#geology is not my thing but damn!!!!

[plaguedocboi]

I’ve been doing some field work with geologists this winter and I’m kind of amazed by how these dudes can pick up a handful of dirt and talk about it for an hour using terms I’ve never heard of. Like wow you see a whole universe in there that I don’t. The world is truly full of beauty and we only comprehend a fraction of it.

[avanii]

The prototypes to my Geology Monsters series were these two funky guys from March 2023.

I made the sketch for the marten in the plane from Naples to home, after we'd done a full circle around Mt. Vesuvius and you could really peer into its crater and see how close it is to the metropolis. I had also visited it during my stay there (but it was cloudy all week so unfortunately the view at the summit wasn't good), as well as the ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. That really sparked something in me. These two volcanic beasts were painted the same week after I got home.

Later I picked up the concept again and the monsters became more, well, monstrous. I still like these though! Both are small paintings done with ecoline inks.

[lemongogo]

college … wasted on the youth (me)

[elainemorisi]

okay I am sorry but. this goes well beyond immersion-breaking. this is absolutely fucking insane. I am meant to believe the image below depicts a state university's geosciences department's offices. I may genuinely stop watching the show over this. what the absolute. the absolute. fuck.

[sbcdh]

Dad wasn’t a nice guy. I don’t think I need to tell you that. But don’t believe the media. I don’t think he was evil. People give him a bad rap, or, they gave him a bad rap for the wrong reasons.  They didn’t know the man like I did. 

Tell me more about that.

He loved Emmett more. Told me himself, straight as whiskey. Emmett was tall, went to Harvard business school. Helped dad out in the oil fields. Well, helped in the oil fields at first anyway. He was clever. Had a melon like a jackknife and a nose like a bloodhound for finding tar sands. I never really knew how he did it. And well, look at me. I definitely took more after dad. Short fat and bad tempered. Ha! I really took after dad. I went to Harvard too, of course. But I went for geology. Fuckin’ geology. Yeah I knew dad better than any other man on earth.

Why do you say that?

Theres a way of knowing that only happens when you need someone to notice you. You need that like the air you breathe. You know everything about them. Learn the things they like, when their moods swing round, what they want and fear and dream about. Emmett didn’t have to care about stuff like that. Emmett was a golden boy. 

He was quite skilled at finding oil wells.

You know he damn well was. Never did figure out how he did that. You know doc, now that you got me on the couch, you got me wonderin’. You reckon it was somethin’ hypno-economical? It always did seem like he could sniff out tar sands from over the damn horizon.

It is possible. I would like to talk more about you, and your relationship with your father. 

Bet you do. Emmett was the key to everything. Dad made a lot of money early on. Said he was real good at cards. Said he made money cheating loggers at table games up in Canada. Who the hell knows? Point is by the time I was born he was already speculating in land. WWI was a great time for that shit…You know… You know that reminds me. You know what my earliest memory of dad was? It was him, covered in fuckin crude from a new well. Painted head to toe like…like a doll. One of those old ones you only see in antique shops these days. He was smilin wide with big bright teeth and big bright eyes. He was shoutin to Gert about something and they were both real excited. 

That would be Gertrude Jager, your m-

Emmett’s mom. 

Yes, of course. Apologies. Please continue. 

We were outside. It was early in the morning and I could feel the sun on my back. I had this blanket Gert made me and I was holdin’ it in my little fist. Just like this. Hey doc what are you writin’ there?

Notes on our conversation. Was there any sign of his…

Ascension to the throne of the god-pharaoh? Ha. I was wondering when you’d bring that up. You know, I think it was Emmett.

Emmett?

Yeah. Well, it wasn’t nothin’ Emmett did per se. He just. Well, its a big family, lotta big personalities you know? Dad wasn’t the best about keepin a lid on his temper, but Emmett. He was a bit funny. He’d work for hours on end. I seen him spend eight whole hours out in the fields, writing in some little notebook, come home to the house, and then spend eight more hours writing at the dinner table while the help brought him hotdogs. It was the same thing every time. Hot dogs, shredded cabbage, and beer. He’d eat nothin’ but that for days on end. Then he’d get all quiet. Lock himself in his room, drink himself to sleep. 

You weren’t concerned? 

I was 15. And the family’s got a lotta big personalities. 

What changed?

It was the Wolf Basin lode. You gotta think about that for a second. One million barrels of oil, right when uncle sam is at his thirstiest. Daddy had always hobnobbed with politicians, but they were practically lining up outside the door. They were buyin’ him dinner, and he would up and tell em to take a hike! Imagine that! He would come home late at night, I never seen him happier. He tell me about all the things he said to those men. Made him happier than a pig in shit. 

The success is what changed him? 

Maybe. It weren’t just the money. It was the power. The letters he got. Official United States letterhead. Comin’ in from the governor and senators and once or twice even president Truman. Sometimes I’d see him at his desk just starin at em, not opened or nothin’. He just looked at em. That’s when he started readin’ about Egypt and whatnot. Told me he wanted to know about the old kings. Wanted to rule his domain properly. Read all sorts of things about the middle kingdom and Ptolemy and Ramses II. He’d ramble for hours if you let him. Then one day, he comes back from the Rio Grande in a homemade Nemes. 

Nemes? 

Thats the crown of the Pharaohs. He told us that. I think he made his outta old flour sacks. Said he was chosen by Aten to build a new kingdom-o-the-dead right here in Plano. 

That seems quite sudden. 

It was. It was sudden. Well- Well it was kinda sudden. I think it had somethin’ to do with Emmett. This was around when his funny moods were gettin’ bad. Real bad. He was workin’ himself to string. He weren’t eatin’ or sleepin’. Dad had politicians comin over every damn day to look at the oil fields and Emmett was like a ghost. He couldn’t work! I think dad was scared, because he knew Emmett was the key and none of it would work without him. He started wearin the Nemes more. Wore it round the house with a collar and a robe and whatnot. Started carryin’ a scepter. All that. The politicians and the media thought it was a hoot. They thought he was just bein funny. Or like it was some freemason thing. He could get a laugh back then. They just thought he was bein’ funny. 

You don’t seem to share the sentiment.

No ma’am. He’d go into these rages. They were kinda like Emmett’s but, I dunno. Different, but the same. Ranting and raving about the english language “defiling” sacred hieroglyphics, navigatin du’at, securin himself a place in the field of reeds. He even made the help carry around palm fronds to fan him with. Even bought that purple Rolls Royce so he could travel around like Cleopatra did. Said it was the color of empire. It was around then. Yeah. He wanted to tear down the western guest house, and rebuild it on the north side of the property, so he could build a temple to Aten on the western side of the property. He and Emmett got into one hell of a fight. They’d gone at it before but not like that. It did somethin’ to Emmett. He locked himself in his room, wouldn’t eat or sleep. Sure as hell couldn’t work. A month turned into two, then six. There’d be a day when it seemed like Emmett was his normal self then, well then he’d fall right back down into his mood. Then, well. 

What happened?

Some doctor said we oughta try lobotomy. You know, to fix Emmetts moods. Get him back to work. Dad jumped at it. With Emmett out of the fields he wasn’t making money half as fast as he used to. Practically dragged him to the doctors himself. Couldn’t get the pick behind his eyes fast enough the bastard. It broke him doc. Broke him ways I didn’t know a man could break. He- 

Take your time.

He wouldn’t touch the table when he ate. Thought it would shock him like the doctors shocked him. He would break down crying and screaming if you asked him any sort of question. Ask him what he wanted for dinner and he wouldn’t know, and that would scare him, and it would scare him so bad he would tear out his own hair. Sometimes he’d just go quiet. Sometimes he’d just wander around the house. Then there were the nurses. 

Nurses?

Yes Ma’am. See, dad got Emmett right back to work. But Emmett uh. Lord. He couldn’t focus. You couldn’t leave him alone for two minutes without him abusin’ himself in front of everyone. Hands down his pants, primin’ the pumps. So dad hired a bunch of fancy whores to follow him around dressed as nurses. If we had good company over, and Emmett started to get the itch, they’d just pull him into the next room like he was havin’ some kinda medical episode. 

I- really?

Hand to God doc. Tell ya the truth its nice to tell someone about it. This psychotherapy shit is pretty nice. God. I remember one day. Drivin out to the basin in dads big stupid purple Rolls. He brought me along just to take notes. I was shotgun with all the papers, dad in the drivers seat in his Nemes, Emmett in the back seat playin’ hell with the whores. We got out, miles and miles from any other living souls. I remember gettin’ to check one of the dericks. Big ol mean dinosaur lookin’ thing, high heat middle of summer. It was dad and I glarin’ up at it. I was trying to actually check the damn pumps, dad was sermonating loud n’ proud about the rays of Aten while one of the whores was tryin’ to suck off Emmett. And its like I didn’t even care. I didn’t care one bit doc. I was just tryin’ to check the sediment. 

