would have been able to set up and manage the very same tax with 5% management fees at best. Resorting to the private sector will therefore cost 4 times more, at least, than public service!

Considering the 650 million initial investment, after 14 years, the pick-up would have been especially costly. Ecoumouv would have collected 3.2 billion euros. In other words, all expenses paid, a total return of 2.5 billion euros! A complete scandal! From now on, it goes with another one, just as insufferable: were the government to suppress this tax altogether, it would have to pay the company 800 million euros! What are François Hollande & friends waiting for to demand a judicial inquiry or to create some parliamentary commission? A flock of bleating sheep is governing the country!

This week, Marianne published a column which I co-signed with other elected representatives, against the pillage that the privatisation of motorways by the Villepin government constituted. The eco-tax is another example of State looting. Both subjects are related. The main goal of the eco-tax was to generate takings that could help finance transport infrastructures. Why is that? Because privatising motorways effectively reduced the takings previously destined to do so! The benefits that [private companies] Vinci or Eiffage are making from the French motorways are as much money as could have either remained in the motorists’ pockets or gone to finance road infrastructures. Once again, here is proof that privatisation is a foe to the general interest. Liberalism doesn’t work when it comes to run any civilised society with a taste for efficiency. Liberalism costs much to society, and nothing works well.’

On a side note, I did mark the beginning of the movement as 18th June, which had me hesitate for a while, actually; not that I elected to ignore, notably, Christian Troadec’s involvement, but I had decided to focus on the 2013 movement only because it was at once what made the government back down and what prompted Mélenchon’s ire.

Now, let us clarify the ‘Welsh’ comment, shall we?

That paragraph was mostly fond irony, in the hope that some Bretons would be reading and get entertainingly titillated. ‘They believe they are Wales’ was a jibe aiming at the independent-country-within-a-country vibe, also based on, precisely, the linguistic relationship between Welsh and Breton, and their foreignness to, respectively, English (a Germanic language with heavy Latin influence) and French (a Latin language with heavy Germanic influence, and some very moderate Celtic influence as well).

On the subject of language—of Brittany being incapable to masquerade as Wales because of its Brittonic language—I was mostly drunk on fatigue and concluding in another window another post on etymology, which led me to write probably the obscurest linguistic reference I have ever made on this blog: linguistically speaking, Breton and Cornish are more closely related than they both are to Welsh. They still pertain, all three of them, to the Brittonic branch of the Insular Celtic languages group—except Welsh has a name that literally means ‘Gaelic’ and this is, like, super annoying. It is, also, completely England’s fault (when is it not) since the actual name of Wales is Cymru. But there you go: you know it’s a Germanic root when English writes it with a [w] but French writes is with a [g].

On the subject of regionalism… It might surprise you, but I’m actually quite divided on this. On the one hand, there are my personal Robespierrist inclinations, and also, mostly in fact, my being the daughter of a History teacher and being a, erm, language specialist, with a certain attachment to the Idea of France as a historic entity because… well, it is the result of centuries of events that cemented our regions into a political unit…

On the other hand, well, half of me is from Isère with strong ties to Lyon, and the other half is firmly, ferociously ardéchoise. From the south. In the mountains. I know very little about pig farming but I’m pretty sure I’m related to at least a couple goats—and, much more seriously, I have always been torn on the question of regional identity because it is of great importance in my family, not least of which because I come from two endless lines of peasants. I have a notion of family roots that is pretty literal, in fact. And, technically, I ain’t French, on either side. My grandparents learnt French in school; it was my parents’ generation that grew up hearing patois at home and speaking French at the same time.

And Ardèche is a very beautiful, but very poor region. I have always been divided, without too much fuss to be honest, between it and Lyon, and I am very well placed to know how unequally financial resources are shared—and, incidentally, the harm it does to the environment, as righteous city-dwellers are rather prone to ignore the fact that most farmers have been constrained to productivism in the first place, expected to feed an ever-growing urban population…

I am, anyway, in favour of a greater, if relative, autonomy for regions, and I’m not necessarily talking about the ginormous, meaningless ensembles that were reinvented recently. I do believe that national institutions are paramount, because they allow us, quite simply, to set up a functioning national insurance system to finance public infrastructures and services for all. However, I may be much of Republican, and I may truly dislike communitarianism under all its shapes, I think we must address Parisianism for what it is.

