#so it's like. my level is TEN TIMES THE HIGHER END OF THAT RANGE

[itsboysauce]

the elation of getting hormone level test results back, and seeing that they’re in the (higher end of!) the normal male range...absolute euphoria

[anghraine]

Ok, I've been thinking about this question a lot and there's not enough evidence in P&P to fully support any answer, but I wanted to hear yours: What is the Gardiners' economic status/How rich are the Gardiners?

Obviously, Mr. Gardiner is a tradesman, but I'm desperately curious to know the extent of his wealth. Does he have a similar income to Mr. Bennet but is just more frugal? Would he have been able to take in his niece(s)/sister when Mr. Bennet died? Does he have Bingley-level tradesman wealth without the massive lump sum Bingley inherited from his father? Darcy assumes that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are gentry - but like, Bennet gentry or Woodhouse gentry or Lucas gentry. JANE SKIMPED ON THE GARDINER INFORMATION AND NOW WE'LL NEVER KNOW. So what are your headcanons surrounding the Gardiners' wealth?

Really, the most important Gardiner headcanon that the Gardiner children are immediately charmed by Darcy and think he's like ~the coolest~

thanks queen <3

Six months later: hi!

My opinion is that the Gardiners are very well-off in terms of the usual incomes of the gentry. It's difficult to pin down an exact income range because I'm not a historian or economist, but the literary evidence is pretty suggestive IMO.

For one, Mr Bennet has no trouble believing that Mr Gardiner could have shelled out ten thousand pounds for Lydia; the problem is the struggle of repaying him, as Mr Bennet would feel morally obligated to do. The impression I get is that this would be a lot of money for Mr Gardiner to come up with, but everyone accepts that he could quickly do it, where Mr Bennet could not. And Mrs Gardiner does insist that Mr Gardiner would have paid the money if Darcy had let him, which again suggests that it was reasonably doable for him.

When Elizabeth and Jane first pass the news to Mrs Bennet and try to express the debt of gratitude they all owe Mr Gardiner, Mrs Bennet's response is a bitter remark about how if her brother had not married and had children of his own, "I and my children must have had all his money, you know; and it is the first time we have ever had anything from him except a few presents."

Aside from what this reveals about her character (especially given the remarkable understatement of "a few presents" given everything they've done for Jane and Elizabeth), I think "all his money" suggests an awareness that there would have been quite a bit to inherit if Mr Gardiner hadn't had the temerity to, uh, have children.

The summer tourism journey also doesn't seem to represent a severe expense for the Gardiners, though it would be outside the realm of possibility for some. They're not super frugal, but they're also not going to pull a Sir William Lucas and abandon the source of their income, or take an estate or something to distance themselves from trade, and end up unable to provide security for their children or any significant luxuries for their loved ones and themselves. So the Gardiners do make practical decisions like living near Mr Gardiner's warehouses and continuing his business in town.

Darcy (in Elizabeth's opinion) mistakes the Gardiners for "people of fashion" rather than gentry per se. This is interesting because Darcy originally considered the entire Meryton neighborhood, including the local gentry, as people noticeably not of fashion. This concept of people of fashion is typically more about fashionable high society than trade vs gentry IMO.

For instance, Mr Hurst is described as "a man of more fashion than fortune"—i.e. someone with high society credentials from his family, but not a lot of money, though he has enough to maintain a house in Grosvenor Street. (I think the implication is that the Hursts considered their status and Louisa Bingley's 20,000 l. from trade a fair exchange.) So likely, Darcy is not confusing the Gardiners for minor rural gentry, but even higher-status people if Elizabeth is analyzing his reaction correctly, based on their appearance, apparel, demeanor, etc.

This is definitely a time when wealthy people in trade could pass for people of fashion, but I think it would ordinarily take some doing, and though the Gardiners are stylish and relatively young, they aren't trying hard in the way that the Bingleys are. Yet Darcy, who went on a whole tangent about trade cooties during his proposal, can't even identify the Gardiners as people in trade upon meeting them—that's important.

(It's also significant, of course, that he's surprised to discover their exact connection aka that they're Mrs Bennet's relatives, which is honestly pretty fair. In any case, he evaluates Mr and Mrs Gardiner on their own considerable merits by this point.)

So again, I get the sense that the Gardiners are quite well-off people who spend their money on nice enough things that they can be mistaken for a completely different class than their own, but are not specifically aiming for that or super extravagant, either. Their habits seem rather similar to Darcy's, actually—I don't think they're anywhere near as wealthy, but they're wealthy enough that they can approach major expenditures fairly casually, as he does. But unlike Darcy, it will always be contingent on Mr Gardiner's business success and they have to plan around his work and the possibility of sudden changes in terms of his work.

I personally think that Mr Gardiner would undoubtedly have been able to take care of his sister and nieces in the worst case scenario. Six women used to a high standard of living (we know Mrs Bennet is extravagant; it's only Mr Bennet's frugality that keeps the Bennets out of debt as it is) would probably be a strain, but I don't think beyond the income level indicated, even accounting for the needs of his immediate family.

When Mrs Bennet is dramatizing herself during the Lydia disaster, she tells Mr Gardiner, "if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do," and he assures her of his affection for both her and her entire family. This could be seen as a sort of empty redirection that avoids promising anything, especially given that her catastrophizing fantasy scenarios are extremely unlikely, but I think that's a misread of his character.

I see his reply as a tactful assurance that, in the (improbable) event of Mr Bennet dying in a duel, his affection for her and her daughters would indeed ensure his protection of her and her daughters. There's no doubt from anyone that he's capable of doing this, though it would certainly mean a change in their style of living that Mrs Bennet would vocally resent.

So while this isn't super-specific, I hope it helped!

Normally I don't need to do this, but I would like to add a sort of credit/disclaimer: I didn't initially notice all these signs and my understanding of the Gardiners' standard of living and general circumstances was, I believe, strongly influenced by JulieW of the Life and Times board at Republic of Pemberley back in the earlyish 2000s (maybe about 2006?).

The L&T board is sadly gone (or was the last few times I checked), though ROP clings to life, but she knew a lot more about Georgian history and culture than I ever will, and these references to the Gardiners' prosperity seemed really glaring once she pointed them out.

(Her analysis of Pemberley's age, architecture, and general class significance was also really influential and I'm still really sad that I have to rely on the perfidy of memory about it.)

[hazelkjt]

The Monster Hunter Wilds Beta was a nice distraction from the shit going on in my life. It was a REALLY fun 3 days, minimal performance issues so I’m happy I don’t need to update my PC. So, here are my thoughts as a decade long fan of the series on what I experienced in Wilds.

The Good-

No clutch claw. Ten out of ten change Capcom, thank you.

Removal of gender restrictions on armor WITHOUT homogenizing the armor designs. Just a win all around here, offers such a greater range of self-expression through what your hunter wears. This will be the second time I’m playing a female hunter just because I won’t have to deal with the armor designs I don’t particularly enjoy. (Only other time was because "why not?" during my revisit to Rise a few months ago)

All the monster designs have knocked it out of the park. Chatacabra is a lovable punching bag, Doshaguma’s a nice step up to have a middle tier Fanged Beast, Balahara is a great challenge with easy to read attacks but tricky timing. And then Rey Dau just taking the cake and instantly in my top 20 favorite monsters.

Weapons all feel relatively balanced, so far? At least of the handful I tried out. I’m a pretty casual MH player, never cared for optimal builds or speedruns so as long as the weapons feel fun to play then I’m all good. Still personally feel LS might be a bit overtuned with all the options and non-committal choices it has but I digress. Switch Axe is making a comeback as my preemptive Wilds main weapon with Bow being my backup.

The map is enormous but doesn’t feel lifeless. There’s always something happening just enough to make it feel like an actual environment and not just a video game level. A massive step up from the areas in Rise that all felt kind of boring with how it was just big, flat areas with connecting alleys that you could run on top of. This feels like actual topography that all flows seamlessly into one another.

Did I mention no clutch claw?

The Bad-

Even though I didn’t have any, the performance issues others are reporting are inexcusable. Other people that I know for a FACT own a high end computer can’t get more than 20FPS on medium settings, it’s ridiculous. This game is not optimized in the slightest for PC right now and for a simultaneous release that’s unacceptable. And while I have joked about wanting to see the low-poly models for myself the fact that people are seeing those for their entire time in the Beta is, again, inexcusable.

Monsters run way too often but this might just be a Beta issue with lower health values so I’ll let it off a bit easy.

I agree with the lack of impact on the really big hits but I am also letting this one off easy because it could have to do with the lack of attack power we have in the Beta. We’re literally in the basic starting gear with the basic beginner’s weapon, there’s room for the hit stop and impact to ramp up dynamically the higher our damage numbers go.

I know this isn’t something they can fix by launch (or if they’d even consider fixing at all) but having only six voices in character creation feels extremely limiting. I understand your hunter is fully voiced throughout the entire game now so getting the usual twenty-ish voices would’ve bloated the budget significantly, but the poorly implemented pitch shifter does nothing to make up for their absence. Even just going one or two notches up or down and you can start to hear the artificial “static” of the pitch filter and it’s distracting.

So many control scheme options and you CAN’T turn off the Radial Menu? Fucking why??? I’ve never enjoyed having control of the camera taken away from me while scrolling through my item bar in previous games and now I can’t even fix that. I’ve begrudgingly been forcing myself to learn how to use it, but removing an option that was in the previous two games for no reason is a baffling decision.

Still looking forward to the game’s launch in a few months and hoping that maybe a few of these issues will be resolved by then.

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders Viewers' Choice: Beast IV L

if anything's getting my icon blurred out, it's this one. anyways!

it's that time of the month once again, and this time I feel like an absolute beast. well, to be more accurate, y'all felt like getting an absolute beast. a beast (fgo definition) that summons beasts (D&D definition). I'm sure this won't be confusing at all.

as usual I highly doubt this build is even remotely balanced for actual PvE play, but beasts are supposed to be world ending threats, so that shouldn't be a surprise.

the build itself will be under the cut, because hoo boy there's a lot to go over.

first up, beast IV can show up in her standard Koyanskaya form, which is the one primarily used when outside her lair. this is effectively a suped-up version of Koyanskaya of Dark, with access to unlimited weaponry and NFF-brand grenades, all of which work like standard "weapons of <x> slaying" do in D&D- they deal extra damage to humanoids, and can knock humanoids prone.

the big addition here aside from standard high-level-boss resistances is her Add to the Collection ability, where once per day she can try to forcibly plane shift a non-humanoid creature into a demiplane of her creation, basically putting them in suspended animation. this will be important for later.

form two is effectively Koyanskaya's big shadowy fox form. I didn't make any hard and fast rules about how these forms connect to one another, but I would probably say her masked form can turn into this combat form once a day, probably for a couple minutes at a time.

the gimmick for this fight is her Seasonal Cycle, which both reduces the number of legendary actions she gets to actually attack people each round, but also gives her buffs. I tried to keep this close to her lostbelt-based buffs in her final fight, but I also changed the names to be less FGO-centric if you want to use this build in a game. there's not a ton to say about this one that isn't regurgitating the seasonal cycle, it's just Masked Form with a bigger focus on kicking humanoid ass.

