#and rendering clear body structure

[thekittyfox2999]

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[fixomnia-scribble]

WOW.

Scientists found an amazingly well-preserved village from 3,000 years ago

Text below, in case article access dries up:

LONDON — A half-eaten bowl of porridge complete with wooden spoon, communal rubbish bins, and a decorative necklace made with amber and glass beads are just a handful of the extraordinarily well-preserved remnants of a late Bronze Age hamlet unearthed in eastern England that’s been dubbed “Britain’s Pompeii” and a “time capsule” into village life almost 3,000 years ago.

The findings from the site, excavated in 2015 to 2016, are now the subject of two reports, complete with previously unseen photos, published this week by University of Cambridge archaeologists, who said they cast light onto the “cosy domesticity” of ancient settlement life.

“It might be the best prehistoric settlement that we’ve found in Britain,” Mark Knight, the excavation director and a co-author of the reports, said in an interviewThursday. “We took the roofs off and inside was pretty much the contents,” he said. “It’s so comprehensive and so coherent.”

The reason for the rare preservation: disaster.

The settlement, thought to have originally consisted of several large roundhouses made of wood and constructed on stilts above a slow-moving river, was engulfed by a fire less than a year after being built.

During the blaze, the buildings and much of their contents collapsed into a muddy river below that “cushioned the scorched remains where they fell,” the university said of the findings. This combination of charring from the fire and waterlogging led to “exceptional preservation,” the researchers found.

“Because of the nature of the settlement, that it was burned down and its abandonment unplanned, everything was captured,” Knight added.

“As we excavated it, there was that feeling that we were picking over someone else’s tragedy,” he said of the eerie site in the swampy fenland of East Anglia. “I don’t think we could smell the fire but the amount of ash around us — it felt close.”

Researchers said they eventually unearthed four large wooden roundhouses and an entranceway structure, but the original settlement was probably “twice as big.”

The site at Must Farm dates to about 850 B.C., eight centuries before Romans came to Britain. Archaeologists have been shocked at “just how clear the picture is” of late Bronze Age life based on the level of detail uncovered, Knight said.

The findings also showed that the communities lived “a way of life that was more sophisticated than we could have imagined,” Duncan Wilson, head of Historic England, the public body responsible for preserving England’s historic environment, said in a statement.

The findings unearthed include a stack of spears, possibly for hunting or defense; a decorative necklace “with beads from as far away as Denmark and Iran”; clothes of fine flax linen; and a female adult skull rendered smooth, “perhaps a memento of a lost loved one,” the research found.

The inhabitants’ diet was also rich and varied, including boar, pike and bream, along with wheat and barley.

A pottery bowl with the finger marks of its maker in the clay was also unearthed, researchers said, still containing its final meal — “a wheat-grain porridge mixed with animal fats” — with a wooden spatula resting inside the bowl.

“It appears the occupants saved their meat juices to use as toppings for porridge,” project archaeologist Chris Wakefield said in the university’s news release. “Chemical analyses of the bowls and jars showed traces of honey along with ruminant meats such as deer, suggesting these ingredients were combined to create a form of prehistoric honey-glazed venison,” he added.

Skulls of dogs — probably kept as pets and to help with hunting — were also uncovered, and the dogs’ fossilized feces showed they fed on scraps from their owners’ meals, the research found.

The buildings, some connected by walkways, may have had up to 60 people living there all together, Knight said, along with animals.

Although no intact sets of human remains were found at the site, indicating that the inhabitants probably fled the fire safely, several sheep bones were found burned indoors. “Skeletal remains showed the lambs were three to six months old, suggesting the settlement was destroyed sometime in late summer or early autumn,” according to the university’s news release.

Ceramic and wooden vessels including tiny cups, bowls and large storage jars were also found. Some pots were even designed to nest, stacked inside one another, Knight said — evidence of an interest in aesthetics as well as practicality.

A lot of similar items were found replicated in each home, Knight added, painting the picture of completely independent homesteads for each family unit rather than distinct buildings for shared tasks — much like we live today.

Household inventories often included metal tools, loom weights, sickles for crop harvesting, axes and even handheld razors for cutting hair.

The roundhouses — one of which had almost 50 square meters (nearly 540 square feet) of floor space — had hearths and insulated straw and clay roofs. Some featured activity zones for cooking, sleeping and working akin to modern-day rooms.

The Must Farm settlement has produced the largest collection of everyday Bronze Age artifacts ever discovered in the United Kingdom, according to Historic England, which partly funded the 1.1 million pound ($1.4 million) excavation project.

The public body labeled the site a “time capsule,” including almost 200 wooden artifacts, over 150 fiber and textile items, 128 pottery vessels and more than 90 pieces of metalwork. Some items will go on display at the nearby Peterborough Museum next month.

Archaeologists never found a “smoking gun” cause for the fire, Knight said. Instead, they suspect it was either an attack from “outside forces,” which may explain why the inhabitants never returned to collect their possessions from the debris, or an accidental blaze that spread rapidly across the tightly nestled homes.

“Probably all that was left was the people and what they were wearing; everything else was left behind,” Knight said of the fire.

But the preservation has left a window for people to look back through in the future. “You could almost see and smell their world,” he said.

“The only thing that was missing was the inhabitants,” Knight added. “And yet … I think they were there — you certainly got glimpses.”

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

hey! I'm pretty new to your stories: currently reading curse words and loving it! (I started the first book with the mindset that I wouldn't be caught enough to miss some real life stuff because of reading... guess what, I missed some real life stuff reading.)

but now I have a question: the books have a pretty intricate plot with a lot of good payoffs for small things. which is very cool from a reader's point of view, but from the writer's one— can you maybe share some stuff about your process? especially in the early stages, how do you go from the initial spark of an idea and what this is about to a fully formed plot? would be cool if you're willing to share

anyway have a great day I'm off to start the third book hehe!

One thing to know about me is that I have just the worst possible imagination. Absolute pisspoor garbage imagination, nothing going on up there. When I want to plot, my process is simple:

Find a problem, then solve it.

Curse Words was born of several disparate story ideas coming together, but mostly I wanted to play with the magic system -- I wanted to write a story where spells were metaphysical parasites that possessed mages, and each mage could only cast their unique spell. The whole thing came about when reading The Princess Bride, specifically the chapter where Buttercup dreams of being a perfect baby and the doctor looking her over and regretfully informing her parents that she was born with mo heart -- I was possessed with this powerful impression of a slightly wacky doctor peering over the top of his rose tinted glasses to inform a pair of parents that their baby had a curse trapped in her heart. From there, it's find the problem, solve the problem.

I wanted to separate Kayden from his family and put him in an unfamiliar environment for the story so that he and the audience would be on a pretty similar level re: world information; isolated magic and a magic school is the easy way to do that. Okay, so why is this school isolated? Why is the curse thing not common knowledge? Why do the public fear curses and have such limited access to magic that it's not a part of Kayden's day-to-day, if it's so useful? Solve the problem; look at the economy. The unique nature of spells makes them difficult to scale up, and the unpredictable nature makes them inferior to technological solutions to problems in most large-scale issues. What does this say about how the Industrial Revolution would've affected the usefulness, and therefore the public perception, of magic? The logical conclusion is the Purity Revolution.

This school is gathering and teaching all these students; why? I wanted a clear division between witches like Kayden and a privileged elite that formed most of the school body; why are they different, how are the elite kids here, why are witches accepted and integrated into the student body? Solve the problem; look at the economy, the politics. Where are these rich kids getting their magic? Why pull in witches? One question answers the other. Why didn't Kayden and Kylie know that curses were spells in advance? Seems something that should be common knowledge. Look at the politics; tie that in. Logical conclusion: magic trap. We have this magic lake with a monster in it that we introduced super early for dramatic purposes and haven't explained yet. What can we do with that? Let's invent empowered water. Let's look at what that means for the creation of potions worldwide. Let's tie in the management of unmanageable spells. Let's elaborate on the structure our magic trap.

Now we have a channel of power. Curses parasitise witches; some are blessings, some are more trouble than they're worth. The school collects curses, domesticates them, makes them more useful, locks away or renders harmless that which it cannot make use of. More curses are collected over time, the school grows and grows and Refujeyo becomes stronger and stronger as they control more of the world's magic supply, but every system has a capacity. What's the effect of this infinite growth? Here we have a clear and unavoidable economic metaphor, so obvious that not centreing the story on this concept would basically be dishonest. Who's managing this collection, what does it say about the power of the school within mage society? How would such a school relate to the rest of Refujeyo; how would Refujeyo, collecting power like this, relate to and be viewed by other magical traditions, and by nonmagical society? Run through the reasoning, solve the problem.