#pavé césar !#long post #answers #nonnies #french politics #brittany #regionalism #france #gilets jaunes #bonnets rouges

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scy-chicago · 5 years

Text

The Game of Thrones is a Game of Trauma

This week’s blog is written by Dion McGill, SCY Communications and Community Outreach Manager.

Photo courtesy of flickr.com. Labeled for reuse.

If you’re anything like me, you are waiting with bated breath for the series finale of Game of Thrones! Amazingly enough, we are down to the last episode...and I know that I’m not the only one excited about it.

Every Monday morning, I stop by the offices of some of my colleagues and discuss what we witnessed the previous evening. Kirstin, SCY Operations Coordinator, hadn’t even seen an episode of Game of Thrones four weeks ago. She watched the entire series in three weeks, and is now caught up and ready to enjoy the finale. Program Assistant Gabriella and I have traded theories and reflections multiple times a week for at least a month. The excitement is in the air.

But what does Game of Thrones have to do with the work of SCY?

I’m glad you asked!

One of SCY’s Focus on Five is equitable access to high quality mental health services. As stated in our policy agenda:

Strengthening Chicago’s Youth (SCY) supports public policies that will prevent violence and build resilience among our youth. These policies generally share the following principles:

Developmental approach that recognizes how violence emerges over the life course and the impact of trauma on development.

Ecological approach which notes that violence and its solutions occur at the individual, family, community, and societal levels.

Recognition of the interconnectedness and co-occurrence of many forms of violence, including child maltreatment, teen dating violence, intimate partner violence, sexual violence, community violence, and bullying.

Knowledge that each child, family, and community is unique.

Recognition that it is better to keep a child or family from being exposed to all forms of violence than to treat the effects of exposure.

Strength-based approach that focuses on development of assets and skills over remedy of deficits.

Acknowledgement that violence prevention requires involvement from many different disciplines.

Use of data, data visualization, and mapping to monitor emerging health and safety issues, develop evidence-based policies, and implement ongoing evaluation of violence prevention interventions.

Attention paid to enhancing existing infrastructures, building local capacity, sustainability, implementation, and funding.

Participation of the people and organizations most affected by the policy in its development.

Acceptance of the fact that violence cannot be addressed without addressing race, segregation, gender, sexual orientation, and poverty.

Basis in social justice, ensuring that potential negative effects of policies should not be borne disproportionately by already oppressed populations.

As a result, four of SCY’s nine policy recommendations for 2019-2020, directly address youth trauma:

Adopt and implement evidence-based, trauma-informed gun violence prevention policies that reduce access to illegal firearms and keep our communities safe.

Support publicly funded organizations with youth programming, including schools, to require professional development training for all staff on the effects of all forms of violence and trauma on children and youth.

Support policies in education, law enforcement, and the legal system that reflect evidence regarding brain development, combat systemic racism, and address the impact of trauma on individuals and communities.

Implement sustainable funding mechanisms for school-based, community-based, and faith-based mental health and substance use services, including health promotion, standardized screening, connection to comprehensive services, and outcome tracking.

And while Game of Thrones is one of the most highly viewed shows in TV history, we’ve all had a moment or two where we had to stop and acknowledge, “Man...these people are having a rough go of it!”

The plain fact of the matter is that The Game of Thrones is a game of trauma.

Throughout the seven full seasons, and five episodes of the eighth season, we have seen a plethora of trauma befall the characters. Some of the most notable moments of the show have been ones that depicted horrendous trauma on often young characters, for example Arya having to witness the death of her father.

One of the most beloved characters of the show, Sansa Stark, has bore the brunt of some of the most egregious forms of trauma the show has had to offer. From feeling guilt stemming from the death of her father, to being wed and mercilessly bullied, belittled and tormented by the hellish Joffrey, to later being raped and tormented by her second husband Ramsey. Sansa is a GOT character that has had to bear the weight of many lives on her adolescent (In season 8, Sansa Stark is 20 years old) shoulders.