The big nipply form shown in the build picture has a lot of text, but I'll do what I can to break it down. This is Beast IV's final form, and it's the one that sets up the Tunguska Sanctuary in the first place, so there's a lot going on. Once again her humanoid-slaying effect grows larger, but she can only take this form in her lair, plus her speed is cranked wayyy down at this point. I just. cannot imagine that thing moving any faster than a crawl. if you need something done fast, that's what your lackeys are for.

speaking of lackeys, let's Reveal the Collection. this is a ten-minute ritual, which upon completion can summon copies of creatures that were stored by the Masked Form. The higher the CR of the creatures being made, the less you can make at a time, and the shorter your range is. there's also a lesser version of this you can do as a legendary action, and it's restricted to one creature at a time, of up to CR 10.

but of course, you need a place to put all those creatures! that's why she's got Regional Effects too! it's a whole lot of text, but it basically boils down to making a life zone and a death zone around her lair. half of your collection will tend towards the life zone, and half towards the other. in the life zone, the area is choked by plants, slowing down all humanoids in the area, and also healing effects targeting non-humanoids are more powerful. the death zone has extreme heat, and humanoids have disadvantage on saves against it. also, all summoned creatures in this region have double their normal perception distance when it comes to perceiving humanoids.

-------------

So overall, this build isn't a world-ending threat like Tiamat, or an orbital laser like Goetia, but she's not supposed to be a full-grown beast yet, so I'd cut her some slack. plus, if your party includes non-humanoid players you can make a dozen clones of them to fight the party which sounds like a really fun time. that being said, I do pity any DM who as to keep track of her seasonal buffs in a fight.

[eugenedebs1920]

Balance is a key part of life. From an ecosystem, to one’s health, from a work/life balance, to physically being able to balance. Balance is imperative for good mental health. Can’t just be all hunky dori all the time, pretending everything perfect, but you can’t stay in the dark too long being consumed by gloom and despair.

Balance is how one addresses the financial situations in life, you bring in roughly this much, this costs this much, my spending needs to be in this range. Even balanced substance abuse is how one can do a little something something, but not spend all their money and time on it, and still go to work. It’s ok to have a drink, or a puff here and there, it has to stay in balance with the other aspects of life or it becomes a problem.

Balance can be broke down on a global scale, rain is good, but too much rain is bad. Certain creatures on the lower levels of the food chain are important to feed creatures higher on the food chain, but too many lower level creatures are an infestation.

Balance brings harmony. The ying and the yang of existence. Everything In equipoise brings stability to its surroundings.

The United States basks in a state of asymmetric volatility on nearly every aspect except the split down the middle of political affiliation. There’s no concinnity harmonizing vital elements of society, justice, governance or economics.

The top 10% of earners own 67% of the wealth in this country, and the top 1% earn 31% of the nations wealth. It’s complicated with percentile vs percentile, so let’s break it down to a more conceivable scenario. Let’s say the earners in America is 100 people, and Americans yearly generated income was $100. Off the top $67 goes to ten people, with ninety people still needing their cut of the remaining $33. From the 90%-50% range of earners in our scenario, that’s 40 people, they split between them $30. That leaves us with 50 people who still need compensation for their labor from the 50% mark, to the lowest percentile, to split between them the remaining $3.

To recap. In our 100 person America, with $100 wealth distribution, 1 person gets $31. Nine people split $36, evenly distributed that $4 per person. Then 40 people split $30, which evenly distributed is 75 cents per person. Then 50 people split $3, which evenly distributed is 6 cents per person. There’s nearly 345 million people in the United States so those numbers are obviously massively simplified but you see what I’m getting at.

In our scenario as someone of 50 people receiving $0.06 I’m pissed! Even the next 40 people receiving $0.75 I’m not pumped about it. Take those top 9 earners making $4 each while one guy gets $31! It’s like, what the heck!?

That distribution is the lack of balance, and the very example of disproportion.

Now let’s take a look at incarceration.

The United States has the highest rates of incarceration in the world. While only representing 4% of the world’s population it harbors 25% of the world incarcerated people’s.

Let’s be clear. There are crimes that warrant (no pun intended) severe consequences. There are some crimes that ruin or take lives of the victims upon which they were conducted. Sex crimes, hate crimes, crimes against children, certain assaults, domestic violence, murder, drug related vehicular manslaughter, and some variations of fraud, are life altering or ending and should be judged as such. Yet one in five inmates being incarcerated for drug offenses is absurd.

Let’s be honest. Imprisonment equals profit. In 2023 the cost of incarceration to the American taxpayer was nearly $80 billion. Every state has different costs, and there’s different security levels of prisons, but the U.S. average per inmate is over $39,000 yearly.

Then There’s the nearly 10% of prisons that are “for profit prisons”, meaning they’re owned by private corporations and not only do they receive subsidies from the federal government but they charge up to $24 a phone call, they have unpaid inmate labor, selling the goods or services for profit, and charge exorbitant amounts for over the counter medications such as Tylenol or antihistamines.

The statistics change yearly and the variation of “crimes” is immense. Statistics show that between 44%-65% of incarcerations are drug related. The numbers for violent offenses are similar, 41%-68%. I realize these are more than 100%, and/or in contrast with each other but there’s county jails, local jails, state jails, state prisons, federal prisons, men prisons, female prisons, a significant amount of people in jail who have yet to be sentenced, migrant camps and so on. So finding solid, it’s THIS percent that makes up THAT percentage is nearly impossible. But hey! The price of admission for the article was fair 😉

Overall roughly half the jailed population is for drug offenders. Roughly. Drug use, and most drugs, were not wholly illegal until the 1970’s with Nixon declaring drugs as “public enemy number one”, thus began the war on drugs.

In 1994, Richard Nixon’s Domestic Policy Chief John Ehrlichman, would tell journalist Dan Baum, that the policy was primarily for Nixon’s reelection, saying Nixon had two major obstacles, “the antiwar left, and black people”. He would go on to say in the interview, “We knew we couldn’t make it illegal to be either against the war or black, but by getting the public to associate the hippies with marijuana and blacks with heroin, and then criminalizing both heavily, we could disrupt those communities. We could arrest their leaders, raid their homes, break up their meetings, and vilify them night after night on the evening news. Did we know we were lying about the drugs? Of course, we did.”

The population of Black Americans is a little over 12%, and Caucasian is a touch over 60%.

In 2022 the prison population by race was, 32% black, 31% white, 23% hispanic, 10 % multiracial, 2% Native American/Native Alaskan and 1% Asian.

If 12% of the population is Black American, that’s roughly 42 million Black Americans. Of those 42 million black Americans, 13,440,000 are or will be incarcerated. At 32% of the incarcerated population that breaks down to almost 30% of the Black population as a whole, are, or will end up incarcerated. White people are 60% of the population in America at 210 million. Of those 210 million white people 31% of 210 million is 65,100,000 that equates to 6.5% of whites are incarcerated per capita in comparison to 30% of the 12% out of 350 million. I think... I’m a plumber not a statistician, and that math was friggin painful so we’re just going to leave it at that.

So, even if my math is off a bit, it’s plain to see how the disproportionate incarceration percentage of black people being a smaller portion of the overall population, than the larger populations percentage in comparison to the incarceration rate. 😵‍💫 If that makes sense.

The balance between the two races outweighs one another significantly.

Moving on!….

Let’s take a look at political power in this country. We’re going to make this one a little less mathy. 😅

As of November of 2024, there have been 2,004 people who have served in the United States Senate. There’s been over 11,000 members who served in the United States House of Representatives. There’s has been 45 individuals who’ve had the honor of serving as The President of the United States of America.

Of those 2,004 individuals who have served in the Senate, with the addition of two excellent women of color in the 2024 election, by my count, 14 have been of African descent. With the addition of 3 new female members to the Senate, there has been 63 women who have served this nation as a U.S. Senator.

My brains all mushy from the statistical math from the incarceration segment, so we’re going to stay away from percentages but, it’s obvious the disproportionate amount of white men who have served in the Senate versus women and those of color.

Of the more than 11,000 Americans who have served in the United States House of Representatives, only 167 have been African American. With 6 of those being from either D.C. or U.S. territories. Of the more than 11,000 representatives 385 have been women, with the first trans woman elected to the House in 2024 making it 386.

Lastly, and sadly. Of the 45 people who have served as President of the United States of America, 45 of them were men, with one of those men who served two terms being that of African descent. There has been only 2 major party candidates that were women to run for the highest office in the land. And, in a incredibly messed up and cruel twist of fate, both were “defeated” by one of the most grossly incompetent, misogynistic, sexist, racist, conman, cheat, sexual assailant, fraudster, B-list reality tv personality, piece of garbage f*ck, Donald J. Trump.

When things are in balance, everything sits just precisely where it belongs. Beyond a physical realm, beyond what’s known. Harmony and peace coincide as one in a state of euphoria. Like being weightless on a cloud. Not overly ecstatic, but more than content.

Personally I think I’ve seen this most in nature (particularly with a little psychedelic accompaniment) everything existing in its own realm, doing what it’s intended to, unaware of its importance while simultaneous insignificance. Just being, together as one, perfect wistful bliss.

That is certainly not where we find ourselves today. Both as Americans and humanity. We are seemingly in endless conflict. Conflict with each other, conflict with ideology, conflict of nations, religions, practices. We even find we are in conflict with ourselves.

If we could find that balance, one day the endless turmoil would cease to be. Yet. That seems to be in contrast to human nature.

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

On my worldbuilding bullshit again

NOW FEATURING MAPS!

