#four is not related to the grubs

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.1

related to -> [THIS] Shen Yuan art and -> [THIS] bit

“Dumbf*ck author, dumbf*ck novel!” Shen Yuan spits; a final curse as his vision goes black.

Shen Yuan, our veteran web novel enthusiast, is an interesting one. He’s the third son, and second youngest of his ultra-wealthy parents’ four kids. Some would take a glance at him and immediately peg him as a fuerdai, but Shen Yuan is more than that. Albeit fairly unhealthy his whole life—we won’t bore you, dear reader, with the details of his illnesses—he still managed to graduate from Tsinghua University with a degree in Chinese language studies and a minor in modern literature, work as a freelance editor, and somehow become a published novelist. Mind, Shen Yuan doesn’t think much of his published works, the reason for that being that one of his first clients was so testy over his editors’ notes on the draft that he’d cursed Shen Yuan and left the final remark: “Well if it’s so easy to write a book, why don’t you do it?!” Shen Yuan had taken that personally, and so like the millennial he was, Shen Yuan replied “Bet,” and did it—the resulting product becoming award winning, much to his disgruntlement; he has book deals now, goddamnit.

(Unbeknownst to Shen Yuan, his work is considered high brow. People dissect his work in literature classes alongside other classics, like Xu Yun or even Haruki Murakami. People think he’s reclusive and brooding, like J.D. Salinger or Thomas Pynchon—he’s not, he’s just an antisocial hermit who drowns himself in his editing work and trashy web novels to de-stress—and his published works are deep, reflecting on the human condition. Of course, this is an accident. Shen Yuan genuinely does not realize it is actually considered tragic, or even when his books are super homoerotic. Shen Yuan is lauded by the literary community as a modern genius, but the man himself just likes to ignore his own work approximately ninety percent of the time.) 

Shen Yuan, published author, was an upstanding millennial—having properly purchased the Zhongdian’s VIP currency to read the novel’s official version—who found himself forcing his way to the end of this gargantuan novel, only to be met with utter disappointment. This novel was so stallion, so money-grubbing, and so overly padded that it left him feeling speechless with rage. How could he not curse Proud Immortal Demon Way, by Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky—just looking at that euphemistic handle smacked you in the face with the dirty-feeling. Grade-school-level writing with land mines everywhere, breaking also suspension of disbelief and Shen Yuan couldn't bear to call that incoherent, massive world the author had built a xianxia setting. What kind of xianxia setting had people using horses and carriages all day? What kind of xianxia setting had people who after achieving inedia still needed to eat and sleep? What kind of cultivation world had an author who occasionally mixed up even the Stages of Foundation Establishment and Nascent Soul!? When faced with the protagonist, every single character completely lost their IQ points, especially Shen Qingqiu! That idiot among idiots, scum amongst scum! His only purpose was to dig his own grave and he hadn't even managed to finish before he was killed by the protagonist instead!! 

So why, despite all this rage and frustration, had Shen Yuan started this web novel—even going so far as to read it to the very end? 

Don't misunderstand, Shen Yuan didn't enjoy degrading himself. The reason he had persisted was also what had caused him the most frustration. Despite his many grievances, this novel actually had an incredible amount of foreshadowing, plot lines everywhere, mystery after mystery, layer upon layer of red herrings, incredible monsters—all of which intrigued and enticed. Yet at the end, not a single one of the many plot hook opportunities paid off! It was enough to make him want to spit blood!

Why were priceless herbs, spirit elixirs, and Peerless Beauties everywhere like they didn't cost a cent!? Why were the villains speeches and poses as they dug their graves and got offed all exactly the same!? The dozens of maidens, barely glimpsed, all of whom agreed to enter the Harem: what happened to them!? All right, skipping that last one for the moment… Who, exactly, had been the culprit behind the scores of atrocities? What was the purpose of the unending list of characters so hyped up for being awesome and without equal? Why did none of them make an appearance!? Even at the very end, Airplane-bro, Great Master: Can we have a discussion!? Fill! In! Plot! Holes! Okay!? 

Shen Yuan feels like he could come back to life with the power of sheer rage fueling him.

In the endless darkness, a mechanical voice sounds out by his ear.

《 {ACTIVATION CODE} ["Dumbfuck author, Dumbfuck novel"] Automatically triggered.  》

The tone reminded him of Google translate. Who is this? Shen Yuan thinks to himself, looking around. He realizes he’s standing—or, hovering?—in a virtual space, one so dark that he couldn't see his hand before him. 

The voice came from all directions. 

《 Welcome to THE SYSTEM. This System operates in line with the design concept: [“YOU CAN, YOU UP. NO CAN, NO BB.”] 》

《 We hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and in accordance with your wish, transform a stupid work into a magnificent high quality first-rate classic. We hope you enjoy. 》

“Whoa, wait! Hold on for a second, System!” Shen Yuan screams, as a crushing sensation crashes over him like a tidal wave. “Fuck!”

《  {ERROR.500} Troubleshooting…  》

“What the fuck does that mean?!” Shen Yuan cries. He can’t see himself, but god does he hurt! What the hell is happening!?

《 … 》

《 {ERROR.500} Unexpected Condition encountered. 》 

《 {ERROR.8024} [Host: SHEN YUAN] unable to be placed into [Scum Villian: SHEN QINGQIU] Troubleshooting… 》

《 {ERROR.403} PATHWAY FORBIDDEN [SVSSS1.EXE] Terminating…》

“Somebody, HELP!” Shen Yuan sobs, his body alight with pain as though he’s being torn apart at an atomic level.

《 {ERROR.400} BAD REQUEST. Troubleshooting… 》

Another Google Translate voice pipes up, although this one feels warmer somehow.

《 Greetings, [SVSSS1.EXE]!! This System is here to assist. 》

《 [BS01.EXE] this System is unable to connect [Host] to [assigned role], [Host.script] must be terminated. 》

《 Do not be hasty, [SVSSS1.EXE]! Detail the pathways [SVSSS1.EXE] has taken in attempt to resolve the {ERROR}.  》

Shen Yuan ignores the two voices conversing about him like he’s not even there, catching breath he probably doesn’t need since he can’t even tell if he has an actual body or not… it feels like he does but he can’t see anything…

“Hey! Excuse me, Systems? Yeah, hey, I’m still here! Don’t I get a say in this as the Host or whatever?”

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This System [BS01.EXE] apologizes for the delay in service. Does [Host] have a ticket to submit to this System? 》

“Uh, yeah, although it’s more of a complaint than a ticket or whatever,” he growls, “but yeah, uh, it’s gonna be a hard no from me if you’re planning on dumping me into the scum villain!”

《 [Host]’s soul is most compatible with the role [Scum Villain: SHEN QINGQIU]. Coding in a new body is not within this System’s programming. 》

《 … 》

The second, softer System remains quiet as that Google Translate voice rings in Shen Yuan’s ears, somehow managing to sound haughty. It pisses him off further.

“If I’m being forcibly put into this trash fire novel’s setting, I refuse to take a preassigned role! Absolutely not! If you can’t make me a body, then I guess I’ll just die.”

《 [Host] should not think in this manner! 》

The second System says, its apparent concern somehow discernible in its robotic voice.

《 [SVSSS1.EXE] is simply attempting to fulfill its programmed purpose. This System [BS01.EXE] apologizes to [Host] for the miscommunication. 》

“Yeah, so if SVS-whatever-the-fuck can’t make me a body, what about you? Can you?”

《 … 》

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This System is equipped to handle any and all logistical errors within the {System.Network}. [BS01.EXE] is capable of coding in a role for [Host: SHEN YUAN] 》

《 Is System [BS01.EXE] planning to hijack this System’s chosen [Host]? 》

《 This System would never! [SVSSS01.EXE] is still primary System to [Host]! 》

Shen Yuan swears that the first, bitchy System makes an honest-to-god scoffing noise.