I- Well, you’ve done very well for yourself despite everything. 

Nah. Dad was fallin’ apart. I was just there to pick up the pieces. He couldn’t handle what happened to Emmett. Its like someone cut off dad’s own legs. It unhitched him from the world. 

How so?

Well, he got convinced the Jews did it. Somehow, he got it into his head that the Jews were poisoning all the food in texas, and that uh -Jew poison- was makin’ Emmett like that. It was dad’s thought that the lobotomy woulda worked if it weren’t for the international bolsheviks. He would only ever eat food he grew on the family farm. Even turned a bit of the chemistry division of the business into that vitamin company. 

Yes, its in my notes. Vitazon. 

Vitazon! That’s the one! Said every pill had a bit o’gold in it, straight from the rays of Atem. Said it- Oh what the hell was it. Said it only worked if you… There was some funny little jingle he wrote for it. Ah hell. The point was the pills only “worked” if you ate em every meal, and that meant subscribing to the company. A whole month’s supply of Vitazon, that was all you needed to purge the Judeo-Bolshevism from your body. Buncha nonsense. Made good money though. 

I see. Did you and your father ever reconcile before he passed?

Nah. He kicked the bucket before I got my big deal with the Saudis. Good riddance. You know what the last thing he said to me was? He called me while I was on a fishing trip up in big bear. I pick up the phone, and he starts rambling about how he wanted to be mummified. He wanted a full new-kingdom funeral. He said catholics weren’t allowed because they were a “semitic people.” I had him cremated, the bastard. But Emmett technically owns the estate. I think his ashes are kept in the temple of Aten, in one of those funny jars with the animal heads. 

What about Emmett?

You know doc, I don’t really like thinkin’ about Emmett. He’s living at the old house. But he’s got proper doctors to take care of him now. I saw to that. They send me letters every few months. Apparently he’s better than he used to be. Calmer. They say he just shuffles around the house wearin’ dads old Nemes. I think it makes him happy.

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 7

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Word count: 3724

Disclaimer: This is based on the side quest "Geology for Beginners" so the reader is from the future and aware of some things that happen, but not everything. The reader will also have she/her pronouns and this fanfiction follows the story of RDR2. Also English is not my first language so pls forgive me for any grammatical mistakes!

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)

It's a beautiful day. Not a single cloud can be seen in the sky and the sun bathes you in a warm and comfortable light. You have snuck out of camp early this morning to head to your practice shooting spot.

Only this time you're not here with a gun, but with the time traveling device from Francis. The copper sparkles in the sunlight as you fidget with it around in your hand and you replay yesterday's events infront of your inner eye.

So the mission is finished now. Arthur is saved and won't die from tuberculosis. This means you've succeeded and it is time to return to your home, to your time.

But for some reason you can't shake off the feeling that this is horribly wrong. Maybe you have spend too much time amongst the outlaws and have gotten too used to this life. Even though it has been only a couple of months.

As you lean your head back to look up at the clear sky, you try to remind yourself of the life you have back in 1934. The friends and family. All of that seems like a distant dream as if they have never existed in the first place.

Fantastic. You've really outdone yourself this time.

Why can't you simply unscrew the lid and press the button? What's holding you back? A thousand questions rush through your mind, but you can't find an answer for any of them.

Well, it's not answers that pop up in your head, but rather mental images of the gang accompanied with the sounds and smells of the camp. Without realizing it you begin to hum one of the soft tunes Javier often plays on his guitar and if you focus enough you could hear Karen's hearty laughter as if she's right here with you.

"I knew you was a bad shot, but I didn't think you'd actually practice without a gun.", you hear Arthur's voice call out to you as he approaches with his horse. Quickly you store the small device inside your summer coat.

You lift your head to meet his gaze and he rests his hands on his weapon belt while he strolls over to you. His black hat is sitting deep in his face and he goes to rest on the rock beside you.

"Sadie told me that you lost your revolver so uh..."

The outlaw rummages in his satchel before taking out a Schofield Revolver and holding it out to you. Carefully you take it into your own hand and study it with widened eyes. "Are you giving this to me?"

"Yup. I wasn't usin' it and it would be a damn shame to have it just lyin' around. It's a fine gun."

With a wide smile, you lower the revolver and look at him. "Thank you, Arthur. This is very kind of you."

"Ah, it's nothin'", he answers and waves it off with his hand.

As a comfortable silence falls over the two of you, you take the time to inspect the Schofeld a bit closer. It's grip is made out of a smooth, dark wood and the barrel is a standard iron. Maybe it could be nice to visit the gunsmith and request to get some engravings done on it.

Almost immediately you banish the thought. Why get it customized when you will be leaving soon anyways? You should have actually done that before Arthur arrived here. This will only make your departure more difficult.

"Have you decided what to do? Regarding the letter I mean.", you break the silence and he makes a thoughtful noise.

"I ain't sure what to do.", he answers with his blue eyes set on something in the distance. "I don't know if I wanna see her, but then again..."

"You're curious." The words come out more as a statement than a question and he nods.

"I guess so."

Your fingers trace over the outlines of the gun one more time before you securely store it away and turn your head towards Arthur.

"If you don't want to do it alone then I can come with you.", you offer and he scratches his cheek as he contemplates it.

"This ain't your burden to carry.", he says with a sigh and softly shakes his head.

Your hand finds his arm and you fingers give it a light squeeze. "You're my friend, Arthur. It's not a burden. Let me help you."

Before I leave you.

He turns to meet your gaze and runs his hand over his beard before he gives you a slow nod. "Okay. Yes."

A smile forms on your lips and you both stand up from the rock you're sitting on and hop onto his horse's back. None of you talk during the ride, but that's okay.

Arthur seems to be deep in his thoughts and you don't want to disturb him. As you ride along the road and feel the wind in your face and it's grip onto your clothes you can't help, but think more and more that leaving is a bad decision.

Is it really the wrong call or is it my own selfish heart saying that it is?

"How are ya holdin' up?" The sound of Arthur's voice rips you out of your mind palace.

Your eyes fall onto the arms you got wrapped around his torso and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I'm fine. I won't fall off or anything."

He shakes his head. "That's not what I meant. I meant with what happened with the O'Driscolls."

Oh, that. Now that he mentions it, you realize that you haven't given it much thought at all ever since they got you out of there. Too much has happened for you to stop and ask yourself how you're feeling about it all.

"I'm okay, I think.", you answer with a distant voice.

"I know it ain't much, but as you said we're friends. If ya need someone to talk to..." He doesn't finish the sentence, but it's not needed.

"Thank you, Arthur. It means a lot to me."

He grumbles a few words under his breath which you don't quite catch, but you assume it's something along the lines of 'it's nothing'. The usual.

It doesn't take long to get to the house the woman is staying at. Only now do you register that you've never found out her name.

"What's she called again? She never told me." Arthur jumps off his horse and gives you a hand to help you down.

"Mary. Mary Linton."

His eyes scan the house before you and you can tell that he's more than just nervous. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze and shoot him a reassuring smile. "I'll be right here if you need me."

The corner of his lips curls up ever so slightly and he slowly takes off his cowboy hat before approaching the house to knock. You're way out of ear shot and you try not to stare at the scene that's unfolding on the porch too much.

Still you can't help, but shoot a glance here and there towards their direction. The conversation doesn't seem like a heated discussion or argument, but it's obvious that both of them are having a hard time with this.

You distract yourself with Arthur's horse by giving it some pats and talking to it. "I wonder how it's going, hm?"

Then you hear steps approaching and you turn around to face Arthur who appears as if he just came out of a bar fight. No fists were flying during the conversation, but he still looks beaten up.

"So how'd it go?", you ask with raised eyebrows and he goes to check the satchels on his horse.

"I'll go get her brother." His voice sounds reluctant as if he'd rather do something else.

Your fingers brush briefly brush over his shoulder again. "I think you're doing the right thing."

Arthur mumbles a 'maybe' into his beard and then motions with his chin towards the house. As you follow his gaze you notice that Mary is still standing on the porch and she waves once you turn to her direction.

"She asks if you'd like to join her for a coffee while I get Jamie.", he tells you and you nod to yourself.

"Are you okay?" You voice is laced with a layer of concern which he waves off.

"I'm fine. I'll see ya later then."

That sounds way better than to just stand around here, waiting for Arthur to return or walk all the way back to camp by yourself. With a quick goodbye to the outlaw you jog towards the house and shoot Mary a smile. She returns it.

"It's good to see you again.", you say as she leads you inside into the kitchen and you sit down at the square wooden table in the middle.

Her back is turned to you while she prepares the coffee, but you can still imagine the distraught expression on her beautiful face. Either out of worry for her brother or because of Arthur, but it's also possible that it's both.

"I really didn't think he'd actually agree to help.", she breaks the silence and your raise a brow in surprise.

