#Rubicon trail

[diablo1776]

My buddy Adam at the Soup Bowl on The Rubicon Trail @oh_that_1_dude IG

[gp40]

[campersgotogear]

10 North American Overlanding Destinations That Will Blow Your Mind

Overlanding is more than just a road trip. It is an immersive adventure. It takes you off the beaten path and into the heart of nature. With its diverse landscapes and endless open roads, North America is a paradise for overlanders. If you’re a seasoned explorer, this list of top 10 overlanding destinations will ignite your wanderlust. It will do the same if you’re a newbie eager to hit the…

[eltristanexplicitcontent]

Oh Man... This is A Bad Idea! Rubicon Trail Rescue

[jeep-momma]

I am told this part of the trail is much easier now. At the time I traversed the trail, this part was probably the scariest.

[gamesline]

You know her. You love her. Let's not get carried away in introductions. It's Rose's favorite games of the year, baby.

[hawkesoutdoor]

#DIY #Jeep Step Runners, So Easy To #Order and Get #Install #Quotes At Hawkes Outdoors. More #Mods , #Parts , #RNC at 210-251-2882

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Derpsheep; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I think I suck at making nests,” Robin mutters sullenly in his mostly-real voice, his arms folded on his knees and face buried in them. He apparently doesn’t care that the tattered feathers of his suit are getting everywhere, but Steph figures that’s his cross to bear or Rubicon to cross or what the frick ever. Robin is definitely the type of guy to smother himself in his own feathers instead of, like, lifting his head like half an inch. 

“Oh my god, what does the Batman have you doing now?” she demands from her seat beside him, leaning forward on her hands. They’re both perched on the edge of a Gotham skyscraper in full costume–all the tattered layers and feathers and hidden secrets of Robin, and the trailing purple shadows and blank face and lamplight-bright eyes of the Spoiler, and also enough Batburger and mix-your-own froyo to make them both sick. “Or is this just another weird idea you got into your head about being a better Robin or something?” 

“This is not about the Batman, okay?” Robin groans into his arms. “I don’t even wanna think about the Batman right now.” 

“Why?” Steph asks skeptically, wrinkling her nose. 

“Because he’s embarrassing,” Robin grumbles, lifting his face just enough to sulk at her. He’s still wearing his mask, because he’s always wearing his mask, but the sulking is not subtle. Like, at all. 

Actually, he might be pouting by now. Geez, that was quick. 

Alright, then. 

“Embarrassing?” Steph repeats, still skeptical. “You never think he’s embarrassing, the only time you said that was oh my god you have a girlfriend. How did you not tell me you got a new girlfriend?! Asshole!” she fumes, thumping him in the shoulder. 

“I don’t!” Robin lies protestingly, throwing his hands up in a cross between a defensive gesture and surrender. Steph thumps him again for good measure. “Ow!”

“You deserved that,” she accuses him. “You got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me!” 

“I didn’t!” Robin insists, somehow managing to look mortified without a face. He definitely sounds it, if nothing else. “I just–I’m just bad at making nests! I tried really hard, but it sucked and it’s not gonna work and I’m the worst bird in the world!” 

“. . . Robin,” Steph says slowly, lifting up her own mask to eye him. The Spoiler’s lamplight lenses will not do right now. “Did you not tell me you got a girlfriend, or did you lie to me about not being a weird cryptid thing like the Batman?” 

She wouldn’t put it past him, considering, but also she really thought they were past that. Like, he’s not actually gonna let her see his real face even though he’s basically her best friend these days, fine, whatever, but she thought he had a real face and if he doesn’t and he lied to her about it for some dumb Bat-reason or even dumber Robin-reason–

“Neither, okay?” Robin groans, hiding his face in his wings, feathers split just enough for him to half-see her through. “Just–last week Superboy kidnapped Catwoman for me and made me a diamond.” 

“. . .” Steph says. 

“A really big diamond,” Robin stresses. 

“. . . . . .” Steph says. 

“With his hands. While sitting in a volcano,” Robin says. “And, like, then he cut it with his TTK. Do you know what the TTK is, actually, he talks it up a lot but I don’t know how closely you follow any of the Supers so–”

“ROBIN WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL,” Steph yells at him.

[kinardsevan]

wip Thursday

tagged by the effervescent @perfectlysunny02, and in the same vein as them, don't I have a million WIPs? Yes, yes I do. But also, I mentioned this idea last week. And... well... oops? (And it's entirely their fault because of the violence they chose with THEIR teaser today.)