Why would the school only approach Kayden as a teenager, after his curse caused problems? Surely the school would want to collect as many curses as if could as early as possible. There has to be a reason why they waited. This is a good one because it flows directly from the complex political relationships between Refujeyo and commonfolk politics that have to exist, AND ties neatly into critical character motivations that have to exist for book 1's main twist to function (notably, Malas Aksoy's actions). Sort this out for book 1 and accidentally create a critical political point for the rest of the entire series.

I started writing book 1 with the idea of the court case and subsequent twist about Kayden's curse being the big mystery, but Kayden still needs something to actually do at school. We have this mage who we threw in to rescue Kayden and Kylie from the lake, and had Max hero worship her for flavour; she seems to be becoming central to a lot of interactions for some reason. A lot of dramatic stuff is therefore automatically happening in her presence, but why is this incredibly accomplished and intelligent mage fucking up so much? We've established her as careful and thorough. We need a reason for all these accidents beyond random chance. Someone's sabotaging her -- why? Let's look at our established characters and figure out who has means and motive, and who the most fun red herrings would be.

How could a place like Refujeyo, such a complex and time-consuming project that would have to involve the cooperation of so very many mages, even get built? How would it survive long enough to be powerful? When and where did this happen? We've already established the Purity Revolution; maybe there was something more coordinated than just random undirected economic forces. We've established some incredibly powerful mage families and the old system of apprenticeship and inheritance; we know that the most powerful family in Refujeyo used to have a prophecy and owned a very powerful place that helps prophecies specifically. They could coordinate something, given enough motivation and the help of enough other powerful mages. What kind of motivation? Let's go back to the Purity Revolution. If tech develops alongside magic without central oversight of some kind, what could magic enhance? What problems could be foreseen that would make this kind of investment worth it? How does Refujeyo save the world?

Tie this into our power channel. Refujeyo's attempt to save the world endangers the world due to infinite growth and power being passively collected by those who benefit from the dangerous status quo. It fits our economy metaphor, because they're essentially the same thing, just putting in magic instead of money as a means of power.

Find a problem, then solve it.

The important thing with this method is to keep your solutions cohesive. If you come up with a new different reason for every thing, your plot will look scattered and disorganised. We don't want to look like we're just pulling the story out of our arse. I mean, we are pulling the story out of our arse, that's what writing fiction is, but it's a big part of our job to help our audience suspend their disbelief on that. Whenever possible, you should look for answers that solve multiple things and weave disparate parts of the story together; this is especially true when they relate to the core plot or central theme of your story.

Also, leave gaps for reader inference. You don't have to answer every single question, you just need to make sure that some plausible answer exists for every single question. Sometimes this involves saying less, not more, and letting the audience figure it out.

[justrustandstardust]

in honour of geto's birthday, i want to talk about the fandom discourse that paints him as a mother. he definitely has a degree in motherology (with a minor in babygirlism), but i also think it’s possible that gege is genuinely using his character to say something interesting about motherhood and maternity.

this post is inspired largely in part by @virgobingo's thoughtful meta on geto and monstrous femininity, which you can find here. i want to extrapolate from the trope of monstrous femininity and extend it to monstrous motherhood. (which @virgobingo also touches on; you should really check out their meta— it's awesome!)

geto's character is immediately established in a protector capacity, which is intensely reminiscent of the tropes that mothers embody in media. his whole thing is that the strong must protect the weak; it's his core belief. his character is premised around this belief, much like the way mothers' constitutions in media are premised on the principle that they'll go to any length for their children.

we're repeatedly shown his caring side during hidden inventory— he cares for riko, he expresses concern for gojo, he even asks about kuroi after he finds out toji supposedly murdered his best friend. it's made very clear that he's an outwardly caring person with a strong sense of duty. in this way, he parallels the textual role of mothers, whose function is to care and provide above all else. the repeated emphasis on his caring nature is what directly likens him to maternity, whose characteristic trait is tender love and care.

he also houses curses in his body. he unleashes them from inside of him, almost like children leaving the womb. these curses obey him and operate according to his will in a very parent/child dynamic. they are powerful, but they can only do what he tells them to do. he uses them to fulfil his duty according to his core belief: to protect the weak.

when he defects, his ideology fundamentally does not change— it just inverts. instead of the strong protecting the weak (the weak necessitating their strength because they can't protect themselves), now the strong must be protected from the weak (because the weak leech the strength from the strong, therefore rendering them weak).

nothing really changes; he still cares —fiercely— it's just in the opposite direction. he takes the tropes associated with motherhood and inverts them— he'll do anything to protect those under his care, including killing, because he wholeheartedly believes in fulfilling his duty as a protector (like a mother). his unwavering conviction and willingness to die for his beliefs (which are directly about those he's protecting) is the most flagrantly maternal thing about him.

toji's worm calls him "mommy" and it's not wrong. he takes in daughters and becomes the central figure of his "family"; his emphasis on family throughout the story (even as a youth) also speaks to his maternity, as mothers are often written as the binding emotional centres of familial structures.

after he dies, his body is taken over by someone who is Iiterally a mother. he embodies monstrous motherhood during life and after death, leading us to the question of what gege is trying to say about all of this. is caring too much a bad thing? does caring in one way open the door to caring in another? what happens when a mother's love, supposedly strong enough to lift fallen trees off their children, goes in the “wrong” direction?

there's also the fact that geto is male. i think gege is also asking us to reckon with how the tropes of maternity have been confined to women, showing us that these intense convictions and the depth of care attributed to mothers can apply to anyone, even (especially) if they are distinctly masculine. in doing this, he's also expanding the conceptual definition of motherhood, suggesting that mothers can exist beyond their provident care and one-dimensional duty to their beloveds.

geto's monstrous motherhood is an explosive reclamation of agency in a trope where women have been historically limited by the categorical imposition of maternity. it seeks to disrupt not only who we consider to be mothers but also what we consider a mother to be. perhaps the monster is not the maternal figure whose love turns vicious or violent, but us, who monstrously imprisoned them in the fixed role of "mother".

[outofgloom]

SHUN THIS PLACE

The Lord of Steel stood on the threshold, at long last. Behind him, the priests lay dead, splayed across the desert, along with the bodies of his soldiers. The elemental weapons of the priesthood had been as terrible as foretold, but in the end, his power had prevailed.

He scanned the midday sky briefly, but it remained mostly clear. A good omen, although it would not last. Evening would bring stormclouds—red storms, the kind which did not water the dry earth.

In fact, he was counting on it.

He stooped and crossed the threshold, moving out of the desert air and into the cool interior of the structure. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness, and he saw that the walls were covered with carvings. No surprise there: He’d encountered versions of them before, on the obelisks of the Great Jungle and the abandoned cliff-cities of the Great Frost. Even so, these were the fullest and most detailed he’d seen so far. There were full words here, in fact, alongside the usual pictograms, written in the strange script of the machines.

He was impatient, eager to take the next step, but he had not gotten this far by ignoring good intel. As odious a task as it was to him, perhaps just this once he ought to give the inscription a full read....

HERE-PLACE IS MESSAGE

...the first line parsed out, alongside a symbol which usually meant “listen” or “take heed”. This place is a message. He read on:

MESSAGE IS BIG

...No, that should be rendered something like “great”, shouldn’t it? He was rusty. “Significant”, perhaps. This message is significant.

HERE-PLACE IS NOT...something. He was unsure. “Virtue”, maybe? That was it: No virtue is here, in this place.

He paused, eyes flicked to the right, looking out at the desert. Had that been movement? A moment passed.... Ah, a thin cloud had passed across the sun. That was all. Satisfied, he returned to the text. Where had he left off? No virtue is here.... Right, and after that, he knew the words “temple” and “shrine”, in series: 

HERE-PLACE IS NOT-VIRTUE NOT-TEMPLE, NOT-SHRINE

HERE-PLACE IS NOT-TOMB NOT-TREASUREVAULT, NOT-VALUE

HERE-PLACE IS.... What was that symbol? The inscription beneath...“danger”, “destruction”?

DANGER IS.... Is what? The glyphs were faded. He squinted at them, traced them with a finger. “Individuated”? “Discrete”, maybe? That seemed right: A discrete size and shape, in a specific location.

Immediately after that, the next line was clear:

DANGER IS WHAT LIES BENEATH

Now that was more like it—

Something struck him from behind, bit into the armor of his upper back, and there was a noise shrieking in his ears and sparks were flashing in the visor of his helmet, overwhelming his senses, sparks burning into his neck. He cried out and twisted away from the stone wall, striking out blindly. 

Contact. He felt metal crumple against his fist, followed by the sound of his assailant thudding against the opposite wall. His hand went to his shoulder, felt wetness there, and sharp, throbbing pain. He gritted his teeth and shook his head, trying to focus. There!

It was one of the machine-priests—heavily damaged, but still alive. It heaved itself up on two bent legs, and the tatter of its robes whirled around it. He and his soldiers must have missed one, somehow...or it had repaired itself. How could he not have noticed its approach?

