#and then those good intentions get bogged down by The System of it all all over again

[ghostcrows]

the way people talk about and view mental illness has always been under this veil of sympathy and understanding but really when that energy is most needed it all just vanishes. we have 200 more specific terms for certain symptoms and 2000 more videos on how to stop procrastinating and how to deal with rejection sensitive dysphoria and 50000 new videos on how it's In Your Brain and it's Hereditary and it's Homemade by your Primary Caregivers but people still dont really ...get it. they just dont. the resources available are so hollow. its empty promises. suicide hotline that just gets you insta-detained. therapist you talk in circles with for a third of your income per session. housing program with a wait list that only gets longer. this insistence that you build up a support system with no support. this quietly depleting time frame you have (or feel you have, this very real pressure) in which to get your shit together before you're just another sad statistic. always having to wait until you're at the brink of complete self destruction to get help, and by then. how much damage is already done

it's all just casting shadows on the wall

[catblgog]

Topic: AI

In a reading for my science fiction class I found an interesting excerpt that details how emotion informs the technology that humans create. I found it relevant to my own considerations of how AI art is missing something.

“An educational system that teaches us only about our tools—the how-to of them, their creation, their maintenance—and not about their function as facilitators of our desires, is, in essence, no more than a school of toaster repair. You can be the best toaster-repair person in the world, but you will cease to have a job if toast is no longer a desirable food item on the human breakfast menu. “The arts”—as we’ve come to term them—are not a frill. They are the heart of the matter, because they are about our hearts, and our technological inventiveness is generated by our emotions, not just by our minds. A society without the arts would have broken its mirror and cut out its heart. It would no longer be what we now recognize as human.” (Atwood - Scientific Romancing)

I looked an an article about AI art and the issues of copyright, but I got a bit bogged down in the details since it got complex. I thought this line was interesting though. “Under traditional copyright law, creative works are granted protection based on the principle of originality, which requires human authorship and a modicum of creativity” (link to full article)

That article also had a list of AI artists who were using AI in ways that I found to be more intentional / creative and less the blatant theft type of digital art.

I also found a wonderful forbes article that pointed out a lot of issues with AI art which was a good find. (link to article). It brought up an interesting point of how Google searches are getting bogged down with fake AI images (misinformation and general internet ruining vibes). Another good point was how water wasteful ChatGPT is. This was one of my favorite lines from the article, “The technology is a solution to a problem that never existed. Artists, as much as they like to complain about the struggle of the creative process, enjoy making things. The creative process is incredibly rewarding, even if the final piece doesn’t match up to the original vision." This was another great line, “When we immerse ourselves in art, we experience a touch of the unique perspective that an artist brings to their work, the smeared fingerprints that makes art worth talking about.” And there was mention of an event that I saw another article talking about, which was when the renouned Studio Ghibli guy, Miyazaki was shown AI art and in response said, "I strongly feel that this is an insult to life itself."

I tried to find some info on AI misinformation / how it's changing memes but didn't have a lot of luck. But those are topics that I would want to look into more later.

I looked into AI art and issues with theft and found some interesting things. My favorite lines from this article were “There is no transcending of the source material, just a mechanized “blending together,” and “It kind of boils down to: what is art? Is art the process, is art the human component, is art the conversation? All of that is out of the picture once you’re just generating it.” I also saw a blog post that had found a website where you could tediously opt out each image of your art that had previously been used in something, but only for future use. So anything it was in already, was too late. And they also mentioned the big idea that if artists aren't getting rights for their work, they won't get paid for their work either. It makes me think that in the future if AI art is stealing too much maybe people will be less inspired to bother making new art. So a stalling out in creativity may happen. Or not. Maybe people will use AI in a good way to supplement their ideas instead of just stealing.

My favorite thing that I found in researching was that a random subreddit had voted 2 years ago to totally ban AI art from it and when I checked the current rules, it was still banned. So there is hope somewhere at least.

My mind map from class

Overall there are some interesting avenues for this topic, but I found research a bit tedious due to how many clickbait type articles that come up whenever I try to Google anything about it. Also it was hard to wade through the rhetoric since everyone has such an opinion with what they're saying about AI art. And even though I had a lot of ideas on my map thing, I had a hard time approaching how to research them and find relevant information that was related to them.

[legendofzoodles]

LU Character Design Analysis 5

This is part 5 of my tier list and analysis of the character designs of the LU heroes. All the designs are really good, it was hard to come up with a decent ranking system that I was happy with and even harder to apply it. The numbers I scored them are subjective and any one of them can be debated.

If you’re all caught up then let’s get onto the next hero in the list...

5th place: Warriors

Imma keep it real with you, this design is the second most basic out of all of them. It’s the closest to its in game design, it has a long impractical cape and he isn’t wearing his hat. However...

Pros: The fact that his design is basic is perfect! Remember Wars isn’t like the others, he doesn’t go on long adventures alone, he spearheads mass expeditions as a captain in the army, he’s never experienced the solitude of dungeon crawling since he’s almost always been in the public eye and thus has to always maintain a certain image. I believe him when he says he’s not a narcissist. Making sure he always looks presentable, never showing a flaw in his perceived perfection is just second nature to him now.

He was given his outfit by Impa, it’s the outfit that the hero is expected to wear and thus he couldn’t have personalised it or deviated from it too much. It’s still that same shade of green, bright and bold making him easy to spot him in the battlefield, the armour is still present- vital for a soldier- and there’s still a big splash of blue in his design.

The exaggerated v-line and thigh slits outlined in bright yellow look fantastic. The thigh slits are needed for mobility and...ok sure the v-line is pretty large. At first I thought that it would surely shift around during combat leading to Wars constantly needing to readjust it, but the sword belt should keep it in place. With the bright yellow outline it also draws a lot of attention to his chest, which considering that there’s only chainmail underneath would normally make this style choice for any soldier a stupid one, but come on. 

This is Wars we’re talking about. He’s not just any soldier. 

He’s so good at sword fighting that this basically comes off as a flex. It isn’t screaming to the enemy, “Stab me here good sir!” instead it’s saying, “Go ahead, try it. See how well that goes~”, plus most of it is hidden anyway by the cape and just gonna come out and say: it shows off his snatched waist. So really, who’s complaining?

Speaking of the blue cape, I’m kind of torn on this. On one hand it looks super cool but on the other hand it’s big impractical cloak number 3. However, again this is Wars we’re talking about. If he’s able to maneuver around a crowded battlefield in a bigass scarf, he can do it in a bigass cape. In fact, he’d be able to expertly turn it into an advantage by using it to disorientate his enemies. I like that the orange patterns at the bottom are a similar colour as the tips of his hair, although I wish there was red in it too.

The reason I’m prioritising aesthetics in this case over the others is because it’s important to Wars’ character. He has to look a certain way at all times and for lack of a better term, he can’t be caught lacking by his fellow soldiers. I get the vibe that Jojo didn’t really know what to do with his design since there’s not a lot to go off of, but to be fair the soldier boy thing is all that’s going on with Wars and what we ended up with represents that well. With all the extra armour pieces (showing that he was humbled when Cia created those dark versions of him and he doesn’t think of himself as invincible) and the few stylistic changes.

Cons: There are just a few nitpicks I have.

His sword belt is fashioned in a way that suggests he’s left handed, but his left arm has the metal shoulder pad. Normally the shielding arm would have extra armour and the sword hand wouldn’t be bogged down by accessories. I can’t relate this to being an intentional choice on his part because it looks the same and actively hurts his fighting style.

I don’t really get the dab of blue on his calves. I’m fine with it being on just his fingerless gloves and cape, but if it had to be on his boots too it shouldn’t have been on the back because it blends in with his cape. I would say that maybe it was to disguise his legs and make it look like part of the cape from behind, but the cape is outlined in orange so there goes that. Plus I don’t even know what material it’s supposed to be. Was the leather dyed blue or was some sort of material placed over it? Idk. It’s not awful by any means, just redundant.

The hanging belt end looks messy and it would get in the way during battle. I’d prefer if the belt had a fancy silver buckle and if the end was tucked in properly. Btw I’m just going to assume that his tunic has a couple belt loops on the sides. The fact that it’s also slightly angled looks nice with the v-line but in reality would just be impractical since it doesn’t look securely fastened.

Wishlist: Would I prefer it if he wore his hat? Yes. Am I mad that he isn’t? ...no. Again it goes back to his whole public image thing. It wouldn’t be protecting his head, his bright blond hair is more distinctive and easier to spot and if the other soldiers think it looks silly, Wars would for sure stop wearing it. A helmet would be better but...eh, he didn’t wear one in his training days so it’s whatever.

I wish his undershirt had a smart crisp collar or if it were fastened by a button (like BoTW Zelda), instead of that stitched up neck hole. An open collar would help show off the v-line in the tunic better, it would also make him look bigger while not exposing him too much because of the cape wrapped around his shoulders.

I’d also like it if the chainmail on his arms were covered up by his tunic sleeves. It doesn’t need to be visible since he’s already got his shoulder armour piece and shiny arm guards. Plus, enough of the chainmail is already exposed by the thigh slit.

Score:

Aesthetic and visual score (/10): 6 Character representation score (/5): 5 Practicality score (/5): 4 Total (/20): 15