Alas, I give you unnecessary, momentary, legendary (working title)

-

Tommy wasn’t supposed to be here. That’s all he could think about; he wasn’t supposed to be here. 

He’d had a full day of plans while Evan was on shift. He was supposed to stop by Harbor and pick up a package he’d had shipped there and forgot to bring home the night before. He was supposed to have lunch with Howie and Jee-Yun. He was supposed to swing by the 118 and swap keys with Evan because something was going on with the Rubicon’s engine. He was supposed to spend the afternoon figuring out if it was going to be an easy fix or not. Evan would be home before sunset. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here. 

Except, Evan was back at work after being down with a nasty virus for the past few days, and the only thing that had really been helping him feel better was the honey citrus tea from their favorite café. It wasn’t even a drink that his boyfriend cared for that much, but Tommy had introduced it to him the first time he’d gotten sick a few months into their relationship, and it had been a game changer for him. It wasn’t a cure by any means, but it definitely helped. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here. 

“Natalie?” He croaks out her name, leaning half up off of the tile floor, hand pressed into his abdomen next to his hip. He can’t see her behind the glass casing that contains the pastries, and she hasn’t said anything in a few minutes. The higher he tries to sit himself up, the more pain shoots down his side. “Nat!?” 

It takes more than a few seconds, but eventually—too long—he hears the sound of what he assumes is broken glass shifting on the floor. A small whimper. 

“T-Tommy?” 

“Nat?” He calls back, turning his head towards the back of the counter again. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

She doesn’t respond, but then he sees the familiar flurry of jello-red hair appear from behind the pastry case, and then she’s climbing over the counter, her combat boots crunching glass on the floor as she moves towards him. Tommy looks up at her, his paramedic skills immediately kicking in as he takes her in. 

She’s got a cut on her forehead and her hands are bleeding—he assumes from all the broken glass. There’s a slash across her forearm where the knife got her, bleeding pretty decently. His eyes trail down to the side of her apron, the stain spreading across it and her jeans. She’s bleeding from somewhere on her leg. His gaze drifts to the counter and the streak of blood coming across it where she crawled over. 

“N-Nat, we gotta call the cops,” he tells her warily. 

“What if he comes back,” she asks anxiously, her voice shaking as tears come down her face. She sinks to the ground next to him, ignorant of the glass on the ground around him. 

Tommy shakes his head at her, digging into his pocket with blood-coated fingers, fumbling his phone when his fingers come into contact with it. He pulls it out as he looks back up at her. 

“You gave him everything, right,” he asks her. “Didn’t fight?” 

“No,” she sobs, leaning over him. “God, Tommy, I’m so sorry.” 

He shakes his head at her, reaching for one of the napkin holders knocked onto the floor nearby. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he tells her. He keeps flashing hot and cold, and he can feel himself getting clammy. He tries to focus his attention on his phone, dialing the number into it. 

“Tommy, you’re bleeding,” she cries. 

“I’m fi-…fine,” he stammers, slumping back against the floor. “We’re fine.” 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” 

“5943 Ventura Boulevard,” he rattles off. “This is off-duty Rescue 1701 out of Harbor Station, I need to be transferred to Maddie Buckley.” 

“Just a moment sir.” The line clicks off for all of ten seconds, and then clicks back on. 

“9-1-1, this is Maddie Buckley speaking,” her voice comes back. There’s just the slightest hitch of anxiety in her voice, like she knows being routed to personally isn’t normal. 

“Maddie,” he rasps, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, trying to get the tears out of them. 

“Tommy,” she replies, her voice suddenly flooded with panic. “What’s going on? Is Evan- a-are you- is Howie-…” 

“They’re fine,” he chokes out. “B-but, I need RA and police. S-Stabbing at the café.” 

His head drops back against the floor, and he can feel his vision getting fuzzy. He looks over at Natalie. She looks even more panicked than she did before. His gaze drifts down to where his other hand is. Blood is completely coated over his fingers. 

“N-Nat, I need you to use your apron to apply pressure,” he rasps. 

“Stabbing?! Tommy where are you,” Maddie cries from the other end of the line. Tommy rattles the address off to her again. 

“D-dont send Evan,” he rasps at her. “God, he can’t find me. You hear me, Maddie? Don’t send him. Do not let him see me like this.” 