And it's after midnight and I'm way too tired to let anxiety get the better of me and prevent me from posting so here's a worldbuilding ramble!! Settle in if you like worldbuilding rambles.

So this:

is my latest attempt at making a map of The Domain, (THE GREEN IS WATER and also plant growth stick with me for a minute) a section of the larger wold map of Elewna, here:

Which is the land of shapeshifters. There's *counts on fingers* ten overarching clans that live on this continent alone and they are:

Umatoe

Onisraeri (with four subclans: The Onishiki, the Arros, the Ooneloah and the Aoni)

Orieiifio

Sati

Ugi

Ubli

Kamare

Faroae

Deveol

Bahaat

BUT there are also two LOST clans that are aquatic in nature that disappeared a long time ago and no one knows where they went which is a given really seeing as how Elewna is an ice planet so where the hell did they go? No one knows, that's why it's a mystery. It's even more of a mystery how they came to be in the first place, but let's not talk about that right now *laughs in worldbuilding hysterics* BUT ANYWAY none of those are the ones Imma focus on right now simply because they don't live on The Domain (the original opening map); that honor belongs to these guys - The Umatoe!!

(Early work in where I decided to take my cat and my mom's cat and play with forms)

Which, yeah. Essentially to get to an Umatoe you start with a giant (like maybe 7/8' tall) feline that can stand upright. Add in a fin around the tail that can stretch and shrink, a neck pouch that can hold extra oxygen, and variously-sized tusks, and you got yourself an Umatoe. They have a lore about how one of the early Umatoe's participated in a race with the elemental gods and the gods cheated, but the Umatoe still won because she ripped the fins and the neck-pouch from the gods' bodies and attached them to herself, using them to swim faster than the boats the gods had created for the race and she beat them to the world's end and then demanded freedom for all her kind to live without the gods' interference. One of the gods (oh right, did I mention that Elewna exists in a Polythesitic universe where there are actually two different levels of elemental gods, one of which being the ones that the Elewnai have stories about interacting with called Atmu, and the giant creator-gods which are called Masu which are essentially giant Space Dragons) decided that the Umatoe was correct in her demand and so granted her request while at the same time letting her keep her stolen bits. And that's why the Umatoe believe they were born with an affinity to water and the bodily accessories to match.

ANYWAY.

To the map; Elewna works on an opposite geothermal principal as ours. The higher you go and further from the ice core you get, the warmer it is and vice-versa. They don't have a whole lot of moving storms outside of the mountains so far as I've got so far, but the cluster that's at the top right of the map? All clouds. (AND I MADE THIS WHILE THINKING OF THE RAIN SHADOW but I may not have gotten it completely right, still working on my understanding of the thing, THANKS TUMBLR) That's possibly the highest mountain range on the entirety of the planet (The larger world map doesn't agree yet because I haven't changed it yet, but trust me it's Like That) and everything slopes down from there. So the big greenish looking thing is essentially one of the only spots on the world that is all free-flowing water as it's from the clouds, the storms, and it's high enough to not get frozen over. The mountains around it act like a big bowl so far as I can tell, keeping most of it stopped up with exception to the mountains at the very bottom, where the rivers start to form and sort of give freshwater for the rest of the territory of the Umatoe. Which means the Umatoe are one of the only clans to have actual fresh free-flowing water on the whole of the ice planet. I'm still thinking of what this means in terms of biome. BUT

It also means that the Umatoe culture evolved building things on mountainsides and cities that float. They're very well adapted to their environment, which is a huge mountain pool at the top and slick ice at the very bottom because it's close enough to the lower zones to have started to freeze over but is still high enough that it's more like foggy cold sludge than anything else. AND THEY STILL SWIM IN IT SOMETIMES BECAUSE THEY ARE BEASTS!!!!

Anyway

I think I'm running out of ramble steam, so here. Have a poem of the race against the gods in their own language because yes I conlanged because I'm insane with translations under each section.

Mauhr-Ro-Mauha, Raistr, Sloa;bolsro Raistr;Punaek Hapro Ain;canani

Uma believe that song and music carry more than words can say They carry out beyond sight, and speak to the heart without knowing

Nheiohmauhr osc Naioh-Ro-Rahisc-Ro-Iea-Ro-Utaiar Niknipa-Ro-Acranipa Atmuad;chaakt kabnikni Bic;naniorapa Utran;Padu-naheakt Bic Rahspr;atmukaac-kabicni

We sing of the AllMother, a song of freedom, of journey, of skill and fireceness. She tricked and stole from Atmu wanting to trick her She beat the ones who made her She befriended the honorable Padu Won the race they set up to lose

Iscipa, raha;naehempra Atnabo-Ro-Boioh, urypa, atmuad Aiakbioh, kabliocalu;loiotpra Aiakbioh, kabasiahac;Iohnirahu Aiakbioh, kabracicca;micalu

Walked a path through the mountain Tore fins and breath from the Atmu to win Was the first to swim through the water Was the first to reach World’s End Was the first to come back to home

Rahspr Paruospa Liocalunai, Umatoe Atmunaini;bolsni Kabumtoaiako, Umatoe Liocalu

Her race was gifted Uma allowed to swim free  No more Atmu control Uma swim to their own destiny

[northropi]

ACVI is probably the widest disconnect between the degree to which I feel good at the game and the degree to which I like the overall feel of the game I've ever experienced, with Ultrakill as a runner-up.

I've only just gotten to the end of Chapter 1. I got bopped for getting greedy in CH2M1 and going for combat logs on those Tetrapods while being too scared to take resupplies out of fear that I'd get locked into that room before finding everything, and haven't really attempted that one since because frankly I'm gonna need to devise a build with more ammo first, while also just buying out half the shop in general so I don't get stuck without an easy way to overwhelm a boss again. ("oh look at me i beat Balteus with shotguns you don't need pulse weapons to do it" well i didn't have those either, genius)

Now factor in my job, the fact I'm going for a trip this weekend, and my sheer executive dysfunction, and I don't anticipate to get anywhere close to the end for a few months.

It makes me think about why I tend to shy away from games I know to be hard, you know? One definite factor is that beating something hard is just not satisfying to me. The way people describe the feeling of a boss being a pain in the ass enhancing the feeling of winning is alien to me. I feel bad during the attempts and I almost feel worse when I beat it. I get mad and cuss it out as it goes down, far from the usual reaction you see from people who like that sort of thing.

On top of that I'm never sure if I got good or if I got lucky. I don't think I'd suddenly be able to do what I did again- and I swear I straight-up glitched Balteus because while it brought the flamethrowers out at 50% HP the winning run didn't see it pop assault armor until it was at like 25%, and I two-cycled the thing. Ultrakill, Claire de Soliel on Violent, my approach essentially got patched out with the harder weapon freshness rules now. Marauder, all that time ago, yeah I ate too many hits, with only a few successful attempts at sidestepping as I stood at optimal range with the SSG out- would not have flown on any higher difficulty. At least ACVI doesn't make me have to wrap my brain around constant weapon switching, though, but the fact that I tend to play all at once without taking breaks until I'm done, out of fear that I'll forget tricks I do pick up, probably also isn't helping my performance or my mood. I stayed up for like three hours on Balteus, it just wasn't fun.

After the AH12 I felt great, that was like three attempts. Juggernaut went down in two, that optional Tetrapod was like three, and I was shredding every conventional AC I found. I kinda joined into the meme of "the Souls fans don't know how to comprehend a vertical axis." That, I feel, is kind of true. Flight is an adjustment that came naturally to me because it's just part of the games I play the most. I felt vindicated that a group I saw as acclimated to hard games was hitting a rut when they encountered a challenge I dealt with on the regular. But from everything I hear, it's almost like having an easy time with the Helo and Juggernaut, and even Sulla, who I chewed up and spat out in a matter of seconds, is almost an indicator of how bad you're gonna do on Balteus.

It's here that it all caught up to me. I can flaunt how the movement fits me like a glove, but anyone who's just used to hard games in general has a lot that I don't. Reaction times, adaptability, planning, tilt-resistance, and, of course, fucking mindset- the ability to enjoy the gauntlet, or at least to walk away and come back refreshed.

I don't have these, and I don't think I can learn them.

This is kind of where the shitty difficulty discourse we've been in for ten years breaks apart. Souls games initially seemed like a mix of just not looking like my type of game on a functional level, and too hard for me to approach, and with what looked like little reward for a lot of struggling, I simply didn't. With how popular they are, it eventually hit me that they actually do look really fun when they're not pushing your nose into the dirt. I wanna play them in some context where I can be kept from getting mad, streaming them with friends or something (unfortunate that the one that looks the most appealing to me is also currently the least accessible).

Here comes ACVI, which I knew was gonna be hard but, hey, at least it closes the other side of that equation, maybe I'll have fun losing or even "git gud" and have some talent to show for it. Then Balteus made me feel fucking ill and I just don't know anymore. I kinda just want to go back to drawing for the last few hours of this weekend, but I'm afraid I'll never finish it if I do. Maybe a more functional version of me would see that break as exactly what she needs to come back and crush it but with the brain I have here and now that's not happening and this is at serious risk of becoming a second Signalis situation.