Overall a basic but mostly practical design that is very well suited to his character. It’s a little busy with all the fancy armour and giant cape but Wars pulls it off very well. 

~~~

Thanks for reading! What modifications would you make to their designs? And do you agree with me or not? I’d love to know :)

Masterlist

9th place in the character design ranking

8th place

7th place

6th place

4th place

3rd place

1st place

Character analysis posts:

Hero of the Sky, Hero of Time, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Wild, Hero of Warriors

[astrowithkaro]

hi!! would you be willing to add feb 17 to your language of birthdays series? tyyy ❤

Language Of Birthdays: February 17 - Aquarius

The Day Of The Battler

The extremely sensitive individuals born on February 17 develop a tough armor around themselves early in life and go out to do battle with the world. Their backgrounds are rarely conducive to their particular form of expression, so they must fight for themselves from the word go. Some February 17 people are privileged, others disadvantaged, but from whatever strata they come they are convinced of their ability to overcome obstacles in order to emerge as individuals in their own right. However, before they can battle with the world, those born on this day must battle with themselves, to shape and mould themselves in a desired form.

Because of criticism, expectations or perhaps neglect, February 17 people come to realize very soon in their childhood that their sensitive natures will not survive unless they strengthen their defences. In less evolved February 17 people, such defences may manifest primarily as secretiveness, suspicion and physical armouring. In more evolved February 17 people, they are likely to manifest as talents, extensive knowledge or physical presence. Unfortunately, those born on this day may come to insulate themselves from influences of any kind, good or bad, which try to get through to them. Their toughness belies their hypersensitive interior, which really never dies away except in some highly unusual cases.

February 17 people can be touched by the arrows of love and the soft hand of affection, but the shot must be well aimed and the sentiment direct and sincere. Those born on this day do not wish to be hindered in their quest for self-fulfillment, so often they ignore what could be desirable human contact to avoid getting stuck or bogged down. The most highly advanced individuals born on this day allow their inner expressiveness and sensitivity to shine through, not only in their attitude but also in their work. Thus they have a kind of transparence where they render their armour invisible. In fact, however, it is still very much in place.

February 17 individuals are willing to go to bat for themselves, their family and friends, even for strangers in need of their help. They are extremely realistic and usually possess an insight into the existing social order, with all its inequalities and unfairnesses. Although they are combative when provoked, those born on this day are not overly aggressive, and are slow to anger or upset. They have an impressive earthiness, calm and physical presence which makes others sit up and take notice, while warning those with hostile intentions toward them to watch out. Those who mistake this calm for passivity are in for quite a shock.

February 17 people are believers, with their heart in their cause, whatever it may be. Most born on this day are "spiritual warriors" whose goals are personal ones, and to whom self-development and personal expression are the most important values. Although objectively caught up with themselves (perhaps overly so), they can be highly inspirational and uplifting to those around them.

Strengths:

Indomitable

Spiritual

Sensitive

Weaknesses:

Armoured

Isolated

Stuck

Advice

Those born on February 17 often suffer injuries, particularly in their early years, that can both- er them through life. Particularly at risk are the lower extremities, the internal abdominal organs, the bones of the arm, wrist and hand, and the venous circulatory system (through thrombosis) February 17 people should be extremely careful to control the amount of cream, animal fat and sugar in their diets, to reduce the risk of circulatory problems. For most February 17 people exercise of a non-competitive but self-developing type, such as weight training, swimming, hiking or less strenuous forms of rock climbing is recommended.

Keep yourself open to the outside world

At least let others look in, even if entrance is denied

Use your sensitivity to teach you the way to the spiritual life

Beware of being too secretive or suspicious

[graffitibible]

I'm going to preface this real quick with: if you enjoyed National Anthem (which I’m going to shorten to KJNA), that's good! I really do genuinely mean that. I'm happy for you and I hope you continue to enjoy it and find things to enjoy in it, because I generally prefer it when people enjoy the content they consume. This post is going to get a bit mean, so this is your forewarning if that isn't for you.

I don't currently have the time or inclination to get into the nitty gritty of how much I disliked KJNA. I especially don't like the idea of comparing it to Killjoys: California (which I’m going to abbreviate as KJCA) because the two works are, in my opinion, very fundamentally separate. The only things they really share are a few names and concepts. I try to judge works based on the standards they set for themselves, which is why I personally tried to go into National Anthem with as few expectations as possible (in part so I couldn't be let down, which failed anyway). I don't care that it's a separate story. I don't care that it's its own thing. In fact I think it should have been more its own thing and should have shed any and all ties to the KJCA concepts entirely, but I digress.

The point I think I want to make is that I didn't set out to look at parallels between KJCA and KJNA. And for the most part I don't want parallels to bog down things because I think the stories should stand on their own. But when I did glance at those parallels, what I saw kind of troubled me.

KJCA, as sloppily written as it was (and it was, let's be real here, very sloppily written), had very clear themes. Some of those themes benefited from the fact that the album/twitter accounts cemented those kinds of things beforehand, but some of those themes were exclusive to the comic. For however poorly I think KJCA was written, one of the themes I genuinely did like about it was that of how corrupt institutions will always, through their systems of oppression, forge the instruments of their own undoing. BL/ind and Battery City explicitly fall apart because of their mistreatment of the people in teh Zones, the Girl, the pornodroids, and Korse, and it is through this systematic abuse that BL/ind’s institution is uprooted and destroyed.

KJCA had a very prominent, not-insignificant message of how the system was fundamentally cruel, no matter how well-intentioned its origins and purposes might have once been, and that the people in that world could only live free of it if they tore it apart. The status quo was intrinsically unjust, and it had to be overthrown.

And then I look at KJNA, a story that was crafted almost ten years later. And the similarities between the draconian rule of BL/ind and the hyper-consumerist, capitalist modern day we see in KJNA are undeniably there. It felt like an intentional thing, like the harkening back to the Analog Wars as this vague concept that tied the two universes together. But when it comes to the system present in KJNA, the takeaway there is that it's not the system that's cruel; just the people running it. The system isn't corrupt; it's the things acting on it that are. Get rid of the bad part of it, and you can live happily in this ideology because it doesn't need further changing. You just need to cut out the aberration and everything will be fine. The same capitalist, consumerist dystopia that was unbearable in KJCA is fine here, or at least tolerable - and in some ways it’s this very status quo that the characters were fighting to preserve and restore.

Maybe that's not what other people saw in this, and that’s perfectly fine. But for my part, I find the startling contrast between those two themes to be...unsettling.

[dumbthotastrology]

a dumb thots guide to moon signs

omg i have been gone for so long uhhhh just flaky gemini things. anyways hey girlies so today were gonna talk about your moon signs. the specifics of what each moon sign has in store, and about moon signs in general.

about moon signs:

while a sun sign can be an overall idea of your personality and overall self, a moon sign is what rules your inner-self and your emotions. It creates your needs and wants, and makes the base for your subconscious and your soul. your moon sign can also describe how you respond to crisis basically your moon sign explains why y'all are so fucked up.

your moon sign also can tell who you’re compatible with emotionally. although compatibility is a mix of other planets and other non-astrological factors, your moon sign is a huge component of the way you think and process things, which is generally a huge part of compatibility and intellectual attraction. oooh, big words.

also, like what i said in my previous post “a dumb thots guide to the planets” some people relate to their moon sign waaaay more than their sun sign, probably because there are less stereotypes and stigmas around moon signs. if you’re naturally a very emotional, intuitive, or dark person you might feel more attracted to your moon sign because your feelings and emotions are a large part of your thought-process.

so children, let's get into each moon sign and what they mean

aries moon: we stan most aries, so we also stan aries moons. these folks tell it how it is and aren’t afraid to speak their mind. aries moons are bold and enthusiastic with their life choices. they’re optimistic, even through tough times. they know what they want all the time, but y'all aries moons don’t know the difference between needs and wants because of your intensity in regards to passion and desire. they can be moody and temperamental if they don’t get what they want or life is going rough for them. In life, it's hard to create a balance because they go through plenty of ups and downs constantly. they might feel destructive towards other people or even towards themselves. aries moons are naturally dominant, so let's all embrace our little baby lunar christian greys.

taurus moon: okay so let's talk about our babies with taurus moons. the main traits of a moon sign in taurus is that they crave stability, reliability, and comfort. people with taurus moons tend to stay away from sketchy or messy situations because they’re not super adaptable to change. they take pride in their emotional stability and use it as their driving force (and they usually take charge anyway.) those with moons in taurus can be stubborn and selfish at times, and can get stuck in routines although that's not the end of the world for them. if you have a sun or moon (or just have a lot of taurus in your chart) you can suffer from taurus-style depression at times, which makes the person very lazy, tired, and tend to overeat or do a lotttt of retail therapy. but on the brighter side, if you’re in a relationship with them, they are more committed, helllllaaa sensual (get itttt), loyal, and you won’t expect a break up for a longggg time

gemini moon: (geminis, i love you and i support you) those with moons in gemini are charming and witty, just like the gemini sun signs. they are social butterflies and like to organize or make plans frequently otherwise they’ll get fussy. they're great communicators and get along with a lot of people, but since gemini moons are such people pleasers, they might get too involved with the opinions and emotions of other people and tend to ignore their own feelings or purpose. deep shit. restlessness is common in lunar geminis because they always need to be stimulated with something (talking, reading, watching tv, etc.) also nervousness and moodiness can be a problem in these people, leading to frustration and being snappy. but overall, we love you geminis.

cancer moon: cancer moons are little babies, in a good way. they’re extremely sensitive, intuitive, and they feel so damn much. our cancer moon girlies make incredible friends and parents, however be a bit cautious around them. since they feel so much, they can be defensive, moody, or more upset than normal when they’re hurt or unhappy. if you hurt cancer moons, good luck bud. they tend to close off or shut down when hurt, and take a while to heal. along with this, they hold grudges for a long time, and tend to keep their guard up if they somehow forgive you. just don't be playin with their feelings… don't do it. To heal and regroup, cancer moons like to stick with what they know and what they’re comfortable with, and many can be homebodied. these people have a lively imagination and are extremely intuitive, leading to possible psychic abilities or intentions. these people also tend to be natural empaths, which can lead to feeling emotionally bogged down from other people depending on you, but being an empath is a good thing because it shows your loyalty and compassion. love u.

leo moon: leo moons are our fun friends that have been by our side for years. these girlies are self confident, creative, and has an inspiring and extroverted energy. leo moons know their se;f worth, and won’t put up with anything less. they can be dominant at times, but their motivation for this dominance is generally respect. their feelings are intense and they don’t mess around when it comes to their ambitions and desires. a downside of leo moons though, is that they are super extra. some can see you as over the top or loud, and at times this can make you feel misunderstood. you may seem to be an attention whore sometimes, but through your passion and loyalty those close to you know that your intentions are good. keep bein your extra ass selves, leo moons. we love you.

virgo moon: those with virgo moons can be a little tricky to understand, but there are definitely some pros, you guys aren't all fucked up. lunar virgos really stan their routine, which make them naturally self-disciplined so they don't fall out of that routine. they tend to like exercising, self care, and love to develop new hobbies. they also love to help others, and you'll find that lunar virgos are wholesome, loyal, and sensitive in the best way possible. their routine is a need for them, and if they don’t have it they can get high-strung and aggravated. they can also get finicky and specific about how things go in their lives, which isn’t always a bad thing. if lunar virgos suffer from trauma or rough-patches, they might try to bottle their emotions up which will manifest later on in life. similar to lunar scorpios, virgo moons might experience issues with digestion due to their emotional stresses. some have described that those with virgo moons might have eating disorders due to nervous system or psychological factors. these people might also have controlling fears or issues, so as i said these people can be a little fucked up but their gigantic hearts and self determination make up for it and help them get through it. (and aren't we all a little fucked up out here?)

libra moon: lunar libras (ugh doesn't that sound so pretty?) are just beautiful little babies. they have a natural artsy and peaceful personality that draws you into them. they’re amazing at communicating and socializing, and one of their main goals seem to be pleasing people in all aspects. libra moons are amazing partners, and they often search for a partner due to the fact that they strongly dislike being without a significant other. it makes them feel out of balance and lonely at times. they seem to steady themselves based on the way others depend on them and their relationships, but this can lead to distress if tensions exist within an important relationship in their lives. the dark side of lunar libras isn’t as scary as others think, but can become an issue if taken out of hand. they might become dependent on others and their significant other which can, in turn, hurt them in the long run from a loneliness or longing after a break in the path. ooh, poetic.

scorpio moon: scorpio moons dont fuck around. (i have a scorpio moon, so be scared bitch.) to be frank, scorpio moons are intense and emotional. they have a higher understanding of the human thought process and can be deeply connected to emotions and vibes. these people are affected not only by their own emotions, but from others emotions as well. they pick up on certain situations because of the energy radiating off of it, making them helllllaaaa intuitive. lunar scorpios are INTENSE when it comes to love, and might be afraid of committing if they’ve been hurt in the past. they have a strong emotional need for drama or frequent change, and if they dont express their feleings they could even get physically sick (ive personally experienced a lot of stomach issues and nausea.) scorpio moons are defensive when it comes to love (even if they crave it) because they have a fear of betrayal or being hurt. through all of these intense shit though, they’re ambitious, sensual (!!!), creative, and committed. we been knew.

sagittarius moon: sagittarius moons are our party people. they’re fun, sociable, and extroverted. they love meeting new people and doing new things, it makes them thrive. they like to go through life with an easygoing nature, and generally aren't super negative. sometimes they’re even overly optimistic, and get their hopes up way too much which in the end will crush them if something goes poorly. when life isn't in their favor or things don't go their way, they get tf out of the situation or try to physically escape. they want to feel balanced at all times. to other people (especially more home-bodied signs) see sag moons as intimidating or annoying, but sag moons are very easy to get along with and will get along with almost anybody. basically, lunar sags are that one friend that you can never stay mad at, and want to hang out with all the time. we really do stan.

capricorn moon: our capricorn moon are our little home bodied babies. we love you. the underlying theme of most lunar capricorns is that they’re steady and reliable, and like to keep themselves that way. they like to surround their lifestyle around goal-setting, and have soooo freakin much ambition and determination. at some points, capricorn moons might start getting a little too obsessed with their goals, like girlies please calm down every once in a while. they want to better themselves all the time, and that can lead to isolation or feelings of loneliness. lunar capricorns have emotions that are a bit more logical and darker than some, and that makes them a bit more emotionally closed off because they don't want to kill the vibe or share what's on their mind if its not important. they seem cold to others because they like to make themselves seem put together allllll the time. like seriously. overall, all these kittygirls want is to be in control and to have structure, and we’ll let you have it, since you mainly aren’t that problematic.

aquarius moon: so our little aquarius moons are kinda weird in nature, but SO bright and independent, which a lot of us admire. lunar aquarians care a lot about what others think, so they try to bury any negative emotions (like pettiness or jealousy) so they don't seem unattractive. because of this, they might seem closed off, but most times you’ll receive more of an emotional connection once you get to know them. they are very receptive to others emotions and frequencies, and ponder the meaning of life and the universe as they feed on deeper and darker emotions. often times, they emotionally detach themselves from others and tend to feel lonely. they’re natural loners, but on the bright side they don't let their loneliness get in the way of their overarching purpose (for the most part.) the odd thing is, they take in so much energy and emotion from other, and some may call that an empath, but to others they might seem like they lack compassion because they emotionally shut off. we love them anyways though, because lunar aquarians are amazing friends and give people lots of independence and space to be themselves, and they expect the same.

pisces moon: our lunar pisceans (google told me that term) are dreamy and imaginative girlies. they’re SO empathetic and love to connect with others, and that makes many people confide and take comfort in them. they might become so involved in others (they especially root for the underdog and those less fortunate) that they lose track of themselves. if people take advantage of pisces moons’ empathy, the pisces moon will learn quickly and bounce back. their huge and accepting heart makes them amazing partners and friends because they’ll cherish you. (and y'all BETTER cherish them too i swear to god.) the downside to lunar pisceans though, is that they involve themselves in others so much that they become overloaded with emotion that they might feel numb or become spaced out. a supppperrr common thing in a pisces moon is zoning out to give their brain a break. pisces moons need time to recharge and step back to breathe. hey, we get it. life can be stressful af sometimes, especially for someone who feels everything.