He stepped back quickly, putting distance between himself and the enemy. The mask that covered the priest’s face was cracked, likely from the blow he’d just dealt it, but the eyes still glowed bright. He realized dimly that the mask was made in the shape of the mythological Stalker Eel—a wide, round mouth, slitted forehead. It was a stealth-mask. Of course....

There was the shrill, whining noise, and he saw that the priest’s remaining arm ended in something like a buzzsaw. That explained his ringing ears and the jagged tear that had been cut into his armor...and the sparks. Surely it had been aiming for his neck. He was fortunate that it did not carry an elemental weapon, or his situation would be more dire.

The priest crouched, weapon held forward. He readied himself, trying to focus against the pain. Searching, searching with his mind....

It lunged. The sawblade shrieked in his ears once more, and he felt the vibration of it in the base of his skull.

Thud. Clatter. The whine of the spinning blade peaked and ramped down, grinding harmlessly against the stone floor as the priest’s arms and legs spasmed where they now lay, along with its body. 

The priest’s head, mask and all, floated in the air before him. He’d found what he’d sought: the small linkages of true metal that joined the creature’s skull to its torso. At this range, he’d been able to detect them amongst the lattice of false protometal and artificial flesh that made up the bulk of the creature’s body. Then, it was only a matter of...unlinking.

The eyes were wide with shock. They remained glowing for a second, then they winked off. A rasp of air escaped the disconnected throat, and the jaw went slack. It was over. 

He set the head down on the floor, well away from the still-twitching body. Then he tended to himself: He removed the damaged armor plates and drew out a spool of metal thread. In a few minutes, he’d used his powers to stitch the wound in his shoulder. It was painful, but necessary. He’d wasted enough time.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the inscriptions on the wall once more. They were undamaged, it seemed, but he didn’t have much patience left. He hated reading, especially this kind. Too much ambiguity. And after all, the attack had made him lose his place. He almost left it there, turned to his true goal in the back of the structure, where the walls narrowed down...but the next series of inscriptions drew his attention back. These he had never seen before. He sighed:

DANGER IS TO.... An odd phrasing here. “To anatomy”? Or was it “to geography”? He’d never thought about it, but in the language of the machines, the words were almost the same.

DANGER IS TO THE BODY DANGER IS TO THE LAND TO KILL OR TO CHANGE

His heart beat faster. Ah, this was worthwhile. A confirmation of sorts. Surely he had found the right place. His shoulder ached, but he shrugged it off.

DANGER TAKES A CERTAIN FORM...The same word as above. A certain body?

FORM OF DANGER IS AN OBJECT

OBJECT IS.... He blinked, re-read the word. That did not conform to his research. He read back over the lines again, making sure that he had not missed anything. No, it was clear.

The danger takes a certain form.  The form of the danger is an object. The object is a Mask.

He frowned. A mask? How could that be the fabled weapon of the Ancients? The masks that the machines had worn were so fragile, so easily crushed, as he had just demonstrated. He glanced down at the disconnected head of the priest. Could a simple mask be the same as the weapon that had burned off the surface of the planet in ancient times, dissolving and remaking life into its current form? The Age of Shattering had been ended that way, it was said.... It seemed impossible, but perhaps this too was a distorted myth. There was no way to know, in the end, and it didn’t really matter. He would find out the truth soon enough.

Except...his eyes returned to the head of the priest where it sat on the floor. Yes, it could work.

Click. The cable he had scavenged from one of the other bodies outside jumped with energy from the still-functioning core of the priest’s torso, and after a moment, the eyes sparked on, began to glow, faintly at first, then stronger. 

The limbs did not move this time. He had removed them all, even the connection to the waist, little more than a torso-shaped power source now. The jaw shifted, and a hiss of air went up into the throat as the voicebox engaged. The eyes flicked back and forth, took him in where he crouched, then glanced toward the remains of the body...and quickly away.

What was that expression? Revulsion? Could the machines experience something like this? He had never asked.

“Why...?” the priest said in a raspy voice. 

“For information,” he replied.

“You are...monster. My...my body—”

“May be yours again, once I have what I need.”

The priest did not respond.

“What does this indicate, this word here?” he continued, pointing to the last part of the inscription that he had translated. “Tell me what you know.”

“Mask,” the priest said plainly after a moment.

“Does it have any other meaning?”

“Mask...no. No other.”

“Are you sure? I’ve found that the memories of your priesthood are not always reliable. The Ancients made you badly, I think.”

“No other. Just ‘mask’.”

“And what mask does it refer to? Surely you still know this.”

“I cannot.”

“I’m going down, either way. But if there was, say, some additional warning you wished to add, some further piece of knowledge that might deter me or improve the outcome.... Well, this is your last chance.”

The priest’s eyes frowned—or as close to a frown as a machine could muster. After a moment, it seemed to decide:

“The mask,” it said, “life to the world, it once gave. After an age of shattering, of disjointing.” The wording was strange, as if the priest were repeating some litany.

“Life, you say? That sounds good to me. Have you looked at the state of the world lately? There are few left since the Plague and the petty wars it engendered. Few who remain whole in mind, that is. Even the Tetrate is crumbling, and the Red Storms worsen every day.”

“Beware,” the priest continued, “for life with death comes also.”

“Ah, yes, of course. But that is the Great Cycle, isn’t it? The world has not changed so much that we’ve all forgotten.”

“Life and death.... You are recent, comprehend not.”

“Recent.... You mean young? Hah! I am the Lord of Steel, first of the elements, the true metal, which cannot corrode, spawn of the metal-star Exsidia, which issued unmade from the Void—”

“Life and death and life...” the priest intoned, ignoring him.

“Why do you babble? You’re just a broken machine, I think. Another of Their useless clockworks.”

“I am not machine,” the priest spat back.

“Then speak like it. What more can you tell me?”

“I remember in the Time Before,” the priest said, with the same odd phrasing, “For the world, we were made, to build and to maintain. Nothing more....”

“You were made for such. Not I.”

“...And when the world failed,” it continued, “sacrifice was needed. Always sacrifice. Life was given to us, so that it might be given unto the world. Cores made to burn.”

“You speak of how the Age of Shattering ended, I think.”

The priest hesitated. Its mouth trembled, then:

“Not one age...not one, but many.”

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“The world failed...has failed, over and over. And when the world failed, there was sacrifice. Burning to sustain, to kindle life and light. Over and again.”

“That...makes no sense. The Age of Shattering is—”

“Ended now, and never again.”

“So you say, but—”

“No more sacrifice.” The priest’s voice dropped to a whisper, and its eyes wandered back and forth. “No more, to start the world anew. That destiny is over. No more will our cores burn, to kindle the stars and to light the lamps of the universe. It is enough.”

“What is this sacrifice?”

“Life with death comes also. That is the challenge of the Mask, to remake the world. Beware.”

“So...the mask is not simply a weapon to be wielded for my ends? That’s disappointing, given the enemy that I contend with.”

“A tool may be used for many tasks: to build or to destroy. The potential is in the core of each of us.”

“I have no core. Unlike you, I am flesh, blood, and true metal. But if a sacrifice is needed...perhaps your core will be useful to me after all.”

The priest’s eyes closed behind its mask.

“Any more to say? I confess you have not convinced me of—”

A force took hold of him, wrapping invisible fingers around his throat, and he saw with a shock that the mask on the priest’s face had changed form somehow, becoming smaller, more angular. The air shivered with telekinetic energy, and he was choking, hands clawing at his throat, eyes bulging, but there was nothing there to grasp. He staggered back against the wall as the crushing force increased, and he felt something give way in his chest. Pain shivered up and down his spine. His vision was going dark.

No other choice. With the last desperate vestiges of his power, he struck out, found the linkings of true metal once more, and wrenched the priest’s head to pieces. 

The pressure on his throat and torso released, and he fell to his knees, gasping and retching. His heart pounded in his ears, and his head throbbed, but he was alive. After a few moments, he tried to sit back against the wall, but sharp agony broke out in the right side of his torso. He ground his teeth, breathing in short gasps, eyes clenched shut. He was pretty sure he’d popped a stitch in his shoulder as well. The wound burned.

He held himself still, trying to stay conscious and control his breathing, trying to endure through the surge of pain. It hurt, but after a few moments, he was able to get hold of his panic and focus. He searched within his chest cavity, feeling his power ping off the metallic bones. There: one rib was cracked, another dislocated. Nothing for it. He held the image in his mind, gulped air through his bruised throat, and did what had to be done.

The fusion of the cracked rib was white-hot iron near his heart, and the sound of the other rib popping back into place was audible in the small space. He screamed, writhed, and slumped over into unconsciousness.