She hiccups a cry on the other end of the line, and there are hushed voices clearly trying to get her off the line, but she speaks clearly enough that Tommy hears when she growls ‘no’ back at whoever is trying to get her to hand the call off. 

“You know I love him, right,” he continues. Natalie presses her apron into his side then and he can’t help the cry that falls out of his mouth. “F-fuck. M-Maddie?” 

“I know,” she cries. “Stay with me, Tommy. Don’t hang up on me.” 

He nods letting his head rest back against the floor. 

“No, come on, Tommy,” Natalie cries, pressing harder into his wounds. “Come on. Stay awake.” 

“Trying,” he murmurs, looking around the floor. “I-I, I want to marry him, you know,” he tells Maddie. “He just walked into my life like- like he was always supposed to be here. And I thought I’d lost out on my chance by taking too long to figure my shit out. Fuck, Nat. Yeah, that’s good, keep pushing down.” 

“He talks about you being it for him all the time,” Maddie replies. He can tell she’s crying. “Keeps telling me that he thinks you’ll be a great dad.” 

Tommy lets out a small laugh and then groans at the wave of pain that shoots across his abdomen and stomach. 

“I wasn’t sure, before him,” he replies, letting his eyes slip shut. The phone starts to sag in his hand, but the cry of Natalie’s voice and sudden, sharp pressure on his side has his eyes shooting open again. “Fuck, okay. Okay.” He swallows hard, taking a breath. “B-but if anyone could convince me that we could do it together, it’s him.” 

Maddie hiccups another sob. “I’ve watched him lose one relationship after another, think what he’s holding onto is the right one while knowing it isn’t. But I never said anything because I was just his sister, you know? And I know you said he walked into your life, but you spun into his with a literal hurricane and I’ve never seen him… I don’t even know, Tommy. This settled? Happy? Secure?” 

“H-he deserves it,” Tommy rasps, his head lolling back and eyes getting heavier. 

“Damn it, Tommy, come on,” Natalie cries. “Stay awake, please.” 

“s’getting harder,” Tommy slurs. “Maddie, I love him. So much more than I’ve ever loved anyone else. Want him more, dream about him more, choose him more. My life begins and ends at Evan Buckley.” The tears swimming in his eyes finally slip down the side of his face, his vision tight now, and extremely hazy. 

“Tommy, stay with me,” Maddie cries. Her voice seems farther away now. “The ambulance is so close. Please?” 

“Tell him I love him more than anything else,” he replies, coughing out another groan. “That I choose him. Every day, all the time. I pick him.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes too heavy to open back up. “I love you, Evan.” 

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Original Writing Project: 916

OKAY, now that I've edited the first few chapters enough, I think it's finally time to have its debut to you all!

This is an original sci-fi story completely written by me, with MAJOR influences from things like Gundam and whatnot.

I want to post it here to get your all's feedback and just to share some good ol' storytelling, so please let me know what you guys think of it, your feedback/comments is always read by me!

I expect to have the first few chapters out sometime during this week after your normal schedule of simping, but this post will just be covering what the main idea of the story is/what shows/games is influencing it.

Below the cut is the blurb, inspirations, main characters, and a story excerpt!

First of all, thank you so much for even pressing the keep reading tab/showing any remote interest. I understand this isn't really what you come to this blog for, so it means the world to me!

Anyways, first up is the story blurb:

===

Story Blurb:

The year is 1177. Thirty-four years have passed since the battlefield had been introduced to the bipedal warmachines known as Soldat D’acier. Though they only stand a few meters above tanks, they were able to reduce armored divisions to scrap metal, and fortresses once thought impenetrable transformed to piles of rubble.

The entire continent of Anis rushed their militaries into an arms race to have their own versions of these steel behemoths.

In the name of expansion and rightful conquest, the country of Florence had declared war on Cumbria in 1155. The invasion saw countless deployments of Soldats on both sides, and death quickly followed in their wake. The two nations signed a peace treaty to end hostilities after five long years, but their crimes wouldn't be so easily forgotten by the people, nor its creations.

Now, the man-made atrocities emerging from the "Enhanced Human Initiative" stoke the flames of war once more, forcing an uneasy alliance. And from the same crime that threatens them, comes their final hope: Enhanced Human 916.