the next dumb thots guide will be a dumb thots guide to the elements of astrology. (hopefully it wont take five billion years) bettttttt 

-vi (gemini sun, scorpio moon, gemini rising) posted 6/15/19

[evolutionsvoid]

When one ventures away from civilization and into the wilderness, there is a ton of important things you must bring with you. I know many immediately think about what equipment you take and what tools you have at your disposal, but there are important things that you cannot stuff into a backpack. Yes, a sturdy hatchet or a trusty blade can do wonders, but they will be useless if you do not know when to draw them. For me, knowledge is one of the best tools to have at your side, especially when it comes to the lands you walk through and the flora and fauna you deal with. This is the kind of stuff that helps you find edible plants or figure out what beast has patrolled this area. It also is crucial for understanding your surroundings, and spotting the signs of a trap before you blunder straight into it. There are many ambush predators out there, and each have their own way of hiding and attacking. If you don't know what hunters dwell in the territories you are exploring, then you will be blind to their machinations until it is too late. Even then, it is not just the predators you must be wary of! Creatures of any diet can be territorial, the only difference between the meat eaters and plant munchers is what they do with your corpse afterwards. Being able to identify markings and tracks will help you avoid these conflicts, as the best battle is the one that never happens. I say this because I am thinking of the serene ponds and tempting water holes within the tropics. Peaceful looking places where travelers and explorers often choose to rest. Do not fall for these looks! Know what creatures call these waters home, and be sure to check for their presence before you go for a dip! I have heard quite a few tales about those who decided to rest in these cool waters, only to be later found floating dead within them. The Berberoka may not have the fearsome teeth and claws of crocodilians or basilisks, but they can be just as deadly to those who incite their wrath. The Berberoka are amphibious fish that are found in the freshwater pools and ponds of the tropics. Though they can dwell in any water source, they prefer to make their homes in places where it is still and has some depth. Swamps and bogs are acceptable, but nothing beats a nice weedy pond! They like a good amount of vegetation both in and out of the water, as those are the perfect places to hide or rest. Amphibious in nature, they spend most of their time in the water, but will venture onto dry land for certain things. Their myriad of fins are great for swimming, though they rarely need to move fast. They prefer a slow and steady drift through the water, propelled by the movements of their smaller fins. This lets them drift along while the rest of their body stays perfectly still, turning them into a floating piece of vegetation. Outside of the water, they use their serpentine tail to slither along, which is helped with their arms and lower fins. Able to breathe both air and water, they can hide in the shallows or within the tangles of weeds that line the shores. This makes it difficult to locate a Berberoka, as they could be in or out of the water, and there is no telling where they are lurking. Though I may have hyped them up as dangerous creatures, they are not vicious carnivores. Berberoka are omnivores that feed on algae and tiny critters that dwell in the water. Their long thin mouth is good for sucking up water, and internal structures sieve out any food pieces that are pulled in. This tiny orifice makes it difficult to eat anything bigger than a grape, but they do not let such limitations rob them of a meal. Sharp protrusions around their mouth can cut and slice, and they use them to core out plugs of fruit or flesh. However, these food stuffs must be soft for this to work, as they don't have the sharpest "teeth" nor a biting mouth. To help soften up their food, they will often drag it into the water and store it in one of their hiding holes. Every Berberoka has small food caches under the water, usually sticking them in flooded burrows or hiding them under rocks and logs. Letting their meal soak in the water will allow it to break down and soften, just enough that they can carve out squishy chunks or suck up the remaining slurry. This method goes for both plants and meat, which is why finding a corpse floating in their pond is no rare occurrence. Despite the appearance, they do not really hunt for food. A lot of carcasses they obtain either came from an inhabitant of the pond that died for other reasons, or from outsiders who walk straight into their territory. While they are not active predators, Berberoka are quite aggressive and territorial. They are quite protective of their ponds or water bodies, and will lash out at those they perceive as a threat. They seem to target larger creatures, those that may rob them of their food or may try to claim their territory for themselves. It doesn't matter if this is the intruder's intention or not, as the Berberoka tend to interpret anything as a challenge to their claim. Approach their waters? Then you must be after their food caches! Drop your pack by a tree? Clearly marking the territory as theirs! Falling asleep in the shade? They are already building a nest! The gall! With this short fuse, Berberoka attacks are quite common, especially in wild territories where no one has placed warning signs. Sources of water are crucial for any beast or explorer, so many tend to head straight for one once it is sighted. If you are not observant, you may walk right into a Berberoka nest and incite an attack. Though they possess a few pointy bits, that is not the weapons they use to defend their homes. 

When aggravated, a Berberoka will slink into the shallows. They will quietly hide themselves in the reeds and algae, watching the offender with a constant glare. They will carefully watch their movements, keeping track of their infractions and assessing if they are a threat. Unless the victim is aware that this pond belongs to a Berberoka and undertakes the proper precautions, they will most likely be seen as a threat. When they deem the intruder guilty, they will start to fill their body with water. With powerful muscles and flexible sacs, the Berberoka can swallow an insane amount of water in no time! Their bodies will be filled to bursting with fluid in seconds, and all that water will be unleashed upon the invader. When their target has come to rest or is near the water, the Berberoka will launch out of its hiding place and blast them with a torrent. Their thin mouths make for a tight beam of water, creating a powerful force that can bruise and even cut through exposed flesh! It doesn't help that this spray is aimed towards the face, where it can damage your eyes and blind you! These blasts of water quickly disorient the victim, causing them to stumble and fall. Even if the intruder is trying to escape, they will not let up on their assault. They will keep spraying their target until they scamper off into the wilderness or fall into the water. Those that wind up in the pond will be grabbed by the Berberoka and pulled under. Using their arms and tail, they will bind their victim and seek to drown them. Those that have enough strength to keep their heads up will have their faces blasted with more water until they succumb. Even those pinned on dry land are not safe, as they will continue to hose you down until your lungs are filled. In Berberoka territory, a drowned man on dry land is not an impossibility. After they successfully take down their intruder, they shall store their body in the water so it may get soggy enough for them to eat. No point letting food go to waste! These attacks make the Berberoka seem extremely violent and angry, but that is not always the case. We have this image because that is what the creature is doing when we are around. When left alone, the Berberoka seem much more serene and calm. They lazily drift through the water, and actually take pride in maintaining their pond! If one is stealthy and silent enough, you may be able to witness a Berberoka tend to their territory. They will fuss with the weeds and shoreline plants, often bending and wrapping them to create tangles and makeshift shelter. Rocks along the shore may be moved about and organized, though we don't know what their system is. Sunken stumps and branches will be put in different spots, like someone rearranging furniture. Some suggest that they do this to attract potential mates, or perhaps these actions help their ponds flourish. Since they mainly eat algae and tiny bits in the water, the Berberoka may shape their pond to better suit these food sources. I can believe this, as Berberoka territory is so rich with algae and the such that they tend to attract Lily Dryads! When I first heard this, I feared the worst! Those poor little things hardly think about danger and tend to be oblivious to their surroundings. Surely one of them slithering into Berberoka territory is doomed! Well, it turns out that the Berberoka don't mind Lily Dryads. For whatever reason, they are perfectly fine with a swarm of them hanging out in their ponds. They hardly even seem to notice them, to be honest! During my observations of one pond, I found that the resident Berberoka treated them like every other piece of vegetation, even when they moved or started talking! No one is really sure why the Lilies are spared of such extreme aggression, but some theories have popped up. One idea is that the Lily Dryads are small enough that the Berberoka doesn't see them as a threat. They tolerate smaller creatures, so perhaps a Lily Dryad fits the bill. Another theory is that the anatomy of a Lily Dryad has enough similarities to the Berberoka that it has some familiarity to them and thinks they are one of its own. The problem with that one is the fact that these creatures hardly interact with the Lilies, so I can't imagine that it thinks they are its young. Whatever the reason, Lily Dryads are allowed into their ponds and they find quite the haven there! Anything that would dare try to harm the Lilies would have to get through the angry home owner first! Speaking of the Lily Dryad mystery, I know some folk are wondering the obvious thing. "If you want to know why the Berberoka tolerates them, why don't you just ask them?" These are the questions of people who have never had to talk to a Lily Dryad before. Due to their laid back nature, they really don't pay attention to things and they aren't exactly the sharpest thorn on the branch. Conversations with them is like trying to have a scholarly debate with a sapling or child. They don't follow what you are saying and they would rather talk about whatever comes to their mind at that moment. I foolishly tried this questioning once, and the results were useless despite the aggravating amount of time it took to get them. I was able to convince a few Lilies to leave the pond and meet me a safe distance away from the territorial Berberoka. I asked them what they knew about the creature and they said "they seem nice!" I asked what else they knew, and it was "they are pretty nice!" I pointed out the fact that their "kind" neighbor was responsible for drowning at least four people in the past few months, which garnered a "they're quite nice once you get to know them!" To save my readers the misery and repetition, I will just say things didn't get much deeper than that. Due to their aggression and violent attacks, Berberoka are feared and reviled. Any person that lives within their range has heard the cautionary tales a hundred times. Those who disappear in the swamps are often believed to have been killed by one of these beasts, and many local children are wary of these still waters. Warning signs are quite common around these water bodies, especially those close to town. If a Berberoka gets too close to a local water source, the townsfolk will be forced to slay it. Using spears and shields decorated to look like large faces, a group will surround the pond and slowly approach. Eventually the Berberoka will come out spitting, and everyone will hide behind their shields. Seeing the false faces, it will direct its stream towards these instead of the actual warriors. While it is focused on one target, the others will slowly creep closer. It change its attack to those who are closest, but eventually someone will get into range and stab it. They aim for the inflated water sacs, looking to rupture them and take out the watery cannon. Once this happens, the rest can charge in and finish it off. While there are some sad instances where slaying a Berberoka is necessary, a lot of suffering can be avoided if people know how to identify Berberoka territory. One should pause and take a minute to study a water body before rushing in, checking to see if it is inhabited. One sign can be found in the reeds. The Berberoka wrap them together and shape them into a swirled den. Look for unnatural piles of rocks, which these creatures may build while they are tending to their pond. If you see a bunch of lily pads, they may actually be Lily Dryads. If you have the patience, you may be able to get their attention and ask them if one of these creatures is around. Just don't call it a "Berberoka" when you ask, as they have no clue what that is. If you find any muddy patches away from the shores, look to see the trail of a serpentine tail and the furrows of their lower fins. If you see a bunch of these signs, don't approach. Find somewhere else to rest or refresh. If you desperately need water, then try to find an access point that is protected. Trees, rocks, anything that can stop a beam of water long enough for you to grab what you need and run. Cover your face and wear as much protection as you can. If you approach, do so with a hunched posture and keep yourself low to the ground. A submissive stance can buy you some time, but don't stick around for too long! Another trick you can use to locate a Berberoka was one I learned from the locals. They make these wadded up balls of dried mud and crushed up crab shells. When they want to check if a pond is safe, they will chuck one of these things in and wait. The water melts away the dried dirt and releases these powdered crab bits. Apparently the Berberoka absolutely hates this and is whipped into an agitated state when it catches the scent. They thrash and splash in the water, churning up the area where the ball was thrown. In a few moments, it will settle down and return to its stealthy state, but this outburst is enough for locals to spot them and head the other way. Looking into it, I found that the scent of certain freshwater crustaceans agitate the Berberoka, as these species are known to feed on their eggs. Lobbing in this scent bomb sets them off and they immediately look to eliminate this fake threat. It is a fascinating solution and one that I have used a couple of times during my expeditions there. However, do be sure to keep these crab balls in a sealed container when you are at camp. While the Berberoka hates the smell of these critters, other beasts are quite fond of it and you may wake up to find a hungry customer in your tent!     Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------------ I don't recall how I came to learn of this mythical creature, but I liked the concept once I did! These guys weren't intended for Mermay, but I found they fit the theme, so here they are!

[diminished-fish]

References for “A Portrait in Synesthesia”

This fic is COMPLETE now, so anyone who might have been hesitant to follow a wip, here you go! The whole synesthetic package, wrapped up with a nice lil bow on top. :3

For those who might have missed the masterpost: the fic was my contribution to the good omens big bang and is a sweeping, canon-compliant romp through history, told in (almost) all original scenes, with lots of nature imagery and T.S. Eliot. Kind of my own cold open, but with way more feelings and flowers. Also the sea. And an emotionally significant comet.

I had the opportunity to throw all of myself at this project and really enjoyed making it an intense focus for a while. In a way, it was an experiment to see how much I was capable of, which as it turns out, is more than I thought! (there’s a lesson here, probably...). Going this deep with the research and worldbuilding is not something I will likely be doing often for fic writing, but since I did with this one, I figured I’d share a bit of the process.

Under the cut are major spoilers for the timeline, story, and historic events in my recent fic, A Portrait in Synesthesia. I had originally planned to post this information in the end notes of the fic, but at some point, the list got way too long and posting it here became the sensible choice. There is a link to this post in the end notes of the fic, so it will be easy to find your way back here if you get to the end and want to know a bit more about the writing and research process. 

The Title:

Putting this bit at the top because I don’t know where else to put it: The working title for this fic throughout the entire writing process was “In Synesthesia.” I almost changed the final title in the eleventh hour to “The Still Point of the Turning World” because of what a prevalent theme Eliot became (that line was also slipped into the story three times at important moments — once for each POV character). I also briefly considered “Always, We Were Enough” as a title, since the conversation with Adrielle at the lighthouse kind of... accidentally became the thesis of the whole story, but that was a bit too sappy even for me, a Confirmed Sap. 

And while I’ll be questioning my choice of title for the rest of forever (titling things is hard, y’all), I ultimately thought the more descriptive title was best, and wanted to keep the nod to the song that inspired it all.

Speaking of the song... have you listened to it yet?? It’s great, I promise!

Synesthesia:

This was my research starting point. Before I dug into any of the historical or astronomical research or even started any serious plotting, I started reading about synesthesia, or, as Psychology Today defines it: the neurological condition in which the stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway (for example, hearing) leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (such as vision).

Full disclosure: I do not have synesthesia. I spent a LOT of time researching it for this fic and did my best to portray it accurately, in spite of the fantastical elements I added. If I’ve overstepped or gotten something wrong and there are any synesthetes out there who would like to talk about it, I am very open to those discussions. The AO3 comments are always open to that, or you can message me/send me an ask here if you would like a less public forum.

I probably read r/Synesthesia in its entirety, but this thread of first-hand accounts was one of the most interesting to me and provided a lot of the inspiration for how I used the emotional synesthesia imagery. 

Besides everyone’s favorite research staring point of Wikipedia, this link is one I got from Boston University’s Synesthesia Project, and it is a pretty exhaustive list of research and books, as well as art and poetry about synesthesia. I have also been working my way through The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales, by Oliver Sacks which is the book that came most frequently recommended to me in my search. It’s an extremely approachable and interesting look at neurological conditions, synesthesia among them.

As it appears in the fic:

In a broad, generalized sense, Aziraphale and Crowley have a few types of synesthesia in this story. Obviously, I gave it a supernatural/celestial twist and a healthy glug of magical realism, but I did try to keep it firmly rooted in the actual condition. The types of synesthesia they have are:

Chromesthesia: they both have this. Sounds, specifically each other’s voices, have a color association

Lexical-gustatory synesthesia/emotion-flavor synesthesia: Aziraphale has this. Words (in this case, emotions, specifically Crowley’s emotional state) have a taste.

Odor-color synesthesia/emotion-odor synesthesia: Crowley has this. Words (again, emotions, specifically Aziraphale’s emotional state) have a smell.

One of the defining characteristics of synesthesia is that it is constant. If a synesthete connects the number 9 with the color blue, for example, then they will always connect them in this way. This was the major difference between real synesthesia and the fantasy synesthesia in this fic. The sensory/emotion connections for Aziraphale and Crowley changed in subtle ways as their relationship evolved through the ages.