Minutes passed, maybe more. He flitted from a dreamless nothing to wakefulness...and then back again. At last, in a half-aware moment, his mind managed to grasp a scrap of reality. His eyes fluttered, and images flickered in his thoughts: A flash of the low stone ceiling above. A glimpse of the lower part of the wall. The last three lines of the inscription were visible from where he lay, and even in his near-senseless state, they were familiar to him. He had seen them before:

HERE-PLACE, DO NOT REMAIN BELOW-DANGER, DO NOT APPROACH HERE-PLACE, SHUN

His mind offered the translation:

Do not inhabit this place. Do not approach the danger below. Shun this place.

He moaned, felt the hard floor on the back of his skull. The world was expanding again, finally, beyond the margins of his pain-wracked body. He was lying on his back, and his injured shoulder was spasming against the stone. He shifted to take the pressure off, and found that the pain in his side was substantially less now. That was good. He blinked, wiped moisture from his eyes, then carefully, he tested the movement of his limbs. No new pain greeted him. Also good.

His vision was clearing up, and he turned his head leftward, took in his surroundings.

The wreckage of the priest’s head was scattered across the floor around him. A fragment of the upper part lay nearby, with a single, empty eye, staring.

Shun this place.

A shame. The machine had been cunning, speaking its riddles and warnings, same as the Ancients. Had any of it been true, or had the priest simply been buying the time it needed to summon a new mask? No way to know for sure. He sighed and swallowed painfully, raising a hand to massage his sore throat. It wouldn’t deter him, and anyways, he still had the priest’s intact core, if some sacrifice was really required.

With effort, he shifted up onto one elbow, glanced over at the limbless body.

Shock. He squinted, shook his head, looked again: The same as before. How? The torso was smashed, torn open from inside. Had he...?! No...no, it must have been the priest. He cursed—the machine had tricked him even as it attacked. But why? Did that mean that it had been telling the truth after all?

No more sacrifice.... No more will our cores burn....

He sat up, breathing gingerly. The wind was rising outside the structure, and he shivered as he looked out: A line of red clouds now limned the horizon, off to the east. How long had he lain here? Too long—It was coming soon now, and he had wasted much time. No more delays. He heaved himself to a kneeling position, raised his head, and there was the inscription again, staring him in the face.

Do not inhabit.... Do not approach.... Shun this place!

He straightened shakily, dusted off his hands. The Protodermic Priesthood had done its work well, to uphold the ancient dictates, to instill fear, and to keep the vaults of deep time sealed. To the very last, it had done its work, and it had nearly been the end of him. But it had failed.

The Lord of Steel breathed in and centered himself, drawing upon his power. He slid a hand along the metal-stone hybrid of the structure around him, feeling its alien composition. It had taken him many years to acquire enough of it, secreted away on underground markets, and more years after that to study the substance, to understand it, and to modify his own power to affect it.

He advanced slowly, leaving the inscriptions behind. The tunnel stretched into cool darkness and ended in a blunt wall. But he knew better. He focused his mind, felt the stone-metal shiver downward, a solid shaft extending deep into the surface of the planet. Not entirely solid, however. He could sense the seams and joints, where the material had been fixed together. Now at his command, the shaft opened in segments, one seal releasing after another, and he shaped it into a stairway, leading down, down....

The danger is to the body, to the land. To kill or to change. 

He turned the words over in his mind for a moment. This world could use some change, that was for sure. He’d always thought so. He moved to the edge of the newly-formed staircase and smelled the dry, sterile air of a previous age.

When the world failed, sacrifice was needed. Always sacrifice. 

If it was true, then the priest had not been willing to make such a sacrifice, going so far as to take himself out of the equation...permanently.

No more will our cores burn, to kindle the stars and to light the lamps of the universe. It is enough.

Was that the reason for all of this, the burying of the past? Those who had been made by the Ancients to sustain the world...whose lives had been used to keep it going, however many times...at last, they’d gotten fed up?

I am not machine, the priest had said. If it was true, then who could blame them? 

Doubt pricked at him. Whatever was to come—sacrifice or not—he himself, the Lord of Steel, would have to face it alone. Was he prepared for that? Surely after all his planning and labors, all the sacrifices he had made since taking up the mantle of Element Lord, this could be no worse. The challenge of the Mask, to remake the world. Beware....

Maybe it was fitting. The legends said that the world began with metal: a great silver sea, hanging in the void.

Perhaps the world to come would begin the same.

He glanced one more time at the carnage that had been the body of the priest, then out at the desert, at the corpses in the sand, at the pale sky. The clouds were piling up now. Stormclouds, shimmering with red light that was not lightning. Ever since the second Dreaming Plague, it had been this way, when the Eater had reemerged—hungry, and hungrier now.

He scowled, allowing himself a moment of the old hatred, for that color and what it represented—ancient enemy of the Children of Iron. Only a moment. In the end, such anger was futile.

His dreams had already been eaten, after all.

Faint thunder reached his ears. The light outside was growing redder by the minute. It would be here soon, just as he had planned, and he would be ready for it.

Ready to risk danger to the body, to the land. Ready to kill or to change.

Ready to remake the world.

He turned back to the staircase and blinked to align the retroflective layers of metallic crystal behind his eyes, enhancing his night vision as he peered down into the dark. Down to where life was hidden....

Do not inhabit this place.

Life with death, whatever that meant.

Do not approach the danger below.

Red light approached, flickering hungrily across the dunes. Could it read the inscriptions, understand the warnings?

Shun this place.

He began the descent.

[demodraws0606]

Okay so I have made a really bad post trying to descredit Eden taking the tape as something super important so I'm just gonna drop the actual post I was preparing instead of trying to catch Eden!Culprit theories with a half baked post.

The main issue I'm having with Eden!Culprit theories right now is mostly because of stubborness that since Eden took the tape then she HAS to have done it even though if she was the culprit it would make 0 sense as to why she wouldn't just take the tape after Teruko and Ace left the room ? Like someone could've easily told her to take the tape, it's not that hard and it just makes more sense with the other evidence layed out for us.

The main reason I accepted Eden as the culprit before is because there were no possible culprits since Levi was pretty much confirmed innocent and there was still a likelyhood of Eden working for someone. However, this pretty much now rendered null and void. I swear all of this makes it sound like I have some grudge against this theory but I really need to put this subject to rest before the answer is probably revealed to us on friday. I want to make sure this theory is dead in the ground even if it's just for me personally, because it just has too many holes for me.

Also sorry if this seems mainly just a repeat of stuff I've already said, I'm not really good at structuring my posts :')

I've seen the argument that Arei actually wasn't knocked out with the turpentine because why would they bind her wrist then. However, we know she had to have been knocked because there is no struggle shown, either on her body or the floor of the playground. Weither she was suffocated or knocked out, the tape was still used on her wrist so this can't be something to be used against the idea of turpentine knocking her out. This means there is high likelyhood that it was used because it would make no sense for the culprit to just suffocate Arei before killing her (and again suffocating would show more signs of struggle than what we see on the crime scene).

There's also no other items that Arei could've been suffocated with other than the rope which would've left marks, the ball of starch clearly is stuck together most likely by turpentine which means it would've been used to knock out someone.

This would mean the culprit had to have used the turpentine to knock out Arei as well, meaning the culprit had to have gotten their hands on the turpentine.

I also refuse the idea of Eden trying to kill Ace, not only because I just find it ridiculous from a character standpoint but mainly because we know it was Hu's murder weapon that was used against Ace (the wire) considering there is no evidence of any other wire existing in this killing game that would be sharp enough to slice someone's throat. Hu's wire is part of the weapons which is evidence alone that it would be sharp enough to harm Ace bc otherwise what purpose does a wire serve. I don't believe for a second that Hu would just have her weapon lying around for anyone to yoink, unlike the turpentine which we know had to have been used by Nico and Rose when they were painting together.

In fact the story has made it clear how complicated taking someone weapon's is by having Arei's weapon only being available after she discarded it. The same can be said of the turpentine which was used out in the open and would make it easy to take with Rose's absent mindedness. If taking someone's weapon was just as easy as that, they wouldn't have given us the scene of Arei throwing out her rope like that in the first place.

Eden also has no reason to want to replicate Ace's murder onto Arei, there's basically no logical motivation behind that. In fact the progression between Ace's attempted and Arei's succesful murder proves alone that it's the same culprit (if the turpentine's existence wasn't enough). We can see the progression of the culprit trying to avoid the same mistakes they committed with Ace's failed murder (trying to snap Arei's neck to avoid the possibility of her getting saved last minute like Ace, bounding her hands potentially to make her more stable to lift upwards).

We don't even know if she figured out how the murder even worked considering it was completely undone when Teruko and Eden saw it.