"I don't know. Arthur doesn't strike me as the type to let down a kid, because of personal grudges or such.", you answer and she takes the seat across of you while placing down the cups.

Hot steam is emanating from them and you wrap your hands around your mug, welcoming the warmth. Mary let's out a defeated sigh.

"He was never on good terms with my family. Not Jamie though. The boy did look up to him, but my father on the other hand..." The sentence trails off as if she's recalling an unpleasant memory.

Her eyes are fixed on a spot on the table and you awkwardly cough into your first. Shortly after she snaps out of her daze and let's out a flustered chuckle. "I'm so sorry. I don't mean to bother you with all this."

"No, it's okay.", you quickly chime in. "If you need an ear that listens then I'd be happy to lend you mine."

A grateful smile forms on her lips. "Thank you. You're very kind."

I'm not. I killed two men.

Staying silent, you take a careful sip from the coffee to not burn your tongue. It tastes so much better than the one in camp.

"Can I ask you something?", says Mary and you give her a nod. "Forgive me if I'm crossing any lines, but...are you working for Dutch then? Since you ride with the gang."

A thoughtful hum escapes your throat as you tilt your head to think. Are you working for him? He has never officially send you out for a job, but you have helped the girls and Arthur.

"I don't know. I guess I kinda do?" Your voice comes out unsure and you furrow your eyebrows. "I mainly help around in camp."

"So you're not an outlaw." She nods to herself while she makes the statement. You have no idea if you should agree with that to not.

I'm a thief and murderer.

The words leave an echo in your mind and you quickly try to shake them off. This isn't a path you want to go down just yet. Maybe you will never even attempt to follow it.

Mary buries her face in her hands for a moment before brushing some loose hairstrands out of her face. "I gotta pack my things. Arthur agreed to meet me at the train station after he brings Jamie back."

"Can I help you?", you ask and she shakes her head.

"It's not a lot. I'll be quick." With this she stands up from her chair and excuses herself before hurrying out of the kitchen.

You feel kind of exhausted now. The conversation has left you spiraling and dwell on things you were successfully avoiding before.

But fortunately you don't stay alone with your own thoughts for too long. Mary did right on her word when she said she'd be quick, because a short while later she comes down the stairs with a single bag.

The woman who owns the house agrees to give you two a ride to Valentine and so you make your way to the train station. The entire time you and Mary are absorbed in a conversation about her past.

You're learning a lot about Arthur. Maybe even too much. It feels kind of wrong to find out that much about him while he's absent.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your husband.", you say and a layer of sadness covers her soft features.

"Yes, it's been tough to say the least. I miss him everyday."

The two of you fall silent until you arrive at your destination and thank the woman who drove you. While Mary pays for the train tickets, you take a seat in the far corner of the station and look out of the window.

In the distance you spot a familiar horse with two people on it's back. Immediately you recognize Arthur and you assume that the younger man behind him must be Jamie.

"My boy! My sweet boy!", you hear Mary exclaim in relief after the two enter through the door.

With a delighted laugh she wraps her arms around her brother's neck and quickly inspects him for any injuries or bruises. You decide that it's for the best if you stay behind for this. The three of them share a history after all and you don't want to be the third wheel (as the fourth).

Arthur takes the bag from Mary's hand the small groups makes their way out onto the platform and your eyes follow them through one of the windows. Jamie and Mary jump onto the train and you notice how her hand lingers on Arthur's for a moment when she goes to take the bag from him.

She says some things to him while shaking her head and shortly after the train departs, leaving the outlaw standing there by himself. Seeing this stirs something within you and a voice in the back of your mind tells you, no screams at you to go out to him.

With unsure steps you walk towards the door that leads to the platform and push it open. You don't know if it's a good idea to talk to him now. Maybe he wants a moment to himself, but your legs move on their own.

And so does your hand when it reaches out for his upper arm. His muscles relax slightly under your touch and he puts his hat back on. It's more than obvious that some buried feelings and memories have resurfaced with all that's been going on today.

"How about we have a drink?", you suggest and he takes in a sharp breath through his nose.

"Sure.", is all he responds with, but it's still more than you've expected. At least he agrees to not deal with this completely alone.

Of course you didn't anticipate for him to sit down with you and have a whole therapy session. It's enough for you to let him know that you got his back.

Together you make your way towards the smaller saloon of the two which is close to the church. You assume he doesn't want to visit the big one anymore after all the trouble he has stirred up with beating a man crippled and let's not forget about all the problems him and Lenny have caused that one night.

"Have ya thought 'bout gettin' your own horse?", he speaks up and you give him a puzzled look. "Charles told me how you stole his."

An offended gasp escapes you. "I did no such thing!"

Arthur lifts his hands as he cackles. "Alright maybe he didn't use these exact words, but ya still need one."

He isn't wrong. It has become quite tiring having to prepare a wagon or asking someone to borrow their horse for the smallest of errands. Things would be so much easier if you'd just get your own, but you have no clue how to pick out the right one.

Besides it doesn't matter anymore. You will leave soon anyways. Arthur pushes open the door for you and you nod as thanks as you pass him. That's when you spot Dutch and Strauss sitting together at a round table on the whole other side.

"Ah! Join us!", the leader calls out to you. "I was just talking to Herr Strauss over here."

"I'm just worried, Mr. Van Der Linde.", the Austrian begins and Dutch lifts his hand.

"Don't worry, my friend. I got it all covered."

Strauss' expression makes it clear that he's not quite convinced, but he does not protest. With a nod the old man gets up from his chair and leaves the saloon.

"What was that all about?", asks Arthur and Dutch waves his hand around the air.

"It's nothin'-"

"Mr. Van Der Linde!", someone yells outside and the three of you share strange looks. "You don't know me, but you keep robbing me!"

Arthur and Dutch push their backs against the wall and take a peek through the windows. Your own mind is filled with questions. Robbing him? Could this be...?

"Cornwall.", you mumble with low voice and Dutch locks eyes with you.

"I think you might be right."

No one says anything for a long time until Arthur hisses a curse under his breath and motion towards the window. "They got John and Strauss."

Is this it? Did you save the outlaw just for the two of you to die in this saloon in a town no one has ever heard of? You're so occupied with imagining every possible scenario that ends with your imminent death that you don't even pay attention to what the two men infront of you are talking about.

They slowly make their way towards the exit and as you try to follow them, Arthur pushes his hand forward to stop you. "Stay here. We'll deal with it and then I'll come get you."

The tone in his voice is absolute and he makes it clear that he won't accept any protests from you. He's right and you know it. With your inexperience you'd be more hindrance than help so you nod and keep low.

While the two men head out, you stay behind and press your back against the wall next to the front door. Your heart is beating so loud in your ears that you barely understand a word Dutch is saying out there.

One moment he's talking about a misunderstanding and the next you hear shots being fired followed by agonizing screams. Fear and worry grips you as you fight to stay in place. Everything within you is demanding to step out and help the others.

After what feels like forever Arthur's head peeks through the opened crack of the door and he waves you out of the saloon. Lifeless bodies are scattered across the street and you avoid looking at then.

"We need to leave! Now!", Dutch calls and the moment he finishes, a bullet dashes past your face. Too close for your taste.

Quickly you rush towards the others and take cover behind a pile of wooden boxes. As you look around you note with relief that the others from the gang look fine. No one got shot.

Strauss is cowering behind a wall with his arms over his head while Arthur, Dutch and John have their guns out. You wonder when John got here, but that's something you shouldn't occupy yourself with right now.

Bullets are raining from all sides and you take out the Schofield Arthur has given you. You don't expect having to join the fight, but you still want to be ready just in case.

Suddenly a distressed shriek cuts through the air and you turn your head towards the source. Strauss falls to the ground, holding his leg with both hands and you run towards him to help him up.

A heartbeat later John is by his other side and together you get the Austrian to Arthur and Dutch.

"Get him onto a wagon. You two push him towards the horses and Arthur and I will hold these morons back.", Dutch orders and everyone immediately gets to work.

With all your might you push the wagon Strauss is laying on together with John. It's a struggle to ignore the projectiles flying around your head while putting all your strength into getting yourself and the injured man to safety.

A bullet hits the wagon only inches away from your face and sends splinters flying around. Sharp pain explodes on your cheek and you carefully touch the spot with your fingertips.

As you inspect the bright red liquid on your hand another shot lands close to the first one and you instinctively duck. While muttering a several curses under your breath you spit out some of the blood that has run into your mouth.

"You doin' okay?", you hear Arthur yell over the chaos and you shout back a 'yes'.

I'm doing just fantastic.

Once you arrive at the horses John hoists Strauss onto the back of his while Dutch tells you to jump on his own horse. You don't quite hear what him and Arthur are exchanging, but by the looks of it it's that the outlaw stays behind to keep the men busy while you all ride back to camp.