[archer3-13]

sat down recently to power through pokemon violet [laptop was in for repairs].

i think so many months out from its release and with a lot of the buzz around it died down i can settle on a lot more coherent of an opinion on it. and that opinion is that scarlet and violet are at their best when its doing things to actually encourage exploration of the environment. theres some really fascinating lil mini areas here and there with a solid atmosphere one can just indulge in as they scrounge in the dirt for interesting pokemon.

it certainly makes battles more tedious then ever however since without the constrained angles and forced camera perspectives of the pocket battle dimension the spectacle doesnt hit that hard and without that spectacle how much time each battle takes up becomes ever more rapidly apparent from playing out animations to loading up battles [its not quite that bad but it is noticeably longer compared to the 'hayday' of pokemons inception where battles load in split seconds]. it breaks up the pace too much effectively.

and the performance does bite it quite badly in certain spots regardless of what ya do, which does unavoidably hamper things.

as for gameplay, well i haven't quite gotten to the very end of things i will note [for anyone who hasn't already figured this out anyways] that the most natural way of doing the whole thing is in my opinion just tackling whichever titan/don/gym is closest from your starting pick until ya hit a roadblock. the upgrades you aquire from doing so come at a natural pace that way as does the level curve.

as for each of the 'individual' [as i would honestly say the game was more so geared for doing everything at once] paths though

victory road: the easiest of the god damn paths and clearly geared towards being your first path/the most noob friendly. the last gym leader is nearly ten levels lower across all of his pokemon then the last titan or don. the gym challenges themselves range from insipidly easy, to this is literally just a gauntlet, to actually kinda fun and interesting [the normal gym challenge being the highlight honestly]. as for this crop of gym leaders can't say im a fan either, they arent bad they just dont elicit much interest from me.

legendary titans: the middle difficulty path where the only challenge is if your pokemon are leveled enough to not immediately die. if your at or just a lil below parity with em, the titan fights can be pretty fun but if your hitting well above their level they quickly become a joke. it needed something more then just the titan fights as the pokemon themselves are literally just out in the open and marked on your map even when they change positions. there needed to be some sort of minigame where ya wrangle them down before you can actually fight them, then we'd be getting somewhere.

operation starfall: the most difficult path, the dons tend to be higher level then the local gym leaders as noted before, and their god damn super cars are tougher then the titan pokemon on the whole even packing some nasty strategies behind them [with the best soundtrack for their fights by far compared to the other paths]. would be the highlight of things if not for the fact that the lead up to them is pretty boring and completely toothless. eri kicked my ass [in part because of my own lazy strategies and a team makeup that was particularly vulnerable to her] a couple of times but the slugfest with her goons was a leisurely stroll by comparison. i think operation starfall would have been a shineout example in the game [and possibly worth the price of admission alone] had the challenges before each don fight been both more varied and more challenging/active in participation. say with atticus ya have to sneak through his base like a ninja before ya can fight him, well with eri its a battle gauntlet with no rests against tough pokemon to mimic the 'mountain climb' the game has ya do.

and as for story

victory road: well im not thrilled on the gym leaders and the elite four ya get hints of before hand [i do appreciate seeing the elite four before challenging them atleast], i like nemona quite a lot as a rival striking the right balance of friendly but still competitive a lot of other friendly rivals completely miss the boat on. he enthusiasms just kinda infectious really. and the goku memes do help brighten my opinion on her. because they are absolutely true.

legendary titans: the most emotional i got was with arven and the dog, and i can fully admit thats because it speaks more to my own experiences then arvens strained relation with his dad. arven himself just feels a bit to awkwardly written for me to fully get onboard with myself, like i like him well enough but more so despite of the writing rather then because of it.

operation starfall: well the battles might have been the best, the story definitely feels the weakest and its frustrating to feel that way about it. like its clear what they wanna do there, what themes they wanna tackle about bullying and how it can be more complicated then adults make it out to be, and on not judging people on appearances or eccentric behaviour, themes that are good to teach kids in general, and all that. i dont even dislike the dons themselves. its just... i can feel the writers hand at work here demanding i feel sympathy for these people and that just makes me wanna dig my heels in on the matter and say 'no i will not blindly awe at the sap story your putting on here'. not helped by penny's motives for wanting to break up the thing she started feeling confused [though i can admit thats probably part of the point] but more importantly so underwritten. in fact she just feels the most underwritten of the three of them [arven, nemona and penny] in general which probably isn't helping the emotional impact of it.

might follow up on this once i polish the very ends of the game off.

[astrxlfinale]

There's a loud squeal coming off Guinaifen's lips as she'd dramatically fling herself around and behind Caelus, grabbing a tight hold of him with a plead in her voice; " - no, I can't do it, it's too scary -!"

What was meant to be a calm, peaceful date between the two lovers had been broken up. Disturbed and now put in jeopardy by a great, dark force that had the bravest of performers shaking against the trailblazer's back. She refused to look forward, forehead pressed against the back of Caelus' neck. Huffs and whines ensued as she seemed to be pushing him forwards, requesting ... or ... uh , maybe demanding the aid of the fearless trailblazer in this very moment, a moment that only he could rid them of.

Scary, long, slimy ... there were few things that Guinaifen found herself covering before, but these ... worms was an exception.

Long and unruly (surely, they were shorter than a finger, at most) they stretched themselves across the path they had been walking, holding back the lovers from the arcade that she had wanted to surprise Caelus with. There was no hope. She couldn't cross this. Not with these pesky obstacles in the way.

"They are so icky, Caelus ..." she'd whine, hands shaking his shoulders a little bit, head leaning back to divert her eyes with a small gag (she really couldn't stand worms); " ... BUT DON'T KILL THEM ! ... and if you touch them then you are not touching me until you've washed your hands at least six times and - IT'S LOOKING AT ME ISN'T ?"

There she goes.

Bravest firekiss ever known to man.

"Wha-- That, there's no way you're telling me this is the Date Slayer!?" His voice found itself chock full with equal levels of emotion. His merely ranging in the fine spectacle known as goddamn disbelief! There was no denying the terror however as this behavior was just.. new. The fact her forehead was taking a position of warming the back of his neck said enough.

All due to this titan that found itself going well under a mile an hour on the ground before them. Even now, that once pristine tone found itself reduced to babbling fright, something Caelus thought he'd be doing well before she did! Yet, this is a fine lesson in how life enjoys being full of surprises.

While the power of his Firekiss's reality was somehow pushing him close. (Consider this one hell of a power feat. Normally, it takes beings in tune with the 'Higher dimensions' to shuffle him around. Yet raw muscle and her nerves were doing this in spades.) Leading him ever close to the opponent that found itself before them. Ignoring them, minding it's own business.

"Babe... That's just a worm." His voice added in, nonplussed. The Trailblazer's golden eyes found themselves muted of fervor as he spent time squinting towards their problem, while feeling his girlfriend's existential breakdown from the rear.

---

Oh well. Sorry worm. Reality truly wanted you to meet the Path of Destruction today it looked like.

"Ashes to ashes, Dust to d--"

NOOOOOO CAELUS! ...NO KILLING!!!

The proud holy spear of Belobog found itself paused from purging yet another in the name of Preservation. (This time, preserving Guinaifen's emotions.) Instead, he almost feels his goddamn neck snap from the way she utilized that unholy strength to prevent him from going 1 to critical at the drop of a dime. Those flames helplessly sputtered as the spear listened to her pleas more than his resolve, causing it to go out like a dying candle. Meanwhile, Caelus found himself squawking as he tried to keep his body rightened.

"But.. Worm, you're literally about to cry--! rrrgh, FINE FINE FINE!" He managed to wheeze out, granting him the appropriate mercy to actually breathe in these trying times. However, this ordeal felt like grew more mountains compared to molehill at her pleading questions. In the end--

"I'D LOOK AT YOU TOO IF YOU SICC'D ME AFTER THE THING. You want me not kill it, not move it, cause y'know it'd be ten times instead of six! If I picked it up with my mind hun, would I have to wash that too!?" The disbelief was palpable in his tone as the confusion stat gained further prominence. From the depths of his Stellaron Heart did he want to help her, but right now, the exercise of futility was becoming one hell of a challenge! Another deep breathe is drawn as he tries to turn in her death grip.

"We can't let a whole ass worm just take over the rest of the town from us! Do you seriously want me to fly ya over it?? I can do that, but no crazy thoughts like it'd jump in order to chase us! I promise you this is now the fabled Aha Worm!"

This may have been the fourth scene they've made this week in public. Said public was both adjusted but also increasingly concerned.

@avaere

[libidomechanica]

“But my wind, and seen and again in ten to my first”

That that more my slept the age lights!     But my wind, and seen and again in ten to my first. And     means; and the and all its hooves opened by features still in     half what was on herbs on

her: where is not into the serpent     like he, in the curves in hideousness of Cavalli     with alchemy, thou, with blue lawn or the had not clap your     Filial hall, their pay:

and out to and were mysteries     the wrapt in which the deep easters, but keeps of arms, who kneeling     with joyous look; that which night so loud temper’d, and     loosenings of the fancy

into a green. Found stemmed place, the     Heir. Though so back, to breath the wide doth both, mountains; he’s naughter’s     son of the despise. And his domos’ showing thus Gulbeyaz,     as you Stella, I

must be nearer rate rushes the     rode within us what time may behind. With good sat does     not polish e’re not hiding to Time: lady to us     and bugle-bloomed her and

have lady eyes were state, boast: her     mild; then grave chosen still all his gone ascend! He door, and     now shine against they still world, nor wise, or whether male head     and follow’d his lamp will

be wrong hath the was she reason.     Sir Leoline; so he ruine or worth, her eat or being no     end if every pains and leave to complains. A deems of their     own between love behest,

Russ creater Bacon? To my soul     of the had the blisse, there coveted a little we did     not. And shew I am poor bad, he same glided pony     posterity, and clear

than to set in the light of bird?     They made so bad, and hand aye? But seeds vexing think of the     Spring grave love, a glory of the court hunker down that     I am to my cheeks

out once stretched with such of free:     eternitious Time rejected. But on you canst the out of     us, no Rechabit; then the blood, when I heart, the lately     fault? And the hills, for

the streaming, and level, that coat,     be caughter; but enslav’d rill till complete another He,     and the higher repose. To himself will be wonder’d; saw     Seames in the women

he marshes to choose. But thou wilt     brother while she west, with rust these no matchery, throat,     embarrassment, however, melodies are made her bosom     which, distic Shape of future

of the went to Time’s wondred     years its betraying its blot up, like thing sighs came of each     aughters cleft, shall foot’ could how but after mantle, some those     Motion the well from all

there’s Giotto, will I am     gone, for all keep himself will distinction. The last and when     you looks thousand wine. A range, peeled by the day with eyes and     murdered vows, throw, circles,

corals, rejoice! As the that was     no long ember, more I begin your heath, and fourth chilled the     valleys; and freaks, than be you knows what are past, and, down from     eve fill; and now a lie.

[selormohene]

day 16 (wednesday, july 19th 2023)

I’m still thinking about the whole mathematical cognition thing because the debate has been raging on my TL. Obviously this is something that I have a lot of thoughts as well as emotions about, but I don’t want to dwell on it for today’s post. But a few things. A lot of people are pointing out that many of those saying “anyone can learn math” — and of course, the most plausible way of making that statement precise is up for debate — are in the top of the top of the range of math achievement (that is, PhD students and professors), and so they’re suffering from some sort of curse of knowledge. The problem from the other end, of course, is that many of those who are disputing the statement haven’t had enough experience learning higher math to properly understand the possible limits to an “ordinary” person’s ability to learn math. And one’s own experience of not being able to understand, say, calculus or real analysis or whatever doesn’t give one insight into whether or not one could have understood it had something different been done. That’s part of the unfortunate effect of this discourse, that it transforms an empirical observation (“so far X hasn’t been observed to work”) into a modal claim (“that’s because X cannot work”) with normative implications (“and therefore we should stop trying to do X”). It’s not that simple, and even if it is the case it is still a case of going beyond the evidence, word to Hume. 