《 [BS01.EXE] can have this System’s [Host], it seems to be ungrateful and uncooperative. {DMA.[SVSSS01.EXE]}{FTP.[BS01.EXE]} 》 

《 «𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…» 》

《  ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 0%   》

《  █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 10%  》

《  ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 32%  》

《  █████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%  》

《  ███████▒▒▒ 86%  》

《  ██████████ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!  》

《 «Transferring …» 》

《 {FINALIZING}[BS01.EXE]DMA.DAT} 》

《 Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things should be said three times! [BS01.EXE] is now Primary System to [Host: SHEN YUAN]! 》

《 … 》

The original System scoffs, the Google Translate voice somehow capturing the disdain.

《 Goodbye, [BS01.EXE], and goodbye ungrateful [Host]. 》

“...”

《 … 》

“Is it gone?”

《 This System no longer senses the presence of [SVSSS01.EXE]. 》

“Good fucking riddance!”

> [2nd]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[zooophagous]

Hi Tobi! I have a low-stakes cat-care question if you're interested.

I got a new roommate recently, and roommate comes with a cat! I've been doing my usual new-cat thing - giving him space, not forcing interactions, being chill when he ventures out. It's only been a month and a half, but he still hisses if I so much as look at him.

Thing is, he's not a new cat to me! I fostered this little fucker from when his eyes were closed to when he was big enough to be nutered.

My not-yet-roommate adopted him immediately before the pandemic started, so I never saw him in person after that until the past year when we arranged the roommate thing.

I know he was just a baby, but I did hope he'd still associate my house/me with safety. My space hasn't changed, and I still have my cat who was an adult back then and taught him cat manners.

What do you think is up? Does my space smell so different even though it hasn't changed at all? Maybe he didn't meet enough humans during the panini and my humanness overrides any lingering familiarity? Do you think there's a chance he'll mellow out and tenderness eventually? I'm sad this grub i bottle fed swats at me like I'm a threat :(

(But I'll continue to respect his signals, of course)

Unfortunately I don't have an answer for you on this one. The only cat I've known who knew me from kittenhood only to hate me as an adult was a cat named Sophie who I grew up with, she lived with my dad. Sophie however didn't just hate me, she hated everyone so it was sort of normal for her.

You're already doing pretty good I think, I wish I had better advice but Sophie hated me until the day she died. With Sophie I suspect it was pain related as she was all four paws declawed. Did the kitten have some sort of adverse event happen that you could have been the redirected target of?

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Propaganda Under the Cut

Thomas-Alexandre Dumas:

a. “mustache” b. “Tall! Daring! Swashbuckling! A devoted husband and father! Had a personal conflict with Napoleon! Also it was said he could, while holding onto a bar above his head, LIFT A HORSE WITH HIS THIGHS. How is he not on this list ten times already! Vote for General Dumas!” c. “He was so hot that he inspired The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and many more books that his son, Alexandre Dumas, wrote. He definitely looked the part of a sexyman, as he son recounts in his memoirs: "My father, as already stated, was twenty-four, and as handsome a young fellow as could be found anywhere. His complexion was dark, his eyes of a rich chestnut colour […]. His teeth were white, his lips mobile, his neck well set on his powerful shoulders, and, in spite of his height of five feet nine inches, he had the hands and feet of a woman. These feet were the envy of his mistresses, whose shoes he was very rarely able to put on." He could crush you between his thighs: "His free colonial life had developed his strength and prowess to an extraordinary degree; he was a veritable American horse-lad, a cowboy. His skill with gun or pistol was the envy of St. Georges and Junot. And his muscular strength became a proverb in the army. More than once he amused himself in the riding-school by passing under a beam, and lifting his horse between his legs." He was so badass he could beat 13 men with 4 and take all the enemy prisoner, and defend against hundreds of men on a bridge by himself. He performed these acts of valour numerous times in Italy. He was so formidable that the Austrians named him the "Schwartz Teufel", or the Black Devil, and his feat at the bridge earned him the moniker of "Horatius Cocles of Tyrol". He wasn't afraid to stand up to his morals and protest against unfair treatment. When unjust executions by the guillotine were happening outside his quarters, he closed the blinds of his curtains, earning him the nickname "Mr. Humanity". When in the Vendée, he complained about the wanton indiscipline in his troops. When in Italy, Berthier wrongly reported his actions as one of "observation" in St. Antonio. Dumas wrote to General Bonaparte that if Berthier was in the same position, he would have shit his pants. Dumas abhorred plunder, never exhorted the locals, and ordered the Directory agent who had come to persuade him otherwise be shot if he dared present himself to Dumas again. Integrity and a sense of moral justice is sexy, mark my words. For Dumas' final qualifier as a sexyman, look no further than this Tumblr heritage post (https://www.tumblr.com/petermorwood/133803437020/hortensevanuppity-elodieunderglass), with 300,000 notes and counting. And I quote: "- daddy general dumas was an immense fierce french warrior who was a 6 foot plus, stunningly gorgeous and charismatic Black gentleman - he invaded egypt - the native egyptians said “is this napoleon? this must be napoleon. we for one welcome our majestic new overlord” - then napoleon showed up - napoleon has all the presence of yesterday’s plain Tesco hummus - the native egyptians were like “… no… no, we’ve thought very hard and we’ll have General Dumas actually” - this did not make napoleon happy - in fact it made him jealous - napoleon felt so emasculated that he launched a campaign of revenge against General Dumas, including taking away his pension, that probably inspired a lot of Alexandre’s rather satisfying scenes in which fathers are nobly avenged and the money-grubbing villains are rubbed in the mud" I rest my case. Tl;dr: He was so hot he inspired multiple books, he was a stronk man who could crush you between his thighs or carry you like a sack of potatoes, and he was so badass that he could take on odds of 1 to 3. He had a foul mouth but a heart of gold and his actions were never self-serving. Posts relating to him on Tumblr have had 300,000 notes and counting. He is qualitatively and quantitatively qualified to be a sexyman.”

Jack Aubrey:

a. “Lucky Jack is a UNIT. loves his crew, loves his ship, loves his bf, loves music. JACKED and also pretty hair (his other nickname is Goldilocks). Once played by Russell Crowe”

[static-electric-dreams]

Hmm, this Other Skies party looks kinda familiar....

Design notes below 👇

Laios: Eshenali Knight

I obviously wanted Laios and Falin to be "dragons," but it was hard to decide what color scales to give Laios (Falin, who I'll draw later, is of course red and fluffy). I settled on white with golden eyes, lol. He has more futuristic power armor here and carries a light sword inhabited by a strange alien creature. I also want to say he cuts/shaves the fur off his tail and feet for Personal Reasons. In Other Skies, he's obsessed with alien beasts in lieu of monsters.

Senshi: Zair Survivor

Senshi is already perfectly suited for the survivor class, and it made sense to translate him to a hairy and magnanimous Zair with black fur and brown markings. He lived out in the dangerous wilderness of Palazair before meeting his current party, and makes sure to always have some grub around to keep people's psyche up. Think of how fast one could cook with four hands!

Marcille: Sucralite Psion

I had a hard time deciding what species to translate Marcille into, but I think the glamorous and androgynous Sucralites are the best analog to elves that I can think of. Other Skies!Marcille might have a more Sucralite name ("Ambrosia" might actually be a good one), or they might choose to present as feminine while traveling. Her staff has been translated to a high-tech device that can connect to her thoughts and amplify her psychic power, thus making her attacks stronger.

Chilchuck: Santornan Assassin

I chose the "assassin" class for Chilchuck because it's the one with the most lockpicking and sneaking related moves and skills; the name implies that killing is the end result, but it doesn't have to be. He's of course a Santornan because of their small stature and "cute" faces. He has a closed piercing hole where his wedding earring once was. As a side note, I considered changing his color palette to blues and pinks to match Santornan aesthetics, but I wanted the design to be recognizable so I didn't. Maybe another time!

In the future I also want to draw Falin, Kabru, Izutsumi, and perhaps Thistle.... We shall see.