The thought alone is enough to make your stomach turn upside down, but you know there's not much you can do. As much as you'd like to stay and fight by his side, you're aware that it would make thinks unnecessarily difficult for him.

For a brief moment you lock eyes with him and you hope that the look on your face brings the message across.

Stay safe.

He gives you no indication that he understands what you're trying to communicate. Either way, Dutch is already sitting infront of you in his saddle and signaling his white stallion to start galloping.

You throw one last look over your shoulder before Arthur disappears into the distance and you're left hoping and praying for his safe return.

Taglist: @shackspossum

[iprefervillains]

⭐️ for otters!!

Thanks @intrepidjourneys for giving me the chance to drop my funny background lore on the otter fic 😊🦦

Ok, so I you need you all to know one thing.

This scene:

"He did his best not to stare at the man across from him but the task got infinitely harder when Rooster decided to strip off his clothes to add them to his laundry pile, leaving him bare except for a worn-out pair of midnight green boxers and his dog tags, while his clothes were about to go through a washing and drying circle.

[...]

Well, it was a friendship until they both realized two weeks into their newfound camaraderie that the other one wasn’t as straight as they pretended to be."

becomes 10 times more hilarious after I tell you it was, in fact, Bradley, who fell first and Jake, who fell harder.

Bradley was from the first moment he saw Jake aware of and into him. He didn't stalk him (because that would be creepy), but he definitely leaned into habits he knew would result in running into seeing Jake. For example: hitting the gym at a certain time or frequently taking up Jake's squad mates invitation to join them at the bar. My boy wanted to talk to Jake badly and he did so so much to make it happen, but nothing seemed to work.

He knew Jake was interested in him, too. He just didn't know how to get them talking when Jake chose to run every time they got close.

So the laundry room was both not planned and an absolute Hail Mary. The clothes he was wearing didn't need a wash, but he was desperate and if stripping wouldn't be enough to get them talking then nothing would.

Those two weeks? Yeah, you know how Hänsel dropped bread crumbs in the fairytale?

Bradley wasn’t dropping crumbs. He was dropping whole loafs of bread, hoping Jake would finally catch on.

He complimented Jake's ass, wrapped his arm around Jake's shoulder during a movie night and was so damn obvious about it. Another example:

*Jake going on a long-ass rant about different types of stones*

*Bradley very clearly looking at his lips while giving bedroom eyes* Mhm, I wonder what they taste like.

*Jake a bit stunned about getting interrupted* You know funny thing licking stones is actually an integral part of geology.

So no, it wasn't both realizing the other wasn't straight. It was Bradley, spending two weeks painfully trying to get Jake to notice his less platonic interest in him.

Eventually, he got so fed up with Jake’s oblivious ass that he just straight up asked him if he could kiss him.

[octomae]

okay

so i saw a post about Lemuria Hub and the Deepsea Metro having ties to each other, and i have a conspiracy theory that's been rotting in my brain ever since i saw the Deepsea Metro map in Lemuria Hub

here's all your proof of that:

plus, the eye posters from Kamabo Co. being present in Lemuria Hub as well. it's pretty obvious from these that Lemuria and Kamabo are tied together.

we all know and remember Tartar's goal: bring back humanity. but the name "Lemuria" holds a lot more weight than most casual splatoon players might realize.

because i am a nerd, i looked it up.

From the Wikipedia page:

Lemuria, or Limuria, was a continent proposed in 1864 by zoologist Philip Sclater, theorized to have sunk beneath the Indian Ocean, later appropriated by occultists in supposed accounts of human origins. (...)

The hypothesis was proposed as an explanation for the presence of lemur fossils on Madagascar and the Indian subcontinent but not in continental Africa or the Middle East. Biologist Ernst Haeckel's suggestion in 1870 that Lemuria could be the ancestral home of humans caused the hypothesis to move beyond the scope of geology and zoogeography, ensuring its popularity outside of the framework of the scientific community. (...)

The theory was discredited with the discovery of plate tectonics and continental drift in the 20th century.

this (now disproven) theory ties in pretty neatly with Tartar's goal. "Bring back humanity". the implications of Lemuria Hub being tied to Kamabo Co. very likely means that Tartar's hypothetical new age of humans would have originated from Lemuria. Splatoon 3 seems to like a focus on origins, because we also get the origins of marinekind in its storymode, Alterna and the Return of the Mammalians.

but there's something else that caught my eye too.

SashiMori.

with the release of Lemuria Hub, nintendo brought back the fictional band, SashiMori! which is great and fantastic, but im pretty damn sure that they didn't bring any other bands back from Splatoon 1 or 2 completely unchanged for Splatoon 3. sure, OTH was brought back for multi-player OSTs, but in the form of Damp Socks. (and the idols are a sort of special case anyways.) Squid Squad returned only as Front Roe. Yoko from Ink Theory returned only in Yoko and the Gold Bazookas.

but nintendo didn't change SashiMori's presentation at all. the only thing that did change, and was notably very mentioned, was the fact that SashiMori's DJ Paul was older now. that's it. (nintendo also didn't change Acht. this is an important detail, but ill get to them in a minute).

Paul is pretty interesting when you look at him. there's very little information, but what we do have about him ties in pretty nicely with Kamabo Co., Tartar's association with humanity, and Lemuria Hub. for starters, Paul's DJ mixing for SashiMori is hailed as unique in universe, for incorporating human voices into SashiMori tracks.

From the Splatoon Wiki page on SashiMori:

Paul is the band's DJ, an Octoling. He is 10 years old in Splatoon 2 and 16 years old in Splatoon 3, and his favorite foods are kelp and biscuits. He remixes from sources including DJ Real Sole, DJ Octavio, and various ancient records, and is surprisingly talented for his age. Originally, SashiMori had a traditional vocalist, but they were replaced due to their self-centered personality, after which Paul was recruited through a tweet. According to the Japanese Family vs. Friends dialogue, he is friends with Marina.

(...) This music has vocals but no vocalist! Through the genius of DJ Paul, all the vocals have been sampled from a collection of ancient vinyl.

so, Paul and SashiMori are associated with humanity because they literally use human voices in their tracks.

here's the final nail in coffin to make it all tie together. it's a pretty popular theory that Paul and Acht "Dedf1sh" (who was sanitized by Commander Tartar and composed all the Octo Expansion soundtracks) are blood relatives.

Here's their designs from Splatoon 2 and Splatoon 3:

Acht and Paul have the same symbols on their hats. their ink color even matches (from before Acht was sanitized). Acht has blue tentacles and red tips, Paul has red tentacles and blue tips.

even from the wiki trivia section of SashiMori's page:

In-universe, Paul and Acht are speculated to be blood relatives. They notably have the same symbol appearing on their hats, wear black clothing, with Paul wearing black T-shirts in both album artwork and Acht wearing a black dress, have three tentacles for their hair, and Paul's ink color looks similar to Acht's ink color before they were sanitized.

so what does this have to do with Lemuria Hub?

following nintendo's trend of splatoon artist releases with each season, they bring back an old artist and repurpose them into a new band or presentation. for Sizzle Season 2024, the band they brought back was SashiMori, but completely unchanged. (tangentially related, for the release of Side Order, they brought back Dedf1sh, also completely unchanged.)

the return of SashiMori completely unchanged breaks nintendo's pattern. alongside that, the stage released this time was only Lemuria Hub, and no other stage. (with the exception of Drizzle Season 2024, which released only Marlin Airport,) the trend has been to release two stages per season. this time, it's only one stage.

TLDR:

Kamabo Co.'s goal was to bring back humanity via testing and blending marinekind through the deepsea metro. Acht "Dedf1sh" was the musician of Kamabo Co., and sanitized in the name of this goal. Paul from SashiMori uses human voices in his tracks. Acht and Paul are very likely related. Lemuria Hub has Kamabo Co. posters and its deepsea metro map on display. the name "Lemuria" is associated with the origins of humanity via a (now disproven) theory. SashiMori's new music was released alongside Lemuria Hub.

SashiMori's new songs, with human voices mixed in them, playing over the train station of Lemuria Hub, which was likely an access point of some kind or tied in to Kamabo Co. somehow, is an EXTREMELY POWERFUL AND INTERESTING IMAGE. Lemuria Hub is hearing human voices for the first time via SashiMori's new songs, and it's been taken over for the one thing Tartar hated the most about marinekind: Turf War. (in a twisted way, Lemuria Hub hearing human voices is probably what Tartar wanted, but I doubt it wanted it like this. very ironic, i approve.)

so what does all of this mean? well... we can only speculate at this point. the themes of humanity in Splatoon 3 are matched in quantity only by Salmon Run lore (but, that's a whole other essay post, i won't get into it here). i personally think it means that we're going to see some kind of connection to humanity, OR salmonid development/lore in the next game. and with the FinalFest theme for Splatoon 3 being "Past, Present, or Future", im REALLY excited to see what it could mean. maybe Tartar's alive somehow, or maybe we'll get to look back at the evolution and development of marinekind, or maybe Lil Judd will finally snap since he's taken over Grizzco and the salmonids will have their apocalypse.