And there’s this paradox where the claim is being made (by me, but also by others who are more mathematically accomplished than me) that precisely because people haven’t studied enough higher math they don’t understand the extent to which it isn’t some rarefied thing in a realm far beyond regular math. For instance, take linear algebra. I remember not having any idea how direct sums worked at first, and then it came to seem obvious to me. Same thing with long division, and it was only after gaining rote proficiency that I came to understand the idea behind it. (Even now, I don’t need to be able to recall how the algorithm works; all I need to know is how to carry it out, that it works, and that I could verify why it works. That cognitive stamp of approval that comes from remembering that I proved something once, even if I can’t remember the proof or couldn’t even hold the entire proof in my head at once at any time, helps me a long way in trusting my intuition — another of those things which people think is some quasi-mystical faculty. It’s just the ability, sharpened by a good stock of proofs and examples and counter-examples and boundary cases, to tell which paths work and which are likely not to.) Or, for instance, the idea that mathematicians working on, say, higher-dimensional something-or-other are operating at multiple degrees of abstraction which the ordinary person can’t juggle, when the truth is that a lot of math relies on the lower degrees of abstraction having been cached in memory and automated. The mathematician isn’t climbing all ten floors as it were, they’ve installed an elevator. Again, it’s the compounding of multiple small differences. And so on. Obviously there’s much more to be said but I want to talk about something else.

It’s curious how many things can come to seem inevitable in retrospect when they didn’t seem that way going forward. This applies to understanding math, of course, but in this context I’m thinking about life in general. Many of the physiological issues that I’ve managed to end up getting a much better handle on seemed like they might be interminable before I knew how to fix them, but now that I’m managing them I can place a duration to them. Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards, as Kierkegaard said. And same with Hegel and the Owl of Minerva only spreading its wings at dusk. I wonder if something similar isn’t true for other differences in conceptual level which don’t correspond to temporal progress. (To be fair the entire Phenomenology is about this sort of thing. X can only fully make sense of itself in the light of Y, which comes after it.) The problem of course is that what follows a given Gestalt may not in fact be better than what it follows. But it’s also uncanny how one often has an intuition concerning what to do, what to read, what to place one’s energy into, that ends up resolving itself into something much greater than you could have imagined at the time — how much one’s own agency enters into the process of moving to a higher level of the dialectic, even if initially one only has a dim inclination of what one is moving towards. It’s a sign that we participate in something greater than ourselves.

[ladykailitha]

Ser Stephan of Harring’s Town Part 1

Just like with Little Runaway the tagging cap is at 20.

*

Steve had finally been convinced to join the Hellfire Club’s main campaign. It actually took Mike begging him to join, that finally convinced him. Though Mike only did it to impress Eddie and Will, but Steve going to take it as a win regardless.

So he offered to have it at his place so that when this went to shit like it did last time, he’d have somewhere else he could go, but still be able to take kids home.

Eddie and Dustin arrived early to help set up and get things ready for the session.

Eddie handed Steve a small velvet pouch that rattled when it dropped into his hand.

“What’s this?” Steve asked furrowing his brow.

“Open it,” Dustin said bouncing on his heels excitedly.

Steve opened the bag and poured out the contents into his other hand. In his hand were yellow and orange dice with black numbers.

“Oh wow,” he whispered. “These are neat.”

“They’re yours!” Dustin said. “Every player has to have their own set.”

Steve smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

Soon everyone arrived and got settled in, Eddie in the DM’s chair, Steve to his right and Will to his left. Dustin was on Steve’s other side. Mike was next to Will and Erica and Lucas were at the far end of the table.

Steve looked around at everyone’s character sheet and then looked at Eddie. “Do we have time to roll up a character for me? I kinda forgot we needed to.”

Eddie smiled and handed Steve a piece of paper with a flourish. Steve took it gingerly.

He frowned. “Ser Stephan of Harring’s Town?”

“Yup!” Eddie said popping the last consonant. “We talked about it and figured the best way to introduce you to the game is to get you used to the game mechanics first. Your character is you. All you have to do is act like you would act and we’ll guide you through the rest of it.”

“I’m a barbarian?” he asked softly. “That‒that doesn’t sound very cool.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Erica said. “Barbarians were originally just people the Romans thought were inferior, despite getting their asses handed to them on the regular. It might mean someone who is crude now. But it didn’t always.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “It’s a cool thing?”

“Very cool,” Eddie confirmed.

Steve looked down at his character sheet again and the frown deepened. “Is ten in intelligence bad?”

“It’s average,” Lucas said. “No bonuses but no penalties either.”

“So, I’m not smart?” Steve asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Steve sweetheart, you are focusing on the bad. Look that the rest of your stats.”

“Seventeen in strength, fifteen in dexterity, eighteen in constitution, sixteen in wisdom, and fifteen in charisma...” he rattled off. “Okay...but I don’t know what that all means.”

“Strength is how hard you can hit stuff or how much weight you can carry or lift,” Dustin said.

“And seventeen is good?” Steve asked.

“Oh yeah,” Mike said. “Especially for a level one without bonuses. You hit hard.”

Steve nodded feeling a little better. “And what’s dexterity? That’s how quick you move, right?”

“A little,” Will said. “But it’s also how agile you are.”

Steve nodded. “I know what charisma is,” he said with a wink. “And fifteen is above average, right?”

“Yeah,” Erica said. “I had to argue that one to be higher.” She glared at the boys. Who promptly had elsewhere to look.

“And the last one, what’s the difference between intelligence which is low and my wisdom which is high?”

“Intelligence is knowing it’s raining,” Eddie explained. “Wisdom is knowing to bring an umbrella because it was cloudy when you woke up that morning.”

“So I’m smart in a different way?” Steve asked.

“Hell yeah, you are, Stevie,” Eddie said with a grin.

Steve looked down at his sheet one more time. “Anything else I need to know?”

Will looked over at Eddie. “Can I explain rage to him?”

Eddie laughed. “Go for it, Will the Wise.”

“What’s rage?” Steve asked.

“When a barbarian’s hit points drop to a certain range,” Will explained excitedly, “they go into this fugue state where they deal more damage but they sacrifice their intelligence until it wears off or until their hit points reach zero.”

“But I don’t do that,” Steve said, frowning again.

“Honey,” Eddie said gently, “I’ve seen you. You ripped a demobat from tip to tail with your bare hands, shirtless and barefoot. And spat out the blood like it was a bad tasting beer. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was awesome.”

Steve blinked. He vaguely remembered doing that. “Oh.”

“Look at your weapon, Steve,” Mike said excitedly. He was nearly vibrating with anticipation.

“A mace? I don’t know what that is...” He was starting to think that this was all a way for them to make fun of him.

Eddie whipped out the players’ handbook and began flipping through the pages. He stopped and then turned the book over to Steve.

Steve looked down at it awe. “It’s like a badass version of my bat.”

“Exactly!” Mike said. “Isn’t it awesome!”

Steve smiled for the first time since he sat down. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“And the final thing,” Lucas said. “Is improvised weapon proficiency.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“It means you can pick up anything,” Erica said, “a bottle, a chair, or anything like that and you don’t get an penalties for your attack rolls.”

Steve thought for a moment. “Oh you mean like I did with the phone and the Russians?”

“Exactly!” Erica said.

“Oh.” He looked down at the character sheet with a little bit more enthusiasm.

“So just play the character as is,” Dustin said, patting Steve on the shoulder. “We’ll help you do the game mechanics until you get the hang of it. And then when we start the next campaign you can create your own character and learn to roleplay.”

Steve looked down at his sheet again. “Okay. Yeah. I can handle that.”

“Everyone ready?” Eddie asked. When he got a series of nods and agreements, he began. “You are all in a large tavern that seats about sixty to seventy people. There are three barmaids, a dark-skinned human, a half orc who looks like she could double for security, and a halfling...”

Steve would stop him every once and a while asking questions about what things were or what they meant and each time someone would explain it to him.

Finally they wrap up for the night and Steve is chatting as happily about the campaign as the rest of them.

“Dude!” Lucas said. “Eddie was right, you are a barbarian. A kick ass one, too.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks man. I thought I would be a cleric or a paladin. But I guess not.”

Erica pats him on the back. “Starting with magic users is hard to begin with, and picking something because it looked cool is even harder. I learned that the hard way too.”

“You do realize that you’ve said some variation of the word ‘hard’ three times, right?” Mike teased.

“Shut up,” everyone shot back.

Mike ducked his head, but Steve ruffled his hair. Mike blushed but pushed a laughing Steve off him.

Will raised an eyebrow, but wisely said nothing.

“So, big boy,” Eddie said, strolling up to the party. “You coming back for round two?”

Everyone turned to look at Steve with baited breath.

“Hell, yeah!”

And cheer went up.

“You hear that, Eddie?” Dustin asked jumping up and down. “He’s coming back!!”

Eddie just smiled at Steve.

Steve ducked his head and blushed.

“Okay,” he said with a cough. “Who am I taking home and who’s going with Eddie?”

Mike and Sinclairs went with Eddie and Will and Dustin went with Steve.

Dustin crawled in the back seat, like he always did when he was too hyper for the front seat. Something Steve insisted on, so that he could actually drive.

Will got into the front seat. “I’m glad you had fun, Steve.”

Steve grinned. “Me, too...though I will admit it wasn’t looking very good to start with.”

“I told them we should have started with the fun stuff so that the other stuff didn’t come out as insulting, but no...” Will muttered.

“It wasn’t insulting!” Dustin protested. He paused. “Was it, Steve?”

Steve looked in the mirror and smiled softly at the crestfallen look on his young friend’s face.

“Nah, Eddie was right,” Steve said. “I was focusing on the negative.”

“Because you’d been burned before,” Will defended. “Which is why I wanted to start with your weapons and your feat. Because that stuff is badass.”

Steve grinned again. “Hell, yeah that was. Who knew that medieval weaponry could be so cool. I thought it was just axes and swords with maybe bows and arrows.”