The “binding thread” also had nothing to do with synesthesia. That was me wanting to make the spool analogy work for the body swap, baking it into the entire fic because I liked how the imagery fit with the synesthesia, and then leaning into the magic and the soul memory so hard that I fell flat on my face into magical realism. (A True Fact: I have spent a fair amount of time lying on the floor in the past 6 months, shaking my fist at the cute little plot bunny who grew fangs and claws and dragged me down a rabbit hole that ended up being 100k words deep). 

Anyway! Research!

Before I get into space and history and flowers... Yes, I admit to absolutely making up some wacky shit about Europa for the sake of fun banter and making a metaphor work. All those pre-Fall scenes on abandoned Earths are 100% a fantasy setting and I exercised the super fun right of a fantasy writer and embraced the worldbuilding (moonbuilding?). I also just thought Crowley would have delighted in tying a moon’s guts in knots, and Aziraphale would have delighted in the idea of whimsy-for-whimsy’s-sake. Please don’t lose sleep over the scientific inaccuracies.

Halley’s comet:

I promise not to bog this down with a billion comet facts, but there were a few particular things about Halley’s comet that had me gasping dramatically about how it’s “A.J. Crowley, but a comet!!” Specifically, it’s orbit and it’s structure. 

Halley’s retrograde orbit gives it one of the fastest velocities (relative to Earth) of any object in the solar system. I never explicitly worked the “you go too fast for me” line into the fic because I was trying to do original scenes (this particular story lived between the lines), but... just know that tidbit is there and join me in these emotional dire straits. If you like.

The comet’s structure is what is known as a “rubble pile”, meaning it’s made up of a bunch of smaller rocks held together by gravity (read: a hot god damn mess held together by stubbornness). 

As it appears in the fic:

The nucleus of Halley’s comet is shaped like a weird lopsided peanut. In fact, one could almost look at it and say it resembles a contact binary star, if such a thing could be a shriveled, misshapen pile of rubble.

Officially, Halley’s comet might have been recorded as early as 467 BC (a comet was recorded in Greece that year— unclear if it was Halley’s, but the timing and the fact that it was visible to the naked eye suggests that it probably was). This was the year I had Aziraphale making the scroll that causes Crowley’s panic in Athens (390 BC). I like to think that some human, at some point, caught a glimpse of it and tried to bring it to light, only to be written off as a crazed conspiracy theorist.

The apocalyptic depiction of Halley’s comet in chapter 9 (Bithynia) is actually based in fact. The comet made its closest approach to Earth (in human memory) in 837 AD, passing within 5 million kilometers. Its tail stretched halfway across the sky and it appeared as bright as Venus to the naked eye.

1910 Halley’s Comet panic. Bonus: c o m e t  p i l l s

Where 1910′s appearance was a spectacular sight and one of the closest approaches on record (coming within 22 million kilometers of Earth), 1986′s was the worst viewing conditions in 2,000 years. The comet passed within 63 million kilometers at its closest approach, and had the sun positioned between it and Earth, making it impossible to see from areas with any amount of light pollution, and almost invisible to all of the northern hemisphere. 

Historic events and settings:

Chapter 6 (Ostia): This was one of the chapters that I did a bunch of arguably unnecessary research for, since the history and the meat of the setting faded into the backdrop as the scene itself focused on dialogue and train of thought. The port town of Ostia was incredibly engrossing to read about, and between wikipedia’s ever-branching paths, ostia-antica.org, and ancient history encyclopedia’s entry, it ended up being one of the deeper rabbit holes I went down. My original intent for Aziraphale being in town was as a response to pirates sacking Ostia in 68 BC. I had him stationed there to guard against further attacks as the town rebuilt, and had him lingering because he was swept away by the romanticism of the art and the sea and the constant ebb & flow of people. I never found a way to work this in that didn’t feel super awkward and expository since the chapter was Crowley POV, so it was just left it as background noise.

Chapter 6 (pyramid of Cestius): Beyond being a magistrate of one of the four great religious corporations in ancient Rome (the Septemviri Epulonum), little is known about who Gaius Cestius actually was. As the city expanded, his lavish tomb was absorbed into the city walls (circa 3rd century AD), where it remains what he is remembered for to this day. I took most of my information from here (cross referenced with our lord and savior, Wikipedia) and had a chuckle at this poem by Thomas Hardy.

Chapter 8 (Plague of Justinian): The Yersinia pestis bacterium leaves no indicator on skeletal remains, meaning we rely on written records to track its path through history. The 6th century plague pandemic is the first recorded outbreak of bubonic plague, and for the purpose of our story, a certain distraught chronicler was the one on site, writing that history.

A note/cw: I wrote chapters 8 and 12 in October and November, respectively, and did much of my research for them over the summer. I imagine, given the current covid-19 pandemic, these sources would be less fun to follow up on now. Please be aware that the podcast episodes linked here, and the book cited in the miscellaneous refs section, get into pretty grisly details about illness and pandemics.

Chapters 8 and 12 (bubonic plague/The Black Death): I took a fair amount of my notes on bubonic/pnuemonic plague, specifically it’s path of destruction through Europe in the 14th century, from the two plague episodes of This Podcast Will Kill You. It’s pretty fascinating stuff and the Erins are great hosts, so check it out if you’re into delightful nerds bantering about epidemiology! 

Chapter 9 (the death of Peter of Atroa): Peter of Atroa was an abbot whose fame as a miracle-worker landed him in a scandal accusing him of exorcising demons by the power of Beelzebub, rather than God. Theodore the Studite’s letter cleared his name enough to avoid execution, but his reputation didn’t fully recover until after his death in 837 AD, when he was canonized as a saint. Peter and Theodore were tough to find extensive information on without passing through a paywall, so I took these scraps and ran a mile with them.

Chapter 13 (Tlatelolco, the Aztec Empire, the Feast of the Dead): I used this site as the source and starting point on much of my research on the Aztec Empire. And listen… I know it looks like a website for babies, and yes, I’m aware that a lot of the articles are literally written for a pre-teen audience, but it’s also one of the most concise, thorough, well-researched, and — perhaps most importantly — easily-searchable sources I found. Most of the pages cite papers and archaeological journals and I was able to jump to SO many other great sources of information. Mexicolore has my undying love and devotion for making my research process easy and fun and also having lots of pretty pictures.

Most of the physical descriptions for Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco (surrounding landscape, canals and causeways, chinampas, etc.) started here.

Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco were independent cities, but shared a border (kind of like a city and a suburb) and the small island on Lake Texcoco (located where present day Mexico City is). Tenochtitlan was the capital city of the Aztec Empire, and besides cross-referencing Mexicorlore, the link in the previous bullet point, and Wikipedia, I got a fair bit of information from these essays. 

Tlatelolco’s market was the major hub of trade and commerce, and saw 20-40,000 people trading PER DAY. Research on the market started here.

Chapter 14 (Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse): While I strove for historical accuracy as much as possible in this fic, I did take some liberties— especially with the island of Terschelling and the Brandaris lighthouse (yes, it’s real!) circa 1350-1435. 

The village of Brandarius is based on present day West Terschelling— a settlement founded as a direct result of the lighthouse. In the middle ages, both the village and the lighthouse were named after Saint Brandarius (or Brendan of Clonfert: ‘The Navigator’, ‘The Voyager’, ‘The Anchorite’, ‘The Bold’; patron saint of divers, mariners, and travellers). It’s still a relatively small village today, and it was a surprisingly difficult task to find historical records for Brandarius/West Terschelling dating back to the 14th century that say much beyond “it existed.” I loosely based the village off information found here, and named it “Brandarius” instead of “West Terschelling” based on the information found here. 

The original lighthouse was built in 1323, destroyed by the sea in 1570, and rebuilt in 1594. Since there were no records (that I could find) of what the original lighthouse looked like, I loosely based the height and floor plan on the current tower, and made up everything everything else about the interior. The interior was based on information about other live-in lighthouses, specifically this one which is roughly the same height as the Brandaris.

The present day Brandaris lighthouse sits directly in the middle of West Terschelling. For the sake of that sweet Self-Imposed Exile + Cryptid Lighthouse Keeper drama, I took the liberty of making my fictional village of Brandarius teeny tiny and setting it slightly apart from the lighthouse. 

Miscellaneous references:

In addition to the podcast, details about plague in chapters 8 and 12 were gleaned from the book The Great Mortality by John Kelly. It’s a cool read if you’re into nonfiction that reads like fiction, but does have some rather graphic passages so proceed with caution.

Yaretzi’s maquizcóatl/Aziraphale’s memento. To clarify, they were NOT the same item. I pictured Aziraphale cherishing the memory of the day by the lake with Yaretzi so much, that once he acquired the bookshop and had a place for all his kitsch, he hunted down a bad luck dragon of his own.

Here is the Aztec creation story about sun cycles and Earth’s rebirths that Yaretzi told Aziraphale. Another version of it.

In the scene in Mexico where Aziraphale briefly remembers, I used an analogy about a moment that hovers and flits away as “quick as a hummingbird.” Besides just liking the words, this was a nod to the legend of the cempasuchil flower. I originally had Yaretzi telling Aziraphale that story too, but the chapter was just way too long and something had to go.

In my very first outline, I had Aziraphale’s grief and personal growth chapter taking place at a Día de Muertos festival in Mexico. When the plot and the timeline finally got ironed out and I realized only half of that story was going to take place on Earth, I ended up focusing on Aziraphale’s brief relationship with Yaretzi instead of the festival itself (she was always the important bit). I also found myself married to the idea of that chapter happening in the 14th and 15th centuries, which meant the scenes in Mexico take place before Spain invaded and the festival was based solely on its Aztec roots. Because the plot shifted in this way, a lot of research went on behind the scenes that never made it into the fic, but for anyone interested in the Aztec Feast of the Dead, Mexicolore was my starting place again. From there, I found my way to reading about Mictecacíhuatl, the Aztec goddess of death, who was the main focus of the festival.

This isn’t research, but it might interest, like… three of you, so here you go. The scenes in Heaven (Aziraphale’s solo chapter in general tbh) were hard to write. One of those walls you hit with writing where you kick and punch and bang your head against it for months (literal months, I started wrestling with it in August and it didn’t come together until the end of January) but can’t seem to make any breakthroughs. Inspiration truly comes from unexpected places though, and when @gottagobuycheese sent me this Gregorian chant generator it actually… worked? I cranked that hum slider up to 100 and left it there for a few days (to the chagrin of my spouse) and lo— Zophiel.

There’s a cool legend about Saint Brendan of Clonfert’s sea-faring journey in search of the Garden of Eden that has nothing to do with this fic beyond being neat parallel. If that happens to be anyone’s cup of tea, the story is here. The tl;dr version is here. My original vision for the lighthouse included carved whales (St Brendan’s attribute) over the front door, and images from this story (the island of sheep, the Christmas island, the paradise island of birds) drawn on the walls of one of the bedrooms used by previous keepers’ children. Continuing the theme of “how stories echo” if you will. It felt really awkward and out of place once I wrote it in though, and that chapter was already so long once I got through all the plot bits I wanted, so it was left on the cutting room floor. 

Speaking of taking liberties with the 14th century, I did fudge the timing a bit on the art created by Crowley and Adrielle. Drawings, especially pencil sketches, have their historical roots in the late 15th century, and I’m chalking this one up to the fantastical setting of the Good Omens universe. In a fantasy world where angels and demons walk among us and the earth is literally 6,000 years old, I feel like inventing pencils 100 years early is small potatoes. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

This is the edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that Crowley nicked in Norwich. There are some really wonderful illustrations and scans of full pages under that link. I may or may not have lost a few hours down that research rabbit hole for a few throwaway lines (no regrets, I fall like Crowley). 

One last rabbit hole...

I saved this bit for the end of the post since it’s not really research and I don’t know how interested people will be in this kind of thing. Also... this is a lot more emotional and personal than the historical aspects of the fic. This is just what I was feeling and thinking while I was writing, and this story is absolutely the kind of thing I expect everyone to take something different away from. If you read the fic, took your own meaning from it, and want to keep that meaning without me tarnishing it by babbling about symbolism (first of all, high five, I love you, thank you for hanging out with me and my stories), then feel free to skip the rest of this post. <3

But! For anyone who wants to know more about what I had in mind with the flowers and nature metaphors I worked into the story, read on!

The tag “it’s an OT3 where Earth is the third” is something I really worked to pull to center stage. In my mind, Earth was a fully formed character who also spent the pre-Fall storyline being jerked around by God and having its memory wiped. It experienced transformations, pain, heartbreak, joy, and love just like Aziraphale and Crowley did, and I wrote it as falling in love with the two of them over the course of the Earth Project, then remaining very much in love for the entirety of iteration 23 (the current iteration). “Memories that are buried in places deeper than the mind” referred to the soul imprints being formed, but also Earth’s buried memories— seeping through the cracks to connect them via synesthesia in emotionally charged moments, allowing them to find each other from orbit in iterations 20 and 21 (music and the sea), and pulling them together in moments of distress like Constantinople and Barcelona.

In the vein of “Earth as a character,” I used plants (mainly flowers), topography, and weather as Earth’s “voice” in the grief chapters when Crowley and Aziraphale were separated from each other and going through their individual arcs. I’m not sure it technically counts as flower language, since all the flowers featured in the fic were wild and growing in nature, but (almost) all of them served a metaphorical purpose.

Flowers:

Jasmine (for the moon): Aziraphale’s flower. Love, beauty, sensuality, good luck, purity. The rational hedonist.

Marigolds (for the sun): Crowley’s flower. Grief and remembrance of the dead, lost love, the fragility of life, creativity, winning the affections of someone through hard work. The fallen artist.

Purple Hyacinth: Earth’s flower. Regret, sorrow, a desire for forgiveness. The witness. These were the wildflowers that grew in the orchard/vineyard on the penultimate Earth, where Aziraphale and Crowley managed to work out the differences they couldn’t by the sea. Hyacinths are also the hazy images they would see in those moments of vulnerability, compassion, and compromise. 

A fun aside! In very early drafts, the placeholder name I was using for angel Crowley was Jacinto, which is a Spanish/Portuguese name meaning “Hyacinth.” It was meant to be a reference to both the flower and the Greek myth of Apollo and Hyacinth, but my brain absolutely could not disconnect it from Manny Jacinto (and kept insisting on imagining Crowley calling Aziraphale homie and calling everything dope). Eventually I leaned into the Latin and landed on Joriel, then attached my banner to the Achilles and Patroclus myth instead of Apollo and Hyacinth, but the name Jacinto still makes me think of starmakers.

Honeysuckle & morning glory, climbing the oak tree: Aziraphale + Crowley + Earth. Seen in chapter 10, when Aziraphale and Crowley shake hands on the Arrangement. Two plants whose vines grow in opposing spirals. In nature, they have a symbiotic relationship, twining around each other in order to climb trees, walls, and fences, allowing both of them to grow higher than they could alone. 

Or: local woman sees this tweet, hasn’t known peace since.

The deasilwise / widdershins (clockwise / anticlockwise) thing got sprinkled throughout the story, with deasilwise being the “angel direction” and widdershins being the “demon direction.” Halley’s comet, with its backwards orbit, orbits the sun deasilwise, even after Crowley becomes widdershins.

Amaranth: Immortality, unfading affection, finding beauty in inaccessible places. 

The garden in the dunes and Petya’s travelling garden:

Where Aziraphale took a methodical, Kubler-Ross approach to dealing with loss, Crowley’s process was meandering and chaotic. The garden in the dunes was where it all came to a head— his way of throwing all of his emotions on the ground like a big jumbled pile of pick-up sticks, then slowly sorting through them and putting himself back together. There was a whole lot of Earth/flower speech going on in those scenes.

With the exception of zinnias, the garden was made up of perennials or self-sowing flowers. This happened “off-screen” as I could never find a decent way to work it in, but... the zinnias which Crowley bullied into being perennials returned to being annuals and died off after he left Terschelling and sometimes I still cry in the shower about it. 

Zinnias: Adrielle’s flower. Endurance, lasting friendship (especially friendships lasting through absence), goodness, daily remembrance. This one is also a small self-indulgence on my part since Adrielle was something of a self-insert. My mother loves zinnias and, growing up, our house was absolutely surrounded by them in the summer. Anywhere there was a free patch of dirt, Mom planted zinnias. They’re a scrappy, weird looking flower that doesn’t have a smell and a lot of people find rather ugly... and I love them with my entire heart. There is no flower on this earth that fills me with more whimsy, nostalgia, or childlike contentment. Also butterflies love them.

Chamomile: Patience. Fresh chamomile flowers are very aromatic and smell like apples.

Daisies: Transformation. Also simplicity, loyalty, and new beginnings.

Poppies: Restful sleep or recovery, peace in death, remembrance.

Tulips: Each tulip color has its own meaning, but the most common thing they symbolize is deep love. That said, I mainly chose this one for their prevalence in the Netherlands, as well as being very colorful perennials.

Pansies: The love or admiration that one person holds for another, free thinking, remembrance.

Lily of the valley: Rebirth, the return of happiness. They also have a very strong, very sweet smell and can grow in cool climates. These were the main reasons I chose it, rather than any of the religious connotations.

Lavender: Silence, devotion, serenity, grace.

Orchids: There’s... actually no deep symbolism with this one. Nothing intended anyway. Orchids, lavender, and cranberries are the dominant native plants on the island of Terschelling. I thought they’d be pretty in the dunes.

I am also a music-must-be-playing-at-all-times kind of person and I came out the other end of this project with FIFTEEN (15) playlists. Some of them are all instrumental playlists that I used to set the mood while I wrote certain scenes/segments, others are lyrical and tell a story or helped me sort out the story, some chapters got entire playlists all to themselves (looking at you, 14th century). The main playlists are linked in the notes on AO3, but I may collect them all in a tumblr post at some point if there’s an interest.