Even the timing of when Eden knew about the clothing is off. We know the ball of clothing is probably sticky due to the turpentine because there is no other leads to explain why this ball of clothing is even a thing in this murder case. Turpentine is both clear and sticky, which would explain how the ball of clothing is both clear of stains and sticking together like that. Considering also that we know for a fact Ace was knocked out, and I don't think the culprit straight just shoved a jar of turpentine on his face, they most likely used some sort of tissue to smother them with (meaning it couldn't have been used to asphexiate Arei). This means the ball of clothes was used in Ace's attempted murder.

Eden only knew about the clothing change from Hu, we can only assume the same day that Ace's was murdered and probably not long before the attempt. This both clears Eden going to the changing room as the ""ball of starch"" was most likely already created before that, the only arguemnt it could be used for is that she was trying to retrieve it but it barely makes sense.

In terms of the timing of when Eden knew about the clothes and Ace's murder, if Hu only told her the same night that Ace was almost murdered it makes the timing insanely more difficult to justify. Unlike Hu who would have the pieces ready way more in advance.

All of these contradictions cannot be debunked by saying "well Eden took the tape", as it could easily be explained by the culprit asking her to take the tape from the gym or her just taking it without purpose and then the culprit getting their hands on it later.

The Eden!Culprit theory is barely hanging onto one piece of shakey evidence that can easily be broken by one justification.

If Nico can't be the culprit despite having the turpentine (well I don't think they do but 99 pourcent of Eden!culprit theories rely on Eden not really committing the attempted murder of Ace) then Eden doesn't have to be the culprit taking the tape.

The only way you can argue Eden is the culprit is if she tried to kill Ace, however this is impossible because of Hu's weapon. This is basically the summary of my main issue with the whole Eden!Culprit theory.

[technician-the]

Magneton induced power cut

Do you call animal (pokemon) control or an electrician when this happens?

Magneton was pretty easy to make after magnemite (lol), although I forgot to clear the keyframes on the duplicate bodies and the first time I ran the animation one wandered off >_<

Im trying a new lighting effect, It uses a rotating 2d grid instead of a 3d latus as its base geometry. the plane rotates to always lay between the two points I set as the start and end of the lighting bolt. the result is much less unused geometry, and a faster render time. the lighting formed by is a random path through the grid (using geonodes shortest edge path function), with some additional randomization tacked on at the end to hide the grid structure.

the second gif is my attempt at simulating electromagnetic lines of force in blender. Im using a wave texture, with the coordinates based on the distance from the megneton, and a little vorinoi mixed in for distortion

[poppetsisters]

So, what/how do you think and feel about the FF suit that Joseph was wearing in that video message for D23?

I'M GLAD YOU ASKED BECAUSE I WAS GONNA MAKE A POST ABOUT IT!

My gut reaction was that I got a little scared. The combination of white AND black with the base colour reminded me a lot of Professor Impossible from Venture Bros, especially when leaked set pictures of Vanessa Kirby seemingly show her in a black skirt/shorts/it's hard to tell

But let me start from the top. I'm gonna recount a few points in my Valentines Day video but time has given me more thoughts.

Let's start with the Logo on the suit, which is best rendered in the Title graphic. It's such a nice, elegant logo, smooth curves with subtle accent lines. the way the line crosses into itself on the 4 makes it look like a star. It's not sharp like the teaser logo we got (and was used on MoM Reed) but friendlier, bouncier, while still keeping a strong structure.

The colour scheme itself was a surprise to me when I first saw it back in February. Instead of any traditional colour combination, we're getting white on azure, this is a combination I've only ever seen on season 1 of the 90s cartoon.

Unlike my reaction to that show, the choice of colours looked way better than I expected. The blue really pops with the white, and (as I'm sure was intentional) gives them a fun astronaut aesthetic. Honestly, it's such a relief after so many dull grey militaristic MCU costumes that we're finally getting something based on 60s NASA instead.

These suits also look very comfy. I know the actors are for sure gonna have a different opinion on that, but they look snug on the actor's body, not needing any muscle suit underneath to portray strength. I don't know what material the suits made out of, but it gives off something that allows for stretch and warmth, like a sweater. Great choice.

Now let's look at the elements itself. The Logo is clear and readable, something I was nervous about with previous suits having their logo too small. It's centred on a good part of the suit, maybe I would've raised it higher but then it'd be intersecting with the brim, so I'm not gonna be fussy about it.

The brim itself is much wider than I was expecting, and the turtleneck isn't too large, which is nice since you don't want to make the actors have a double chin.

The biggest departure from traditional suits is the white from the collar extending Spider-Man like down the arms. It seems a little odd that a detail like that doesn't connect to the gloves, leaving a blue gap between that and the entrance to the glove. It reminds me of a symmetrical version of the Jim Lee suits from 1997. I'm trying to find a precedent for this design decision in 60s NASA era space suits, but I can't find any. Aesthetically, it feel unnecessary, but maybe they want to call attention to the arms in the design for some reason. Maybe it's something to do with his fire form.

The gloves however being starkly white on the outside and black on the inside do hold a precedent. Some space suits, indeed most practical gloves, use a different material for the inside of the hand to aid in grip. I believe that's what's happening here. The gloves appear to have that same strap that Carlos Pacheco introduced in 2001.

Since we don't get a good shot of the legs, my final notes are on the belt. A friend of mine commented that Johnny has a camera on his belt, but I think the reference is to the Belt-Buckle Solenoid, the micro-beam key that unlocks the elevator to the Fantastic Four's residence. This is a really cool detail to put into the belt, and it's silver colour blends nicely with the while so it doesn't interfere with the colour or shape language.

The last point I want to make, speaking of Sue, is that according to this suit reveal and the leaked Susan Storm pictures, it appears that every member of the team gets a distinct costume, and that's probably for the best. My only real desires is that they should all still look like they're on the same team with a unified colour scheme and logo, which is probably a given but I still wanted to point out anyway.

Overall, this costume is leagues better than the 2015 costumes and even the 2005 costumes. They're bold, colourful, proud of their 60s design heritage, and most important of all, fun!

[hivemindomega]

'I'm not going to do down THIS rabbit hole' Says I, a fool little notes from an unknown journalist. Mostly an excuse to render some pikmin with my personal headcanons. i love textures.

(captions under readmore because I know this text isn't very readable)

2nd Img: Red Pikmin are the most common Pikmin species in PNF-404, and likely an explorer's first encounter. They are identified by their signature, nose-like facial thorn. Red Pikmin display heightened aggression in comparison to other colors. They use their 'nose' to pierce the hide of their foes, who quickly succumb to the painful assault. Despite this, they are very friendly to spacefarers. Fire is a common defense mechanism, and so it is thought Red Pikmin developed their immunity to prey on the likes of the Fiery Blowhog, and clear up territory by 'borrowing' their fire. 3rd Img: Yellow Pikmin are a common species of surface dwelling Pikmin characterized by their large ear-like appendages. Their light weight and love of high perches hint towards semi-arboreal preferences, although this is mere conjecture.

These Pikmin resist and are attracted by electricity, a trait possibly developed due to their habitat being more susceptible to storms.

They are also known for their hoarding behavior, being avid resource diggers and lovers of shiny objects.

Yellows are the first confirmed case of tool use (bombrocks) among Pikmin. 4rth Img: Blue Pikmin are semi-aquatic and the third most common Pikmin on the surface.

Blue Pikmin appear to have a permanently open, downturned mouth. However, while often used for emoting, this 'mouth' is in fact a gill. It facilitates gas exchange, enabling the Pikmin to operate underwater without suffocating. Like all other Pikmin, a Blue's disgestive system is only suitable for consuming liquids, such as nectar.

Blue Pikmin usually prefer to walk along a body of water's bottom. However, they're capable of incredible bursts of speed by using their powerful stems as a caudal fin, vibrating their leaves through the water. 5th Img: White and Purple Pikmin are rare, cave-dwelling species.

Whites are matched with Winged Pikmin as the smallest species, and the fastest. Their only pigment is the chlorophyll of their leaves and are otherwise albino. A White's main method of defense is their speed, and their poison, lethal enough to kill an adult Bulborb. Their oversized eyes are adapted to the dark. They have a remarkably foul temperament.

Purple Pikmin are incredibly dense. Weighing ten times their size, they have an extremely heavy core, making them powerhouses and also very, very hefty. Their hairlike trichomes are used as whiskers, navigating tunnels and detecting threats by feeling air movement.

Both species often cohabitate, and are known to attach themselves to surface colonies. 6th Img: Winged Pikmin, alo called Pink Pikmin, are a close relative of White Pikmin. However, their small size and large eyes are about where their similarities end. Wings are, notably, naturally ocurring transgenic organisms. By repeatedly preying on flying insects, their host Onion appears to have recombined their DNA into a functional flighted form. The implications of this and the medical applications of Onions are yet unresearched.