"Sansa is a victim of complex trauma, particularly in the form of domestic violence," says Sharie Stines, a therapist, relationship coach and writer who specializes in complex trauma recovery and personality disorders. "She was betrayed by everyone and abused and objectified."That's not something a person just gets over, Stines says. In fact, even when someone is healed, the ordeal is never completely erased."All of our experiences mold and shape us, so recovery is a lifelong process, not a destination." Source: CNN

Of course, Game of Thrones is made palatable by the fact that it has dragons. I mean, it’s all fantasy right? Unfortunately, the level of trauma we witness in Game of Thrones is a sad reality for many Chicago youth. Witnessing daily trauma, in the form of community violence, domestic abuse, and sexual assault, unfortunately occurs to Chicago youth every day.

Community Violence Produces Loud and Silent Trauma

Infographic courtesy of the Sandy Hook Columbine Collective

Infographic courtesy of echotraining.org

Two key components of Strengthening Chicago’s Youth is promoting the idea of a trauma-informed care approach towards youth, as well connecting and mobilizing the city around a public health approach to violence prevention.

Violence and trauma for Chicago youth is by no means a game, and is far too real.

If you’re not familiar with terms like Adverse Childhood Experiences and Trauma-Informed Care (TIC)...well, we’re here to help:

CDC information on Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACES)

Harvard Health Publishing: Trauma-Informed Care - What it is, and why it’s important?

Psychology Today: Trauma-Informed Care and why it matters

CDC Infographic: 6 Guiding Principles to a Trauma-Informed Approach

Also, we are honored to be a part of the Illinois ACEs Response Collaborative. The Collaborative is committed to expanding the understanding of the impact of childhood trauma and adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) on the health and well-being of Illinois children and their communities. The collaborative is also an amazing source of information, from policy briefs and reports, to trainings and webinars. Be sure to check out their website for more info. Have an amazing weekend, and I hope whomever you want to see on the Iron Throne ends up there. My prediction is that whomever is left at the end of the episode Sunday will burn the throne down and turn it into a table, signaling the rule of a council over Westeros. Democracy wins!

#GOT #GameofThrones #ForTheThrone #SCY #SCYsTheLimit #Chicago #trauma #ACEs #traumainformed #Illinois

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ethelbertpaul444-blog · 6 years

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The Sensors That Power Smart Cities Are a Hacker’s Dream