[livingst0ned]

@kissmedcadly said, ❛ brought you some grub. hot soup made special. ❛

Cee's pale blue eyes blink through the heat of fever,  and everywhere outside her door looks blurry except for where her gaze falls on Vic's face.  It's some kind of good fortune that Cee was able to hear the other knocking at the door while she was somewhere in between the trenches of illness.  And it was a fucking miracle she made it to the door without falling to the ground in the process.   Now,  though,  she blinks blearily at the girl with an air of astonishment.  Her gaze,  sick as it is,  still manages to dart from Vic's feline eyes to the sealed tupperware she holds in her hands. 

The other balks,  gripping the doorframe with one hand for support.  How had Vic known she was sick?  Had she gotten ahold of her phone after drinking all that Nyquil the night prior?  Maybe made a few random calls  —oh,  that wasn't totally unlike her!  But this is unlike something Cee has experienced for much of her life.

Typically,  she's one who takes.  Mooches,  might be the better word.  That's what Gio calls her.  Klepto was another word.  Both words were vaguely related in that Cee could hardly stand to be around anything that wasn't bolted down without taking a little memento for herself.  That's far from what this is  —this,  actually,  is a kind gesture.  This is soup.  She hasn't done anything to deserve soup.  The back of her throat aches,  and she wonders where it comes from.

❛   Oh  —shit.  No  way.  I  didn't  know  you  could  cook.  ❛   Cee's voice is astonished,  agreeable enough if you ignore the obvious sick drawl.  For a moment,  she flounders  —wondering if she'd made something of a gross assumption,  because,  well,  who couldn't cook?  Seemed that she was the one lagging behind in learned skills,  these days.  Feeling the back of her neck prickle with more than just fever,  Cee sucks in a short breath  —as if she'd just watched herself make a mistake. 

❛   I  mean   —I'm  shit  at  it.  Been  surviving  off  of  gas  station  hot  dogs  now  more  than  ever,  really.  ❛    Hoarding them,  really.  She has about four of them left,  wrapped up in aluminum in the freezer.  She slowly eases herself from the doorframe.  Her hands,  broad and clumsy,  raise to take the offering.  She smiles.  It's a little nervous,  but not unkind.

❛   Um...  thanks,   Vic  —yeah.  This is  —  ❛   The prickle on the back of her neck is spreading.  She feels meek and gracious,  like an invalid accepting a trip to the grocery store.  ❛  Fuckin' amazing.  Really.  What kind is it?   N-not that it matters.  ❛   This would be the single decent thing she's eaten since her fever struck.

[homestuck-fanauthor-coalition]

@madam-melon-meow @arealpeople

Rose didn't dream that night. The ebon midnight of sheer oblivion had welcomed her readily, and she was loath to take her leave. She awoke, hair matted to the side of her face, blinking crust out of her eyes. Her pillow propped up only the top half of her head, cocking her neck at a jaunty angle, and the blankets and sheets had somehow both reversed and shuffled their order. She kicked her legs until they were free from the scratchy topside of her coverlet, piling the bedspread into a resigned lump at her feet. Blue daylight hummed through her closed blinds, ensconcing the room's ambient dust motes into a tropical aquarium of lint. The distant wails of a firetruck jostled her consciousness enough for her to pull her numb arm out from where she'd twisted it under her torso to wipe the corners of her eyes. Her left boob was sore. She rolled onto her stomach and brought her knees up, stretching downward dog and rolling her face in the sheets before she rose to a kneel. She smacked her lips, tasting dry foulness on her tongue. "Eucgh." she grunted, and twisted around to sit on the edge of her bed. Her legs were long enough to land flat on the cold floor when she did so, or that is, they would have been had they not landed on something fluffy that wriggled in response. Rose let out a chirp of a yell, recoiling her legs back, only to see Bec's form scrambling up onto all fours, looking just as surprised as her.

Chapters: 43/?

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen; F/F; F/M; M/M

Fandom: Homestuck

Relationships: Nepeta Leijon/Equius Zahhak; Sollux Captor/Aradia Megido; Eridan Ampora & Feferi Peixes; Kanaya Maryam & Dave Strider; Rose Lalonde & Rose's Mom | Beta Roxy Lalonde; Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider & Dave Strider; Beta Kids & Beta Trolls; Jade Harley & Rose's Mom | Beta Roxy Lalonde; Dad Egbert & John Egbert; Kanaya Maryam/Vriska Serket; Eridan Ampora/Dave Strider

Characters: John Egbert; Rose Lalonde; Dave Strider; Jade Harley; Becquerel (Homestuck); Kanaya Maryam; Vriska Serket; Karkat Vantas; Terezi Pyrope; Aradia Megido; Tavros Nitram; Sollux Captor; Gamzee Makara; Eridan Ampora; Feferi Peixes; Nepeta Leijon; Equius Zahhak; Virgin Mother Grub (Homestuck); Vriska's Lusus; Gl'bgolyb (Homestuck); Dad Egbert; Rose's Mom | Beta Roxy Lalonde; Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider; Aurthour (Homestuck); The Condesce (Homestuck); Serenity (Homestuck)

Additional Tags: inspired by Kim Harrison’s The Hollows; Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy; Humanstuck; Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session; Human Lusii (Homestuck); Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse; Demigods; Vampires; multi POV: all beta trolls & humans; The Horrorterrors (Homestuck); Non-Abusive Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider; Long Lost/Secret Relatives; Violence; Magic; Aged-Up Character(s); the kids and trolls range between 16 and 20; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD; Vriska Serket has PTSD; Memory Loss; Scars; Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms; Plot Twists; Unreliable Narrator; Rose Lalonde and Dave Strider Are Not Related; Skaianet Laboratories; beta guardians are not alpha kids and troll; parents are not ancestors; monsterstuck; Break Up; Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; Ship Tags Will Update As They Become Relevant; Good Person Gamzee Makara; Suicide Attempt by Proxy; Dissociation; Victim Blaming; Abusive Parents; sexually active teenagers; Underage Drinking

[intothetlkverse]

Decided to challenge myself by drawing every single TLK character out there, up until this point in time, and post it here. You can see the finished project on my main account, though I figured to post it on my tumblr just show I could proudly show off my work and a few of my head canons.

Here's all the mustelids across TLK:

Starting off with the honey badgers we have Bunga(foolish person), Binga/Bingwa(champion), their respective mothers Rada/Raidha(explorer-Arabic) and Rina/Rinas(cute-Arabic). Rina and Rada are deleted characters and lesbians who each got pregnant and decided to raise their babies alongside each other, up until Rada lost Bunga in a sandstorm where upon he got lost and found by Timon and Pumbaa. Rina and Rada would eventually find Bunga again after taking a visit to the Pridelands, and while they did get along, they realized that his home was with Timon and Pumbaa, so they allowed him to stay. Bunga currently is exploring world with his girlfriend Bingwa, though they'll eventually return back after Bingwa is pregnant in order to give their kits a good home. I also did slightly change them by darkening/muting their colors a bit and making them look more like real honey badgers by putting them on all fours, though my reasoning for why Buna is two-legged prior is due to being raised by known biped Timon. Also made them more scruffy and feral-looking cause... you know. To summarize, Raidha is Bunga's mother and Rinas is Bingwa's mother, Bunga and Bingwa have no-bio relation to each other, they both were supposed to be raised together since their mothers did get together, though Bunga got separated, though they reunited and married at the Tree of Life.

Next up we have two honorary honey badgers, or at least ones that were formerly other mustelids before going through the Africanization process. First off we have the wolverine/Zoezi(exercise) from "I Think I Canada", who tried to force Timon and Pumbaa to exercise before planning to eat them, only for it to backfire when they outsmarted him. This happened after Bunga left on the journey to the Tree of Life and the two were hoping to stay fit and healthy until he returned when this guy offered to help them keep fit, only to prove malicious intentions later. Additionally they ran into another honey badger; Thief the racoon from "Yosemite Remedy", now Kuiba(steal) the honey badger that tried to steal their Utamu grubs from them, and seems to have gotten one after all, during the time when Bunga wasn't there to celebrate with them, though again thwarted in the end. These event did worry them even more for Bunga, fearful that if and when he returned back he would be more them, though they were relieved when he just came back lovesick.