===

Inspirations:

Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron Blooded Orphans, Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Mobile Suit Gundam: Narrative Mobile Suit Gundam: Unicorn Mobile Suit Gundam: Zeta The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel, Armored Core 6: Fires of Rubicon, Scarlet Nexus, Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker, Girls' Frontline,

I was not joking when I said the major influences are from Gundam. At first I was worried about not being 100% original, but eh. Write what you love, right? Elements of the story, themes, suits, and a unholy amount more is snatched from all the Gundam shows listed above.

Armored Core 6 is what inspired the look of the "Soldats", and how combat flows in the story. The main lead, 916, is called numbers bc of the player character 621. (I also learned that the reasons I chose that number came from my subconscious, specifically Darling in the Franxx and that character, 196 aka Ikuno)

Scarlet Nexus inspired some of the tech things regarding the pilots being able to "read each other's minds" so to speak. Pretty much a less space-magic version of being a Newtype from Gundam, as well as other characters.

Trails of Cold Steel and Girls' Frontline inspired the other cast members, and speaking of which:

===

Main Cast:

Wolf Company

Enhanced Human 916, "Vi", Age: 21

A young man who escaped the "Enhanced Human Initiative." Due to augmentation and surgeries, he remains stoic and emotionless, but thanks to his adoptive family, has shown signs of opening up. Earned his nickname after his violet eyes.

He pilots the Soldat R1-N0, "Rhino", a bulky mech utilizing rush and ambush tactics, armed with a 60mm Autocannon and Heat Dagger.

A/N: Titular character, heavily inspired by Byleth (Fire Emblem Three Houses), and Mikazuki (Iron-Blooded Orphans). My second favorite character to write so far in the story, ironically.

David Collins, "Boss", Age: 53

Leader of a PMC called "Wolf Company". David took 916 in at a young age and raised him to be part of the "family". Loud and proud, he takes great pride in all serving underneath him, and has known to have a temper in anything regarding his age. Earned his nickname since calling him "Boss" was more comfortable for everyone.

He pilots the Soldat "Juggernaut', a machine with the legs of a tank, but upper half of a mech with arms. Armed with wrist-mounted machine guns and twin battle-cannons on top of its shoulders.

A/N: Inspired by Maine from Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Don't look too much into that, don't worry. You can also tell from just his dialogue how much I like writing him too. He is my number 1 favorite to write.

Chloe, "Flare", Age: 35

Second in command of "Wolf Company. Chloe is extremely loud, complementing her foul-mouthed nature. Generally regarded as the "Big SIster" of the team. Earned her nickname from her extremely short temper.

She pilots the Soldat "Mantis", a lanky and smaller machine focusing on blitz tactics, able to leap surprisingly massive heights due to its inverted legs.

A/N: Inspired by Bianca (Gundam Thunderbolt), Sasha (Attack on Titan) and Miku (Darling in the Franxx). To everyone I have shown this story thus far, she has been the fan favorite, including her partner in crime:

Hayes, "Screw", Age: 32

The newest "rookie" of Wolf Company. Impulsive, a little too confident in himself but admittedly a talented sniper, Hayes is always eager to prove himself. Earned his nickname from either screwing himself over, or the enemy.

He pilots the Soldat "Phantom", a mech focusing on stealth and sniping, able to keep itself off enemy radar.

A/N: Inspired by Connie (Attack on Titan) and Zorome (Darling in the Franxx). Him and Chloe are a fun combo, as you will soon see.

There's eight more main characters, but I'll let you read their introduction yourself! 916 and Wolf Company will be the ones we'll be following the most throughout the story. Though this part of the cast was heavily inspired by Iron-Blooded Orphans. For those who watched the show, again, don't read too much into that.

===

The last thing I'll have for this post will be an excerpt from the prologue to get things started! Hopefully my slow ass will have the prologue out soon, so please look forward to it!

Without further ado-

===

Story Excerpt:

===

“Doctor Moreau, do you think we go to heaven?” asked the small girl.

Doctor Moreau stopped typing for a moment as her eyes glanced over the terminal, seeing the child laying on the operating table, standing out from the rest of the clean black walls and white tiles. The room was supported with soft lights illuminating the room, complemented by the blue screens and dizzying amount of automated surgical equipment quietly whirring into position.

Moreau pushed her aging white hair away from her eyes, looking at the child, subject designated 403. 403 was about seven, she barely stood up to Moreau’s stomach and had long black hair that stopped at her shoulders. The light blue gown was slightly too big for her, the sleeves extending over most of her hands and just revealing her fingers. Seeing her face again reminded Doctor Moreau of 403's rather inquisitive nature. 