(as a final ending note: there's also a TON of association from all of this... with Off The Hook. OTH is associated with nearly everything here; its speculated Pearl was SashiMori's original vocalist before they got Paul, Marina is friends with Paul, OTH helped 8 break out of Kamabo Co., Pearl herself murdered Tartar with her voice; Off The Hook changed the world with Chaos vs Order, and Off The Hook is representing "the present" in the FinalFest. coincidence? maybe. who knows?)

[halomancer]

@rudebisco Went tidepooling yesterday so I am once again subjecting you to my algae photos.

Funnily enough, I initially went here to collect bull/sugar kelp (because I saw a Japanese guy on YouTube cure fish with kombu, and I am easily influenced), but all the good stuff was in areas too rocky/turbulent to safely swim. Thankfully the pools provided plenty of entertainment on their own. I think the water was still too acidic for corallines, which is a damn shame

The growth pattern of reminds me a bit of Desmarestia, but it’s so weird and tiny... What really caught my eye was the stark green body with noticeably duller tendrils. Could be a fruiting/budding thing?

And two(?) gorgeous fruticose species which I don’t know the first thing about IDing, but were growing all over this set of pools

And representing Animalia, we got:

Sea sponge— a classic for a reason. Pictured with ochre sea star

Large dead crab devoured by his brethren

Some marine isopods just zipping around. Absolutely zooming. I’d never noticed the striping and checkering on them before and I find it utterly charming :)

And a landscape photo just because this area has CRAZY geology. Apparently fossils are common, but I didn’t see any yesterday. Going again in a few hours though, so fingers crossed!

[choccy-zefirka]

Woe! Probably terribly lore-inaccurate Rogue Trader rarepair fic be upon ye!

Had to get it out of my system ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Please be aware that I only just started Chapter 2 of Rogue Trader and my previous knowledge of 40K was mostly osmosed from shitposts. I have no idea what I am doing, except that I'm having fun. Please approach me in good faith, and maybe we can have fun together! (Not like that).

Sooner or later, Astra's dreams melt into a blood-red haze of distorted, screaming faces. As usual. She does not remember — it hurts to remember, like that thing at the back of her mind is digging its long serrated claws deep into throbbing, inflamed brain matter — the last time her dreams ended in any other way. On any, even remotely, better note.

She did use to get nightmares before, certainly. But just a scant handful of them. Mostly the twisted imprints of the things she'd occasionally glimpse in the Warp on her geology survey voyages towards new worlds, along half-forgotten Warp routes. And, of course, the echoes of muffled screams, of strangled breaths, of gunfire in her bleeding ears — reminders of what she endured when she was captured by pirates that one time.

Now, just as Drusus' Blessing — her research vessel, her home — is a tiny speck of rust next to the hulking hive-world mass of Theodora's Fatum Audacium, so do the flashes from her other life seem an oasis of blissful serenity, compared to the visions that started haunting Astra when she got saddled with this damned new ship.

To think. All of this happened because of one bloody person. Her mother, she supposes. Though she never was that to her. She was just some nameless noblewoman who'd browbeaten and bribed and bawled her way the Blessing, despite the ship being in no way suited to entertain a highborn guest, let alone one heavy with child.

All she ever did for Astra was push her out — a squirming, malformed little freak — into the embrace of the Void, for the crew to care for (if they deigned not to toss her out the airlock), before hopping off in the nearest spaceport, never to be seen again.

And Astra would have been content for their connection to begin and end right there. She would have gladly kept on living her life with no other mother than the Blessing herself — and her Navigator. The latter was, after all, the one who cradled Astra in her arms and promised to raise her against all odds. Mutant to mutant.

But no. Oh no. The Throne granted her no such luck.

Turns out the mysterious woman was, in some shape or form, a von Valancius. Not Theodora herself, Emperor forbid. But maybe niece of hers. A cousin. Twice, thrice, twelve times removed. Who knows. Who cares.

Either way, the little freak she birthed and abandoned is now a grown freak. A sallow, lanky, hairless thing. With perpetual bruises under her uncannily pale eyes. With oddly shaped ears that have led some people — those unused to creepy crawlies like her, not like her crew was — to gossip that she's part-xenos. And with an inheritance that gives her nightmares.

This time, she dreams of Rykad Minoris.

First, her head pounds and her throat contracts under the onslaught of little horrors. Like memories of the blasted finery that the governor's Master of Ceremonies shoved her into, for her pointless "triumph". Yes, that also counts as nightmare fuel.

The impossibly tall, bullet-shaped powdered wig gripped her forehead like an unrelenting vice... Wouldn't it have been a sight if her skull burst, brain matter raining on the waiting commoners instead of a promised bounty of gifts, and the posthumous rumor about her being a psyker was added to a list of everything else freakish about her.

And the dress, that layered cake of blinding gold and outrageous magenta, had clearly been snatched from the wardrobe of some refined, shapely lady dancing her days and nights away on a sun-kissed garden planet. It hung off Astra's gangly form like off a garden rake. Too broad and flappy where a healthy human, untouched by the poison of the Void, should have had curves; and painfully tight round her soldier's shoulders. The fabric's texture drove her to agony: a myriad mini cannon blasts of formic acid injected into her skin non-stop by an army of invisible, but very angry ants. The underwires, meant to accentuate a statuesque bosom, stabbed her with each attempt to play the benevolent Rogue Trader and wave to the crowd. And every other ill-fitting bit chafed her to a bloody pulp. And worse of all, the rectangular skirt — so unwieldy that she never would have clambered onto her chariot tank without Abelard's help — slowed her down when something rippled over the body of her conquered enemy, and the people, the very people whom she was supposed to protect, began to scream.

After the little horrors, comes the planet's fall. The collapse of the entire system. She barely finishes mindlessly writhing and clawing at herself in her sleep, trying to pull down the biting fabric that is not there anymore, when an overwhelming inky wave rolls over the skies in her memories. The darkness, once again, envelops everything: deep, cold, blank and lifeless, so unlike the familiar glimmering calm of her beloved outer space.

She dreams of the collapsing sun, and the swirls of dizzying purple, clinging like pus-filled sores to the streets of the city that had barely begun to heal.

She dreams of wailing smoky shades phasing in and out of reality, the boundaries of Realspace becoming as blotchy as broken pixels on a possessed cogitator's screen.

She dreams of cultists, springing up again and again like black mold, no matter how much she scrubbed the planet clean. Of their sightless faces, all turned towards her, leering. Of hollow cheeks, burrowed by lumpy trails of crusted black tar: the last remnants of their liquefied eyes... Like a perversion of the weeping saint statues.

She dreams of Chaos Spawn, sickening blocks of misshapen mass lumbering about, hungry eyes blinking from crudely hewn shoulders, multiple mouths opening and shutting across swollen stomachs, on top of bulbous neck stumps, in the palms of grasping hands. Snatching, ripping, chewing, gargling on thick jets of crimson that dripped down on the flopping, heaving, still living torsos whose arms and legs they were gnawing down to the bone.

She dreams of them, on, and on, and on. By the Throne, there were so many of those things. Far more than she had ever seen in one place. She relives the sight of them cleaving glistening, squelching paths through the swaying wheat field of terrified townsfolk... She walked across a wheat field once, on a faraway world where her ship stopped for supplies; the crowd parted exactly as the plant stalks did in her wake. Fragile, brittle, so easy to mangle and spit out in bloodied flour.

She should have paid them more heed. She may be rubbing shoulders with the high and mighty now — awkward shoulders, unfit for finery — but she remembers what it was like, to be small and forgotten. And to find company among those as small and forgotten as herself. The Blessing's Navigator. And the simple, common voidsmen. Kin not through blood, but through one simple act. They found the best blanket to wrap around the tiny, wrinkly greyish-white void rat, because she always felt so cold... And since the moment she could form a coherent thought, the rat resolved to return their kindness. She stayed true to her resolve all the way, as she clung to life with all her might, and dug and dug her way up the ranks — so much easier to do on a ship where the upper and lower decks are not each the size of several cities — and eventually became the Blessing's captain.

As Rogue Trader, she has the power to spread that kindness — blasphemy? heresy? so be it — even further. To all common folk. Everywhere. Tenfold.

She should have done that. She should have kept them safe.

"The answer remains the same! You cannot talk to the Lord Captain! She has not yet recovered, and you will not expedite that by barging in here! Good day!"

Astra blinks off the last of her nightmare's poison fog, and lies perfectly still — eerily still, the planet folk say of her fellow Voidborn — holding her breath as she watches her surroundings take solid shape. She is back in Theodora's immense landing pad of a bed — her bed now, she supposes, but it will never be more "hers" than the good old bunk in her previous quarters, where her few belongings were allotted perfectly in their own proper places, and the scent of fresh linen was the only luxury that truly mattered.