Rock Pikmin are part of a classification dubbed 'Hermikmin'. Though coloquially referred to as parasitic, their choice of host (inert stones, usually graphite) make this claim incorrect. Rocks root inside their chosen stone permanently. This makes them very durable, and unappetizing to predators. However, this makes them clumsy and their internal structures are distorted. Rock Pikmin with cracked shells will die quickly without the internal pressure. 7th Img: Ice Pikmin are another subspecies of Hermikmin which have evolved for rooting inside slabs of ice. Even less appetizing than their rocky cousins, Ice Pikmin maintain body temperatures low enough to give would-be predators hypothermia and a bad case of brainfreeze. Their bodies are full of anti-freeze. They are very rare, requiring temperate to sub-zero habitats to maintain homeostasis, and are very vulnerable to fire or heat.

Glow Pikmin are an exclusively nocturnal species. Rather than being seeded from Onions, Glows spawn from a subterranean 'Lumiknoll' that emerges at sundown. They possess many abilities that are hardly explainable by science and are rumored to be unable to die. Glow Pikmin might not be Pikmin at all.

[moritzakgae]

okay. moritz gender time. this will be long. i wish the headless queen was included in the musical!!!!! because i think there is a really clear and evident queer subtext surrounding moritz in the play and earlier drafts of the script that is less explored in the show. like. in the show, moritz’s relationship with his gender is mostly understood through the scene before touch me (“What it feels like? … for the woman?...”) and the scene with ilse where he proclaims his will to tell the angels that he lived as ilse (“I’ll tell them all, the angels, I got drunk in the snow,”). an earlier draft even included, “You. Ilse. I’d have been you.”

In wedekind’s play, we know that moritz feels the same as melchior in terms of how boys and girls should be treated (“in the hot summers I’d dress them all in short white cotton tunics with a leather belt, boys and girls. I think if they grew up like that, they’d be less uptight than we are.”) compared to show-moritz, probably because he is written as a comic character, there is not really any sign that he thinks for himself, or has any kind of intellectual thought at all. but he does! he has thoughts on the gendered structure of society! pleas guys, he thinks!

back to the headless queen because i got distracted. i posted this before but the paragraph from the introduction of the play, but i wanna talk about it more.

the separation of the head from the body. the expectation that women in society should only be a vessel, not a mind. symbolic decapitations. martha, wendla, mrs. gabor, the headless queen. “Whenever I see a pretty girl I imagine her without a head. Then all of a sudden I feel as though I’m a headless queen, and someone will put another head on me.” the headless queen who couldn’t see or laugh or kiss. who couldn’t communicate outside of body language. like it is so incredibly clear he sees himself as the headless queen. his inability to sit still in his own skin. moving like staying still for too long will allow people to see. that is why it is haunting him. even his own personal decapitation renders him closer to becoming her.

almost done being crazy but it is really interesting that his crisis of his adolescents is presented so differently from everyone else. like ernst and hanschen, while their love would be seen as a sin by the society they exist in, they understand their love. whether they understand it as innocent or as a sin, it is something tangible and knowable. to moritz, it’s not his love that is a sin. it is a sense that there is something just. fundamentally wrong. with him.

there’s more that i wanna say but i fear that i am getting too crazy already. if you read this far, you are my friend now.

[praxcrown5]

The Nuts and Bolts of Car Reproduction: A Headcanon Hypothesis for the Vehicles from the Disney/Pixar Cars Universe

Today's essay will be explore my headcanon ideas for vehicle reproduction in the Cars universe.

Disclaimer: Tactful descriptions (and depictions) of vehicle reproduction. If this ain't your cup-o-tea...you've been warned.

This is a long post. Might wanna get comfy and grab a coffee or sommat. If you read to the end, there's some...artwork. X3

Auxiliary Disclaimer: The following headcanon is only for sapient vehicles. Non-sapient creatures like tractors, balsa thrushes, deere, cranes, coal scoopers, etc may actually be capable of reproduction without factory involvement. I might do a separate post for them at some point. For now, I just want to be clear that when I use the word "vehicle" I mean sapient vehicles only. I also headcanon that reproduction works a little differently for very large vehicles (passenger planes, war planes, ships, aircraft carriers, etc...).

Ok...how how do vehicles do the deed?

In my headcanon, vehicles are created in factories. The factories, themselves, are small city-states with their own cultures and populations of factory "born" and raised vehicles called "angels" whom serve "The Manufacturers" as part of "The Plan." Despite possessing technology that is thousands of years more advanced than anything in the outside world, the Manufacturers cannot create what they call the "flame of sapience." For this, they are dependent on their creations.

Vehicles achieve physical and reproductive maturity at age eleven, after their third, and final, growth spurt. Along with reaching adult size, and all the accompanying changes to the engine block and internal systems, they develop reproductive hardware. The bulk of the hardware is stored internally, and protected by a panel of sheet metal (coupling panel) which is separate from the surrounding body metals. It is usually located near the rear fender on the side of the body opposite the fuel filler inlet in cars and trucks. In larger vehicles like trains, planes, boats or helicopters the location of the coupling panel varies between makes and models...but it's usually located as far away from fuel storage as possible.

In visible light, the seams are so thin as to render the panel invisible. Most vehicles, however, can see farther into the ultraviolet end of the spectrum due to specialized structures within and behind the eye screen. A car checking out a potential partner would see the panel as a vivid purple (male) or yellow (female) square surrounded by magenta markings resembling ancient runes.

Fun (off-topic) fact: Vehicles also have manufacturer markings on their body metals that are only visible in UV light. A car can look at another car and tell right away what factory they were created by. There are model markings as well, but most people don't know how to "read" them.

Intimate encounters are known as "hookups," colloquially. Other terms that have graced local lexicons include (but aren't limited to) knocking fenders, cableing, parallel parking, long idling, carving your name into the steel fortress, tapping the socket, bringing the van to the carport, getting to know one's model, driving around town, packing the trunk, nosing around the garage, etc...

Most civilian-class vehicles are compatible with one another. For example, a car like Sally could easily hook up with most small planes and helicopters...but attempting the deed with anyone larger won't work due to hardware compatibility issues. Boeing and HII have been manufacturing step-down systems since the late 90's...but it's horrendously expensive, and still caters mostly to carrier-class vehicles.

Once two vehicles are committed to the idea of physical intimacy, they retreat to a place that's (usually) private and secure, the later being especially important as the post hookup, nuptial repose period can render them unresponsive for up to scoptersix hours.

Most vehicles adopt a V position when doing the deed so that they can see their partner's face, keep their mouths relevant, and have plenty of space to maneuver their hardware comfortably. Most also engage in various forms of foreplay, and advancing technology has provided additional options for adventurous couples.

The coupling interface, located behind the coupling panel, consists of two parts: The coupling array and the siring array (also called the auxiliary array). While the coupling array is used during every hookup, the siring array is only used if a couple is actively attempting to create a child.

The coupling array is identical for both males and females and consists of four, prehensile cables (coupling cables) located near the base of the interface. Each cable has a contoured, metal tip that rests in a depression on the back wall of the compartment. The body of the cable, all 20' of it, is stored internally. The cables lack fancy names and are simply numbered 1-4, with coupling cable #1 being the most anterior and #4 being the most posterior. Above each cable is a socket called a coupling jack. Like the cables, they are numbered, with coupling jack #1 being located directly above coupling cable #1, #2 above #2, etc...

An intimate encounter happens when two vehicles connect their coupling cables to another vehicle's coupling jacks, and vice versa.

While this sounds simple and straightforward, there's a lot of finesse that goes into the act, especially in regards to timing. The most intense pleasure comes from simultaneous insertion of a cable into an opposing jack...but the engine is necessary, too. Revving it at just the right moment, post insertion, generates a powerful surge of electrical energy which not only helps intensify and prolong the sensation, but also acts to charge special, battery-like bio-tech organs called "surgers." The penultimate moment of the hookup comes when the surgers reach full capacity. Revving ones engine or connecting another cable after this point will cause the surgers to discharge their accumulated charges into the combined neuro-electrical systems of the pair to avoid over exertion. Couples that manage to time their last engine revs/cable insertion with the pending discharge experience pleasure that's described as "out of this world," and they pass out as their sensory and electrical systems overload. During the nuptial repose, a specialized network of HV cables and cells collect and direct this excess energy into the frame so that it can be safely discharged into the ground through the tires.

At anytime during the hookup, a couple may experience full-sensory visions, called "nuptial dreams." In some cases it can feel as a vehicle has been transported into their partner's body, experiencing their memories of an event as vividly as if they had been there, themselves. Other times, people claim to have been transported to a parallel universe where they existed as strange, bi-pedal, organic creatures...