“Why are you asking that, 403?” Moreau replied, her tone indifferent. Her fingers went back to typing as she sighed. “If you’re worried about the procedure, the chips are perfectly safe to implant. There has been no previous record of anyone dying from-”

“-But I’m going to die after.”

“...What?”

“After the chip goes into me. Will the others and I go to heaven?”

The question had caught the doctor completely off guard. Moreau had answered questions such as, “Will this hurt?”, or “Do I have to?”. This question was something she could not answer with her usual dismissive tone. She sat up straight in her seat now and turned to look at the child. 403's eyes were still fixated on the ceiling.

“Why are you so certain you’re going to die, 403?”

“That’s what my brother told me. When the chip goes into our brain, we’re sent off to die.”

The girl’s voice stated it as a matter of fact. There was no confusion in her tone of what was to become of her. Doctor Moreau had no response as she stared at 403 with her mouth slightly open. The child simply turned her head, facing her and expectantly waiting for an answer.

“... I certainly hope there’s a heaven, 403. I’m sure heaven will allow good kids like you and your brother.”

“What about my friends? Will they-”

“We’re about to begin the surgery. Please face up towards the light and close your eyes.” Moreau bluntly cut off the conversation.

403 pouted, but complied. It was clear that the answer did not satisfy her as much as she wanted it to. Doctor Moreau took a second to recover and focus back on the job at hand. Facing back towards the terminal, she began typing once more. With the input of several passwords and confirmations, the surgery to implant the combat data-chip into 403’s brain would commence. Afterwards, she would be sent to her brother’s unit, and be deployed to the battlefield.

Just like all the others.

This room had always been nothing out of the ordinary to Moreau. The same procedure had been repeated more times than she could count and yet why did this one make it so hard to breathe all of a sudden?

“Doctor Moreau?”

“Yes, 403?”

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“You may.”

“Can I listen to that song you always play? The one that goes ‘Lalalalala~’? I want to hear it one more time before I sleep. I really like it.”

Doctor Moreau’s lips suddenly dried up as she once again stopped typing. With a slightly trembling hand, she turned to the radio sitting on her desk and nodded.

“...Of course, 403. No more questions, please.” 

She could see the smile form on 403’s lips as the mask was gently put onto her face, the anesthesia slowly starting to pump into 403’s lungs.

“...Thank you.”

Doctor Moreau swallowed hard as her finger pressed the on switch of her old radio. Despite being in such a high tech surgical room, her radio was comically outdated. It was a small gray oval-like object that only had a speaker and a few buttons. To even put music in it, she had to insert a smaller rectangle that contained the songs in it via tape. It was a gift from her father when she was 403’s age, the thought of their roles being reversed not lost on the doctor.

‘Sing, sing a song Let the world sing along Sing of love there could be Sing for you and for me…~’

Doctor Moreau could hear 403 softly hum along to the song as her voice gradually became quieter, and eventually turning into soft breathing. The whirring of the surgical equipment and the radio being the only things in the room left making noise. The only remaining step was for Doctor Moreau to approve the procedure to implant the chip into 403’s brain.

“Is there heaven…” the doctor quietly repeated the question to herself, attempting to ignore 403’s startling self awareness of the situation.

"Authorization confirmed, Implant procedure beginning.” A deep robotic voice rang out across the room as the sound of a drill began drowning out the other equipment. Doctor Moreau sat on her chair as she closed her eyes, waiting for the procedure to be done and turning off the radio in the process.

 “For me, I don’t think so…Heaven was lost to me long ago.”

...

‘Sing, sing a song Make it simple to last Your whole life long~’

The Doctor was snapped out of her melancholy as the music continued playing. Sighing, she moved to turn it off for good.

“Piece of junk is starting to-” She stopped as her finger was about to hit the switch.

The radio was still off.

Listening closely again, Moreau realized the singing was coming outside of the door.

‘Don't worry that it's not Good enough for anyone Else to hear~’

Creeping towards the door, the doctor put her ears to it and heard what sounded like a chorus singing. The song wasn’t over the intercom, otherwise the voice would be far clearer.

Instead it sounded like- 

A sudden sense of dread hit the doctor as she swung the doors open and ran towards the hangar. Multiple guards and scientists were opening the doors along the long gray hallway, joining Moreau and investigating what the noise was. When they finally got to the railing after the doors slid open, none of them could speak. 