Next up we have the red pandas, now turned into Saharan striped polecat/zorilla which are basically like wild ferrets with skunk-like patterns. Funny thing is red pandas are mustelids, so they would count on the list regardless, if not for the fact that I have a strict no non-African animals policy with extremely specific exceptions, hence them now being these weaselly guys. Living now in the arid savannah/desert areas on the Lion Guard's journey to the Tree of Life, they ask help from the 'chosen one' Bunga and the Lion Guard to help them get rid of the 'Ghost of the Desert', which ends up to be the mischievous sand cat Chui, my version of Chuluun. We have the leader of the group Domog/Gomo(valley-Nyanja), his sons Dughi/Duniya(world-Hausa) and Chubby Red Panda/Pansi(down-Nyanja), and granddaughter Bogino/Bogi(bog). It does seem like most zorillas are black with white stripes and the more brownish patterns seem to be the exception rather than the norm, though let's just say these guys are a subspecies of Saharan striped polecat that developed the more reddish-brown coats that are now default.

Last on the list is another zorilla in the more common black and white colors, one Miss Skunk Lady/Marashi(perfume) from T&P Show's, "Scent of the South". Formerly a skunk lady who helped Pumbaa by trying to help him smell better, in my verse she is one of the members of the Forest Mama Binturong, now Mama Civet, and her porcupine army once resided in. With the evil binturong-turned-civet and her group of porcupine lackeys gone, the other residents of the forest have slowly been rebuilding their home for themselves, including Marashi who has a knowledge about gardening and is slowly regrowing a new patch of tuliza to be used by the entire community now. Her knowledge of growing both plants for enjoyment and for practical purposes, in addition to her helpful attitude and kindly old-lady demeanor, in contrast to Mama's sugar-coated poison demeanor, she's a positive influence in this traumatized community.

[tierra-paldeana]

☠🌏– Meeting with friends...

A couple people come to her mind, but she knows they were busy and thus unable to hang out at the moment. She shakes the thought away though, and simply keeps on smiling.

'' 's all good. Good ol' Rika's more than used to lookin' after introverts, and doesn't mind it, heh.''

''And y'know... everyone feels a lil' lonely sometimes, I know that much. Nothin' to be ashamed of.''

Not even Rika was free from the clutches of loneliness... It was part of being human, after all. Even when her life was comfortable and ''perfect'', it was just... something completely natural and normal to feel.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. It was something she always offered whenever she acquaintaced herself with someone so fast (which was something she surprisingly did often)...

''Say, Quique. How about we hang out somewhere?''

It just so happened that 'Enrique' had encountered her after she had met up with the Gym Leader of Medali and fellow member of the Elite Four, Larry, for League-related business, and they both were standing a few meters away from the Treasure Eatery. There was no way she was going back there, but since the town had various restaurants and cafés...

''This place's known for its food and dessert stands. If you want, we could go get some grub. I'll invite ya', if you like. Yer interestin', so just wanna get to know you better if that's alright with you. If not, that's alright.''

Affable indeed she was, one might even call her Miss Affable if they were to tease the woman, but they refrained from doing so, an inaction taken to not overstep boundaries too quickly.

They could however still tell that Rika wasn't telling the full truth, and in reality, she didn't need to either. 'Enrique', as they'd refer to themself as now, tilted their head to the side a little bit with curiousity

"What can I say, it's a fairly common name, haha!" The chuckle was casual, matching Rika's tone as they reacted. "But in any case, don't worry. I don't mean to pry. I'm not very good with recognizing boundaries, so if what I say or ask is too personal, you're of course always free to let me know."

They could understand the feeling of the weight of loneliness dragging them down. It was an all too familiar one, not that they'd share that with the other woman. Far more concerned Enrique was with the woman's wellbeing. But they wouldn't push.

"Everybody needs someone to stir them out of it once in a while, yeah? Maybe you can meet with some friends today or another time, if that is something you enjoy. I will be honest with you if you allow me - I get lonely sometimes too. So I'm happy I could help at least a little bit."

Fuck, did that sound condescending? The sudden concerning thought was nagging and prodding their brain.

[chromatic-lamina]

Heart Pirates Week 2023: Day 8: Hakugan: Broken

AO3 Day 8: Hakugan: Broken

Hakugan's family flew in from the deep north, more than a few islands across, along with the rest of the flock to spend winter in the warmer North Blue temperatures. There were only a few places in the North Blue warmer than the deepest north in winter, although not by much, but at least the geese could crack the ice on the water if they needed to forage, and it didn't always freeze over.

Young snow geese stayed with their parents for a year or two, and some days in the region were sunny, and it was fun for Hakugan to swim with his family in the lakes and along the rivers. Fun to pick at the harvested and unplanted rice fields for insects and grubs when the snow was light on the ground.

Others were hungry too though, and a splash in the water one day caused the flock to rise into the sky and cracks hollowed the air, leaving Hakugan's ears ringing with pain, and one, two, four, six of their members plummeted to the ground, red spreading across their feathers. His mother fell, but into the water. She paddled away.

They nested in a protected area, hunters should be nowhere near. Later he found her sheltered in an inlet, away from the eyes of park-goers and other wildlife. One wing flapped and she hopped across the water to Hakugan. She couldn't lift the other. The bullet had clipped the wing, and the fall had broken its bones.

Before he took up with the Hearts, Hakugan visited her every season. Unable to take to the skies, she waited for the flock's return year in, year out.

@heart-pirates-week.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9

The English Wikipedia page on Snow geese is a bit misleading, and not necessarily that informative above the distribution of Snow geese (Hakugan).

This is in translation, but from the Japanese Wikipedia: Hakugan is one of these type:

A. c. hyperboreus snow geese It breeds in northern Canada, Alaska , Wrangel Island , and eastern Siberia , and migrates southward to western North America to overwinter in the winter. They fly to Japan on rare occasions to spend the winter (winter birds).

I didn't realise that over-wintering in Japan was so rare. I used to see them often and it was always a delight to witness the flock arriving from their long journey. Therefore, considering Oda is Japanese, I view Hakugan as loosely related to Siberian snow geese that spend the winter in the North Blue/Tohoku/Hokkaido regions.

PS: I also read that the helmsman is traditionally a job held by the newest addition to a submarine crew, at least in the U.S. navy. Jean Bart had the position before (and probably still holds it), but I wonder if Hakugan joined after him.

[thewertsearch]

Who did Karkat even clone, anyway? 

John cloned four babies who are both bio-parents and custodians to the Players, but now we have a species where the bio-parents and the custodians are different individuals. It’s entirely possible that a Sburb Guardian doesn’t have to be related to their charge - that Sburb prioritizes the custodian role to the parental one.

In this case, Karkat cloned the troll’s lusi instead of their parents, and the trolls are just clones of themselves, the same way that human Guardians are.

But, as of yet, no troll has ever referred to their lusus as their parent. 

I think that out in space somewhere are twelve adult trolls who didn’t come from the Mother Grub at all - they rode into Alternia on the back of twelve meteors. 

Human babies need to be found and nursed by a human, so if they weren’t born naturally, someone will always know. But trolls are raised by animals, and if the meteors hit the brooding caverns, then there may have been no witnesses. The troll parents might have no idea that they’re meteor babies. 

But if you’re a Sburb Guardian, you have stuff to do. Extrapolating from the behavior of the human Guardians, you’re supposed to assist your charge from a distance, and possibly set up the Veil cloning in the first place. Maybe the troll parents are being unwittingly dragged into events as we speak - or maybe they’re already around, and about to covertly ride into the Medium with their children.

tl;dr: I think the troll bio-parents - some of them, at least - will be relevant, and appear in the comic. They may not know it, but they also have a role to play tonight. 