She lifts her bleary gaze past the endless expanse of the plush red blanket. The color and the crinkled terrain make her wistfully remember a planet she'd explored shortly before Theodora tracked her down, marking it as a potential sandstone quarry world for the Imperium... Oh, how she misses researching interesting rocks.

There's a figure standing a respectful distance away from Astra's bed, back turned towards her, still observing the shuffling retreat of whoever just got admonished for disturbing the Lord Captain. Even the vague outline of that rigidly straight spine, those strong shoulders — just a bit broader than hers, and far less sharp and angular — is enough to have her exhaling in relief. She may not always see eye to eye with her Seneschal about the things he has been stubbornly shielding her from — no, she will go down to the lower decks to hear out the protesting workers, protocol be damned! — but right now, she breathes easier, knowing that there's an unflinching sentinel on the threshold between her nightmares and the waking world.

"Abelard," she calls out faintly.

He instantly turns around, with the precision of a soldier snapping to attention.

"Your Ladyship!"

There's an odd, hoarse leap in his voice. An intonation Astra never heard from him; she wonders what color Cassia would ascribe to it. For her own part, she pictures it as a thread-thin crack running across an otherwise perfectly hewn block of granite.

His face, too, looks as if a gust of wind erosion had swept across his usual mask of polite professionalism. The shadows underneath his organic eye are nearly as deep as Astra's perpetual purple bruises, and the trim of his beard has started to lose its pristine contours to a creeping stubble. For however long Astra has slept, he must have been awake the entire time.

"You were wounded."

He has forced his voice into its usual tone, but his nostrils flare slightly.

"And you did not tell me. You had me use the last medikit on Mistress Tlass."

Instinctively, Astra slides her hand under the covers, searching for the gash in her side. The nasty, tattered souvenir from a Chaos Spawn claw that she had to covertly press closed for about half the final battle against Aurora's cult. Her endless dream did include some clipped, jittery visions of her own bloody palm, of her quivering fingers... But somehow, she barely remembers the pain. Adrenaline, a true blessing from the Emperor.

Now, her fingertips meet only a thin strip of scar tissue. Abelard must have taken care of it after she... after she... What was the last thing that happened to her between Rykad and here? There was the fight, the rush to the spaceport... The roaring flames, the whimpering, cowardly nobles. More and more enemies blocking their way. Idira being tossed to the ground and nearly trampled by that towering Chaos Marine —

"She needed your aid more," Astra says, with the kind of quiet firmness that Abelard once called a sign of her "admirable resolve". The mere memory makes blood rush up her throat, blooming in a blueish cloud under her mother-of-pearl skin.

"I could not in good conscience let people fuss over me when we had so much to do. The cult, the evacuation, everyone screaming in my ear whose lives have more value... And the moment we made contact with Fatum, Pasqal rushed me off to do the blood ritual for calming our warp engine. Where would I find the time to — "

Oh.

Oh! That must have been when she lost consciousness. Being drained of her oh-so-sacred von Valancius blood by a cybergargoyle must have proven too much on top of concealing a wound. She certainly cannot recollect anything else afterwards.

Abelard takes a broad stride forward. Something glints in his organic eye — like light reflecting off liquid.

To Astra's astonishment — and more so his own, she is sure; this is the opposite of prim officer conduct — he lowers himself to his knees by her bedside and grasps her hand over the covers.

"I found you on the floor of the bridge, Your Ladyship," he says. And with each word, the crack carves deeper and deeper into the granite.

"Motionless. Unresponsive. With Master Haneumann just... standing there. Philosophizing about how the flesh is weak."

Astra raises her silvery eyebrows the merest fraction of an inch.

It has taken a bit of practice to memorize which planet folk expressions correspond to which emotion and situation, but quietly moving her eyebrows seems appropriate here.

"That does sound like him. I hope you were not too harsh. I don’t think he understands how organic bodies work."

Sometimes she feels she and Pasqal have that in common.

Abelard shakes his head.

"Frankly, I... I do not remember what I said to him in that moment. It was as though... That entire swathe of time is distant. Submerged. Every movement as I carried you from the bridge felt like drowning in swamp water."

Astra swallows.

Another memory stirs her blood, blush seeping through her cheeks like a bruise. Her clumsy ascent for the triumph in her cumbersome dress. And Abelard's hand, firm and supportive, on the small of her back.

"You... carried me? In your arms?"

A charge of electricity seems to run through Abelard. The impeccably competent, respectful Seneschal once more, he tries to pull his hand away — but Astra, on an inexplicable impulse, grips his fingers and leans over, her heart hammering in her chest. She did not even have to go through her mental data slate of fitting gestures!

Her gaze leaps up and down Abelard's face. It makes her uneasy, looking people directly in the eye for too long, so eventually, she focuses on the frame of his ocular implant. Even so, she catches a glimpse of his pupil widening.

"Abelard — when you found me... Did you feel frightened for the dynasty's future... because you were about to lose another Rogue Trader... Maybe the last von Valancius in the universe... Or did you worry for — "

She cuts herself off, realizing how ludicrous she sounds. This is not her world. Not the world of orderly, comforting solitary journeys on a hunt for rocks, with a tight-knit crew that rallied under a Voidborn because she was... herself, not because of her special blood. In this world, she will never matter. Hers is to carry the von Valancius name, to lord it over those who would have spat on her just a Terran year ago. And his is to serve that name — the name, and nothing else.

"Astra," he whispers suddenly. In his voice, she can hear the granite shatter, revealing something new, something fragile and precious, something she would be afraid to touch with even the finest geologist tools.

Deeply, reverently, as a pilgrim in prayer, he kisses her hand. In all its clammy, cold, long-fingered awkwardness.

Her heart races, as though she were plummeting down in a broken elevator — and before her rational thoughts can catch up to speed, she gets out of bed, almost getting tangled comically in those ostentatious embroidered sheets, and kneels on the floor beside him, their heads level, their lips inches from touching.

"I never hid the fact that I am out of my depth here."

She sighs, resting her hand on his shoulder. Just the way he laid his hand on hers as he healed her, during their very first meeting. That gesture holds a special place in her mental data slate.

"But not matter how hard this new world tried to pulverize me," she continues, "I could always look back... and find you there. And that would give me the strength to try pushing another inch forward. With time, you became not just a Seneschal to me, but a friend... And then — "

She bridges those inches at last, brushing her mouth against his. He does not flinch back from her. And when she smiles hesitantly at the tickle of his stubble — less of a stabbing sensation than she feared — he smiles as well.

"I am honored," he says, as he takes her hand in his again. "If you recall... That moment when we were returning from the lower decks, I was challenging your decisions, you were retorting back..."

He runs his thumb in circles over her palm, as if charting his own thoughts.

"I looked up at you, and it was as if for a moment, I understood the way Mistress Orsellio sees the world. If I may say something foolish — your colors shined so bright, I could scarcely breathe."

He clears his throat and casts his gaze away for a moment. "It... seemed prudent to me, as an older man, as one sworn to your dynasty's service — to... to conceal my feelings, but after today, there can hardly be any turning back."

"No," she agrees, breathing the word out through half-parted lips. "Abelard, I — "

This might not be the right way to do it, but she has always had a habit of plainly saying what's on her mind. And who better to be so frank with than her seneschal?

"I would like you to kiss me."

"It would be an honor, Lord Captain."

Just like when he performs any other task for the glory of House von Valancius, Abelard gives the kiss his all.

His tongue meets Astra's, again and again, determined to drink every last drop of her. He tilts his face so that his ocular implant does not cut into her cheek, and takes great care not to disturb the tubes that keep sustaining her weakened Voidborn immune system with medicae. His other eye slips closed, under an intently furrowed brow. It is almost a pity to tear her lips from his, but the next thing Astra does is to put a bit of gentle pressure on his chest; and heeding her command, loyal as ever, he lies down underneath her. On the floor, not the bed. But then again, the bed was never truly hers.

His overcoat pools over the floor, providing them with a makeshift blanket, and her fingers, used to high-precision tasks like cutting open a geode, easily undo the buckles on his chest plate's straps. She manages to do it one-handed, even, while her free hand weaves through his hair, and her mouth travels down his throat. He grunts a most unbecoming curse under his breath, his pelvis thrusting upwards a little bit...

The vox caster at his hip crackles.

"Seneschal! I hate to ask this again, but we really need the Lord Captain at the bridge! There are some disturbing signals coming from this system! This might be a hostile force approaching!"

Both Abelard and Astra freeze, her on top of him, her thighs wrapped around his leg, a particularly voracious kiss mark darkening his throat.

She huffs a few breaths, trying to sober herself up.

"I just woke up, Vigdis! Will be there in ten minutes!"

"Thank the Throne! Please hurry, Lord Captain!"