‘Just sing, sing a song (Just sing, sing a song) Just sing, sing a song~’

Inside the massive hangar stood rows of countless Soldats, giant bipedal machines that stood several meters tall, lined up next to each other as if they were statues. Their bulky legs stood firmly in place and the compact yet slender arms did not move an inch.

The only things moving were their horned box-like heads, slowly moving side to side in perfect sync. Each of the voices emerging from the Soldats were different but singing in perfect harmony.

Their normally offline and horizontal segregated visors were suddenly flickering to life with blue lights, illuminating the large dark room with bright blue rays.

‘La la la la la, la la la la La la la la la la laaaaa~’

Doctor Moreau could hear the voices of security guards rushing down the stairs to halt the singing, shouting orders at the others to back away.

However, the doctor could only hear their cheerful singing along with her breathing becoming noticeably shorter with each second, feeling her chest tighten.

Once again, the question 403 springed up to the forefront of her mind.

“Is there heaven?”

...

===

And that's the first part of the prologue done, hope to have this out soon, and again if you got this far, thanks for taking the time!

See ya soon, and back to the normal content for now!

[diablo1776]

@Oh_That_1_Dude (Adam)

[gp40]

[soundsanssprechen]

Eru, mon Cher

I try to salve my Salvationary instincts Pencils leave trails of carbon Crushed powder Lead on, naturally Army of me Each one married thrice And beheaded by nicety I have a holy mission for you Zeitgeist’s latest face has decreed Hamsa, his hand open Trinity, her eyes defogged Me with my hand on my heart Rubicon fruits won’t yield to Nine Sail north to find calmer seas Picks mined coal My Lórien I hold them near Mithrandir of many colours Saruman was but a shadow of fear Mairon they claim their throne again Illúvater Ich bin eins mit zwo Mein wahrer Vater Neue Wörter singt mir so “Wo bist du hin?” Denn ich sehe die Vögel kontrollieren So it’s Jihad then? Against which demon must I fight Ancalagon the black crushed three mountains When his first Dragon broke with might The world was lowered below old sea Atlantë followed Sauron Südwest Sailed deep until Sun spoke soft sans sound Deep into Celembrimbor‘s lament New men no more Just decaying stewards of lessers Lords In Angmar‘s grave marked By woman scorned And childish hope of a safer home Macbeth was hacked to pieces Raw mace smashed his shield and more

[lanymme]

It’s the last couple hours of Lone Trail. So I need to leave my thoughts on the lobby.

“A new age is upon us.”

You first open up the event and hear this song:

You know that it’s a tipping point. The song is sweeping, emotional, almost epic but so very vulnerable, melancholic, like setting off into the unknown with a long journey behind you. You can sense immediately that it’s the final chapter of the long arc of Rhine Lab, and the stories of these characters are going to reach their conclusion.

Everyone is standing on a different plane, looking in their own direction. Muelsyse and Saria are looking the same way, but they’re far apart, standing on different ground. Silence and Saria are facing opposite each other, walking the same ground, like they’re going to pass: Muelsyse and Ho’olheyak are on the same plane, but not facing one another.

They are a collection of people, on their own journeys: they just happen to all be in the same place.

The story is much this way. It’s about isolation and alienation, longing and vulnerability: every character is on their own journey, with their own aims, and their own feelings. Saria’s devotion, Silence’s resolve, Ho’olheyak’s desperation, Mueslsyse’s despair, and Kristen’s dream. Some conflict: some head in the same direction: some walk together.

It’s a story about Rhine Lab itself. How it started, how it will end up, what it has done. The society in which it grew, and how that shapes it:

It’s a story about humanity, life on Terra. About hope, and death, and change. Their place in the grand scheme of things, in time, in space, traveling alone in the dark: about the difference between a closed sky, and one that contains the universe.

And the song keeps playing, every time you finish a stage, every time you come back. It carries the weight of all these themes. It’s a lonely song, sweeping, emotional: and it’s sad. Everyone is setting off into the unknown, walking their path alone with long journeys behind them and an uncertain future ahead.

“A new age is upon us.” The point of no return is long in the rearview mirror: the rubicon has been crossed, and however it turns out nothing will be the same again.

Something is coming to an end. Life on Terra, our understanding of it, will not be the same.

You can hear the tragedy and the beauty hanging in the air.