Use of the auxiliary array is necessary if a couple wishes to sire a child. This hardware takes on the appearance of a region of pins (male) and sockets (female) above the coupling array. In males, the pins mark the tip of an extendable HV cable called the "siring cable." Instead of discharging the excess electrical energy from the hookup into the ground, the siring cable redirects it into the female's body via the auxiliary jack. The auxiliary jack is connected to a bio-tech organ called the plasma condenser module. As its name suggests, it condenses the redirected electrical energy into a ball of plasma called a "flame," which is then transferred to a second, smaller organ, the plasma chamber, for storage.

Somehow, the factory network is alerted to the presence of the flame. How they know is subject of much debate. Some specialists hypothesize that the plasma chamber, itself, doubles as a transmitter...emitting electromagnetic waves on frequencies that can't be intercepted by modern technology. Still others believe that the factories can watch and listen to everything that goes on in the world through the eyes and windows of their vehicle creations.

Regardless, after an hour or so, the female will start receiving internal notifications telling her where to take the flame. One's make and model seem to have no bearing on the factory that will ultimately create the body for one's child. Doc, for example, was manufactured at the Hudson factory in Detroit despite his sire being an Oldsmobile and his dam, a Cadillac.

When the female reaches the factory, an angel trained in reproductive hardware temporarily removes the plasma chamber and condenser module so that their doctors can graft the flame to a newly manufactured body and "nurture it to functionality," a process that can take anywhere between 3 and five days, longer if the flame splits en route, resulting in twins. If she can't get to the factory right away, she can maintain the flame for about three weeks by doubling her food intake. Eventually, the energy is reabsorbed by the body and she'll have to repeat the siring process if she wants another chance.

Since this is already a lengthy document, I'll cover growth and development in a future post. In the meantime, enjoy some car sm*t. Pic depicts my two OCs, Sam and Annette (Annette being Doc's dam), in the midst of a siring attempt.

[da-rulah]

For your song game, Oh who is she by I monster is the song, line is A misty memory A haunting face, and maybe Cirrus Ghoulette with a papa mixed in for fun :)

I'm usually not very good with writing for the Ghoulettes - for some reason, I don't tend to get their likeness just right. However, since you asked for a Papa too, I have an idea... I don't know how you headcanon the ghouls to look, but I'm basing my description off "cirrus clouds" themselves. In my head, each Ghoul is reminiscent of their elements in how they look.

He read the incantation, clear as he could. His voice boomed in the chapel, ricocheting off the stone walls and echoing. Stood at the edge of the pentagram, candles at every point flickering, he swung his thurible back and forth in a rhythm that kept him chanting in time.

Copia needed another ghoul to join him, and so he repeated the same incantation he had practically memorised by now.

When the centre of the pentagram began to crumble and open up, the flames of hell licking at it's edges, Copia opened his eyes as he finished the last chant. In front of him he watched as a hand - a beautifully pale blue colour with long, unkept claws - curled it's way around the ridge of the pit.

A second hand curled around the edge, and slowly, a head began to rise from the fires.

Copia watched on in awe as her - yes, her - horns first began to rise, followed by the stark black eyes that followed, and the most beautifully structured face he had ever seen. Her hair, white and straight as a pin, cascaded freely long past the curve of her back, coming to end just behind her knees as she clawed her way out of the pit. Parts of it fell in front of her and over her breasts, creating a curtain between her nude body and the world she'd been summoned into.

His jaw fell slack, the swinging of the thurible slowing as he became completely enamoured with the being in front of him. She was so tall, slender but incredibly poised and controlled for a hell-being. As she stepped towards Copia and out of the pentagram, the pit behind her began to close up, the ritual effectively complete. Everything had gone according to plan - except for the way Copia had now fallen to his knees as she floated towards him...

He couldn't possibly explain why, but he felt as if he were in a trance state. Completely enraptured by her haunting beauty, all he could do was stare as she drew closer. Her graceful steps barely touched the ground, hovering as if she was most at home within the air than on the ground. She must be an air ghoulette, he thought to himself. She certainly glided like one.

She came to a stop barely a foot in front of Copia, studying him studiously. Most ghouls had a difficult time with the transition from Hell to the Earth, but she seemed to show an unusual sense of belonging, as if she owned the realm and Copia was hers instead of the truth - she was his.

She lifted one of her hands, reaching for Copia's cheek but she never touched him, barely an inch from his skin. But he could feel her still, like a breath of fresh summer air - warm, inviting.

The way she floated, her whole demeanour... she reminded Copia of a whispy little Cirrus cloud in the summer skies.

As her hand hovered above his skin, she smiled... Such a peaceful, affectionate smile. She moved her hand gently and Copia's head followed without question, chasing her touch when she'd never truly given it to him. Not yet, at least.

It took him a moment, but he soon snapped out of his trance and remembered where he was, who he was. He remembered the robe he'd brought to the chapel with him to cover the modesty of whoever he summoned, quickly scrambling to collect it.

He was filled with confusion as to how he had reacted to her presence. No other ghoul had had this effect, none other had rendered him speechless - immobile, even. But she was just so beeautiful. So different in every way.

Copia quickly came to stand behind her, gently laying the robe over her shoulders and covering her. As he did, her hand came to rest on top of his in a gentle thank you, her blackened eyes staring deeply into his. Once again, he was rendered useless, motionless. He lost himself in her stare, her kind and gentle smile.

She was unlike any Ghoul or Ghoulette he'd ever encountered, and he knew from that moment she was special to him.

She hadn't been sent to him, but gifted.

[littlenightma]

T-1000 x Reader One Shot

Author’s Note: Don’t mind me. I’m currently obsessing over Robert Patrick’s portrayal of the T-1000 in Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991)

His assignment was clear since the day he was created - terminate John Connor. Nothing was to stand in his way. Any and all threats were to be dealt with immediately. Skynet would be victorious in the war between machines and humans.

With the help of the boy’s foster parents, locating Connor was easy. They gave him all the information he needed and even provided him with a recent picture of their son without question, blindly trusting the badge on his chest. Weakness. Fickle emotions like that would be the cause of their inevitable downfall.

The local mall was busy with swarms of adults and children running about. He questioned a few boys that looked around Connor’s age who said they saw him at the arcade. He made a beeline to the arcade, ready to accomplish his task.

Connor was sitting one of machines with his back turned, intensely absorbed with the flashing images on the screen. The lithe Terminator pulled out the gun holstered to his belt and aimed it at the back of the young, unsuspecting target. One shot to the spine would render him paralyzed. Another to the head would sufficiently end his life. His finger slid over the trigger ready to shoot when Connor suddenly disappeared from his sight, replaced by someone else.

You, who’d be lounging on the couch in the arcade room watching your younger brother lose himself in a racing game, quickly jumped to your feet when the cop pointed his gun at John. You knew John was a troublemaker, but he couldn’t have done anything to warrant a fucking gun being pulled on him.

“John, move! Go!”

You yanked John from the game he was engrossed with and roughly pushed him toward the exit, shielding his body with yours. As serious as the situation was, John’s immaturity got the best of you and you whipped around and threw Officer Prick the finger.

When your eyes met the icy blue gaze of the cop, his forefinger froze on the trigger long enough to see you and Connor being swallowed up by the crowd. Gone. His arm slowly dropped to his side. Unblinking eyes narrowed in confusion.

It was not in his code to hesitate.

The human barricade was nothing he couldn’t have dealt with a single bullet. He was ordered to terminate anyone, anyone, who blocked his path to John Connor.

He scrutinized the hand that wielded the gun for any visible signs of damage, flexing his fingers repeatedly. With his unique molecular structure, it was impossible for his creator to add a functioning self diagnostic software so all he had to rely on was what he could physically see.

He flexed his fingers again, this time on the other hand. It’s possible there was a malfunction or two that were missed during testing. A drawback of being a prototype.

Frustration lingered, burning molten like pooling magma inside a festering volcano before solidifying into igneous determination. John Connor should be dead. He was right there and he allowed him to escape. All because of you.

While John Connor remained his primary target, he was going to make sure you never interfered with his mission again.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #206

Last night, the frame of M's CPAP mask broke. It was rendered non-functional. And he didn't have a backup for just-in-case. I don't have a backup for just-in-case, either.

But my case of sleep apnea isn't nearly as severe as his. And I didn't have anything going on today to speak of, really. And M had to work at his tech job; he needs to be well-slept for that. The frame of my mask fits onto the tube of his machine. So, the choice, in my mind, was clear. I suggested that he use my mask and frame on his machine, and that is what occurred.

The problem with sleep apnea is that the airways collapse in the night. The mechanism by which that occurs is different for M and I. Mine happens because my lower jaw is a bit too small to accommodate all the soft tissue on the inside of my face, so when the muscles relax in my sleep, the airway collapses. I would still need a CPAP, even if I was very underweight.