This entire project was an enormous labor of love that took up pretty much all of my free time for six months. So, if you read this far... thank you for coming on such a long journey with me!! Truly, deeply, and from every corner of my heart, thank you for reading. <3

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Sixteen

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The lake being frozen saves me a lot of time. I cross it without worrying of it crumpling under my steps, putting more trust in it than anything else since the last time I’ve been here. The last time I was here… I almost died. I should’ve died. If not for the tundra-esque waters underneath me, I would’ve. In fact, I’m surprised I didn’t drown anyways. Probably would’ve saved me a lot of trouble if I had.

When I look up, I can see the mountain I jumped from. From this angle, I can’t see my old cabin, but I’m certain it’s still up there. I’m excited in my own way to see it again, even though I find it impossible not to imagine a Clone with his gun trained on me waiting. Because, despite the bad memories, I will always love this place. I will always love the system I consider my home. It offered me sanctuary when nothing and no one else would, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful, even if it did try to kill me. I suppose this is what love is- I suppose this is what devotion means. Complete loyalty, no matter the distance or the experience. So, I guess, in my own way, I do love something. I love Ilum. I missed Ilum. I want to stay with Ilum.

There! The cabin! Not twenty feet from where I stand. Just as wooden and strong as ever! And there, not ten feet from me, is the spot where the trooper with the yellow striped helmet shot at me. One of his shots grazed my arm, leaving me with a scar, but I was okay. I can almost still see him there now, just as I do in some of my nightmares, but he isn’t there. Just my cabin, and the stillness of the wind.

I push the door forward, listening to the creak I used to hear so often. I can see the dust in the air, feel the still tension, and smell the silence. It doesn’t feel as warm as it once did, but that must be because of how long it’s been. Three years. Nothing has changed.

The table is still knocked over, my fruit and cheese is just as moldy as when I left it. My bed is just as ruffled up from when I threw the covers off. My old hunting jacket is still crumpled up in the corner, spearheads surrounding it collecting dust.

It feels warmer than I remember. I’m taller now. I could probably reach up and touch the ceiling if I really wanted. Tentatively, I put my left foot forward. It scuffs against the ground, causing me to almost trip. Immediately after, I know I shouldn’t be here.

I’m not welcome anymore. I’ve outgrown the cabin somehow. It may look the same, but it doesn’t feel the same. There is nothing more I can do for it, and nothing more it can do for me. Maker, the thought alone makes me want to shrivel up into a ball and cry.

How could this have happened? How can I feel so unwelcomed in my own home? This shouldn’t be possible. I should be relaxing on the bed right now, a content smile on my face as the air takes me back into its arms. But there is nothing. The air inside shoos me away with malice, begging me to stop stretching it. This was… not what I was expecting.

I turn to the left quickly, my breath falling anxiously from my lips.

On the floor in front of me is a short, wrinkled, green… thing. A male, with long ears protruding off his head and white tufts spurting from it. He dawns cream colored robes that bring out his old, but wise, green eyes. I’ve never encountered his race before. He reminds me very much of a shriveled bean, slowly dehydrating in light of the hottest suns.

Immediately, I take a step back. My heel rolls on the floor and my ankle gives a great twist. I don’t react to it at all. Instead, my left hand dives to my hips, reaching for my lightsabers. They aren’t there.

“Missing something, are you?” the green thing smiles.

I furrow my eyebrows, taking a quick and defensive step forward.

“Make a new one, should you?” then he chuckles. I take another step forward, ready to pick the thing up and crush it against the wall and demand to know what it’s done, but he’s disappeared. Almost as if he hadn’t even been here to begin with.

Make a new one? A new lightsaber?

Yes, my cabin says. Go on. We could use this time away.

It’s not like I have anything to lose from a new lightsaber. And I did say I missed my green and red blades.

I storm out of my cabin then with a hot face. There was nothing better for me to do.

I start my climb to the temple. I already passed the main entrance, but there’s another, lesser known, side entrance that uses the path by my hut. Years ago, I recall attempting to enter the temple through that entrance, but there was a giant ice door in my way. Luckily, there was an abandoned lightsaber I could snag, but I never did find the trick with the door. I never bothered to watch any of the youngling groups for fear of discovery. Now, it seems I have to. Even if I find another abandoned lightsaber, I won’t steal it this time.

I climb the mountain for a while with ease, my body remembering all those primal, survival instincts. Then I slip into a little tunnel to my right and hike upward, eventually making my way back outside and to the side of the mountain. It’s not dark yet, meaning I’ve been making good time.

I wonder what Adamus is doing right now. Probably defending needing me to his little… sausage council. Man, those guys really did not want me with them. I don’t blame them. Lucky for them, they won’t have to worry about it anymore. I have no intention of going back. I won’t see Adamus again, nor Aheka. Admittedly, I feel a little guilty about leaving Aheka. She was trying her best to be kind, and it felt sincere.

There’s a story I heard once on Coruscant, about a bog frog and a scorpion. The scorpion asked the frog for help crossing a river, and the frog accepted. Once it was finished, the scorpion stung and ate the frog. I guess that makes me a scorpion, and Aheka the innocent frog. Unfortunately, I can’t bring myself to eat or kill her, but I can abandon her. I can abandon anyone. I don’t need them.

Then, I’m thinking about Adamus gripping my arm in the middle of his meeting and leering close enough for me to stare deep into his pale eyes, and I have deny needing them all over again.        

I find the entrance in the form of a giant hole in the side of the next mountain. I can see the giant ice door I need to get to below, and the large ice crystal above. I drop down to the level below with ease, cracking the snow under my feet. I can see my breath come out in puffs and feel the iciness of my fingers. It’s much colder down here- more stale. Everything feels old and sacred and on the verge of trapping me.

The question now is: what to do? Last time I was here, I couldn’t figure out the trick with the door. I suspect I have to melt it using the crystal above somehow, but it may just be faster to break it myself with the force or lightning.

No, no. Then the crystal would break and hurt me, and I’d have no other way to get into the temple. I shouldn’t disturb the atmosphere more than I have to.  

The hole I leaped through… there’s sunlight seeping through it.

Tentatively, I raise my left hand to the air and towards the crystal. The air around me becomes tighter, more connected to it. I can feel the weight of it, the sharpness of the ice. Slowly, then all of a sudden- it lurches in front of the light with a crack! and I watch beams of yellow and white race across the room and meet the ice door.

Then, the door is melting away. It turns to ice and rushes down steps, chilling my feet through my boots and soaking my ankles.

I can see the darkness waiting for me, the whispers calling me inside. I can feel my crystal begging me to step forward, to enter. It tugs me and manipulates me. It wants me. It’s just as tantalizing as the Dark Side. And so, for the first time in my life, I step forward into the Jedi temple, looking for a new lifeline.

The caves are colder than I would prefer. My breath comes out in puffs of white mist, and my reflection dances across the walls of ice. The whole inside of this temple is built like a maze or a cave, forcing me to rely on nothing but instincts. I have no light but my conscience, no sense of direction but the turning in my stomach. Beads of sweat form on my forehead, despite my arms crossing to keep myself warm. How many younglings have died in these caves, I wonder, searching for their own kyber crystal? If I find my own, is it because the force wishes me to live, even after all I have done? No, if future Sith found their crystal here and the force did not stop them, then everything about this universe is deeply flawed.

I come to a fork in front of me. The path ahead is divided into three new roads.

The one on the left is quiet, with only the faint whistling of wind escaping. It feels lonely, abandoned, desolate.

The one on the right is warm, tropical, and deceiving. It feels like a party made to cover up something sinister and overly hot.

The one in the middle is nothing. It’s boring, and gray and unable to give me anything good or bad.

I take the left path. I am left-handed, I enjoy the silence, and I often feel abandoned. It was made for me.

Every so often, I hear whispers from the past. They echo through the cave walls and into my head, bouncing around softly. They feel intense, sad, distant.

“I don’t believe in chance, Commander.”

"Feel, don’t think. Use your instincts.”

“Don’t let this be the end of the Jedi.”

The whispers become darker.

“Anakin!”

“You were my brother!”

“I know him. Your vision is flawed.”

“Anakin, please!”

“Don’t underestimate my power.”

There is silence after the last whisper. Menacing, it lingers in the air. It chills me to the bone, sending vibrations down my spine like I’ve never felt.

What… what really happened that day? I only saw Order Sixty-Six from my view, but what else was there? Why do I feel so much pain?

A pang hits me in my stomach as something glinting catches my eye. A… dead end? No… I felt my crystal here. I know I should’ve gone this way! I jog towards it, disappointment settling in as I realize that of course it’s not that easy. Sure enough, there’s a thick sheet of ice blocking me from going any further.

… I can see something shining on the other side of wall. I can hear it. I can… I can feel it. It’s my crystal.

I’m not in the cave anymore all of a sudden. I’m alone and in the dark- this time literally. The air feels humid and warm in contrast to the cool cave I was previously in. I can hear the echo of my breathing throughout the area, which appears to be unending. I feel my braid hit my back as I whirl around, searching for an exit in the abyss.      

“Keres?”

I twirl around, and there she is.

“You’re really out of it today, aren’t you?” Talik coos. Her long eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she blinks. The light hitting her face makes her full lips shine perfectly. At this, I realize I’m not in the black void anymore. I’m back on our ship, right in the leather seats by our game table.

 “I’m just tired,” says a familiar voice from behind me. I turn around again, but this time I see myself. I realize I’m watching the scene play out from a distance, and I step closer with furrowed eyebrows. I know better than to question what the Force brings to me at this point.

I am younger. My shirt is loose and longed sleeved, effectively covering my skinny arms. My braid looks neater than it does now. The makeup under my eyes is cleaner, but also smudged as if I’ve been crying. I am similar, but different to as I am now.

Talik leans forward in her seat with a smirk. She puts her elbows on the table and crosses her arms. “Could’ve sworn I heard you making noises last night. You sure nothing was keeping you up?” She bites her lip and wiggles her eyebrows. I watch my own face go blank with apathy, but I can see the wheels of my mind turn as I try to understand her meaning.

“Not like that,” I finally say. “Must’ve been Kip.”

“Ew. Or Mur.”

I roll my eyes and look away casually. “Please, stop talking.”

Talik throws her head back and lets out a musical laugh. “If you insist.”

The air is quiet for a moment. Old Keres looks down to her lap and fumbles with her fingers (all ten of them), picking at her nails as she thinks. Talik watches me with scrutinizing eyes. She’s analyzing me.

And then the memory all comes back at once. I couldn’t place it at first. Now I can. And my brain feels cloudy as I try not to collapse in on myself with cringe.

“I have something for you,” Talik finally says. I pick my head up with attention, and she digs into her belt pocket and puts a small pouch on the table. “Glitteryll,” she smiles. “Two pounds of it.”

I look at the small pouch with something like lust. I can see my own pupils dilating in and out. My mouth falls open slightly, revealing my top row of teeth about to bite into my lower lip.

“Where’d you get all that, anyway?” I ask.

The Twi’Lek rolls her eyes. “You know what your problem is, Vagor? You’re paranoid. Always. All the time! It never stops!”

A snuff of air leaves my nose with a quick smile in an attempt to relax myself. “I think you’re just jealous I ask better questions than you do.”

“Ha. You wish,” she says with narrow eyes. “But for real. Look at this.”

“It’s impressive,” I shrug, eyeing the pouch with desire again. “But do you really think Mur would appreciate it?”

Talik rolls her eyes. “Paranoia. Again with the paranoia.”

My old self watches her. My eyes flicker between Talik’s. I can’t remember what I was thinking exactly, but I remember thinking very hard. I can see it in my face from the little details no one but me would notice.

“I guess,” I finally mutter. “I think I’m gonna take it easy today. I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”

I go to exit the booth. In my real body, my hands ball into fists as I watch myself. I already know what happens next. I remember it. I didn’t like it.

Talik swipes the pouch back into her hands and under the table. “You’re always at that desk, Vagor. Will you be working?”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Probably, I guess. I can get around to that holster you asked for.”

My hands tighten into smaller balls.

“Well then you’ll need your energy,” Talik smiles. “Here. Wait right here.”

She didn’t give me a chance to respond. Talik sweeps her curvy body out of the booth and into the space we use as a kitchen. My old self watches her go, easing myself back into my seat slowly. I should’ve just gotten up anyway. That’s what makes this whole future my fault.

Talik clicks a button on our caf machine. I could’ve sworn I’d told her I’m not all a fan of the stuff, but I’d just figured she’d forgotten. Instead, my present body keeps my eyes glued to her, as the old me twiddles my thumbs in waiting.

I watch the Twi’Lek remove the pouch from her hands, open it, and set it on the counter. She fills a tall cup with the caf and sits it on the counter. Her slender fingers reach into the bag and pull out a pinch of shimmering dust. She lets it fall into the cup and swirls it around. Then she takes another pinch of the stuff and repeats. Talik does it a third time for good measure. Finally she brings the cup over to the table, steaming and the color of chocolate, setting it down in front of me.

“For you,” Talik smiles sweetly.

I remember having a bad feeling. It’s my fault.

I already know what happens next. I don’t need to see it,  though I do anyway. Because what I see now isn’t up to me. Because I know that I can’t be in control of everything.

Still, once it is done, I am somewhat on the verge of tears. It is enough to make me wonder if I am weak. If I deserved what had happened after I accepted the drink. But mostly I think I cry of frustration towards myself. Because even now, after I watched it all, I still make myself believe that Talik didn’t mean any of it.  

“Not your fault, it was,” calls a familiar voice from behind me.

Lowering my gaze under the weight of my shame, I turn. I’m no longer looking at the ship, but instead at a large, circular room. The wall is made of windows, revealing an orange sky behind a detailed city. I can see the ship traffic outside, whizzing and whirring as if anyone had anything important to do. The room is lined with dark red chairs. Only one of them is filled.

“Known, how could you?” says the little green one. His eyes narrow and widen as he speaks, as if he were desperately trying to get his point across.

My lips quiver as I search around the room quickly. I can feel the tears welling up again, blurring my vision somewhat. It feels like there’s no more air in the world.

“I should have been smarter,” I finally break. My head falls again. I can’t stop myself from sniffling like a child, but I can obscure his vision from seeing it at least.

“No,” he responds firmly. “No, no, no! Never the fault of the victim, it is. Only that of the perpetrator.”

“So I’m a victim then,” I wipe my nose with the cuff of my sleeve. Being a victim is the very last thing I wanted to be. “Who are you?” I snap suddenly.

The little green things mouth curves into a thin line. A smile. And for some reason, the smile puts me at ease. The creature is old and wise. If he smiles at me, it’s because he is certain things will go alright. If he smiles at me, it’s because he’s certain that the Force will carry my body safely to the shore, no matter how high the waves climb. And who am I to question the thing I believe to bind everything together?

“Right,” I mutter as I roll my puffy eyes. “Jedi.”

“Something clever about you, I knew there was.”

“You don’t need to be force sensitive to see that,” I explain. I can feel my nose drain, and I want to wipe it again.

The Jedi creakily extends his hand to me. His three claws gesture out to me, then to a chair on his right. I eye them suspiciously. They are the thrones of my enemy. I wouldn’t touch them unless it was to ruin it.

Though, now that I see them, I see how plush they are. They remind me of velvet. I haven’t touched velvet many times in my life. True to my nature, the longer I see the furniture, the more curious I become. Finally, I edge myself closer to the thing before I settle into it slowly.

It’s soft. I was right about the velvet. Still, I don’t feel comfortable enough to sink into it all the way. I keep myself poised and upright, and ready to stand at a moments notice.

“Against the Jedi Order what have you?” the old thing croaks.

My index finger twitches reflexively at the question, like a spasm. I don’t think about it too much, but then I miss my ring finger. I can’t seem to forget about it.

I breathe out through my nose slowly. I haven’t told anyone about my reasoning behind my opinion on the Jedi for as long as I’ve been alive. For so long, these opinions have just been bouncing around inside my own head. Am I ready to speak them into the air?

“You’re just not as good as you say you are,” I swallow bitterly. In reality, I want to scream out ‘you left me to die!’, but that doesn’t fit my constant need to be cool as a cucumber. “This whole thing is just ridiculous you know. Why would you even wear robes for a job like this? That doesn’t make any sense. You’ll trip on your own feet. Is that what you want?”

A touch of humor to hide my emotions. A defense mechanism.

“What about your big, fancy temples, huh? Why do I have to walk up so many stairs to meditate? I can just meditate in my own house.”

“Your name, I did not catch.”

“And what’s with all your kriffing diversity? We get it! You’re tolerant. Except when someone has a different world view than you. Then they’re evil and under speculation, right?”

The green thing frowns slightly, but I keep going.

I stand, heated from my tangent. “That’s your whole point, isn’t it? To stand against evil? Have you ever considered that there wouldn’t even be evil without whatever you call good? Everything depends on perspective. Nothing fancy and made up like your moralistic code. Which, by the way, is completely backwards. You really think no one in your order would fall in love?” My hands are practically waving around in the air now as I speak to emphasize my version of enthusiasm.  “Waste of time and energy.”

The green one looks at me kindly, for some reason. He doesn’t seem angry. Nor appalled. He is comfortable.

“Master Plo Koon’s chair, you sit in,” he croaks.

I raise an eyebrow at this. The fingers of my left hand run against the velvet, feeling all the pieces of fiber. “Master? As in-”

“Jedi Master,” the thing nods with a small smile. “A good master for you, Master Plo would have been.”

For a split second, I see someone like Jarvers being crushed under the weight of flames in a cockpit. Then he is gone.

But I can’t accept this. The Jedi want me now? After abandoning me? After failing to give me a proper chance? I’ve already shown I can survive on my own. I don’t have anything more to prove to this group of laser sword monks. And I won’t let them control me more than they already have. No one gets to control me but myself. Not even Talik.

My head shakes side to side slightly. I look the Jedi straight in his bright, emerald orbs, and I tell him the truth: “I’d never let anyone be my master. I…” don’t say it, Keres. Don’t say it.