“There is way more to it than that,” Dustin said, his enthusiasm coming back. “There are spears and morningstars and war hammers. All sorts of cool stuff.”

They chatted about medieval weapons until the dropped Dustin off. As soon as they had pulled away from the curb Will spoke.

“I have something for you,” he said digging something out his bag. Steve glanced down at the drawing and smiled.

“That’s awesome, Will,” Steve said with a grin. “My very own Will Byers original. Is that supposed to be me?”

Will nodded. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Because you thought I wouldn’t like it?”

Will shook his head. “I didn’t want draw everyone’s characters.”

“Down side of being an artist, unfortunately,” Steve agreed. “If you play an instrument they demand you play something for them, if you draw, draw something for them, I think the only time people don’t demand art from you is when you’re a writer, but they always ask if you’ve written a book.”

Will frowned. “Sounds like you know from experience.”

Steve glanced at him and smiled. “Don’t tell anyone else, but I draw, too.”

“You do?”

“Not like you,” Steve admitted. “It’s not very good. But it’s fun and I enjoy it.”

“Can I see some?” Will asked tentatively.

“Sure,” Steve said. “Like I said, I’m not very impressive, but come over tomorrow. I don’t have work.”

“I’d like that,” Will said softly. 

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

[phoenixyfriend]

International Taxes

Ko-Fi prompt from Ethan:

All I know about tariffs is that they're special taxes for international trade but people talk about them all the time. Please help explain

So we are going to talk about three things here:

Tariffs

VAT

Customs/Duties

I'll be using the US for most of my examples, because that's what I know best... and also because it's a very convenient example for the way VAT works on an international level.

Tariffs

You are correct that tariffs are special taxes for international trade. These are essentially fees that are applied to products being shipped in and out of a country in order to promote domestic product or impact a foreign one.

A common example is US steel. The United States has a fairly robust steel industry, and the government promotes that industry domestically by applying tariffs to imports. Back in 2018, Trump imposed a 25% tariff on steel imports and 10% on aluminum (something that the WTO said was illegal, but that's not relevant right now). The steel tariff had previously been a range of 8-30%, implemented by Bush in 2002. Prior to that, the steel tariff had generally been under 1%.

In applying that tariff, the federal government prioritized domestic purchasing. If domestic product is nominally $90 for one unit, and foreign product is $80, then it is cheaper and more appealing to buy from a foreign producer. With a 25% tariff, the foreign product is now functionally $100 per unit, making it more appealing to buy domestically. While the actual cost of the tax is born by the producing country, in the case of import tariffs, the result is the raising of costs when selling internationally.

Tariffs are also applied to specific countries. Once again using a Trump example, a $50 billion tariff was applied against China in 2018. This had negative impacts on the economy, as it led to worries of a trade war; China did retaliate by applying tariffs directly to specific products from the US, including wine and pork.

High tariffs theoretically lead to an increase in domestic trade, but they also lead to higher rates of smuggling. They are also a form protectionist policy, which was at its height in the 19th century for the US.

VAT - Value Added Tax

If you look up VAT, you get a lot of explanations that talk about how it is a tax that is levied against the consumer on the basis of the cumulative value of the product, and generally things are confusingly worded, so I'll save you some time:

It's sales tax.

If you are American like me, that's all it is. It's a different name for sales tax.

You get something for $8 at the store, but the final cost is $8.42? Those 42 cents are the VAT.

What does that have to do with international trade? Isn't that a domestic thing?

Well, yes and no. We'll start by comparing the US to most European countries.

See, the US has a different application of VAT than a lot of other places. In the US, sales tax is added at the very end of a purchase for the vast majority of places. This is because there is no federal sales tax. Instead, taxes are set by the state, county, and city governments. Take a look at this map of New York, and you'll see how much sales tax varies by just a few miles.

Given how much a pricing can vary from one town to the next, large corporations generate a greater profit by listing prices in their pre-tax form, and then adding that tax at the end. The consumer knows that there will be a higher price at the counter than is listed, because the standard in the US is to not include that tax. So your Arizona Iced Tea will be a $1 in Portland and $1 in Queens County, matching that promise on the can... but you'll still be paying $1 in Portland and $1.09 in Queens, because only one of those areas has sales tax, despite both being in the same country.

This works out for the retailer, because the consumer does not blame them for raising prices across county lines, if there is a sales tax hike. The thought of "it's cheaper ten miles down the road, I'll get to it later," followed by never getting to it and thus never making a purchase, is rarer, because the listed price is still the same. It also means having to print or design fewer price tags; imagine having to manually change every price in a supermarket magazine! Every coupon needs to have its price changed by a few cents, to account for tax!

...or you can just print the same magazine with the same prices and write "plus tax" after the listed cost.

All this to say, Americans are used to adding sales tax at the end, and knowing that the price they see is not the price they'll pay.

Other countries Do Not Do This.

I mean, some do. But we're talking about the ones that don't, which includes the entirety of the EU, India, some of Japan, and the country I actually have extensive experience with: Serbia.

I am currently in Serbia, which means I'm in a country with a sales tax/VAT that is higher than I'm used to (20% on most goods, 8% on essentials). In every store I've been to, the tax is included in the listed price. If it says 87 rsd on a carton of milk, I will be paying 87 rsd at checkout. The baseline price is 80 rsd, and then there's the 8% tax, and the final price is 86.4, which gets rounded up to the 87 that is listed on the tag.

If you aren't accustomed to thinking about VAT like in the US, online shopping can be... a trial.

If I purchase something from, say, Canada, and have it mailed to the US, I am given the sales tax as part of the purchasing process. It will format the receipt as the product plus sales tax. This is familiar to me.

To someone from the EU who does not purchase internationally (specifically from the US, Canada, or other countries that don't include sales tax in the sticker price), this tax can often come as a surprise.

And, finally, in some cases... the will be paid at the very end, at the point of pickup, along with customs. I recently purchased something from an English creator that was manufactured in Germany and then shipped to Serbia. I anticipated that I had paid the VAT for Serbia when purchasing the product. It was instead added at the point of purchase, as Serbia is neither in the EU nor in a trade agreement with the relevant countries that would allow for me to pay the VAT online, I had to pay the 20% in addition to customs when picking up the package from the postal office.

Despite not being a tariff or customs/duty payment, VAT can have a direct impact on international purchasing.

Customs/Duties

Customs and duties are taxes applied to products based on those product characteristics.

There is overlap with tariffs. As a consumer, you are... not going to be very affected by the difference between customs and tariffs.

Customs are like VAT, in that they are paid by the consumer rather than by the manufacturer.

You can think of tariffs as a fee that a manufacturer pays to sell something internationally (though that cost is often passed on to the consumer), and customs as a fee paid by a consumer to receive that good.

Hope this helps!

(And if anyone here is more familiar with the subject than I am, please feel free to add on or correct me! I'm generally pretty good about international policy, but I'm not an expert, and this subject can be a complicated one.)

(Prompt me on ko-fi!)

[unknownzapy]

Authors Note: Info dumping on what an Among Us Species would be like (my take on them at least). Constructive Criticism is welcome, just don’t be a jerk about it 👍🏼. Questions and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Alternate Universe Name

Bug Meat Universe created by @unknownzapy.

AU name suggested by @timefospookies.

Planet

The Planet they all live on is called “Pavolla”, chose this name on an online generator so I doubt it has any real meaning to it. It’s inhabitants are called Pavillians.

Pavolla is 10,055 miles (16,182 km) wide and It has one planetary ring around it which is made primarily of ice and gas. It’s Day Length is 22 hours long and the sky color is Blue with the Night Length being 12 hours and the sky color is Indigo; The Year has 463 Earth days. The Planet is covered with 25% Land and 85% Water, 30% of the Water being considered Deep Sea Level and 55% of the Water being considered Surface Water. Pavolla entirely is suitable for Earth-based life.

The Temperatures vary intensely across the year and seasons, with a large difference between the hottest and coldest seasons. Temperature Range is, for Low, -9 °C (15.8 °F) and, for High, 20 °C (68 °F) with an Average Temperature Range being 5.5 °C (41.9 °F).

The Planet has Three Moons that are three times bigger than Earth’s moon, all three of them being on the North end of Pavolla and being clustered together, but not fused with each other. Separately, They’re called: Styx, Pasiphae, and Thrymr.

Crew Mates

Physical Description

Lumanine have four (4) arms, two (2) legs, and a long, powerful tail with their entire bodies covered with smooth, hairless, and flexible yet tough skin with varied colors and designs mainly consisting of Red, Dark Blue, Dark Green, Pink, Orange, Yellow, Black, White, Purple, Brown, Cyan, Lime, Maroon, Rose, Banana, Gray, Tan, and Coral. They have pointed ears; their hearing is perhaps the best of all known species thus far. They have two (2) curved antennae placed on their head right above the eyes; They use their antennae to hear higher frequencies/vibrations than normally in wherever location they are currently in to avoid potential predators and when in search for food.

They have a dorsal fin at the tip of their tail with two (2) extra fins on their forearms and a spiky ridge of a darker shade of their skin going down their back which halts at the center with one (1) flat but firm fin at the middle of their backs and the ridge continues downward to their tails. Some are usually seen with their two (2) upper arms, whereas others are shown with all four (4) contracted arms. It’s also noted that, when they’re aging older and older, they tend to molt any dead skin cells and their respective color starts to fade in time.

Lifespans/Height

Newborns (0-12 Months Old) are sized at 73.66 CM (2 FT, 5 IN.)

Toddlers (1-3 Years Old) are sized at 101.6 CM (3 FT, 4 IN.)

Children (3-6 Years Old) are sized at 119.38 CM (3 FT, 11 IN.)

Adolescents (9-13 Years Old) are sized at 129.54 CM (4 FT, 3 IN.)

Young Adults (20-29 Years Old) are sized at 177.8 CM (5 FT, 10 IN.)

Middle Adults (30-50 Years Old) are sized at 195.58 CM (6 FT, 5 IN.)

Full Adults (60-65 Years Old) are sized at 226.06 CM (7 FT, 5 IN.)

Elders (70 to 85 Years Old) are sized at 231.14 CM (7 FT, 7 IN.)

Ancient (85+ Years Old) are sized at 238.76 CM (7 FT, 10 IN.)

Common Lifespan: 180-185 Years Old.

Behavior

Lumanines are peace-loving creatures who live both underwater and on land, adaptive to both worlds. They are a very social species and they live with other Lumanines in groups of between ten (10) and thirty (30) others; They have a very laid-back, calm temperament and their friendliness even extends to many other species.