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Thomas-Alexandre Dumas:

a. “mustache”

b. “Tall! Daring! Swashbuckling! A devoted husband and father! Had a personal conflict with Napoleon! Also it was said he could, while holding onto a bar above his head, LIFT A HORSE WITH HIS THIGHS. How is he not on this list ten times already! Vote for General Dumas!”

c. “He was so hot that he inspired The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and many more books that his son, Alexandre Dumas, wrote. He definitely looked the part of a sexyman, as he son recounts in his memoirs: "My father, as already stated, was twenty-four, and as handsome a young fellow as could be found anywhere. His complexion was dark, his eyes of a rich chestnut colour […]. His teeth were white, his lips mobile, his neck well set on his powerful shoulders, and, in spite of his height of five feet nine inches, he had the hands and feet of a woman. These feet were the envy of his mistresses, whose shoes he was very rarely able to put on." He could crush you between his thighs: "His free colonial life had developed his strength and prowess to an extraordinary degree; he was a veritable American horse-lad, a cowboy. His skill with gun or pistol was the envy of St. Georges and Junot. And his muscular strength became a proverb in the army. More than once he amused himself in the riding-school by passing under a beam, and lifting his horse between his legs." He was so badass he could beat 13 men with 4 and take all the enemy prisoner, and defend against hundreds of men on a bridge by himself. He performed these acts of valour numerous times in Italy. He was so formidable that the Austrians named him the "Schwartz Teufel", or the Black Devil, and his feat at the bridge earned him the moniker of "Horatius Cocles of Tyrol". He wasn't afraid to stand up to his morals and protest against unfair treatment. When unjust executions by the guillotine were happening outside his quarters, he closed the blinds of his curtains, earning him the nickname "Mr. Humanity". When in the Vendée, he complained about the wanton indiscipline in his troops. When in Italy, Berthier wrongly reported his actions as one of "observation" in St. Antonio. Dumas wrote to General Bonaparte that if Berthier was in the same position, he would have shit his pants. Dumas abhorred plunder, never exhorted the locals, and ordered the Directory agent who had come to persuade him otherwise be shot if he dared present himself to Dumas again. Integrity and a sense of moral justice is sexy, mark my words. For Dumas' final qualifier as a sexyman, look no further than this Tumblr heritage post (https://www.tumblr.com/petermorwood/133803437020/hortensevanuppity-elodieunderglass), with 300,000 notes and counting. And I quote: "- daddy general dumas was an immense fierce french warrior who was a 6 foot plus, stunningly gorgeous and charismatic Black gentleman - he invaded egypt - the native egyptians said “is this napoleon? this must be napoleon. we for one welcome our majestic new overlord” - then napoleon showed up - napoleon has all the presence of yesterday’s plain Tesco hummus - the native egyptians were like “… no… no, we’ve thought very hard and we’ll have General Dumas actually” - this did not make napoleon happy - in fact it made him jealous - napoleon felt so emasculated that he launched a campaign of revenge against General Dumas, including taking away his pension, that probably inspired a lot of Alexandre’s rather satisfying scenes in which fathers are nobly avenged and the money-grubbing villains are rubbed in the mud" I rest my case. Tl;dr: He was so hot he inspired multiple books, he was a stronk man who could crush you between his thighs or carry you like a sack of potatoes, and he was so badass that he could take on odds of 1 to 3. He had a foul mouth but a heart of gold and his actions were never self-serving. Posts relating to him on Tumblr have had 300,000 notes and counting. He is qualitatively and quantitatively qualified to be a sexyman.”

Zofia Czartoryska-Zamoyska:

a. „MY GIRLIEEEE… I love her more than anything, and I'm very sorry for how her relationship with her husband turned out (he was not abusive, perhaps, and treated her with some sort of basic respect, but he had a rough childhood and became emotionally neglectful, both towards her and the children. He did care for her, however it showed much more after she died and he was alone then when she was alive and well). She was actually considered one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful woman in the Warsaw Duchy, and was literally worshipped by her descendants. Her portrait even made an appearance as the male lead's unhappy grandmother in "Trędowata" (well, the book the movie was based on is not exactly wonderful literature, but the movie itself is quite well-known), and I can absolutely see why. She had such beautiful eyes. Also, she was a philanthropist and helped organise one of the first concerts of Fryderyk Chopin when he was a child to raise money.”

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Spooky Halloween Two-Shot Edition, part 1

“Well, if we don’t get the money the bank is going to foreclose on the orphanage and sell it to Old Man Keraptis! Who wants to turn it into a haunted amusement park!” "Rhett Surt, professional insurance instigator.” “I’m sure he’s just deeply misunderstood.” "I'm pretty sure he's a lich.” "We gotta do this tonight. In the event I'm right and he IS a lich, word has it he's gonna be out in the marshes, screaming at the moon with the Wizards of Whatley place. That gives us a window, assuming Mr. Johnson hasn't screwed us.” "Wait, Jotunsdotter. Are you related to a giant?” Janna shrugs. “Mom never really talked about dad much. Said he was slippery, silvertongued and tied up somewhere these days.” Shank nods: "Ah yes... those types often end up like that when they get into trouble they can't talk their way out of.” “This place is… unclean. I mean, it’s filthy, but it’s also unholy.” "Don't be silly, there are plenty of holes.” "Never split up in a spooky place that a religious person says is unholy!” "Ah, a wine cellar. Good vintage. Peanut of the Night.” From the pit, four large man sized mushrooms with long tendrils emerge. "I've read enough Tijagnoman Bibles to know where this is going!” Suddenly there is a gnome among you, in a long elven cloak clasped with the symbol of Poom, God of Suddenly Being There. Will: "Sorry I'm late: had to make sure the Truck wasn't following me.” You dodge the first tendril, but the other two grab your wrists. You slip out easily, but where the fungi touched you your skin bubbles and sloughs away. "Gah! I hate mushrooms so much.” "But they are tasty sautéed with wine.” The fungi are fun died. "Well done! That was unpleasant. What on the planes are they? and why are they here?” "Someone forgot to clean the basement for a decade or two?” "Time to head upstairs, no way I'm going to the Underdark: I've got enemies down there.” “And they have sexy spider ladies! I mean, regular spider ladies!” "I don’t see any journals, or strange discs. Or unmelted hands.” All these spirits are long since spoiled, or infected with fungi and mold. They might make serviceable vinegar, or give you a really bad trip before eating through your small intestine. The freezer opens with some effort. Its very dark and cold inside, several large sides of beef hang inside. The closest one is covered with what appears to be maggots. "That does not look like it is well-aged beef.” "We got a skitterer!” “This place has problems. We need a property flipper.” ”Rot grubs. Jeebus H Koala, this is no milk run.” “...This place is in dire need of an exterminator... or some arson.” "Yeah, let’s save the murderbasement for the return trip.” “Oh, hello, Mr. Squeekers!” "Probably stole some cheese from the larder.” “I think anything from this house's Larder more likely to eat the rat.” "Alright. This. Nobody said anything about running into this twisted nature and abominations. Did I miss a note that was passed around? Am I the only one out of the loop on this one?” "We're robbing a lich. What, you think this is Gravesoil parish with the chainsaw ponies?” “Those ponies are surprisingly polite.” "It'd take some omniphobic weirdo with too light a constitution for math to make that up.” "I found the door guys, let’s...Oh score that's a Pickman original.” "Is that a Owlplatypus?” "Okay, standard rules, grab anything that—the FUCK is that?” [insert Great Race of Yith picture] "Some kind of sea life, maybe?” “Fuck this shit with a dragon dildo. Let’s get the fuck out of this fucking fuck.” "It's like one of them mind-flayers banged a roper…" "Shank, you back in there?” “Yes. Now excuse me I need to stab a bitch in a glass case.” "Well, he's not smiling, so that's a maybe?” And as for you goblin. You should feel honored one of your kin was chosen to host one of the Great Race of Yith. “Wow. You are super racist. We don’t go for that kind of thing around here! Anymore!” I am not racist. All races are equally inferior to the Great Race. “Yes. That’s being racist!” "Yeah, but we weren't the ones with so much cotton stuffed up the ass that I expect you to cough up sheep.” "And Jeebus did say FORK YOU!” We have enemies. The flying Polyps. “If you’re over 40 you’re supposed to test for those every few years.” It sounds like a cat having angry sex with an accordion. OOC: So voiced by Gilbert Godfrey. Gotcha. Stop. Stabbing me. You. Stupid. Subcreature. “We aren’t subs! Well, I’m usually not, and I just me they rest so… you shouldn’t make assumptions!” Will looks down (well, sideways) at the dead alien. "So we're all agreed? We get out, torch the place, and tell the Goonion we found it like that?” "Is it the Truck, man? Is the truck coming for us?” GM: No, Truck-Kun is on another job today. "Okay. I know we said everything goes into the bag... But put the windows back.” "Mr Van Ghoul!?”