“I don’t want to be good,” I admit. “But I know I’m not evil. I tell myself I am a lot, but I’m not. It’s just perception- view. The truth is I’m in the middle. Whatever you wanna call it- centrism, ambiguity, I don’t care. But if nobody else is going to do it, then I’ll be balanced. Just me. I don’t mind being alone.”

The green thing leans forward in his chair. A hand with three claws reaches out to me. I can see his nails are like thorns that are easy to scratch yourself on. “Master Yoda, I am. Your name?”

I blink once.

The Jedi is not phased by my confession of moral grayness. He is calm and collected. His wise eyes do not deceive me, and I see that he is honest.

I lean forward in the Jedi’s seat as well. My right hand extends to meet the green. “Keres,” I mutter. “Keres Vagor.”

The moment my hand touches his, he’s gone. The room is gone. The planet is gone. Everything is gone. I am standing in the void again. Just when I think I’m alone, two voices whisper nightmares from over both left and right sides of my shoulders.

“You’re a good girl, Keres.”

"Good soldiers follow orders.”

My eyes snap open immediately. There are black and yellow spots dancing across my vision, but other than that, I’m back in the ice caves. The back of my neck is flat against the snowy ground.

Slowly, reality sinks in weight in my right hand. I lift it up and peel back my four fingers. Inside, a small, sharp, faintly glowing rock reveals itself. My crystal.

I leave the temple with a limp, clutching my stomach. The hand is holding the crystal so tight it might be breaking the skin. I’m too exhausted to register it. When I come back to the circular room I initially entered in, I can see the sunlight streaming through still. It must still be the same day, meaning it didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would.

When I reach the cabin, I feel as if I’m going to throw up. I do- twice. Luckily, there’s a bucket of cheese I was never going to eat anyways that I empty the contents of my stomach into. Then I wipe my sweaty palms and get ready to forge a saber.  

The design I come up with for my lightsaber is one I like. Simple, sleek, not overly extravagant.

It is made of onyx. The body has a pattern of silver and black horizontal stripes, and the emitter is tall and slanted. The pommels, when detached from each other, has a small, silver loop for me to clip onto my belt.  

With a slow exhale, I place my thumbs over one of the switches. I hold the lightsaber directly in front of me, trying to slow my heartbeat. It’s not easy, and I fail.

I’m about to find out what color my lightsaber is.

I push the switch down. The blade extends to life, tall and searing. It comes out in a shade of golden yellow, matching the one that the Clone marked his helmet with that day. It is not blue, nor red. Nor green, or purple. It is yellow. Amber.

My lightsaber, is yellow.

[infpisme]

5 Tips For INFPs Who Are Constantly Doubting Themselves

As INFPs, we are exceptionally insightful, sensitive, loving creatures. We instinctively see the good in everyone, often looking at others through rose-colored glasses.

But when it comes to ourselves, we often fail to extend the same level of kindness. It’s as though we reserve all our acceptance for others, leaving none for ourselves.

As a classic INFP personality, I constantly struggle with self-doubt. And although self-doubt may rear its ugly head in other personality types, it can be particularly crippling for the INFP.

Not every INFP will struggle with self-doubt, but here are three reasons why many INFPs do.

1. We think differently than others.

According to the Myers and Briggs Foundation, INFPs make up only 4-5 percent of the population, so we’re relatively rare. One way that we’re different from others is we find it nearly impossible to work in a rigid, highly structured, methodical way. Instead, we see the big picture, diving deep into ideas and exploring them from every angle.

Unfortunately, our society values what INFPs do not: hard logic, structure, and deadlines. We’re often not allowed to operate the way we naturally do and are instead forced into the box society has deemed “the best way.” We can end up feeling a great deal of shame around the way that we process information and complete tasks. As a result, we may be left feeling unsure of ourselves and everything we do — and that we’re just not good enough.

2. We’re extremely idealistic.

The INFP’s dominant cognitive function is Introverted Feeling. This mental process causes us to look inward, as well as develop a deep sense of self-awareness. It is through this function that we develop fiercely strong values, which we base all our decisions upon, and through which we filter the world.

For example, even though we might be incredibly good at something — say, online marketing — we’re still constantly asking ourselves if it fits into our system of values. Is it true to our morals and who we are?

Once we do find causes and activities that are worthy of our truest selves, we often add another layer that further complicates things: perfectionism. INFPs tend to be unrelenting perfectionists when it comes to the things we care deeply about. As highly creative types, these are often things that are very personal to us — writing, photography, painting, and the like. We may hold ourselves to impossible standards, believing that our work is never good enough.

3. We see possibilities everywhere.

Our auxiliary function, Extraverted Intuition, may also trigger self-doubt. This “secondary” function is what enables us to see what could be, not just what is. Extraverted Intuition is constantly searching for ideas and possibilities in order to make sense of the world around us and our place in it. Although this makes us incredibly creative and inventive, it leaves us constantly searching for something more.

We may decide that we’ve finally found our place in the world — our calling — and then our Extraverted Intuition fills us with a foreboding sense of doubt. What about x, y, and z options? What could you discover about yourself and the world if you explored those? This constant searching can fill us with a sense of dread that we may never actually find what we’re looking for.

5 Tips to Overcome Self-Doubt

1. Trust your process.

Accept that, as an INFP, you work differently than most other people. We don’t think in the same linear, rigid way that many others do, we don’t hold the same values, and we work on different schedules. This is all okay!

Our differences give us our creative gifts and the ability to see things from perspectives that others haven’t even thought of. Accept and celebrate the way you think. It’s unique. Just as we accept the uniqueness of others, we need to learn to be just as gentle and accepting with ourselves.

2. Thank your self-doubt.

Yes, really. We can fight against our self-doubt as much as we’d like, but in reality, it’s there for a reason. It’s a self-defense mechanism, designed to protect our sensitive INFP heart from hurt and conflict — or from living a life that’s not true to us.

Believe it or not, our doubt has good intentions. Problems only arise when we give it too much control.

Recognize what doubt is trying to protect you from — hurt feelings as a result of criticism, a career misstep, or a path that doesn’t reflect your values. Then, rather than allowing doubt to take over, simply appreciate it and move on. When we see doubt for what it is, it’s easier to stop giving it control over our lives.

3. Use positive affirmations.

Layer yourself with positive affirmations, like a protective wall against self-doubt. Use whatever works for you, and use words that target the specific reason you’re struggling. You might try:

“I am on the right path.”

“I am creating change.”

“I believe in my skills and abilities.”

“I am a good writer, musician, etc.”

When we’re stuck in a pit of self-doubt, we often get so bogged down by negative thoughts that it can be hard to see past them. Using affirmations brings positivity back to your mind

4. Be brave, even if you don’t feel like it.

In essence, our self-doubt is our fear manifesting. Our doubt is just trying to shield us from the things that we think are going to hurt us.

The thing is, overcoming fear often requires nothing more than simply facing our fears and being brave. So, when doubt sneaks up, take a deep breath, remind yourself why you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing, then tell yourself you’ve got this.

Every time you work through doubt and face your fears, you’ll flex your fear-fighting muscles and become stronger.

5. Picture the worst thing that could happen.

Ask yourself, What’s the worst thing that could happen if I just go for it? I’m betting that whatever it is, it’s not that bad. It helps to recognize this, voice your concerns, and then take a step back. When you realize that the stakes aren’t that high, the mountain you created in your mind becomes a molehill.

And you know what? In most cases, the worst that could happen is probably living in a constant vortex of self-doubt and overthinking. The worst that could happen is never giving yourself what you give others — the chance to be your full, authentic, wonderful self.

INFPs, let’s overcome our self-doubt together — one step at a time.

Source: Rebekah Watters

[stamperfarrys-blog]

Parazol Caj

It is known as detoxification, and as a way Parazol of life exchange for the higher is undertaken, some people can experience this in various degrees.

But why will it take place? To take up this issue, we have a tendency to want Parazol Caj to understand why we have a tendency to develop ailments every now and then, and what the body will to correct them. All ailments can be induced by these two foremost causes: toxicity and deficiency.

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Throughout this method, you’ll expertise a range of both physical and Parazol Caj mental discomfort that can subside over a amount, depending on the quantity, degree, time spent consuming detoxifying diet.

Eventually, because the “dangerous” gets eliminated and the “good” is deposit back in, symptoms start to abate, and therefore the body starts functioning normally and return to smart form.

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But wouldn’t it’s better to cleanse and nourish the body with valuable stuff from the terribly start with the intention Parazol Caj of giving the body strength to rebuild and take up again to its normal operate while it’s furthermore refining? Therefore, it’s essential to house both the toxicity and deficiency issues at the same time.

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[resilientmama]

Continuing the manipulation...

Manipulation and deception go hand in hand.

Sometimes manipulation doesn’t have to involve a lie or false information.

BUT...let’s be honest, most of the time it solely centers around a lie to achieve the outcome that you want. A lesson I have learned oh so well.

Picking up where I left off. I was told that I was now being accused of molesting my children and there was a temporary VPO filed against me in civil court.

Que the panic of a lifetime. 

I had already temporarily lost contact with my children once. And I was going to be damned if it happened again. But I was helpless. The VPO was filed in another state. I had no idea where to start.

Mind you the month before this all occurred I had already been cut off from my children. As soon as the news of my pregnancy broke, radio silence when I tried to communicate with them. The excuses were many as to why. 

Why I was never confronted about the abuse, your question is as good as mine. 

Seems to me that the recourse of approaching myself like an adult was not something that wanted to be dealt with, so lets hide behind police officers and DHS workers.

So I was a sitting duck.

Finally detectives approached me. I went in for questioning and never heard back from them.

I was reassured by the officer who took on my case that he was going to thoroughly investigate all aspects of my case, including the people making the allegations and their past.

Key factor right here. Remember in my previous post were I mildly touched on the kind of people who alienate children from their other parent? 

Now is the time to tell you I am a domestic violence victim. 

I don’t care what charges have been expunged thanks to deferred sentencing completion. I still posses the police reports, court paperwork, evidence photos and a color copy of the book in sheet from the county jail.

IT HAPPENED.

Throw in the domestic violence and a hefty back child support balance and BINGO! You have it right there.

Refer back to the Father’s Rights Movement step by step manual.

This officer questioned me not only about sexual allegations, physical abuse allegations, previous DHS findings and anything else pertaining to me. He asked me questions about things he apparently already had a record of.

I left that office feeling at peace.

Two weeks later I picked up my paperwork from the DA’s office. They declined to press any charges due to lack of evidence and belief of false reporting.

FALSE REPORTING? Isn’t that a crime?

It is. And I’ve been counseled on my rights and options I have on pressing charges.

Did I? No. Why? Because I’ve never been out for blood. Why would I want to harm my children’s other parent? The one with whom they primarily reside with. Me pressing charges would in turn complicate their lives anymore.

Fast forward to many temporary hearing orders, in another state. It was granted to be moved to the state of the residing parties since my children had lived there for longer than six months. 

VPO thrown out, temporary put back on, repeat that for months and months until the final hearing.

At this final hearing the judge really made a mockery of the justice system.  

The original VPO was requested upon allegations of sexual abuse. The final VPO was granted under the pretenses that I had once resided in a home with a man, my ex partner, that had been substantiated against for physical abuse against my children. A man whom I hadn’t lived with for approximately two years. The judge expressed worry that my now husband may or may not abuse my children. I was ordered a psychological evaluation with a doctor of the other party’s choosing, supervised visits every other weekend with a supervisor of their choosing and therapy with a psychiatrist of their choosing. These supervised visits would have to be done in their home state. This psychiatrist they chose was not covered by my insurance. I was also ordered to pay close to $20,000 of the other party’s legal fees.

I had spent close to $40,000 on this simple VPO myself. I was also eight months pregnant at this court date; unemployed and a stay at home mother to a two year old boy with no intention to become employed anytime soon.

I was papered as some attorneys call it. 

You’re intentionally bogged down with attorneys fees and other expenses to the point that you have to give up.

I never wanted to give up on my children.

I haven’t given up on my children. I just refuse to play their game.

So this is how I came to the point of complete and utter alienation.

I walked away from this with no criminal charges pertaining to my children. 

I am not a child molester. I am not a pedophile. I am not a child abuser.

And any single one of you out there saying those things about me, or anyone else for that matter without actual legal documentation - YOU ARE COMMITTING SLANDER, a crime that is punishable in CRIMINAL court. All it takes is documentation that you have uttered those statements in order to defile a person’s reputation.

This has just been the basic outline of my story. I intend to write more about the subject of parental alienation, malicious mother syndrome, narcissistic parenting, false allegations, abuse of the court system and how we can all work together to be more aware of the signs and how to avoid this determinant that ultimately harms the children more than the parents.

I will get into how its affected my day to day life and more details as I go. And how the man who is the only person actually “proven” to have done anything to my children is out walking the streets free as a bird.

My children are the light of my life. I’m lucky enough that this hasn’t seeped into the lives of my sons whom I get to spend all of my days with. I spend every day just hoping that all six know the love that I have for them. 

I’m at peace with the people who have aided in doing this to me. I’m doing this for me. I want my voice to be heard. And if I can help one person out there that’s going through this, or even someone that is committing PA and doesn’t realize the mistake they’re making - then I’ve done something right with my voice.

Thank you for your time. I hope you continue reading my story and that I’m not too all over the place to follow.

Disclaimer: I will not disclose the names of my other children and stepchildren, along with anyone else involved without their permission. Do not send hate, threats or make disparaging comments to anyone involved in my story. My goal is not to cause harm. My goal is clarification and my opportunity to tell my story.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

What if Star Wars had tanked?

May 1977, 20th Century Fox distributes a really WEIRD movie.  It’s a science fiction fantasy story about medieval knight samurais in space with laser swords and fighter pilots.  Nobody expected it to be a hit, it seemed to be such a niche movie, one that would garner a small cult following then be swept under the rug by the other summer tent poles like “Smokey and the Bandit” or “The Spy Who Loved Me.”  To everyone’s surprise, it became an instant success, rocketing no name George Lucas from a no-name bush-league indie director into the echelon of A-list Blockbusters.  His idea for a decade spanning six part saga (two sequels, three prequels) was greenlit then and there, and the budget for Star Wars 2, now called Star Wars 5, was double what he was given for the original.  Star Wars 1, nor 4, was given the subtitle “A New Hope” to let audiences know it was just the beginning of a series, and the rest is history.

But in 1977, George Lucas was not as confident in his vision as he would soon become.  He figured, as every producer did, that his film would be a flash in the pan genre piece, something that would play in theaters just long enough to make it’s budget back, then disappear into obscurity.  In 1976, he planned for the worst.

Star Wars, like many other films of the day, was being given a novelization.  Before home media became ubiquitous, the only way people could experience the film was to see it in theaters or buy the book version.  Lucas hired a ghostwriter, Alan Dean Foster, to write the novelization of Star Wars 1, AND to create a tentative Star Wars 2 that could be adapted to the screen if the original film failed to meet his high expectations.  Star Wars 2, titled “Splinter of the Minds Eye,” was written to be as low budget as possible; no big set pieces, and for that matter no big sets.  Every scene had to take place in a set that the studio already owned, and couldn’t include any major space battles because there was no guarantee that the special effects would fit into the budget.  On top of that, it meant that none of the characters played by big name actors would be included; no Harrison Ford, no Alec Guinness.  Splinter was a bare bones story set entirely on what would essentially become Dagobah, and would have taken the franchise in an entirely different direction.  None of the story elements from Lucas’ dream sequel were included, and none of the plot twists either; there is no connection between “Splinter of the Mind’s Eye” and “Empire Strikes Back,” and in fact, once Empire was released, Splinter was relegated to secondary canon because the official sequel had overidden it so the story no longer made sense.

But if Star Wars 1 had flopped, Splinter of the Mind’s Eye would have been made into the official sequel, and the story would have had to pick up where it left off; Lucas didn’t plot out a low budget version of Star Wars 3, so we can only speculate as to what may have happened.

In Splinter, Luke and Leia are going on a diplomatic mission to convince some neutral star systems to join the rebellion.  Their ship crash lands on a backwater swamp planet (called Mimban, a name eventually used for the World War I trench planet in the Disney movie Solo), which is roughly analogous to the Dagobah we saw in Empire.  Stranded on the swamp planet, Luke and Leia find their way to an imperial mining colony, get into a scuffle, and escape with the help of a Jedi witch named Halla.  The titular “splinter of the mind’s eye” is a broken fragment of a magical crystal, because this was the 1970s and crystals were a big thing in fantasy (the splinter was called the kaiburr crystal; this name would later be re-purposed in canon as the crystals used for lightsaber and Death Star laser construction).  The splinter is said to focus the force, allowing the wielder to become more powerful or something; it’s a MacGuffin, the book is vague as to what it actually physically does.  After a confrontation with locals, and a duel with none other than Darth Vader (in which Leia wields a lightsaber and Luke cuts off Vader’s whole arm), Halla takes over the role of Luke’s mentor to train him in the ways of the Force.