At this detail, it seems like every so-called shopper smart device–from routers and baby monitors to connected thermostats and garage door openers–has been shown to have vulnerabilities. But that same protection crisis has also played out on a macro flake, disclosing district occupations and public safety sensors to manipulation that could destabilize traffic lights, undermine radiation sensors, or even create a tragedy like beginning a dam to overflow because of defiled water level data. Researchers from IBM Security and data security firm Threatcare look back sensor hub from three companies–Libelium, Echelon, and Battelle–that exchange systems to underpin smart municipality planneds. Smart city spending worldwide is estimated to reach about $81 billion globally in 2018, and the three corporations all have different areas of influence. Echelon, for example, is one of the top suppliers of smart street lighting deployments in the world. Fundamentally, though, the systems the researchers investigated are same. By setting up an array of sensors and integrating their data, canadian municipalities are able to obtain more nuanced insight into how to solve interconnected troubles. These sensors monitor acts like weather, aura character, traffic, radioactivity, and water level, and can be used to automatically inform fundamental business like transaction and street lights, security systems, and emergency alerts. ‘When they flunk, it could cause damage to life and livelihood.’ Daniel Crowley, IBM X-Force Red That last one might resonate familiar; an accidental missile alert in January routed Hawaii’s tenants clambering, while a spoof set off Dallas’s tornado alarms last year. In information, those incidents and others like it motivated Daniel Crowley of IBM X-Force Red and Jennifer Savage of Threatcare to investigate these systems in the first place. What they discovered dismayed them. In merely their initial cross-examine, health researchers spotted a total of 17 new vulnerabilities in makes from the three companies, including eight critical flaws. “The reason we wanted to focus on hubs was that if you control the central arbiter that runs the whole show then you can manipulate a great deal of information that’s being overstepped around, ” Crowley says. “It appears to be a huge orbit of vulnerability, and the stakes are high when we’re talking about putting computers in everything and holding them important jobs like public safety and management of industrial control systems. When they disappoint, it could is detrimental to living and livelihood and when we’re not putting the proper security and privacy measures in place bad things can happen, especially with a motivated and resourced attackers.” The researchers determined basic vulnerabilities, like guessable default passwords that would make it easy for an attacker to access a machine, along with bugs that could allow an attacker to introduce malicious software commands, and others that would allow an attacker to avoid authentication checks. Many smart metropolitan intrigues likewise use the open internet, rather than an internal municipal network, to connect sensors or communicate data to the vapour, potentially leaving designs uncovered publicly for anyone to determine. Simple checks on IoT crawlers like Shodan and Censys produced millions of vulnerable smart municipality products deployed in the wild. The researchers contacted officials from a major US city that they found use susceptible manoeuvres to monitor transaction, and a European country with at-risk radiation detectors. “I lives in a city that’s starting to implement smart metropoli designs, ” Threatcare’s Savage says. “We bought a residence here and we can choose not to have IoT inventions in our home, we can go out of our method to buy a dumb Tv not a smart Tv. But I can’t switch unless there are street lights with cameras broiled into them right outside my house and I have no see over the vehicle centre that my city might be using. It gets to me as a defence researcher that a city are likely to be obligating these types of decisions for me.” The three companies have become spots available for all 17 bugs. Echelon, whose smart municipal offerings include not just lighting but also constructing automation and transport, says it collaborated with IBM solve these problems problems. “Echelon fortified the vulnerability, developed mitigation mixtures , notified patrons, and informed DHS ICS-CERT, ” spokesperson Thomas Cook told WIRED, referring to the Department of Homeland Security’s Computer Emergency Readiness Team, which tracks vulnerabilities. Battelle spokesperson Katy Delaney noted that the group is a technology development nonprofit, and that the vulnerability IBM investigates spotted was in an open root smart metropolitan centre collaboration with the Federal Highway Administration that hasn’t yet been deployed. “We appreciate IBM imparting their considerable resources to bear in knowing these possible security issues, ” Delaney told WIRED. “We wanted feedback and we relish the scrutiny, progress, and help.” Libelium, a Spanish busines with substantial smart city furnishes, said in a statement that, “Several weeks ago Libelium was informed by IBM about some web vulnerabilities which had been found in the Meshlium Manager System . … The busines took action promptly and all vulnerabilities spotcheck were automatically amended with a brand-new software edition secreted on August 1st which is ready to be downloaded from the Manager System.” ‘It gets to me as a protection researcher that a town might be constructing these types of decisions for me.’ Jennifer Savage, Threatcare While having patches available for purposes of all the blunders is a fundamental step, the researchers observe the importance of increase awareness of these problems to make sure that metropolis are prioritizing patching, which organizations so often don’t. The smart metropolitan hub health researchers looked at don’t have automatic update capabilities, a common setup on industrial restrict manoeuvres since a buggy inform could destabilize vital infrastructure. But the downside is that every entity use these produces will need to proactively exploit the spots, or inventions in the mad was still vulnerable. And while health researchers emphasize that they don’t have evidence of any of the faults they found being abused, they did discover that someone affixed an manipulate for one of the flaws on a intruder gathering in August 2015. “There are people out there who aren’t white-hot hat intruders who have had at least one of these exploits for ages and who knows what they’ve done with it, ” Savage says. “This is something that parties have been looking into.” Industrial control hacking has now been become a major focus of nation state attacks, for example, with Russia taking the most prolific known interest. State-sponsored Russian intruders have probed US grid and election infrastructure and have wreaked ravage overseas, making two blackouts in Ukraine and jeopardizing fee methods in the two countries with malware campaigns. As the health risks ripens worldwide, US officials have increasingly acknowledged the vulnerability of US infrastructure, and agencies like the Department of Homeland Security are clambering to implement systemic safeguards. Cities will continue to invest in smart engineering. Hopefully as they do, they’ll be recognised that more data will often intend more risks–and that those vulnerabilities aren’t always easy to fix. 1UPDATE 8/ 10 8: 55 AM: This floor has been updated to include note from Libelium. More Great WIRED Stories In quality, Google Lens does what the human rights brain can’t Crying’ pedophile’ is the oldest publicity quirk around The wild inner workings of a billion-dollar spoofing radical Inside the 23-dimensional life of your car’s depict enterprise Crispr and the mutant future of food Examining for more? Sign up for our everyday newsletter and never miss our recent and greatest narratives http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/08/28/the-sensors-that-power-smart-cities-are-a-hackers-dream/

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awesomeblockchain · 6 years

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You don't own your items. That lucky knife skin you scored in CS:GO? The cool Halloween-themed Overwatch outfit? Nope. Property of the developers who let you use it. That value is destined to stay within the game's ecosystem, and we've never had a better technical solution. That's the problem Enjin is trying to solve.