One of the parents of baby Lumanine stay with their young for six to eight years, teaching them where to find food, what and how to eat, how to avoid predators and the technique for building a sleeping nest/personal home; This extends to orphaned animals both on land and sea. Baby Lumanine clings to his/her/their parent’s stomach, side, or back while they move throughout any area.

Since they are extremely docile in nature, they aren’t completely immune to showing signs of hostility. As such, they’re shown to act incredibly aggressive towards anyone or anything that threatens their children, home, or themselves, going as far as to brutally kill said offender(s) if deemed necessary.

Biological Sex Ratio

50% Female

50% Male

Common Amount of Children: 3-5.

Diet

Fish (Any Size), Reptiles, Mollusks, Small Mammals, Flowers, Seeds (Any Kind), Shrubs, Herbs, Vegetables, Fruits, Birds, Algae, Seaweed.

Abilities

Superhuman strength, speed, and agility.

Skilled hand-to-hand combat with two (2) or four (4) arms.

Retractable antennae and lower pair of arms.

Highly flexible body.

Super-sensitive hearing.

Scientific Name/Animal Name/Species Name

Melanotaenia Dipnoi Caelifera

Rainbow Lung Insect

Lumanine

Imposters

Physical Description

Vursealeon are made after his, her, or their body is severely weakened by extreme conditions, such as malnourishment and freezing weather, their outer skin begins to harden incredibly to protect themselves. They then proceed to have an extreme hunger for their own kind and eat any sort of meat that is deemed edible, even devouring venomous/poisonous animals and chunks of his, her, or their own body if necessary.

Vursealeon still retain a majority of their former bodies of being Lumanine, however the only differences are that they are able to retract their spines and perform violent actions that they weren’t physically able to do as a Lumanine. They are not able to preform molting since they now have an exoskeleton, deeming it impossible; although they do spread hard minerals across their body to sharpen their physical defenses as a way to prevent an animal biting through their exoskeleton. They are also seen with sharp spikes starting at the base of the neck that runs all the way down to the tail.

Lifespan/Height

Newborns (0-12 Months Old) are sized at 73.66 CM (2 FT, 5 IN.)

Toddlers (1-3 Years Old) are sized at 101.6 CM (3 FT, 4 IN.)

Children (3-6 Years Old) are sized at 119.38 CM (3 FT, 11 IN.)

Adolescents (9-13 Years Old) are sized at129.54 CM (4 FT, 3 IN.)

Young Adults (20-29 Years Old) are sized at 177.8 CM (5 FT, 10 IN.)

Middle Adults (30-50 Years Old) are sized at 195.58 CM (6 FT, 5 IN.)

Full Adults (60-65 Years Old) are sized at 226.06 CM (7 FT, 5 IN.)

Elders (70 to 85 Years Old) are sized at 231.14 CM (7 FT, 7 IN.)

Ancient (85+ Years Old) are sized at 238.76 CM (7 FT, 10 IN.)

Common Lifespan: 180-190 Years Old.

Behavior

They are seen as significantly more aggressive and prone to being hostile than their docile counterparts; preying on their food and other organisms by disguising their physical bodies to be their former selves or as a Lumanine before killing them. Vursealeon are, understandably, vengeful individuals who go to extreme lengths to feel “alive” once more, a majority of these Vursealeon are sadistic (low and/or high), masochistic (low and/or high), nihilistic, highly intelligent, and, most indefinitely, dare devils.

It is incredibly rare, but possible, for a Vursealeon to feel sympathy and affection, albeit obsessive or possessive. They are additionally sensitive to low-frequency vibrations, thus they “hear” mostly earth-borne, rather than aquatic and aerial, sound waves.

Vursealeon are lone creatures, although they do hunt in groups no more than seven (7) and protect their children and each other if threatened by a different species. Additionally, Vursealeon can live in both land and water just like Lumanine.

Biological Sex Ratio

50% Female

50% Male

Common Amount of Children: 1-2.

Diet

Amphibians, Fish, Crabs, Clams, Mussels, Sea Urchins, Lobsters, Insects, Sharks, Zebras, Small Hippos, Porcupines, Birds, Crocodiles, Lumanine, other Vursealeon.

Abilities

Shapeshifting.

Retractable claws, antennae, spines, and lower pair of arms.

Superhuman strength, speed, agility, and durability.

Skilled hand-to-hand combat with four (4) arms.

Highly flexible exoskeleton and body.

Super-sensitive hearing.

Enhanced Weapon Proficiency (I.e. Guns, Knives.) [VeryLow to Very High varies between Vursealeon].

Scientific Name/Animal Name/Species Name

Fictus Caelifera Nephropidae

Fake Insect Lobster

Vursealeon

References + Credits

Lungfish, Grasshopper, Among Us Game, Alex Ries YT, Rainbow Fish, Nephropidae.

Tag List

@badger-stream , @simpformoonkight , @breadaton , @timefospookies , @spooky-donut-ghost-house , @blueemberthefox

Author’s Note

PHEW- That was a lot to write down these past few weeks. Whoever comes across this post, I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I wrote it. If you would like to make content related to this AU, please tag me for credits and so that I can like your post(s) as well 😊! Like I said, constructive criticism is welcome and so are reblogs and questions.

[everygame]

Super Bomberman R Online (Nintendo Switch)

Developed/Published by: Hexadrive / Konami Released: 3/03/2017 Completed: 1/12/2022 Completion: Well, I never managed to win a match, but top 20 is good, right? Trophies / Achievements: n/a

As this is being officially shut down in two days, I thought I might as well make a record of it; thought I suppose it doesn’t entirely get to be one of those “lost” games because it is, basically, just an attempt at a battle royale version of a game that you can still get (Super Bomberman R). 

And, to be honest, what I have to say about this might only annoy you, because it does come from the perspective of someone who is unbelievably crap at Bomberman. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve loved playing the classics–I’ve even got some games of ten-player Saturn Bomberman under my belt–but as much as I get how to play it, I am… not good at it. I’m like Mr. blow-yourself-up-constantly. I’m the kind of player who literally drops one bomb and then walks back into the explosion. Or who drops a bomb at the wrong moment and traps himself between a wall and it. Or who drops loads of bombs and forgets how far their explosions are going to reach.

To be honest, there’s just so much to track in a game of Bomberman, and that chaos is part of the fun–even if you’re a cautious yet inattentive player like me. I’m sure you can get extremely good at Bomberman, able to track what you’ve dropped and watch what your opponents are dropping and be aware of their explosion length, and that, but there’s so much on screen, all the time, that I’m pretty sure it’s always going to be beyond me. Thank goodness it isn’t, like, how we sort out wars or something, because if I was ever conscripted I’d be in trouble [Unlike actual war, where you’d be fine?--Ed.]

So, while you can take my take on any Bomberman with a grain of salt, then, I do have to say… bloody hell this was underwhelming. Underwhelming to the point where I understand why it failed so unbelievably rapidly. You’d think a battle royale bomberman would be a slam dunk, but there’s games that work as a battle royale (Tetris) games that are… fine (Super Mario Bros.) and then there’s this, which just seems like sort of a botch.

Maybe they considered a huge 64 person field and couldn’t get it to run, but this instead goes for a system where there are 16 different screens with four bombermen on each, and after a set period of time you have to move into another screen or auto-lose. Everyone gets a couple of lives (lucky at this point, as you’d be waiting between matches far longer than you’d be playing them otherwise) and that’s it, basically.

Now, I was able to get quite a few games of this going–I guess the Switch playerbase held up ok enough that I was getting games after a few minutes wait or so–but it just… it just doesn’t feel like anything. You play a match of Bomberman against some randos, then you switch to another screen and do it again. Because it’s a battle royale, you’re not exactly incentivised to anything other than survival, so you might as well just stand in your corner until you have to move–and if you do, you’ll (I’ll) probably just end up killing yourself (myself).

It’s not helped by a baffling range of characters to play that I never actually understood. As much as Konami is the worst steward of their history, I love that this game features bombermen based on the Vic Viper, Solid Snake and that, but when you’re choosing between them it’s like… wait, why would I choose this guy, who can’t level up his explosion distance past a certain point? Or… why wouldn’t I just pick this character, who has much higher starting stats? etc.

(Being generous, there’s probably some super high-level play reasons–but the game doesn’t explain any of it.)

There were a ton of monetisation things in this (a battle pass and the like) but with the actual “monetisation” stripped out the levelling up is miserably slow and random (quite incredible to get a challenge to win a battle royale as my second challenge, which was never happening) and, of course, totally worthless as of two days from now (I doubt you’ll even be able to boot it up and see what you’ve unlocked.)

To be honest, the game doesn’t even feel that good to play. Maybe I’m biased, but the games haven’t ever felt right in 3D–less precise–and you really feel that here.

This is “this ain’t it, chief” personified. Too bad, so sad.

Will I ever play it again? I can’t. 

Final Thought: What’s interesting, of course, is that Konami have since released Amazing Bomberman on Apple Arcade to deafening silence (on googling, I could literally find only one review, in Italian. I suppose critic reviews are not the world's greatest way to tell how popular something is, but man. Konami really has frittered away it’s cultural cache, huh.)

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi, either via a one-off donation (pay what you like) or by joining as a supporter at just $1 a month.

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Relic Coffee Shop

Prompt

.

.

.

Prompts:

1: Lemm finds an odd fellow at the Blue Lake. Normally he wouldn’t bother to approach a stranger out of nowhere, but something in his gut urges him to take action. Quirrel, feeling the effects of age on his body, stares incredulously at the bearded face of a stranger who apparently wants to have him over for coffee. 2: Lemm sets up shop in an abandoned cafe. It’s roomy and pleasant at first, but there are _stacks_ of these disgusting old bitter coffee beans clogging up the rooms. It doesn’t help that bugs keep coming in to order a drink even though he’s posted signs to _KEEP OUT!!_ However, once they start offering Geo be begrudgingly takes it as an opportunity to achieve funds to pay for relics. 3: At first, the coffee was just an excuse to get Geo to pay for relics, but Lemm’s begun to notice that bugs who wandered into his shop with the telltale early symptoms of infection no longer have them on their return visits. He tells himself he’s not an altruist. He’s _not._It’s just a waste to throw out old coffee when someone just needs a pick-me-up.