Because ultimately, it’s a story about Kristen Wright, whose dream built this place. It’s about people remembering her, loving her, hating her, and following her; guessing at her location and her motives and being wrong. It’s about the people in her life, walking, briefly, in the same direction as her: about how nobody could ever truly walk with her; about how she carries love for Muelsyse and Saria with her into the sky: about how she says goodbye to them, one by one, as she continues on the path she’d always planned; about how they fall away from her, one by one. About Kristen, pioneering a path into the future that everyone can witness but no one can follow.

At the end of it all, it’s just Kristen, leaving terra through the whole she made in the sky: the newest and brightest star.

She’s turning out the light for the long journey into the unknown, a lone trail up from the earth through the sky and into the stars, with so much love left behind her.

And as you listen to that song (sweeping, emotional, vulnerable, reflective and melancholic), floating in the dark on the tide of your feelings as you think back on that long journey, as you imagine those aching, tearful steps into the future, you can hear clearly now the cadence of unbearable, overwhelming grief in those huge, sweeping swells of music, and their lingering cadences.

[jeep-momma]

Wheeling the Tough Obstacles on the Rubicon Trail Day 4 Off-Road

[kivaember]

ac6 drabble: unsolicitated advice

okay i got some prompts already, so first one is "dolmayan and rusty get a moment to talk about their doubts to eachother" from @rend7

this ended up waaay longer than the few paragraphs i expected fhfh thanks for the prompt, and i hope you enjoy!

Unsolicitated Advice

"You're lucky I'm not being supervised right now."

Dolmayan didn't really respond to Rusty's idle comment, the blocky outline of his BASHO AC stark in the thick snow flurry they both found themselves in. Snow that was rapidly covering up the remnants of Rusty's mission: intercepting an RLF raid.

It was difficult to get the balance right, he could admit. He was a spy and he was a Rubiconian through-and-through, but his time on Earth had taught him to compartmentalise his soul and morals into easily stored boxes.

'Ruthless calculation, that's what it means to be a spy,' Uncle had told him all those years ago, with a wry twist of his mouth.

'You can’t let yourself be human here,' O'Keeffe had told him only a year ago, when Rusty realised just how much he had to draw and quarter his heart to survive in the Vespers.

The wrecked MTs had carried the ambitious hopes of a few hot-blooded Rubiconians, wanting to achieve at least one bloody nose against the Corps. It was just bad luck for the both of them that Arquebus had him in the area already, and that Rusty had no choice but to kill them ruthlessly, so they avoided the worst fate of re-education while he got to maintain his cover.

A clean up squad was only ten minutes behind him, after all. Any ejectees would've been rounded up before they even managed to get a mile away - especially in this weather.

"Go," Rusty said. "Now."

"...or you'll kill me too, child of Rubicon?"

Rusty squelched the urge to groan in frustration, conscious of the time pressure on him (less than ten minutes before he had to act, with eyes on him), and said: "I didn't do this because I enjoyed it."

Dolmayan just sighed, tiredly. Uncle had said that ever since he'd been sprung from Redgun custody, he hadn't quite been the same since. Ten years ago, Rusty remembered Dolmayan as a passionate firebrand, whipping the Rubiconians in a patriotic fervour, willing to throw themselves on as many swords as they had to to liberate their home, the Coral...

Inefficient, Uncle had complained (quietly, under his breath). This man seemed like burnt out charcoal in comparison, his booming voice now a raspy mutter, lacklustre and exhausted.

Maybe even he was starting to lose hope of where this war was headed.

"I'll go," Dolmayan finally said, "but first, a word of advice, from a man who's made his mistakes and regrets them every day."

Rusty couldn't help but frown. While he had never personally bought into the mystique of Father Dolmayan and his connection to the 'Coral's Voice', as others stated him to have, he understood that the Liberation Front had only lasted this long - spiritually - thanks to him. While the cautious part of him doubted that any advice Dolmayan would give him would be relevant, he wasn't too prideful to turn a deaf ear.

"What is it?"

"Be wary not to tunnel vision on the dream ahead of you," Dolmayan said. "I know the mission Flatwell placed on your shoulders, the burdens you have carried to get this far... you want a free Rubicon, but you should be mindful of the price that will come at."

"...I think that ship's long sailed, Father Dolmayan," Rusty murmured. "But thanks for the advice anyway."

His HUD beeped. Incoming comms from the Arquebus MT squad.

Before he could draw breath to tell Dolmayan to get out of here - now, the BASHO AC across from him was already turning and boosting away, the eerie, ghostly crimson fire trailing after it as the leader of the Liberation Front vanished into the snow.