It didn't take long for the blockchain to enter gaming. The two tech-savvy crowds form a solidly joined Venn diagram, and we're already losing track of all the startups aiming to use the new technology to carve out their little niche in the gaming space.

While most of the esports focused cryptocurrencies focus on betting - some legitimate, some less so - Enjin is focused on true ownership. Whether that be ownership of games, or items, or persistent character traits, or whatever else the developer can think of. It's a platform for others to get creative with.

Having flirted with entering the top 100 cryptocurrencies by market capitalisation for months, Enjin Coin moves from gaming show to gaming show, preaching the word of adoption. If developers don't adopt, none of the cool stuff happens. If they do, the sky is the limit. The difference is Enjin has some great ideas about how to get people on board.

We sat down with Enjin's head of dev tech Pat LaBine to chat about what the blockchain could bring to our space. His background is gaming, not crypto. A 13-year veteran of Bioware and IO, he's worked on titles like Mass Effect, Jade Empire, Dragon Age, Hitman, and even a much older version of Anthem.

His expertise reflects the team. They're mostly game developers, not just mathematicians. And perhaps that's why they have what we think is the best strategy for getting people started.

Enjin Coin - or blockchain tech in gaming, for that matter - has no killer app. Enjin is focused on making a platform, and letting developers use it in all the innovative ways they can think of. There's no roadmap here - it's all new.

But seeing as he ditched his life as a videogame executive, we figured LaBine would have some crystallised ideas about where the tech could take us.

-Provable scarcity," he told us. -It's good to show people sometimes that there are only ten of these in the world. And you can actually go on a blockchain scanner and see - you don't know who they are - but you can see only 10 people own these things.

-I look at it like, you're going to have this digital garage of stuff you collect from playing games over and over. You could have tokens from a game you played five years ago, and maybe some of them are worth something."

But what ensures those items will have value beyond the game's lifecycle? Isn't the value still tied to the game? What happens if people just stop playing it?

-Every token you create, you actually have to give it a value, and you have to spend real-world value to craft that," explains LaBine. -So it would be like spending real-world materials like metal. Like you need to buy the metal - in this case, it's Enjin Coin - to forge the sword out of it. So there's always a minimum back value for it out there.

-So, the Black Lotus, which is a Magic: The Gathering card, it's an extremely popular and rare card. It's only five cents of paper. But it could be worth thousands of dollars. Same with these tokens."

Pat LaBine fully expects that many gamers won't even know about the crypto side of the coin. They'll just know that they can trade their items, and if need be, melt them down to the raw Enjin Coin value to be used elsewhere. But you won't have to be a developer to benefit monetarily from the crypto side.

With item rarity being not only provable but enforceable, it's even possible to attach items to a one-time event or achievement. The winners of a DOTA 2 tournament could merge their team skin with an Enjin Coin and trade it like a signed Messi jersey. A world record speedrunner could offer something similar to their streaming audience.

-That could be a good way for an esports team to create revenue," says LaBine.

The cryptocurrency space is prone to outlandish claims, and we've already seen a few in the gaming space. Much of the time, it comes in the form of inflated numbers. -We serve 3 billion gamers!" is a real boast currently made by one coin unaware of its self-parody.

One such claim that caught our eye was GameCredits' proposed strategy of creating its own game-making engine to create games around using the coin. We weren't sure what was more arrogant: reinventing the wheel, or the assumption people will abandon their favourite developer environment to make a game involving one proprietary crypto.

Far more realistic is Enjin's strategy of integrating into existing engines. Tools are on the way for both Unity and Unreal - the two most popular engines - which require no coding to use. It even recently announced support for Godot.

-You need some basic knowledge of how they work, but you don't have to code the smart contracts," says LaBine. -So theoretically the target user we're looking at is a technical designer. Familiar with the tools but won't necessarily know how to code."