"I will handle this, Abelard, and then I will send for you. Through the Master of Ablutions," Astra says while they pull each other to their feet.

Abelard quirks an eyebrow. Yes, she knows this facial expression.

"Ah, like you did when you could not sleep, summoning me to lecture you on etiquette."

"I could not help it," Astra declares, frank as ever. "You have a very beautiful voice, and I find it soothing to hear you talk."

Abelard smoothes back his hair. Two spots of tenderest pink brush over his cheekbones.

"Thank you, Your Ladyship... Astra."

"I will see you soon," she says — purrs? Emperor knows she's never purred before — before planting one last swift, parting kiss at the corner of his mouth and hurrying off to the bridge.

"I will be there," he calls after her, absentmindedly massaging the kiss mark.

"Always".

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Why So Serious? This is a Dinosaur Blog?

So we live in a world that has built its entire mythology off of hierarchies. The idea that the rich are better than the poor. The whites better than people of color. Men better than women. Able-bodied and able-minded better than the disabled and neurodivergent. Straight, cis folk better than queers. christians better than any other people of any other religion. That's the society we in "western" places live in. Another fundamental component of that is that humans are better, more important, more "evolved" or "chosen" than any other living thing.

and that is just as false as all the rest of them.

you can't dismantle it without dismantling the others first, of course. since humano-supremacy is the one the rest is built off of, you won't properly unlearn it unless you unlearn white supremacy first. that's why we see countless vegans being real racist pieces of shit all the time.

but you do have to unlearn anthropocentrism, too. you do. because the biosphere is all fundamentally equal. we are one part of nature, of the ecosystem, connected to all the rest. we are partners in the evolution of life. understanding that is necessary: to combat climate change, to fight against ecofascism, to ensure the survival of our species and the world. we are not uniquely evil or uniquely good. we're just some naked apes that made a bunch of mistakes, but we can fix them, too.

I live with five parrots. every day they remind me that the idea humans are "more evolved" is ridiculous. they understand things I would never expect. and they remind me that they're dinosaurs every damn day. and that's just another type of tetrapod, something so close to us its easy to empathize with them. Now apply it to fungi. It gets harder, right?

But that's why we have to keep working.

And that's why we have to see the history of life not just as an interesting story, but the story of us. The history of all of us. and it explains so much! The quirks of geology lead to the geography of slavery in the united states. Humans wouldn't have even evolved if a rock hadn't randomly hit the planet at the right time. We have hiccups because we descend from fish. The list goes on.

We need to produce a human population that thinks ecologically and evolutionarily, so that we can tackle the real problems and move forward.

And that's why I'm so gd-damned serious about dinosaurs. Because dinosaurs, in that western mythos, are the "lumbering, dumb lizards" that went extinct because they sucked, so the cool mammals could come in and run the show - and we, the coolest mammals of all, took our rightful place as the leaders.

But that's not what happened.

Dinosaurs were well adapted for their environments, intelligent and active animals - and were thriving right until the end-Cretaceous. Nonavian ones only went extinct because of a giant space rock. And dinosaurs are STILL WITH US - as birds - and doing better than ever. There are more species of dinosaur alive today than there are mammals. and humans just kind of, happened, thanks to some lucky accidents. we are as much a product of random chance as the extinction of nonavian dinosaurs was.

All of our anthropocentric myths are just that - myths. frankly, how can we call ourselves "more evolved", when we're destroying the planet - gleefully and rapidly? We have to unlearn this myth.

And, in between crying about my thesis, I will do everything I can to help people unlearn that myth and see the true beauty that is the history of life.

so, yeah. come learn with me. it's the only way to liberate us all.

[tiktaalic]

i read the goldfinch in the autumn but only with the help of your posts is it finally Getting To Me. This is kind of a lie because the first thing i did upon finishing the book is plan a trip to amsterdam. but like damn…conversational russian

Every page of the goldfinch is a work of art. To me. Every page I put my head in my hands and go oh my fucking god. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know!!!!!!! ESPECIALLY when he’s an adult. It’s crazy how he’ll say some deeply emotional things no problem because he assigns no real significance to them when they are Crazy Bonkers Significant. This is mostly about conversational Russian. Because that is. An insane thing to say to someone as a casual aside. And to consider a casual aside. I read books in your voice haha isn’t that a funny thing. Quote from guy who is too embarrassed to say I love you. Girl that’s WORSE. And of course he’s always really blithely like yeah I’ve got everything under control I know my problems and I’ve solved them with my solution. <- has just put himself in a different equally as bad mess. And he’s always doing this. He can’t go fifty pages without doing this. He’s like if someone got a phd in geology and wrote several groundbreaking papers. But was a flat earth truther. In terms of his. Self awareness. He is so STUPID. and I would have read 1400 pages if that is what Donna had the grace to give me.

[spacenintendogs]

OUGH OKAY uhm!!! @rowanthefierce

all of the gang works for valka's dragon sanctuary!! valka in my au is more like valhallarama from the books in that she's moreso absent for long periods of time & when she's there she's relatively detached but!! hiccup takes over the sanctuary (at like. age 15 but shhhh. valka & stoick still pay for everything but hiccup runs it rlly)

so from like, 15 to 17 the gang are learning abt dragons & begin education programs to help ppl understand dragons better!!! the dragon academy does become a thing!!!! after they graduate high school tho (yes this is all while they're juggling high school!!!) they all start kinda going separate ways (and obv eventually come back together full time but!!! it's uncertain for a while!!)

more under the cut bc this is gonna be LONG!!

hiccup, astrid, fishlegs, & the twins get into the same university.

snotlout doesn't, he gets denied (it's a whole Thing™️ for the gang)

however they all pursue different things

hiccup, as like, predictable as this is, pursues engineering & tries to get as many certifications as possible. he's doing AS MUCH as he can, as hands on as he can. he wants to learn to be able to help make the world a better place for toothless (and all dragons!!) once he graduates he's back at the santuary full time & helps design new parts as they expand & get bigger! also new stuff for dragon care & just!! yeah!!!

in his free time, hiccup has a motorcycle he rebuilt from the ground up, loves zipping around town, he also draws, & ofc spending as much time with toothless as he can (maybe sneaking toothless out of the sanctuary.... a lot)

fishlegs goes into environmental science with minors in plant pathology & geology!!! this also ties back into dragons & their care through their environments best suited for them as well as dealing with climate change & stuff!!!! he applies what he learns to the berk sanctuary!!! he also goes back to the academy but he also works at the berk public library part time!!

fishlegs also collects so so much music, so many records, tapes, cds, 8tracks, u name it!!! he also has a rock collection ofc!!! he also spends as much time with meatlug as possible (maybe sneaks her out)!! he also gardens!! & does yoga on saturdays with astrid!!!!

astrid gets a double major of kinesiology & nutrition!!! this is more human oriented obv HOWEVER she's constantly trying to remind everyone around her to take better care of themselves for the love of everything!!! although she still is able to apply what she learns to dragon training!! u can not move the ways dragons do but motor skills are still important as well as eating right!!!! either way, dragons gotta learn this stuff to but in their own way!! she graduates & goes back to the sanctuary & helps with that!!

astrid does axe throwing in my modern au. she goes & practices often to blow off steam. also a track & field person FOR SURE!! like, discus throwing, hammer throwing, the godt damn works!! she's a weight lifter too!! i need astrid to be buff so bad!!! also yoga with fishlegs on saturdays!! she wouldn't call it "sneaking" but she does like to take stormfly out & about :)

ruffnut is pre-med and does go into veterinary school. she stays in school the longest out of the gang which shocks EVERYONE but it's what sounded interesting & it gave her a challenge. plus working at the sanctuary, u end up caring for a lot of sick & injured dragons. fishlegs helps her BUT she becomes The Medical Expert™️ & even uses the sanctuary for her dissertation & specializes in dragon veterinary medicine!!!

as for hobbies, ruff is still a chaotic being who loves destruction & explosions. she & tuff do mythbuster type shit!! she also is very much into theater!! she sometimes participates in local theater & did a performance or two in college!! i also think she longboards!! loves sneaking barf and belch out of the sanctuary!!

tuffnut gets his degree in theatre with a minor in chemistry!! the minor was more of an accident. he took the classes bc he thought they were interesting & ended up getting enough credit for the minor!! after he graduates he works at a few local theaters part time to help with either cast or crew (he acts but also sometimes he will do costuming, stage production, etc!!) but he also goes back to the sanctuary after he graduates!!

tuff's hobbies overlap with ruff's in that they do mythbuster type shit LOL!! but also he's in a little sewing club with snotlout!! he also longboards with ruff!! AND ofc, he raises chickens on the side :) loooves getting barf and belch out of the sanctuary.

snotlout. snotlout, snotlout, snotlout. this boy's got it kinda rough. he gets denied from the university everyone else goes to & it hits him hard, so he keeps working at the sanctuary full time while going to community college & trying out classes that interest him, but he feels lost. he finds himself doing a lot of music oriented classes & just gets a two year degree in music. later he'll go on to be a high school band & choir director of all things but that's down the line :) before then while working at the sanctuary he works part time at a local biker bar (once he's old enough)

snotlout's hobbies are a bit of a mish mash. he plays guitar, has a harley davidson motorcycle (goes riding with hiccup!!), is in the sewing club with tuff (has an etsy store on the side shhh), & loves sneaking hookfang out of the sanctuary!! also loves american football & sometimes does hammer throwing with astrid.

do they all have one big mutual thing they all share & do besides sneaking their dragons out of the sanctuary? yes. yes they do. they have a long running dungeons & dragons game & they also love multiplayer video games in ANY capacity. any way to be competitive!!!!!!! minecraft, smash brothers, mariokart, marioparty, runescape, call of duty, halo, ANYTHING they can get their hands on, old and new.