At this point in the series, Luke and Leia were never intended to be brother and sister.  It was clearly supposed to be a chivalric romance between a knight errant and his courtly love.  He is the royal bodyguard to the Queen of Alderaan (the entire Royal Family was destroyed in Star Wars 1, so Princess Leia should by all rights have been coronated as Queen Leia).  George Lucas added the twist that they were brother and sister well into production of Empire; in fact, in Empire he shot two scenes of Leia kissing Luke (one was to make Han jealous, the other was near the end, right after she rescued Luke from cloud city; I’m glad they cut the second one, because it undermines the fact that she literally just told Han that she loves him).  Han Solo himself is mentioned in passing, not even by name, just as some pirate Luke used to know who took his reward money from the first movie and went to pay off some debts.  If this movie had been made instead of Empire, there’s no guarantee that a Star Wars 3 would even be greenlit.

But if it had been, here’s what would have happened.

Darth Vader is not Luke’s father in this version; that too was a twist Lucas invented after the series took off.  So, in this version of Star wars 3, which I will call “Revenge of the Jedi,” Luke goes on a quest to slay the evil Emperor.  It’s a fantasy movie, in any other setting the point of the franchise would be to kill the main bad guy; imagine if Lord of the Rings had ended without the heroes destroying the ring and defeating Sauron, that would have made no sense.  In this version of the story, Darth Vader is just the archetypal Black Knight; tying back into the Japanese influence on the series, he is an evil Shogun, appointed by the Emperor to be the military dictator.  There would be more emphasis on fight choreography in this version, drawing influence from the works of Akira Kurosawa.  The word Jedi comes from the word for the Japanese film genre Jidaigeki, meaning ‘period piece,’ featuring samuri and ronin (for western audiences, “Ronin” are nomadic heroes, like Clint Eastwood’s man with no name, or the Road Warrior).

Revenge of the Jedi would end with a climactic fight scene in the Emperor’s palace, with Luke battling his way through the many levels, defeating wave after wave of imperial soldiers and those red guards fans love to care about even though they do literally nothing on screen.  The prequels we got in canon were bogged down with boring politics about trade federations and unions and guilds and alliances, but politics can be interesting if done well (and written by someone who isn’t George Lucas; the original trilogy we got was good DESPITE him, not BECAUSE of him).  Revenge of the Jedi would see Leia building an army, the rebellion becoming an actual superpower in the galaxy; the New Republic wouldn’t just be restored after the Empire was defeated, it would be restored during the war with the express intent of rallying neutral systems behind an actual government body against the Emperor.

Darth Vader betrayed and murdered Luke’s father, but more importantly he committed genocide against Leia’s people, the survivors of which now live in diaspora.  Sound familiar?  “The Rebellion” isn’t a great name, but “the Alliance” is perfect because it evokes the Allies of World War II and shows that it is a galaxy-wide phenomena, not just a single splinter cell as depicted in the films in our timeline.  Luke wants to avenge his father, but if you’re insistent that the good guy isn’t allowed to kill the bad guy, you could have Vader go out the way he did in “Return of the Jedi,” turning back to the light side and sacrificing his life to kill the Emperor.  Everyone loves a redemption story, but Darth Vader really was a piece of shit and didn’t deserve to just get a free pass into Jedi Ghost Heaven because he decided to stop being evil five minutes before he died.

Maybe in this version of Star Wars 3, Harrison Ford returns for a cameo as a favor to George Lucas.  If so, he dies; Ford wanted Han to die in “Return of the Jedi,” and only agreed to do “The Force Awakens” if they finally killed him off then.  If he returns for “Star Wars 3: Revenge of the Jedi,” he will sacrifice himself for the Alliance, going out as a hero.  After the Emperor is defeated, the threat doesn’t just go away; suddenly there’s a power vacuum, with all the admirals and regional governor’s vying to replace him.  In both pre- and post-Disney Star Wars, the Emperor had a son (Triclops in Legends continuity, and Rey’s dad in Canon), so he would be heir to his father’s throne; perhaps he is propped up as a puppet for the military leaders, or maybe he surrenders to the Alliance and allows his Empire to be balkanized into dozens of independent powers, as with the fall of every great Empire; Rome (East and West), Mongolia, China, Austria-Hungary, Britain, the USSR, the list goes on.

This Star Wars trilogy would not be the enormous franchise we know today, it would still be a very niche series with a cult following.  It would be a step up from the Planet of the Apes series; sure, people have heard of it, and there have been attempts to revive it in the modern day, but it’s not even close to being a tent pole of the modern cultural zeitgeist.  Nobody looks forward to the new Planet of the Apes movie every year, it’s not a multi-billion dollar multi-media enterprise, there’s no dedicated “Planet of the Apes Celebration,” no cartoons, no streaming service shows that everyone geeks out about online, no triple-a video games, nothing.  This version of Star Wars would be just another weird artifact of the 1970s.  Maybe there would be a push to release a sequel, Star Wars 4, in like 2007, but that would be closer to Rambo IV or Superman Returns or Tron Legacy.

There are dedicated fans, but it’s not the biggest movie of the year.

Star Wars (1977)

Star Wars 2: Splinter of the Mind’s Eye (1979)

Star Wars 3: Revenge of the Jedi (1982)

Star Wars: Journal of the Whills (2011, a prequel set during the Clone Wars mentioned in the first movie)

[gg-astrology]

Hey sweets, do you mind speaking about a Virgo Sun ~ Aries Moon combo when you have the time. Thank you 😘💞💞💞

Oof sweets?? 💕💕 that’s so cute! 😘💕 I hope ure doing well!!! 💕💕

[Below Cut: Virgo Sun - Aries Moon 🌴]

One thing I like about this combo is their driving force/power

It’s understated because underneath that Virgo exterior, it’s always simmering inside

You don’t really notice it until they start snapping lsjdnfksn and then that’s like-- the dam is broken and then they start laying it out on you, barking commands, letting it all out of their system in one big good flow of frustration/anger that’s unusual from their normally collected and sharp persona.

This obviously a straight-forward situation. It depends on context/situation but usually Virgo/Aries wouldn’t get mad at you (although they can get moody) the main point was--- there’s some noticeable tension between the Virgo/Aries combo that’s just fascinating to see

Like.....with Virgos there’s often a carefulness to them and that’s part of the first thing you see. It’s them trying to keep control, there’s a restless energy simmering on their skin and they’re often trying to be THE most reasonable person who quietly stays in control at all times.

Yet at the same time, the arguably frustrating energy inside the Virgo is more restless and enhanced because of Aries. Aries Moon wants OUT it wants to GO it wants to CLAIM without reasoning nor logic behind it.

Pretty much...this might not be what you might want to hear but Virgo/Aries combination their Virgo analytical aspect or archetype might be more prominent within them

The only thing different between the ‘typical’ Virgo archetype and this one is the lack of timidity--- these Virgo/Aries people often knows that power can be subtle, but confidently wield it will have much more impact

They don’t NEED to be overt to gain control over the situation, or control over power. They don’t NEED to be loud or ‘out-there’ to command attention to them when they need to be.

These Virgo/Aries people are the one who likes to be in control, maybe evaluate sometimes (*if theres something in your chart contributing to it) that they do not turn into control freaks and get upset and a slight disturbance in their normal daily alignment. Watch for slight possessiveness over people/objects/environment/habits, even if it may be well-intentioned.

These people are good at speaking with power, often those who has honest eyes and they often won’t sugar coat their words (*although with development, they can be gentle and wield them carefully too)

Their voice can be subtle in situations that requires tact, or it can get booming when they need to go there (although they’ll rarely like losing control completely, so even if they’re mad. They’re more of the type to try to control their anger than start screaming at someone -- more like criticizing them and demanding that ‘this isn’t right’)

These people can often be mistaken (by others) as Scorpios mostly because of the tension they hold inside, their power sparks this kind of undercurrent energy in them that gets evoked occasionally. 

The difference between Scorpio and Virgo/Aries person however-- is that Scorpio energy is water. There’s a level of emotionality to them, which might led many to believe they may attack on the emotional level as well (appealing to other’s emotions/logic-- that’s where the ‘manipulation’ idea came from). 

Whilst Virgo/Aries is all hard rationality, criticism and frustration, driven to extremes can be unreasonably out of context and trying to use their ‘judgement’ as means of objectivity/behaviour change for another person (straight-forward, pure and honest, can’t hide from themselves. 

Tries to control themselves because they don’t like the part about their ‘raw/childish’ Aries. But the Virgo’s vigilance can only last as long as they bend to the Aries’s power and not break their own backs trying to keep them down) 

I think for the Virgo/Aries person themselves, understanding the tension of how Virgo is a perfectionist and Aries has high ideals can be the core of the situation

Aries is about the raw self, the core self. This energy is untamed, unruly and often fearless. Childish and self-centered/assured. Virgo is careful, often calm, works hard and pays attention to what it could do, could be doing. Socially conscious and nervous/anxious. 

Whenever Virgo is like ‘this is enough’ the Aries is always whispering ‘more’. When the Virgo is like ‘I could do better..’ the Aries is like ‘so what about it?’

It’s a cycle of your emotionality often egging your vitality/ego. Some frustration between the two, trying to prove each other wrong and that they could be the better counterpart.

The person themselves may have moments where they’re Aries--- laughing having fun, playful and tactile. 

While another part of you may take over quickly, switching to Virgo--- who’s in control, calm, ready to communicate about the situation and figure out what needs to do. 

This dual quality to you is noticeable, but also something that should be noted that it’s often separated from each other. Usually by conditions/context of the environment around you. 

If it’s a high-tension situation, Virgo takes over and Aries backs it up. Making for a person who can be demanding and assertive, who maybe nervous but shuts that down in order to get work done.

If it’s a low-tension but still frustrating situation-- Aries breaks fairly easily, frustration and snapping. Letting the frustration show like a dam broken while Virgo tries to keep things in tact, do damage control even when Aries is snapping (there’ll always be a part of the person who’s unwilling to let go of themselves completely, always aware of the social context and how they can salvage any relationships, any context past that moment/point where they’re laying it out for the other person)

In no-tension situation-- the Virgo and Aries relax, can make for a witty person. Often sarcastic or snarky. Perhaps easy to laugh by unexpected things (Aries likes excitement and Virgo enjoys things done subtlety)---Easy-going, laid-back. A little more held together through innocence in their charm that Virgo lets out to show.

Part of you may be youthful at heart, childish and carefree. Letting yourself show that outwardly to others can be an awkward affair. 

Without reassurance or self-affirmation, the person may regularly face problems with having particularly high self-image/expectations of themselves, yet constantly frustrated at how to get there/aren’t feeling completely aligned with themselves/their ideals.

There’s a noticeable trait in Virgo/Aries though-- and that’s usually through where they put their energy. In their productivity, they want to feel like they’ve worked hard and that they’ve conquered a challenge. They like the ‘good burn’ of feeling proud of themselves-- recognized by others for their serious nature and exactness, their driving force and power.

It stops the voice in their head momentarily, makes them feel gratification from their productivity/activities. The thing these people have to realize is that they soak up environmental tension. That’s a crucial part of their being they tend to overlook

Mostly because they tend to be self- accessive, they may neglect to think that they are rather receptive to other people/energetic tension in their environment too. 

While they may pride themselves in keeping a cool, calm, accurate assessment when they are in ‘productive’ mode (whilst the tension is high) the key thing they should be looking at is that there was something that triggered them into this ‘productive/work’ mode in the first place.

They are receptive to the environment, to people and to behaviour patterns. Learning to recognize that you are intuitive/receptive to this allows you to know that you’re influenced by the stress/tension of your environment too (because the Virgo/Aries was too busy arguing they didn’t realize they had to protect themselves against this factor) 

This heavily compromised the way they work, the way tension builds and the way they snap. With Virgo/Aries it’s highly likely they may get sick, fatigue or feel it physically. Because they are rather--- dense, when it comes to when to take breaks or what their body needs, they may not recognize that it’s been bogging down on them (they’re always in the conscious zone of their persona) -- until it suddenly snaps and they’re taken off-guard by how they feel/who they are/how their health is.

Make sure to learn how to guard and take precautions against emotional tension and how your body/mind reacts to it. These people rarely go into the mysticism, but if one thing more subtle could help them it’s in doing Yoga, Tai-Chi. Meditation. Learning how to get past their ‘communication/affection barrier’ when they’re relaxing, having fun and start balancing/typing their Virgo/Aries together in that area (strengthen it’s significance in their life) is also important. 

Taking care of your health WILL help you balance yourself out, no matter how much these people think they can ‘work normally/be normal’ or ‘have strength’--- they will only see things from their perspective until they learn how to BALANCE

They are NOT superman and no matter how much they want to fully concentrate on pushing their energy onto something--- it is NOT productive if they don’t learn about their flaws or how to balance them in these subvert ways/methods as well (trust me it’ll help). 

If you have a Cancer near you, or a Libra. Talk to them (*hopefully one that’s aware/self-developed) so that they can tell you why/how you’re being stupid and neglecting yourself in certain situations.

Human life is more than one area of concentrated efforts. More than two or three areas where they put their energy into. Human life/experience is promising yourself you will take care of ‘you’ better, and giving other areas of your life a chance to be significant.

If you need a visual reference: imagine the wheel chart. All the houses represents different things. You can occupy two houses, and have a lot of energy in those areas (or any houses your planets are in). But the rest of your houses are places where you can put your energy into as well (to learn how to balance)

That’s why we have 12 houses, so we can learn how to balance ourselves out and our energy. Your houses don’t have to have planets in all of them, it’s good to have empty ones. But it doesn’t mean it’s insignificant.

Empty houses can be influenced by it’s ruling sign (say Leo in 6H, so you look at where the sun is and it’s Virgo in 7H) Leo is influenced by the Sun, it’s counterpart, it’s ruler. Whatever Virgo Sun in 7H is doing in that house, the Leo in 6H energy is going to be influenced by it as well. 

Anyways we’re getting off-topic, ending note is that these people may be subtle, powerful and sharp. But their immense control and concentrating power can also be their downfall if they don’t realize they’re much more vulnerable and sensitive than they are.

Especially in areas they never expected their krptonite to be in. Make sure to evaluate yourself and how you take care of you--- asking for help, or having a friend/family take care of you is also crucial. Because you can tend to ‘over-do’ yourself often.

(They remind me of people who probably came down with a flu at some point in their life, and their in-productivity makes them so miserable they probably insists they’re fine just to get to do something)

Anyways!! 💕 I hope you enjoy!! 💕 (Also check your Mars and Mercury for this one!! Those can have some influences on what your ‘triggers’ are!)

[seriouslyhooked]

Dear No One (Part 1/3)

Short CS holiday story, broken into three parts, where Emma is unlucky in love and decides that for her Christmas wish she’d like to find the right person for her. In an attempt to write what she wants into existence, Emma writes a letter to the man she wants to find someday and then shenanigans ensue. Rated T/M (basically I haven’t decided yet how smutty it’s getting) and based off of the song ‘Dear No One’ by Tori Kelly. Available on FF here and AO3 here.

A/N: Hey everybody! So this little fic started off as a super fluffy idea I had at the end of the summer. I actually posted about it on tumblr, and a few of you begged me to write it, but I warned you it might be hard. Even then I knew that this was a story I needed a little more time with, and as such, what was once a mixtape contender is now its own separate story. The chapters will be short, but I want to jump back and forth between Emma and Killian’s POVs so I felt separating it out was best. It’s also now taking place during the holidays, because I have Christmas fever and I don’t care who knows it. Anyway, this chapter begins with Emma realizing that her Christmas wish is that she wants to find love. She tries to take a first step to finding it, and it might not go exactly her way... Hope you guys enjoy the fluffy, adorable premise, and thanks, as always, for reading!

“Okay Ruby. You got us all together because you said you had something to share. Then you spend all night deflecting. What gives?”

It was the question on everyone’s mind since they walked into Ruby and Graham’s apartment earlier tonight, and Emma was glad that Elsa had been brave enough to ask it. Ruby had made it clear to each of them that tonight was special and big and important, but when they arrived she never brought up what was actually happening. Instead she’d plied them with wine and food and Christmas cookies, as they gathered together listening to holiday music in the ambiance of her friend’s festively decorated home. But while that was lovely (and much needed after Emma’s grueling work week), it was odd and more than a little suspicious.

“Well, if you insist on knowing…” Ruby allowed her words to trail off as she lifted the fingerless gloves off of her hands. For anyone else the article of clothing would seem ‘extra’ or ridiculous. It wasn’t that cold outside. Okay it was – because New England in winter was brutal – but inside it was nice and toasty. But that was part of Ruby’s style. She was all leather and red and black and wearing biker gloves to a wine night wasn’t unheard of. But when she revealed what lay underneath – a huge and absolutely beautiful diamond ring – her friends all gasped at once.

“Holy crap, what a rock!” Emma blurted out, forgetting herself for a moment as she took in the piece of jewelry that had to cost more than she’d make in six months.

“What she said,” Mary Margaret, Belle, and Elsa replied at once, and once their shock wore off all four friends were on their feet and celebrating with Ruby. They were so happy for her and for Graham, and it was truly a magical thing. For Ruby, who was a long-time bachelorette with no intention of tying herself down, this was BIG. It was epic, and it spoke to Ruby’s love for her boyfriend – nay, fiancé – that she was planning to get married and have that typical, happily ever after.