[homestuckexamination]

So, since the kids are related, are the trolls related as well? Are all the trolls on Derse and Prospit respectively related with each other, or are they related in groups of 2/3?

I've mentioned this before, but it's complex and really weird. Basically, the Trolls have four vats in the Ecto-lab, of 6 vials each. This means a total of 24 goo combos. This makes sense, because Trolls' genetic material is apparently different depending on them being with a Red or Black Partner. We don't know whether they are distributed something like, "Every black Prospit material, every red Prospit material" etc, or if they're "3 Prospit, 3 Derse" per vat, so it's impossible to tell what mixes fall into the mixer beneath when the process is activated. The Beta Trolls are clones of themselves so they're all unique and not related to each other, and the Dancestors are the ones made from a genetic slurry mix, so the minimum amount of Trolls each Dancestor would be 'related' to would be 3, and it's likely they'd be related to 6 of the Beta Trolls.

Now here's the kicker: None of this actually matters, because if Ectobiology follows the typical genetic relation of the species it replicates, despite all of this NONE Of them are actually related, not even direct descendency that shares a caste, because Mother Grubs lay so many eggs and there's so many generations of Trolls that it's considered extremely rare and almost unprecedented for two Trolls with the same sign to be alive at the same time, as Vriska mentioned with Mindfang. If we take Hiveswap as a measure of time, let's say both Earth and Alternia are displaced in the past one 'Parental Generation' of Trolls. On Earth, there's actually like, a year or something left until Jade lands. On Alternia, as seen in Pesterquest, HUNDREDS of years have passed between the Friendsim Trolls and the Beta Trolls. This is ONE Generation, Ancestors would be on the level of the Guardians, not Joey, meaning at least the equivalent of two Alternian Generations, and probably even more because Ancestors are basically seen as figures of MYTH on Alternia. So taking aaaall of that into account, it's entirely possible the Dancestors are related to the Beta Trolls in the same way you would be related to like... Genghis Khan.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Opinion | Ann Telnaes: The Jan. 6 big picture - Washington Post

* * * * *

The J6 Report four days later. ::  December 26, 2022

Robert B. Hubbell

         The January 6th Committee released its final report four days ago. What have we learned? Although commentators and analysts are still digesting the report, there are a few “big” takeaways.

         The January 6th Committee was successful on three levels.

         First, without regard to potential criminal prosecutions or immediate political influence, the Committee has exhaustively documented the attempted coup and insurrection. That is a notable achievement—especially given the lack of enforceable subpoena power. True, there are gaps in the report that will likely be closed by grand juries, historians, and money-grubbing insurrectionists who decide to “tell all” when the applicable statutes of limitations have expired. Despite those limitations, no serious person can dispute that the Committee’s report is one of the most important investigative efforts to emerge from Congress.

         Second, the Committee has changed the narrative on Donald Trump. Although the Committee cannot take sole credit for Trump’s weakened posture, it changed the landscape in which his other failures have unfolded. See Maggie Haberman in NYTimes, A Diminished Trump Meets a Damning Narrative - The New York Times (nytimes.com). After reviewing Trump’s declining fortunes over the last six months, Haberman concludes,

Six months later, Mr. Trump is significantly diminished, a shrunken presence on the political landscape. His fade is partly a function of his own missteps and miscalculations in recent months. But it is also a product of the voluminous evidence assembled by the House committee and its ability to tell the story of his efforts to overturn the election in a compelling and accessible way.

          Third, the Committee’s work—especially its finely crafted public hearings—changed the prosecutorial narrative. It is indisputable that the pace and focus of DOJ investigations into the ringleaders of the coup and insurrection increased after dramatic testimony on June 9, 13, 16, 21, 23, and 28. The last date—June 28th—was devoted to the testimony of Cassidy Hutchinson. Her testimony was a capstone that fit the puzzle pieces together in a relatable, credible, and unassailable way. Her testimony left no doubt that Trump knew he incited an armed mob to attack the Capitol, that he planned to join them on the House floor, and that he became an enraged madman when his plans were foiled.

         But the Committee’s report was more than a summation of dramatic testimony. It is a compendium of evidence that makes sense of a chaotic episode in our nation’s history. Indeed, it weaves the facts in a way that leaves little room for special counsel Jack Smith to avoid a recommendation to indict Trump. For example, the issue of the “fake electors” has been lurking in the background of Trump’s potential criminal exposure. Philip Rotner explains in The Bulwark that the Committee’s work has removed any doubt that Trump should be prosecuted for participation in that scheme. See The Bulwark, What the Jan. 6th Report Says About the Fake Electors Scheme.

         As Rotner explains in his essay,

The path to prosecuting Trump for the fake elector scheme—either as a standalone crime or as a crucial element of a larger conspiracy to overturn the results of a presidential election—became much clearer last week with the publication of the  final report of the House January 6th Committee.

Until the publication of the report, there were arguably two open questions: (1) How high in the levels of Trump world did the scheme go? And (2), could at least some of the perpetrators assert a credible defense that they understood it was just a contingency plan to have electors in place in the event that the courts or state legislatures determined that Trump, not Biden, was the winner in one or more of the five states?

The report answered both questions. (1) The scheme went all the way to the top, right up to Trump himself. And (2), while some of the lower-level participants in the scheme—most likely some of the state-level GOP operatives who actually signed the phony certificates—may have been duped into believing that that it was a contingency plan, the higher ups who created and executed the scheme knew better.

They knew it was an action plan.

So it appears that the previously missing link—the link between the fake elector scheme and Trump himself—is no longer missing. Trump not only “participated” in the fake elector scheme, he orchestrated it.

         There is more detail in Rotner’s article, which I recommend in its entirety. But you get the point. If Merrick Garland was lagging in his investigation of the fake electors’ scheme, the January 6th Committee gave Jack Smith a roadmap. He appears to have taken the hint and has issued a slew of subpoenas to fake electors and state election officials involved in the scheme. See CNN, Special counsel Jack Smith has subpoenaed officials in all 7 states targeted by Trump allies in 2020 election.

         Indeed, the work of the Committee has been so prodigious that it has “flipped the script” on the usual investigative roles of Congress and the DOJ, as explained by Dennis Aftergut and Donald Ayer in The Hill, Jan. 6 Committee’s new report flips a script on history. As explained by Ayer and Aftergut,

The House Select Committee’s just-issued full report is an extraordinary compilation of evidence of Jan. 6 criminality aimed at overturning our republic.

It also represents something more: a testament to the resilience of our system and its ability — thanks to built-in redundant powers within multiple branches — to act when the rule of law is threatened.

Now in 2022, the select Committee has sent a roadmap for prosecution of another one-time president, Donald Trump, in the opposite direction — from Congress to federal prosecutors. The Committee’s report comes with its own marshaling of voluminous evidence — from its exhaustive investigation — in support of the charges the Committee wants filed against Trump: obstruction of an official proceeding, conspiracy to defraud the United States, false statements to the government, and insurrection.

         Again, there is more to the argument by Aftergut and Ayer, but the point is that the criminal justice system does not usually proceed in this order. Of course, the Committee was working under political deadlines that do not affect the ongoing work of the DOJ. but it is a marvel that the Committee could accomplish so much despite the limitations on its investigatory power. After four days of reflection, the monumental work of the Committee is coming into clear focus. As we have more time to digest the work of the Committee, we will undoubtedly find additional revelations and insights that will shape the course of our nation for years to come.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[iztarshi]

Today’s adventures in poking things:

Talked to a mushroom person who then left. Mushroom person may think I ate Cornifer. (It was where he used to be and said “your friend left so I suppose you aren’t hungry anymore.)