[sweetlummie]

So Tired

Joel Miller x fem!reader

A/n: Hello everyone! I’m back with a vent piece. College has been kicking my ass as of late so yeah- Also not proofread so any and all mistakes are mine! Btw this story was made with both game and show Joel in mind! As always constructive criticism is welcome! Enjoy! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 🫶🫶💗💗

Warnings: slight mentions of not eating properly and self-neglect

W/c: 767

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

You were stressed and overwhelmed. On your last legs really. This week had been so hard on you, school, work, and your family stressed you to no end. All your free time away from college or work was spent on assignments. You didn’t even have time to be with your boyfriend anymore. Your sweet caring boyfriend with his southern charm and his readiness to help. Oh how you loved him. But recently you had begun an 8 week course in Geology and holy fuck was it killing you and it was barely the second week. You were at your wits end, you began losing yourself in all you had to worry about. You began withdrawing. You stopped being on socials, you hardly left your room, you barely ate. You had been doing your chapter 1 assignments and did a test which you bombed badly. You felt your eyes tear up as you shut your laptop in frustration. You felt so worthless and stupid. There was no way you didn’t understand a singular thing you read from the textbook. In your frustration you didn’t hear your home door open, revealing your most favorite person in the world.

“Hey darlin’.” He spoke softly, witnessing your mental breakdown. He quickly closed the door and wrapped his arms around you. “Hey baby, what’s wrong? Been textin’ ‘n callin’ ya for the past hour.. had me worried.” He drawled as you sniffled in his arms. “Sorry.. had my phone on ‘do not disturb’ to do my assignments…” you blubbered out as you continued to sob in his chest. “Thas okay.. glad you’re okay.. but what’s wrong princess? Why’s my baby cryin’?” He asked with concern as he moved his big hand to pet your head of wild hair. “Just.. stupid college.. stupid work.. stupid everything.” You grumbled which made Joel chuckle. “Poor baby. C’mon let’s go.” He said as he gently tugged you to your feet. “Where we goin’?” You asked him as you hiccuped. By now you had finished crying, the tears on your cheeks dry. “Goin’ to my place for a bit. You could use a break.” He smiled and you nodded as you followed behind him, grabbing your home keys to lock the door behind y’all as y’all left.

Once at Joel’s you plop down on his couch with a heavy sigh. He takes a seat beside your sprawled out limbs. “That bad huh?” He jokes which makes you scoff instead of laugh. “Yes!” You huff out. “It’s so stupid. I’m literally being torn apart in school and work and with my family it’s just impossible to breathe properly.. it’s so frustrating because I’m not so sure I even wanna finish college anymore.. and I can’t even tell my parents because I don’t wanna be a disappointment..” you began venting to your boyfriend. He simply nodded his head and remained silent, ever the good listener. When you finish spilling your guts to him he pulls you in his beefy arms. “There there princess. I can’t say much about this or say I feel the same but one thing I know for sure is that I’m proud of you. You work so hard and bust your ass, it’s very respectable. You could never be a disappointment and if they think so then fuck ‘em!” He exclaimed which made you chuckle. “And listen if you don’t wanna continue college and wanna break then that’s fine. I bet your noggin would really ‘ppreciate the break. I’ll support you in whatever you do mama.” Joel concludes as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. His words hit your heart so damn hard it made you cry. For so long you felt misunderstood and felt like a failure for having these emotions but Joel didn’t think so. Joel understood you and didn’t think less of you for it and for that you were so thankful this gem of a man was all yours. With a shaky sigh you looked up at him with watery eyes. “I love you.” Was all you could say as you pressed your lips into his soft ones.

For the rest of the evening you stayed in and watched movies. He even ordered pizzas for you both to enjoy. You really needed this moment, really needed this break, really needed him. You knew whatever life threw your way you’d be able to withstand it because you had someone as supportive as Joel by your side. You still were stressed with everything happening around you but it all felt more tolerable and doable with Joel’s arms around you.

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

[kira-lindocruz]

Crackship - Zephcora

Based on Stamp created by one of my followers, @MoonlightTheGriffon

Zephyr met Zecora through his sister, Fluttershy, and there was no "instant connection" or love at first sight. They were just mutuals for a while, with Zephyr starting to enjoy Zecora's company more and more, because she was not judging him and instead, provided him with meaningful advice on his struggles. Zephyr also was fascinated by her mane, which had different properties than horse mane. Zecora was happy to share more about zebras and her culture as Zephyr turned out to be very patient, active and very interested listener. Their bond grew day by day, despite some age gap. Zephyr even visited Zecora's homeland with her many times, slowly becoming in love with her culture and her as well. They became a couple and a family. They are not married, but their relationship is stable, loving, happy, healthy and strong. Together, they have 3 children, all of them are half zebras of course, with names chosen by their mother:

1. Sefu ("sword" in Swahili)

Sefu, the oldest child and firstborn son, is exactly what you would expect from the oldest sibling: he is caring to his younger siblings, he protects them and teaches them. But he has one major conflict with his father: army. Zephyr Breeze, despite serving in army, is not fan of army, he is a pacifist. But Sefu wants nothing more than to join army, to serve his country and be a soldier. At first, Zephyr tried to stear his son to other hobbies, but as Sefu grew older, he was only more and more certain that he wants to be a soldier. Sefu and Zephyr nowadays often get into fights, which is farcry from once a very strong father-son relationship. Zecora tries to interviene, but both Zephyr and Sefu don't want to admin they have partial blame on this divide - Zephyr for shooting down Sefu's dream and Sefu for digging his hooves in despite not having any plan what exactly he would do as a soldier.

2. Thabo ("happiness" in Sotho/Tswana)

Thabo is, as his fitly chosen name implies, very happy-go-lucky. Thabo is very clumsy, sometimes he feels the wings being too big for him. He laughs at his clumsines, always taking it like a champ. He is complete momma's boy and loves spending time with his mother creating healing potions for others and is very talented botanist. Thabo really wants to make his older brother proud, so he started parroting his "I wanna be a soldier" spiel pretty quickly and is actually willing to go through with it, but only for his brother. Thabo doesn't like when his father uses him as example of what Sefu did wrong, but he knows damn well he would make a terrible, miserable and sad soldier. But he still wants to make his brother proud. Thabo has problems with making new friends, because his dark stripes often scare ponies off, but if you give him a chance, he'll make sure to make you smile every single day.

3. Tendai ("be thankful" in Shona)

Tendai is the youngest child and only daughter. She is shy, observant and is often babied by her brothers, which doesn't help with her shyness at all. Tendai is quite close with her dad and is very proud to have zebra heritage from her momma. Tendai often suprises everyone, because despite her shyness, she is clever, thinking outside of the box and can find suprising ways to overcome problems. She is very studious would like to study more about nature, but not really sure what exactly at the moment, as she is good in many fields relating to nature such as botany, chemistry and geology thanks to her mother's influence. Tendai loves when her dad styles her mane, she loves dancing with him and gets along with him very well. She is also able to talk him down from being angry at her brothers, often playing a mediator, as she loves her whole family and wants them to get along even if their ideas on some things are not always allied.

[mineralsrocksandfossiltalks]

Hey guys!

So, I know, I haven't posted anything in days. I got a miserable cold and I have a choral concert this week so I am trying conserve energy to focus on getting better before performance time.

Any who, this is me letting you know I am still alive and that I have missed posting but never fear! As soon as this damn cold is gone I will return. I am starting a new job next week at the Natural History Museum of Utah which should be an absolute blast but it might also slow the posting down.

You guys have been totally amazing though and I love coming on here and seeing you guys share my blog. You rock! (Yeah, pun totally intended. I'm a geologist. It's part of the gig.)

On that note, I have been putting together actual lessons for various geology/paleontology classes. These would be undergraduate college level without having to pay the absolutely disgusting prices. I would do it probably over discord(?). I just want to see what the interest would be if such a thing were offered.

Here's a picture of my colleagues and I finding a really weird rock structure in a cliffside.