“When did it happen?” Elsa asked at the same time that Belle inquired. “How did he do it?”

“Last night at dinner. One second we’re sharing this to die for tiramisu, I mean like wow wow wow so good, and the next he’s proposing.”

“She would manage to slip a dessert review in even at a time like this,” Emma whispered to Elsa and the two of them laughed together.

“And you’re sure it wasn’t the tiramisu talking?” Belle asked, her tone a bit sheepish. “Not that you don’t love Graham, it’s just…”

“I love dessert more than life itself, I know I know,” Ruby said as she shook her head. “But no it wasn’t that. It was him. I love him, you know? I try to picture what life would be like without him and I can’t. He’s it for me. He’s my person.”

“Heck yes he is!” Mary Margaret said happily, no doubt reveling in the fact that she and her husband David had introduced these two lovebirds a little less than a year ago. “God this is wonderful. There’s so much to plan, so much to do! This is going to be amazing! And to have the proposal at Christmas time? It’s like magic. Real live magic!”

The friends all agreed that this was indeed very special, and the night’s conversation shifted from what it had been before to musings on what Graham and Ruby’s wedding and life together would look like. It would obviously be different than everyone else’s, but the through line that all of the friends had was experience with finding the one. Mary Margaret had David, Belle had her long time boyfriend Will, Elsa had her new beau (who Emma was certain would be a fiancé soon enough) Liam, and the only one who was single and without that kind of experience was Emma. She had never been in love – at least not a love that was made to last forever – and as happy as she was for all of her friends, she couldn’t help the feeling that came later that night when she’d returned to her flat and was alone once more.

It wasn’t jealousy, per se, because jealousy implied something ugly and resentful. What Emma felt was a longing. She wanted something like what all of her friends had found. What they had was love, true love. The kind of love that lasted and thrived. It was a love built on partnership and connection, and it was a beautiful, magical thing. All her life Emma had wondered what such a love would be like and she’d never found it. She’d often believed that was her fate. She was a girl who came from no family. She had started out in this world with nothing and no one, and maybe she was meant to always be that way. Perhaps it was too much to have been blessed with friends who felt like family. Maybe romantic love wasn’t in the cards for her…

‘Emma, that’s just crazy talk and you know it!’

She swore she could hear her friends’ voices all saying that to her as she felt herself falling down the rabbit hole of loneliness and she almost laughed at how deeply they were ingrained in her. They had somehow become the voices in her head, the little bits of conscience that brought her back to reality, and the hopeful part of her heart that did want to imagine that love would find her in the end. Shaking her head at her brain’s antics, Emma responded aloud though she was still by herself.

“I know, I know. I have to believe good things can happen. I got it.”

And she did get it. The problem was Emma didn’t know how to help love find her. She was probably doing this all wrong. She wasn’t exactly an approachable kind of a person, and she definitely wasn’t doing anything to attract a man right now. She was closed off and protective of herself and her boundaries, and as much as that had served her in the past, it was standing in the way of her maybe finding happiness. That was a hard pill to swallow, but it was even harder to imagine what might be a good first step towards changing.

A memory came into her mind at that moment, one from when she was still a young girl in the system. As a kid she’d seen counselor after counselor. Some of them were interested in helping her, while others were bogged down with the masses of other children that they helped. But her last one, the one who saw her as a teen and who fought for her the hardest, helping her get through school, get into college, and start on a path towards a real life, had been adamant that good things came when you wrote your dreams down. Making a plan was all well and fine, but sometimes life and the ways of the world were less defined. Mrs. Hubbard had always told Emma to write what she wanted into existence. It was a way to find the truth of what she wished for, and to get it out there, hopefully helping her move forward.

Though part of her thought this was a little ridiculous, Emma decided she had nothing to lose. She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, curling up on the couch with a cup of cocoa in hand and she sat there, thinking about what she wanted. Should she write a list of what made the perfect man in her opinion? No, that sounded less personal than she felt was needed in this moment. Emma wasn’t looking for a picture perfect Prince Charming who met all sorts of criteria. She wanted someone to share her life with, someone to lean on, someone to feel connected to. In saying that, she didn’t know exactly what factors or traits would make someone the right fit for her. She had some ideas of course, but it was foolish to think she could have those answers in full. Love had eluded her this long for a reason, so she quickly dropped the idea of a list and moved onto something very different.

“Okay then, I’ll write a letter,” Emma said, happy with the idea until her brow furrowed at an obvious hiccup in this plan. “A letter to who? I can’t exactly write ‘Dear No One.’”

But even as she said the words, her fingers had moved on their own, writing out exactly that. Emma shrugged at it, finding she didn’t hate it as much as she thought she would then continued on, writing comlpletey from the heart.

Dear No one,

We’ve never met before, and honestly I have no idea who you are, what you do, or where you’re from. You are entirely a mystery, but even with that said I know you already. You are the man I could fall in love with, the man who could bring me to a new place, a place I’ve never been before.

Truth be told there are days I think I just don’t need you or the love that you might bring. I like being independent and answering to no one. I like making my own path each and every day. It’s what I know and what I’m used to and I fought so hard and for so long to not just survive, but to thrive. I have made my life up until now. I have built the world I live in and I am damn proud of how far I’ve come from where I started.

But sometimes – honestly more and more often these days – I find myself wishing that you were here. I want someone at my side, someone who cares about me and who wants me just as much as I want him. I want the kind of man who takes my hand wherever we may be and it feels so good that I can’t let go. I want the kind of love that greets you each morning and puts you to bed each night. I want to think of you too much. I want distraction and excitement. I want all sorts of firsts, but most importantly lasts. Because I’m not interested in fleeting or temporary. If I’m going to do love, it’s gotta be all in. I want to be yours and only yours, and I want you to feel the same.

So far this letter has been all about me. I want, I wish, I need… but I know that you have wants and wishes too. If you’re the right man for me, then hopefully I already embody those things, and if I don’t hopefully they’re changes for the better. I’m praying you make me more hopeful, more adventurous, and more willing to take the risk, because loving you – choosing you – will be the greatest risk I’ve ever taken. I’ve never let someone in enough to have that, but I could, for you.

I know that love is never perfect, because life is messy and can’t be controlled. Things won’t always be hearts and rainbows, and I promise that I won’t run. The old me probably would have. At the first sign of trouble I high tail it out. It’s the best way to protect yourself. Staying at a distance and building walls keeps you alive, that’s what life has always taught me. But I will stay for you, to fight for this and for us, no matter what comes.

When we find each other, and I hope it will be soon, I want you to know that I will be ready. But for now, I’m done looking. If we’re meant to be, it’ll happen. We’ll find each other, as all great loves do, and we’ll take it from there, one step at a time.

Take care of yourself in the meantime, and I hope you find reasons to smile and to laugh and to feel happy each and every day. It’s what you deserve.  

Wishing you were here, but waiting until it happens…

Emma

When the letter was written, Emma read it and read it again, finding that she liked everything that she’d crafted on the page. It was honest and truthful, and yes, sappy as could be, but that wasn’t her fault. Of course it was going to be sappy! Emma was hoping for true love – and that kind of love always seemed to be just a little bit cheesy. She smiled in spite of herself, putting the letter on top of a stack of papers and leaving it for now, knowing if it was going to work she had to, at some point, leave it alone.

As she went through the rest of her night, eventually falling asleep, Emma found her dreams continued to build off that letter. That night she knew she had visions of the man she wanted, but come morning it was all just a little vague. Dark hair, piercing eyes, a smile that made her knees weak. These were the things she remembered, but it wasn’t a definite person. At least not yet. Still, this mysterious man, a man who’s face she still hadn’t seen was with her through her whole day. From getting coffee at Belle’s bakery in the morning, to work at the office, and back home again, the feeling of him was still there. And after everything, Emma found herself wanting to reread her letter. She didn’t want to change anything per se, she just wanted to see if it stacked up as well in the morning light… there was just one problem. She couldn’t find it.

“Oh shit,” she said aloud, her nerves starting to fray as she looked at the table where it had been and realized there were no papers there. She ran back through her morning, half remembering her pre-coffee existence and she had a trickling sense of fear. She’d needed the papers underneath the letter for work. Oh God had she really been so stupid? She rummaged through her bag, eventually dumping the whole thing out frantically searching for the letter, but it was gone. Emma prayed that maybe she’d moved it last night, and she searched every room she’d been in, in every nook and cranny. She dug inside the couch, behind the chair, beneath every sheet and pillow on her bed, but nothing. It was gone.

Resigning herself to this cold, terrifying reality, the one that had her letter – her honest but completely embarrassing letter – out somewhere in the world, Emma sat down on the couch and hid her face in her hands, sending up a last resort prayer.

Please don’t let anyone find it! she silently begged, but luckily the universe didn’t hear that request. Instead, it was already on its way to granting Emma her Christmas wish.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just a cute, quick fluffy chapter that isn’t super original, but packed enough holiday love story promise for my muse. I hope that you guys have enjoyed and I’m eager to see what you think. I’m hoping to get the next chapter posted in about two weeks, and then the last chapter the week after. Hopefully I can manage that since school is starting to wind down for the semester. Anyway thanks for reading and I hope you have a great rest of your weekend!

[shellheadtmarc]

| BASIC INFO

Classic Marvel / 616-Based.  

Tony Stark was still in the early stages of his career as Iron Man, still walking a fine line between his public identity as Anthony Stark, billionaire industrialist whom the US government claimed left them in a lurch with his ceasing of the production of the tools of war for more humanitarian technological developments, and that of the superhero in the armored suit, posing as his own bodyguard to keep those he held close safe.  His heart had been healed with an experimental transplant of synthetic tissue so he no longer needed the chestplate of the armor to keep him alive, leaving him to enjoy his time as the Golden Avenger, rather than finding himself in desperate situations where the depletion of its electrical charge would leave him dead in the water:  Literally.

Vault Tec, the societal preservation juggernaut building vaults all across the country with the claims to being prepared for the possible onset of total nuclear destruction stemming from the Great War, would have loved for a mind like his to join their team, unaware that Tony and Iron Man were one and the same.  And while he had no problem turning them down on multiple occasions, citing, “I like being my own boss,” as his reasoning, they assumed that if they couldn’t have his brain to design for them, they certainly had a place in one of the vaults - he just needed a little convincing.

He eventually agreed to a tour of Vault 76, nestled in the heart of Appalachia, if only to get them off his back.  He had his fingers in his own failsafes if it came to nuclear war, and he’d been working with both his contacts within the US government and with the Avengers in attempt to finally diffuse the situation, thinking that a decade was more than enough for the Great War to drag on.  Early the morning of October 23, 2077, Tony showed up outside of the giant gear door of the vault, attache case in hand, and started his tour.

When he reemerged from the vault, it was twenty five years later.

While inside, the bombs had dropped, the future residents had arrived, and the door had sealed, and that, as they say, had been that.  Anger at being trapped, unable to assist on the surface, turned to acceptance, which turned to determination, and he whiled away his time designing on paper modifications and advancements for the Iron Man (his attache case had mysteriously disappeared at some point), along with being shoved into job in the vault’s diner which he in no way was at all suited for (and didn’t matter, because the assigned jobs were the assigned jobs and it was hell on earth to get moved anywhere else).  Older, a little crankier, and a little wiser with more grey in his hair and growing (in his opinion) less pretty by the day, Reclamation Day finally arrived, and he was actually one of the first of the vault dwellers to leave the vault, not only because being cooped up underground hadn’t suited him at all, but also because no one knew what they were going to be walking into, and he was, in many ways, more prepared to take on those unknowns than some of the others he’d been locked down in the vault with.

Originally his first order of business had been to collect what he needed to rebuild the Iron Man - twenty five years wasn’t so long a time that all the infrastructure would have completely broken down - but after seeing the aftermath of the bombs, and wandering into Flatwoods in a bit of a daze, that quickly shifted into something else entirely.  The world hadn’t known it, but he was Iron Man with or without the Red and Gold.

| FACTIONS

Tony is a member of the Responders, first and foremost.  He found out about them in Flatwoods, completed their training in Morgantown, and believes in the cause they were promoting with regards to helping survivors (and fellow dwellers in a tight spot) and looking for both a vaccination and a stop to the Scorched disease.  He’s also taken the next step and also completed Fire Breather training in Charlestown, figuring he, more than most, is especially suited to being the front line defense against the Scorched,  He just sees it as an extension of the kind of team efforts he made with the Avengers.  He’s a staunch supporter of both groups (even if the Fire Breathers are a faction within the Responders), and he does his part with keeping supply caches filled and divvying his own medical and emergency supplies among the outposts, keeping himself at the bare minimum to make sure others don’t run low.  He’s mobile enough, in his opinion, that he can scavenge what he needs.

While there’s no sign of an active Brotherhood of Steel base left in the parts of the West Virginian wasteland he’s personally roamed, he tends to keep his eyes open for any indication they may still be around.  He’s not looking to join, but he he’s gotten more than a few mixed messages left behind from those that have come before and did see them in person, and it makes him incredibly uneasy.  He also thinks it would be a great idea to reclaim their old posts from the Scorched and ghouls that have otherwise overrun them, simply because they’re well fortified and supply-laden.

As far as the Enclave goes, it’s confirmed a lot of suspicions he’d had before the war - explained everything, including the government fleeing to an offshore oil rig.  He doesn’t trust MODUS, he doesn’t trust those that would back the plays of what’s left of the Enclave, but they’ve got the knowledge of how to get into the nuclear silos, they’ve got the more advanced tech, and they’ve got eyes and ears on the wasteland.  He doesn’t support the cause, but he’ll pretend he does as long as he needs to until he figures out his play to shut them down.

The Free States are gone, but he can’t imagine support for the cause itself is completely dead.  He remembers the scandal from before the war, but it hadn’t, to him, seemed like that big of a deal at the time.  And their research into stopping the Scorched beasts is damned near invaluable.

| BASE

Tony has a semi-permanent base located south of Helvetia and east of Sutton, putting him within easy range of several different places, including the Enclave bunker at Whitesprings.  It has about the level of comfort and development you’d expect with him having a bit of free time and putting in some elbow grease, and there’s a workshop open to fellow Responders/wanderers with a place to crash, and since he’s in and out so often without staying for very long, he works on a barter system for those that can afford to do so:  Caps aren’t required, but if a person stops in and uses the workbenches and tools or takes a tato or three, a little sprucing up in the garden is appreciated, or repairing anything that needs it is especially welcome.  As are any extra supplies, but not required.

He really has gotten good at scavenging what he needs.

It’s easy to find:  His place is a bright spot of electric light along a long stretch of dark two lane blacktop following the river.

Eventually he may move his base, demolish and start over somewhere else, but with how he ping pongs around the wasteland, it’s a good central point that offers him a hub to expand outward from.

| EQUIPMENT

Tony’s favored weapons are a hardened sniper rifle (extra and unneeded .308 is always welcome) and a mole miner’s claw gauntlet picked up during a trip to the ash piles.  It’s been modified for three claws as opposed to two.  Other weapons frequently used are a crossbow (making his own ammunition is startling easy and there are innumerable ways to tinker with it, both shaft and head, to get some pretty nasty damage out of a fairly simple weapon), and a tesla rifle.

One day he’ll actually work on those designs for a new Iron Man suit, but for now he’s making do with T-60 and X-01 power armor, despite his griping that it’s slow, clunky, and mass-produced.

| MISC

Tony, for the most part, prefers to travel alone.  He’s reckless, he tends to delve in the dark mines turned tombs and ghoul-filled prewar buildings.  And if he’s the only one he’s responsible for, it makes doing so much, much easier.

He doesn’t eat Fancy Lad Snack Cakes.  He didn’t eat them before the war.  He’s more than always willing to trade those off for something else.

He can most frequently be found in the southern parts of WV, from Charlestown and beyond.  The cranberry bogs are an especially good place to look.

He lives a double life, as a mole inside the Enclave bunker and Whitesprings.  He has no intentions of furthering their agenda, and can and will self-sabotage as it becomes possible, but for the moment he needs their resources.

Tony, as of the opening of Vault 76, is fifty-two years old (taking into account 616′s age retcon).  Still plenty spry to do what he feels he needs to do, but tempered enough with age that he’s not quite as reckless as he was before the bombs.  Older, grayer, but still very recognizable for anyone alive before the bombs fell.  He tends to scavenge for reading glasses and has started the process of grinding his own lenses:  The vault lighting was not kind to the ol’ peepers, and age hasn’t been either, so fine detail these days takes a little extra help.

It’s also taken some time to get back up to speed physically.  He didn’t slouch in the vault, there was a gym and he made use of it, but some of his finer technique was impossible to replicate without his training room back in his long-ago personal lab, so he’s made a conscious effort to push himself as much as he dares (he doesn’t know how the tissue grafted to his heart is going to hold out with age) to get himself back to where he thinks he should be.