While there's certainly an overlap among developers and those interested in crypto, keeping the learning curve small is key. To borrow Unity's motto, modern engines have somewhat democratised game development, and those walls between creators and their vision should stay levelled.

To that end, Enjin Coin wants to have a developer portal in the future that shows off different use cases. Much like the Unity Store's example projects, Enjin's portal will have a -game as a token" project or an example of a token-enabled collectible card game.

Unity users will soon be able to download the tools for free, and Enjin won't take a cut of transactions made through the technology. The barriers to entry are low to facilitate maximum experimentation. And should any promising projects emerge, Enjin has earmarked 10% of its coins for partnerships and developer incentives - it can effectively fund them.

We've seen enough -top wallets in crypto" articles to see the Enjin wallet mentioned a few times. It's touted as one of the most secure in the world, and we wondered what the strategy was behind a gaming crypto investing so much time and energy into a wallet.

-It's to get people into the ecosystem," explains LaBine. -It's a place where you can see all of your games and items. We'll open source it at some point but for now it's closed source. But who knows, we might have skinned wallets, like a Blizzard wallet or stuff like that, if they allow it."

LaBine opened up his own wallet full of gaming items for us to see. It's currently a minimalist UI and will be expanded before it hopes to shoulder the burden of your entire game item collection. But it works - LaBine can send you a sword in Minecraft on demand.

As for wallets themed on other companies? While possible, they may already be making their own moves into the space. LaBine expects early adopters to be mostly indie, but now that he's known as the -gaming crypto guy" to his career's worth of triple-A contacts, he's had executives picking his brain.

-Yeah, we've had a couple of conversations with them," he says. -Don't count the big triple-A studios out, because they all have skunkworks departments, and they are definitely working on blockchain stuff. They're just not telling anybody about it.

-They don't know how they're going to use it yet, a lot of the time. But it's going to happen at some point. One of the big publishers is going to come out with Ubisoft Coin or something like that. Steam Coin, or whatever."

The big question with any cryptocurrency is -what can this do that a database can't?"

-I think traditional systems do a good enough job most of the time. But databases can't provide true ownership of the tokens to you," he says. -They're basically just leased to you, at their whim. So you could be banned - we see that in esports. As a value proposition, I don't know that that's compelling enough.

-For a developer, you don't require as much infrastructure because you're leveraging the Ethereum network and all the properties of that network. You don't need a huge security team, or DevOps, to administer. That removes the customer service element that you might traditionally need, running your own giant databases.

-But again, it depends on where the market goes, right? Like, what players think is valuable. Some of my friends are like, 'Yeah, I don't care.' So you put 200 hours into Overwatch and you don't care that you don't own the skins? And they're like, 'Nah.'"

In the case of Enjin Coin, there will be interesting use cases made newly possible. But much of its appeal is doing the same things with increased confidence. The idea of a digital collector, for instance, is less likely to occur if the collector is technically leasing items behind mountain-sized EULA agreements.

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect is the fact that separate systems can be designed to interface with any token. It's rare enough to see your RPG characters carry over into a sequel. But what if they could carry over into any game? Progress in one game could affect the world of another. If the receiving software knows how to interpret the token, anything is possible.

For all the bluster in the crypto space, LaBine is refreshingly frank about the issue.

-We know it's going somewhere, but I don't what form it will take," he says. -Blockchain isn't as sexy as AR/VR. Those techs have been around for 30 years at least, as an idea. But blockchain hasn't been around very long, as Bitcoin and whatnot. As an idea, it's very new. You'll see some people doing wacky experiments with them, and mostly crash and burn, but somebody will figure something out. And people will be like, 'Cool, I get it now!'

-So I don't know which way it'll actually go. It may not even take off at all. But I can easily think of a world where my son is playing Fortnite or PUBG, and all these items are things he could own and give to his friends. I could easily think of people saying 'How was it not like this before?' I worked at big studios for a long time, and this time I actually feel like I'm slightly ahead of the curve. So that's exciting, but it's also kind of scary."

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ethelbertpaul444-blog · 6 years

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The Sensors That Power Smart Cities Are a Hacker’s Dream

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ethelbertpaul444-blog · 6 years

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The Sensors That Power Smart Cities Are a Hacker’s Dream

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