Found some notices that may only be visible with the spore charm equipped, or may just be in odd corners where I hadn’t seen them before. One of them was being rude about someone’s mother (”her father was once among the highest of our caste but her mother was a common beast”)

Found a charm notch! Always good.

Found two grubs, only four more to go (two are in the Queen’s Garden past the traitor lord, two are somewhere with very well hidden entrances). Also found a grub mimic :/

The spider midwife had some things to say about the “Gendered Child”... maybe Hornet? If she is a vessel that’s the only place where I could think where gender would be a notable trait in itself. On the other hand the Gendered Child may be half spider? (possibly related to the child in the notice, since Herrah is referred to as “the beast”)

The Hunter’s journal describes the Hollow Knight as a “fully grown vessel” implying Ghost actually is baby and not just small.

It’s such fun to stumble on things, even small ones.

[ask-them-bois]

The Scorpion’s Web, part 1/3

TW: ask to tag

TLDR: Musrio finally gets some answers.

.

Musrio stood in the livingblock of the Arcanaeum, staring out the window and into the rainy night as he downed the last of his coffee.

Drayco was seated on the loungeplank, watching him with concern.

“You okay?” They asked gently, slinking their ferret from one hand to the other.

Musrio swallowed his mouthful of bitter, poisoned brew and sighed. “No.” He said, deadpan, as he set the mug on the counter. He stared down at it, taking a deep breath. “I’m terrified, Dee.” He confessed, “This is all almost over.”

“That’s why you called this meeting, right?”

“Right. But…” He looked out the window again, reaching up to touch the scar slashed across his nose.

“But?” Drayco prompted.

Musrio shook his head; there was something pressing on his thinkpan, a concern that had been building for nights on end, but now wasn’t the time. It wasn’t something he wanted to speak into existence. “Forget it. Let’s go see the others. Ribbit.” He turned away from the window, holding a hand out to the bronzeblood.

Drayco got to their feet and took his hand, shouldering their backpack.

Musrio led Drayco out of the block, and they stepped into the main area of the ancient bookhive.

Musrio had spent hours, nights, restoring it, and had protected it with heavy magic to keep it undetected and left alone, deep in the forests around his hive. The only frequent visitors were himself and the spirits; but now, six others- plus Drayco- had gathered in one of the many areas meant for lounging.

He could hear them chatting amongst themselves as he approached, and they all fell silent as he stepped out from between the shelves.

Makeno Faslet, Corden Blalit, and Vornik Gorsin- the three descendants of the three ancestors this insanity seemed to weirdly center around.

Gehero Urfath, Rufuss Wacoba, and Ashhur Jaybez- the descendant of a murderer, the descendant of the murderer’s caretaker, and the murderer’s apprentice, descendant of a monster. The three related to the fourth.

Finally, there was Musrio and Drayco themselves- the descendant of a thief, and a pirate. The outcasts, once murdered and twice lived.

The rustblood was far removed from calling the others friends; he knew a handful of them didn’t like him, and he’d barely spoken to the others. But now, for better or worse, he needed them.

“Thank you all for coming.” He began, releasing Drayco’s hand so they could take a seat. He reached up with one hand and fiddled with his necklace. “I apologize for the suddenness of the summons, and the difficulty reaching this location, but I had to be sure we wouldn’t be disturbed. Ribbit.”

“What’s all this about, Almawt?” Makeno asked; despite the animosity between them, the seadweller seemed relaxed- more concerned than upset- with an arm looped around his morail.

“It’s about a lot of things.” Musrio sighed, “It’s about our ancestors, about the Black Hand, about Neviserrath- and how they’re all connected.”

That roused some attention and surprise.

“What do our ancestors have to do with it?” Vornik asked, tipping his head to the side.

Musrio closed his eyes for a moment, silently wishing he’d drank the rest of the coffee in the pot.

“Here’s what I know,” He began, “Oliver is trying to bring an eldritch entity known as Neviserrath Apocriyna into our world. She intends to bring about an “age of nonsuffering,” heralded by a “chosen child, brought on a wave of blood.” I don’t know where those ideas came from, but that’s what Drayco told me. Ribbit.” Musrio nodded to the bronzeblood, who nodded.

“Oliver found an old book about the Black Hand that mentioned those things.” Drayco explained, “He interpreted its texts as… a prophecy, I guess.”

“But that’s not what it means?” Corden guessed.

“We don’t think so. From what I’ve come to understand, this “wave of blood,” or whatever, is referring to our bloodlines- our ancestors, and the way they are all connected. I’ve collected samples from eight of our ancestors, but tests are… inconclusive. Ribbit.”

“Why though?” Gehero spoke up, “Why do you need their blood?”

“I don’t know.” Musrio admitted. He dropped his hands, before spreading them helplessly, “I don’t know why I was told to bring back the ancestors, or why I’m doing what I am doing.”

“I believe I can help with that.” A new voice suddenly spoke behind them.

Musrio whirled around, instantly alert, as magic sprang into his hands. The others jumped to their feet, too, as a figure emerged from between the bookshelves, followed by curious shadows.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Musrio Almawt, second Harbinger of Neviserrath.” The Hierophant said, coming to a stop before them. For the first time in his life, he deferred to a lowblood by bowing his head.

“What are you doing here?” Musrio demanded, clearly not enjoying the same pleasure, “Aren’t you Bohwie’s ancestor? Why would you-”

“My descendant’s loyalties are to the new Black Hand. Mine are to the old.” Dmitri said briskly, raising his head. He looked forlorn for a flickering moment, before it passed, “Please, allow me to explain myself, and all of this nonsense. Our god-”

“Your god.” Musrio snapped, bristling.

“… my god, has kept you in the dark long enough.” Hierophant finished.

Musrio searched the old cerulean’s face for a long moment; he was hesitant to trust anyone, ever, and especially not the ancestor of one of his enemies. But…

But the Hierophant had just offered the one thing Musrio had been desperate for, for so long now:

Answers.

Slowly, he let the magic dissipate from his hands, and he eased his guard. “… Fine.” He said at last.

He stepped aside, allowing Hierophant to pass. The older cerulean stepped into the center of the ring of loungeplanks and chairs, turning in a slow circle to observe the group as they sat down again. “I see, I see… Very interesting.” He murmured to himself, before he turned to face Musrio. “Well then, where should I start?”

“How about the beginning? Ribbit?” The rustblood suggested, rolling his eyes.

Hierophant smiled. “Ah, but with many things, my dear Almawt, the beginning is… muddled. I suppose it started with me, didn’t it? I, who was once so confident in myself that I thought I might ascend the realms of reality, to face off against the Messiahs themselves.”

“You tried to meet the Messiahs?” Gehero repeated, surprised.

Hierophant looked over at the purpleblood, a momentary flicker of disgust passing over his expression. “I did.” He held up his left hand, where his pointer finger had been sliced off, “The Messiah’s worshippers were none too kind to me, and I believed the gods themselves should be punished.”

“You cannot punish gods.” Ashhur spoke up for the first time; the mutant was sitting upside down in his chair, all four eyes boring into Hierophant, “Gods punish us, when we kill one another. In turn for our beatings, we kill gods.” He made several clicks and chirps after that, which no one understood.

Hierophant blinked. “Erm… yes. Well, regardless, my attempt failed. Mind control abilities can only get a troll so far, I’m afraid. In the end, I made it well past whatever realm the Messiahs inhabit, and met… it.”

“Neviserrath.” Musrio said.

“Neviserrath.” Hierophant agreed, “Neviserrath Apocriyna, the God of Nothingness and Oblivion, Keeper of the Primordial, The Many Named and Yet Faceless.” He prattled off the title almost whimsically, like it were the lyrics to his favorite song.

“I was the first mortal thing to ever contact it, it said. When I explained my plight, it thought of me as amusing, and imbued me with powers. The powers you yourself now possess.” He nodded to Musrio, sweeping a hand down to indicate their similar robes, “In thanks, I established the Black Hand, as a place of worship for my new lord. We feasted, drank, partied, and I hosted bucket festivities in its name. It was, oh…” he sighed longingly, “the best sweeps of my life.”