So when the airway collapses, I can't breathe, because obviously. But I can't suffocate in the night, either. So the result is that the body will partially wake over and over and over and over and over and over again throughout the night in order to make sure we breathe. This constant partial waking every several minutes has catastrophic effects on a person's sleep. Not only is the brain not getting cleaned properly, but also, the brain is being deprived of oxygen dozens, if not hundreds of times during the night. The result is very poor sleep.

And it's insidious. Lots of people who have it don't even know that they've got it. And then there are those who insist that they must not have it because they insist that they do not snore; for whatever reason, at least in my country, there's a slight stigma associated with being a person who snores, for reasons I don't understand. So a fair amount of people would rather live with untreated sleep apnea than acknowledge that they stop breathing in the night. It's very bizarre.

It's very bizarre, at least in part because untreated sleep apnea can kill a person. After living with it for a while, it starts to do fucky things to a person's heart, brain, and hormones. And those fucky things can lead to stuff like heart attacks and strokes. It's really not something to mess around with. Anyone who snores should get a sleep study done, just to make sure they don't have sleep apnea. It's important stuff.

I imagine you wouldn't know what it's like to struggle with this. You seem to have an appropriately sized jaw that is able to accommodate all your teeth and soft structures without issue. What a blessing that must be.

Genetically, my own body is a mess. I don't get to have working skin, cartilage, tendons, ligaments, eyeballs, ovaries, or lungs. The structural issues with my jaw cause me problems, too. My feet are very small for my height, and that's also an issue for the bones of my feet and ankles. Autism is also genetic, and trauma fucks with a person's epigenetics, so… ya know. I make do with what I have, but I'm not exactly gonna be sad when my time in this body is done and over with.

In any case, I'm not exactly zonked today, but my brain isn't exactly running at its best right now. Nonetheless, I tried to have a relatively normal (but very chill) day. I made a tea for the first time in a while now. Here's how it turned out:

I also decided to make garlic bread today. Not Korean-style like last time (if you remember that letter), but the regular kind. In the bakery at which I work, they have loaves of Italian bread sliced in half along its width. Then they slather each half in herb garlic butter. It has been a while since last I had garlic bread, so last time I was at work, I picked up a loaf of it on the way home:

...If you know me well, then you also understand that I picked up a bag of mozzarella cheese to put on top of it. From there, I topped it with parmesan cheese and additional garlic powder (because I am a cheese and garlic goblin!! raargh!!), and then stuck it in the oven. Here were the results:

...And if you're wondering why each half has a section without cheese, it's because J doesn't like cheese very much. He doesn't like heavy foods very much in general; they make his stomach feel icky. But I wanted him to enjoy the garlic bread, so I felt really glad that he asked me to save a section for him like this.

Hey, Sephiroth? When's the last time you had garlic bread? Maybe someday you can slice up a loaf and eat it alongside a bunch of people you love, and who love you in return. I know it's silly to ask, but... if/when that happens, would you send us along a picture? It would be so nice to see a smile on your face just because you get to have some delicious, wonderful thing.

...Sephiroth... please make sure you get a future in which you have lots of kind people asking to split garlic bread with you. Please.

I played a lot of Dead Cells today, but none of my runs were particularly good, likely due to the fucky sleep. Oh well. I also played some Grounded with M. Today, I explored the pond and got a bunch of koi scales and sunken bones. It was a lot of fun, but... golly, I really miss being able to swim for real.

Later, J and I went to a nearby park with a friend to watch this outdoor musical called The Marvelous Wondrettes. It was very bizarre. It centers around these 4 high school girls who have made "being popular" and "getting a man" their entire life's purpose. One of the high school girls ends up hooking up with the teacher she had a crush on, I guess??? The whole thing was rather... dated. And frankly, kinda gross. Which is strange, because apparently it came out in 1999.

But it's fine. I mostly busied myself looking up through the leaves of trees, and gathering pictures of the sky for ya. Here:

...Sephiroth, you are loved. Does it reach you?

...How many voices of those who love you would it take to reach you? I know so many. What if we all yelled it really loud? What if we all told you that we miss you? What if we all tried to show you your favorite things? Would these reach you?

I really don't know. But I'm going to keep trying anyway, okay? Because I can't simply abandon the life that saved mine. I can't do it. I won't. I refuse.

Suppose that's all I've got for you today. I don't really have anything earth-shattering to say about mental health or what have you; I did really well on my self-care today to try to ease the effects of poor sleep. I stayed pretty well hydrated today. Are you staying hydrated, too?

I'll stop writing now. Please remember that you're loved and wanted and needed in this world. Please remember that your life has value and meaning. And stay safe. The best way to stay safe is to treat yourself and the people around you with gentleness and compassion.

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[raviws23]

Exploring the Basics of HTML: A Journey into Web Development with an Online Compiler for HTML

In the vast universe of web development, HTML (Hypertext Markup Language) is the essential building block that transforms creative ideas into interactive web experiences. HTML provides the structural foundation for web content, allowing web developers to create well-organized and readable web pages. In this article, we will embark on a journey into the basics of HTML, exploring its core elements and their functions. Additionally, we will introduce you to a valuable resource: the Online Compiler for HTML, a tool that empowers aspiring web developers to experiment, test, and refine their HTML skills in a practical and user-friendly online environment.

HTML: The Language of the Web

HTML is the language of the web, serving as a markup language that defines the structure of web content. Its fundamental elements, or tags, are used to identify and format various aspects of a web page. Let's dive into some of the basic elements that form the foundation of HTML:

1. HTML Document Structure: An HTML document starts with the <!DOCTYPE html> declaration, which defines the document type. It is followed by the <html> element, which encapsulates the entire document. The document is divided into two main sections: the <head> and the <body>. The <head> contains metadata and information about the document, such as the page title, while the <body> contains the visible content.

2. Headings: Headings are essential for structuring content and providing hierarchy to text. HTML offers six levels of headings, from <h1> (the highest level) to <h6> (the lowest level). Headings help create a clear and organized content structure.

3. Paragraphs: To create paragraphs of text, the <p> element is used. This element defines blocks of text separated by blank lines and is a fundamental tool for organizing and formatting content.

4. Lists: HTML allows for the creation of both ordered (numbered) and unordered (bulleted) lists. Ordered lists are created with the <ol> element and list items with <li>. Unordered lists are created with the <ul> element, also with list items using `<li>.

5. Links: Hyperlinks are a crucial feature of the web. HTML provides the <a> (anchor) element for creating links. The href attribute within the <a> element specifies the URL of the page or resource to which the link should navigate.

6. Images: To embed images in a web page, HTML employs the <img> element. The src attribute within the <img> element points to the image file's location.

Introducing the Online Compiler for HTML

To practice and experiment with these basic HTML elements, there's a valuable resource at your disposal: the Online Compiler for HTML. This user-friendly online tool allows aspiring web developers to write, modify, and test HTML code in a practical environment. What sets it apart is its real-time rendering feature, enabling users to see immediate results as they make changes to their HTML code. It's an ideal platform for beginners and experienced developers alike to fine-tune their HTML skills and explore the language's capabilities.

Conclusion: The Journey Begins

Understanding the basics of HTML is the first step in your journey into the world of web development. HTML's fundamental elements serve as the building blocks upon which you'll construct your web pages. With the assistance of the Online Compiler for HTML, you have a practical and interactive resource to help you explore and master the language. As you become more proficient in HTML, you'll gain the ability to structure content, create links, and embed images, laying the foundation for the websites and web applications of the future. The journey into web development has just begun, and HTML is your trusty guide.

[readyforevolution]

In regards to the landmark U.S. Supreme Court decision to end Affirmative Action that was rendered today, let us be clear what this means. It means our children and grandchildren will have less access to higher educational opportunities than we did. It means that the student bodies at predominantly White institutions of higher education will morph into nearly all White student bodies at these institutions. This is a return to the Jim Crow era.

When race was removed as a factor in admissions within the state of California, the number of Blacks (Africans) admitted to public institutions of higher learning decreased dramatically. Let us be very clear, this in no way means that Africans were Not qualified and lacked the academic credentials for admission. It means that if White institutions of higher learning are not incentivized by law to admit students based on fairness and considering race as a factor in the admissions process, they absolutely will NOT. The racial bias reflected in the history and experience, of our African ancestors who applied for admittance to White institutions of higher learning prior to Affirmative Action, bears witness to the veracity of this claim.

For those who choose to sit on the sidelines at a critical time such as this and do absolutely nothing, you are nothing but cowards who are against your people.

For those who choose to get involved, I encourage you to join an organization that is fighting for the liberation of our people. It is only through Organized Mass Struggle that we can make our collective voices heard by applying maximum political pressure on the wicked social-economic-political structures of America to address our needs as a people.

Please consider joining our organization, the All-African People’s Revolutionary Party.

https://aaprp-intl.org/

Ready For Revolution