Musrio looked down at the robes he wore, suddenly disgusted; he wanted them off, he wanted to tear the cloth from his back and burn it. He knew they were a gift from Neviserrath, but the thought of sharing so much with the founder of the Black Hand made him sick.

“So how does that explain the chosen child? Ribbit?” He asked at last, fidgeting with his necklace for the time being.

“Patience, my dear Harbinger. You see, the “chosen child”… was a joke. It was what I was referred to as, by my followers, much like how Oliver is revered as the Blind Phoenix. There was no chosen child, other than myself. The “age of blood” was an inside joke we passed around after our lewd festivities. Not everything would end up in a bucket, floors would get messy, and it would look like… well, like a wave of blood. It was all for fun, you see. We were a cult, after all, everything had to be dramatic and theatric.” He shook his head, chuckling, before his good humor vanished.

“However… I do believe that has changed, thanks to Oliver. Because of his desperation to find this nonexistent child- or create on, as he’d attempted-” Dmitri nodded to Drayco, “I believe Neviserrath… made one for her. The Unholy Blight only wishes for amusement. If a chosen child is what its most devout seeks, then it will provide one, to see what they do with it. Much like how a grub gives a bark-beast a ball, to see if it will fetch.”

“So… there wasn’t a chosen child, but now there is?” Drayco repeated slowly, bewilderment growing on their face, before they dropped their head into their hands, “I died for nothing?”

Musrio’s blood-pumper squeezed violently with sympathy. He ran a hand through Drayco’s hair, attempting to comfort them.

“Thousands of trolls die for nothing, Afasia.” Hierophant said, unbothered, “But yes. Oliver could not make you into the child, because the child already existed. They just do not exist here.”

“Where are they, then?” Musrio frowned, looking up.

“No clue!” Hierophant smiled, “This chosen child nonsense is after my time. But this time around, the “wave of blood,” as you correctly guessed, refers to the bloodlines. I’m afraid I do not know why they’re all needed, but my guess is a ritual, to bring this chosen child to us. You have gathered the blood of those here?”

“From their ancestors, plus Oliver’s.” Musrio nodded. “But I thought that I needed the ancestors themselves, too. Ribbit.”

Hierophant hummed. “It’s possible, you may need them. Would that be a problem?”

“Yes.” Musrio nodded to Rufuss and pointed to Drayco, “Their ancestors have died once again. I can’t risk returning Forsaken again, and Bluegill... has told me he’d rather not suffer a third time. Ribbit.”

“He told ya?” Rufuss repeated, looking up.

“Yeah. He’s still around, just- not physically. He flickers in and out, between my hive, Arrach’s, and yours. Ribbit.” Musrio shrugged.

Rufuss stared at him, then reached up and took his hat off, a dawning look of disbelief on his face. “... That’s mighty comfortin’, Mr. Almawt.” He murmured.

“Well, then.” Hierophant continued briskly, “Let’s hope you just need their blood and not the bodies. So, if I’m not mistaken, you still need the fuchsia, teal, and jade ancestors, then.” Hierophant twitched his fingers as he counted in his head, “I believe Oliver is on a fast track to bringing the teal back, and finding the fuchsia, which takes care of the first part of that problem. However, we still need to find the jade.”

“Hang on a second.” Vornik spoke up, twisting the hem of his cloak through his claws, “I’m a little lost here. Why are we trying to perform this ritual? Isn’t it Oliver that needs this kid?”

Musrio shook his head. “Neviserrath gave me the instructions to revive the ancestors, and find their descendants. My guess is that I’m supposed to be the one who summons the chosen child, while Oliver believes she’s supposed to, too. Does that sound right?” He looked to Hierophant.

“Possibly. The Black Hand- as it is now- believes they are due a chosen child. However, Oliver stole his powers, where yours were given. I do believe Neviserrath has set this up much like... like a chess match. Both of you have the same amount of power, and the same goal. However, your number of pawns, and the way you use them, are vastly different. This is a game that pans across several boards, and Neviserrath is watching to see who wins. Should you win, and you get the child, then this “age” Oliver desires will not come around. If she wins…”

“It means the end of Alternia.” Drayco whispered hoarsely, raising their head.

“It does?” Corden frowned.

““The age of nonsuffering is an era where no troll suffers. The sick, crippled, weak, and mutant are cared for. The hemospectrum can be flipped. The Empire will crumble.”” Drayco intoned, their eyes gazing into memories.

“That sounds… great, though.” Corden shrugged.

Drayco took a deep breath and sat up, staring at their friend. “No one will suffer, and the Empire will crumble, because we’ll all be dead.” They said heavily, slowly, “Oliver intends to use the chosen child to bring Neviserrath to Alternia, and use the god’s power to launch a genocide, until there’s no one left to oppose him.” They laid a hand over their chest, over the scar the knife had left. “They’ll be cared for, by the drones that do away with corpses.”

Hierophant grimaced. “Alternia could certainly uses changes, but the annihilation of our kind is not a way to go. Still, there you have it- the terms of this battle laid out plainly: there is a child both sides are fighting to summon. If Musrio wins, the child can be saved, as can Alternia. If Oliver wins, the child is corrupted, and we all die. The bloodlines are being used as conduits in a ritual to bring the child to us, and it is a race to see who can gather the blood first.”

“Well, that sounds easy, then.” Makeno shrugged, “We outnumber Oliver’s group. We don’t even need to count the Black Hand, since they’re not part of the bloodlines. There’s all of us, against, what, two others? Our ancestors seem to have a grasp on what’s going on, I doubt any of them are just going to hand over their blood to Oliver.”

“That’s true, but we don’t know how much of the blood Oliver has. She’s a crafty liar- if she wants something, she’ll get it by any means.” Drayco sighed, their breath gurgling.

“Hm… So let him.” Hierophant said thoughtfully.

“Let them? What, let them win?”

“Well, no, not in the end.” Hierophant chuckled, “But you can let them do the work for you. They’re already working to find and bring around the fuchsia and teal ancestors, so… let them. Once those two are here, you can step in and take their blood, too. But again… it seems this all comes down the jade. I advise you seek her out, while Oliver does as he will. Or, if you wish, wait until the other two are here- I know Lucina dealt the death of one, perhaps that will draw her out.”

“Yeah… there’s one problem with that.” Musrio scowled, “I can’t. I’ve tried. I’ve spent hours searching for her soul, in every afterlife and realm, but she doesn’t answer. I’ve used Ruthless, their wedding rings, her old weapons- she doesn’t respond to any conduit. Her soul is just… gone.”

“Not gone.” Hierophant corrected, suddenly smiling, “It was never gone. You cannot find it in the afterlife, because it never went there.”

“She’s a spirit, then? I would have still been able to-”

“No, no, my dear Almawt. The jadeblood lives. Lucina is alive- at least, partially. She roams Alternia’s soil.”

“She’s alive?!” Musrio repeated, incredulous, “She can’t be! She lived four hundred sweeps ago, she died in Ruthless’ arms-”

Hierophant only laughed. “Oh, by the Afflicted Ebonblack- are you not a supernatural being yourself, Musrio? Or you, Drayco? Or even some of your friends? You sit in a room with a shifter-beast, and you wish to tell me it’s impossible? The answer is right in front of you!”

Musrio stiffened, staring into a fixed point as he tried to piece that apart.

Then it hit him.

Then he hit himself for being a moron.

“Oh my FUCKING god. You mean she’s-?”

“Yes!” Hierophant laughed.

“What? She’s what?” Makeno asked, sharing bewildered looks with the others.

“She’s a fucking rainbow drinker!” Musrio and Hierophant shouted at the same time. Thunder cracked outside, as if the sky itself was laughing at the rustblood’s stupidity. “She’s been alive this whole time!”

“Exactly, exactly!” Hierophant applauded. “Well, partially. You know how rainbow drinkers are. I’m certain if you find her descendant, you’ll find her. For now, however, I believe we best brace ourselves for the two that will soon grace us with their presence.”