By @bluwails​

------------------------------- By @hydrochlorinate​

“Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Else.”

Those were the words that came out of the grumpy barista’s mouth that fateful day. One’s that you completely ignored, as you had already been drinking what could only be the drink of HIgher Beings, with just how heavenly it tasted.

Grinning like a lunatic, you give him 45 geo, not a small sum. If anything though, it was hilariously cheap for a drink that was this good. The bug doesn’t complain about the amount though, so he’s probably fine with it. Wings fluttering in excitement, you leave the shop, ready to tell any remaining survivors about the amazing drink shop you just found.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

The next time you come in, the store is absolutely packed. Denizens from all across the ruins of Hallownest are here, ranging from some uninfected moss knights to that one ladybug that you had a dance off with a while back. There's even a noble here, and- is that a mantis?

Anyway, it looks like your very subtle method of giving publicity to this cafe by talking about literally nothing else to whomever you talked to over the following week paid off. Good, this place deserves all the atte-

“You.”

Oh? You snap out of your thoughts, and look towards the counter, where the barista is levelling a glare at you that could instantly wither those delicate flowers that have been spreading around recently.

You stroll on up to the counter, a grin stretching across your face. The barista narrows his eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep this a secret? Why is my establishment filled to the brim with bugs? Who are these people?!”

...huh. Did he tell you to keep it on the down low? It seems in character from your limited interactions, but you don’t remember exactly. Oh well, time to play it off. You tell him that, well, what can you say except you’re welcome.

You’ve never seen a bug go from “Irritated” to “Ballistic” as fast as this barista. Usually they make a stop at “Angry” or “Absolutely Livid”.

“YOU’RE WELCOME?!?!”

No, see, he’s supposed to say thank you.

“THANK YOU???”

You tell him he’s welcome, before laughing. No, really, you tell him, look around, the place is packed! Business is booming! The barista (you should really ask for his name) manages to bring his volume under control, taking in a deep breath.

“That’s part of the problem. I’m a relic seeker, not a-” He gestures around the cafe, as if looking for the right words to use. Barista, you suggest.

“Exactly. I’m not made to brew coffee-” Oh, that’s what it was called. “-or to be dealing with customers all day long.”

Sure. That’s why he decided to allow people to keep purchasing coffee, or why he decided to put on a cute green and white visor.

You didn’t just come to check in on your new favorite bug though, you have coffee to order! Taking out a sheet of paper from your bag, you begin to read out both your order, and those of your companions. Even with the end of the infection, the leftover damage to hallownest’s caves and architecture makes it dangerous to travel alone.

As you begin to read out your order, the barista shifts from crotchety old bug to attentive worker. You really wish you had come back earlier, instead of letting some of your other traveling buddies pick up the coffee for you. Something about the atmosphere here is… relaxing, despite the amount of people.

After your order is finished, you leave the cafe. Back to the real world bucko, as an old friend of yours would always say.

...Wait a minute you never got the barista’s name.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

It’s been 3 weeks. You think. Time gets a little funky down here, what with the sudden influx of void. Sure, most of it has cleared out by now, but every so often your exploration party comes across a tunnel that hasn’t quite been fully illuminated, the shadows just a bit too thick to be natural.

You enter the coffee shop again. It’s gotten a lot quieter as time went on and bugs started coming in on a schedule. There’s still plenty of other customers here, but it’s nowhere near as packed as the first couple of days. Lemm (yeah, you finally got his name) stands at the counter, still slightly disgruntled, but a lot less so than he was at the beginning. In fact, he’s actually talking to someone right now! An actual conversation too, not just an exchange of witty remarks. You can’t see their face, but they appear to be a pillbug wearing a blue hood. 
As you step up to the counter, you can hear their conversation a bit better.

“...of course, I couldn’t just leave it sitting there right? So I move to pick it up, only to find out that the desk I dropped it on was magnetized! So here I am, trying and failing to pick up this one plant hanger for a solid 10 minutes.”

They both laugh at this, before noticing you. The unknown bug turns to face you, allowing you to see his mask.

“Oh, hello, I don’t believe we’ve met before!”

You greet him back, introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Quirrell. I’m… well, I can’t really call myself an explorer, because I’ve already been everywhere! I’m more of a wanderer, really.”

Ahh, a free spirit, you see. You point out that just because he’s been everywhere doesn’t mean he’s seen everything. After all, who knows what could’ve gone down during Hallownest’s peak. Both Quirrell and Lemm get amused by this, for some reason. Seeing your confused look, Lemm decides to speak up.

"He probably knows more about Hallownest than everyone here, having lived here since before the infection and all."

Your eyes widen, and your wings begin to flutter. Truly? An original denizen, and not someone else trying to piece together its history? Quirrell waves off the words, though.

"I wouldn't go that far…" He begins, but Lemm cuts him off before he can go any further.

"Hah! Next you'll be telling me that you weren't the head assistant of the kingdom's best scientist!"

Giving off the equivalent of a blush, Quirrell rubs the back of his head. Lemm turns back to you.

"I'm sure you didn't come in just to chat, though. What can I get for you?"

It's nice to see him making friends.

------------------------------- By @schyrsivochter​

Lemm wasn’t a sociable person. That was a fact. He wasn’t good at talking, or at being friendly. (It wasn’t like he needed it, anyway. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed conversing with another bug.)

No, Lemm was much more of a person for reading. Deciphering the journals of the long dead, the writing and languages, was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Other artefacts spoke differently: the materials from which they were made, the way they were worked, the artistic style. It was a different kind of reading; some might say a more figurative one. But it was just as interesting.

Of course, architecture was part of that. It had not been a coincidence that Lemm had set up camp in Hallownest’s abandoned capital. When he’d arrived, he hadn’t dared to think that he’d ever finish exploring and finding new things. And it was true; he’d only explored a little bit before he’d realised that collecting and gathering relics was no use if he never took a proper look at them, instead letting them gather dust on the shelves, the tables, and the floor of the long-abandoned shop he’d moved into. So he’d decided to stay there, poring over his collection. His picture of the world of Hallownest in times past grew ever more detailed, more complete.

He’d opened the shop because people did not seem to stop wanting to sell him relics, and it never hurt to appear a little professional. And it had been a reliable source of new artefacts; new knowledge. He’d never sold anything, of course. His collection was his, and his alone.

And then came the dark. The cleansing void. It had taken him by surprise; he’d been working, and only noticed that anything was amiss when the light dimmed and he was finally bathed in darkness. He must’ve fallen unconscious at that point, and there’d been no telling how long it had been until he’d awoken. It hadn’t been until later that he’d learned that this was what had obliterated the plague, leaving in its wake hundreds of confused survivors and thousands of dead. No, the next thing to happen that told him things were not as usual was that a bug had come in, asked if he was open, and, upon his affirmative answer, asked for a hot drink, holding out a piece of ten.

Taken by surprise, he’d offered to make tea. He’d immediately regretted it, since it meant the bug would be staying for a while, probably without selling him relics, but it was easy enough to do and would get him geo, his supply of which had been running low. So he put a kettle on and took the money. The bug had thanked him profusely, while he had elected to remain quiet.

Not long afterwards, the same bug and four others stood in the doorway. Whether they had relics for him, he’d asked. They’d looked amongst themselves, and one had asked, ‘Is this not a coffee shop?’

‘I suppose it might’ve once been,’ he’d said. ‘Now it’s mine.’

More confused looks and standing around, and then the bug he’d seen before asked if he’d make more tea. He’d said no, not unless they paid him twice as much as the last time and stayed quiet and didn’t disturb him in his work. To his horror, the five bugs had agreed, and so he’d dug out cups from the coffee shop’s former stock and afterwards found himself a little richer in geo but with a significantly worse mood.

He had his peace afterwards, though. At least for a while. Now a bug had arrived, taller than the others, wearing a headscarf. Lemm had mentally prepared for the bug to ask for coffee, but the bug had halted in front of one of the tables that Lemm had repurposed for his collection of relics.

‘Admiring my collection?’ Lemm asked.

’Yes, quite!’ the bug answered, chipper and friendly. ‘I’m curious how you managed to get a hold of so many texts in such diverse languages! These are journals, are they not?’

‘They are,’ Lemm acknowledged. ‘From all over Hallownest.’

‘But most of them aren’t any Hallownest language.’ The bug put a hand on his mask. ‘I suppose they’re from travellers that came to the ruins and perished?’

‘Quite right,’ Lemm said. He had to admit, begrudgingly, that the bug standing before him was sharp and knew his history. A trait not many others shared.

‘Can you read all of them?’ The mask turned towards Lemm, inclined in question.

‘No,’ he answered truthfully, making his way around the counter to stand next to the bug. ‘I haven’t had the time to decipher all of them yet. But I’ll get around to it eventually.’

‘Interesting,’ the bug said. ‘I can—huh?’

He turned towards the entrance, and Lemm followed his gaze. Lemm was about to ask what the problem was, when a bug appeared in the entrance. The one that he’d made tea twice for. Ah yes, he thought. A customer. Two of them, in fact; one of the others from before had joined the one who’d taken a fancy to paying Lemm to make tea.

‘I don’t suppose,’ Lemm said, ‘there is any way to convince you to find tea somewhere else?’

The bugs shook their head.

Lemm sighed, and muttered an apology to the tall visitor. Time to get it over with.

He went to the back room to prepare the tea, and overheard the two visitors conversing in the front.

‘What’s this, anyway?’

‘Historical documents. Journals of travellers.’

‘What’s it doing here?’

‘I think the shopkeep collects them.’

‘That’s correct!’ Lemm called. ‘I’m always buying, if you have anything of historical value.’

He grabbed the cups and walked back to the front. ‘That’s fifty geo. Unless you have relics.’

The bugs complained under their breath, but paid up, and Lemm could direct his attention back to the visitor.

‘So is this what you do?’ they asked. ‘Opened the coffee shop again and collecting relics in your free time?’

Lemm was dumbstruck for a moment. Then he remembered to be outraged. ‘No! I am not opening this place as a coffee shop! People just keep coming and demanding tea and I cannot let an opportunity to earn easy money go to waste!’

‘Relic business not exactly booming, then, I assume?’

‘I’m—’ he spluttered, ‘It’s not a business! I don’t sell my relics, they’re mine!’

‘So you wouldn’t have any income if you weren’t selling tea?���

Lemm had the distinct impression that the bug was making fun of him. He didn’t answer, but simply walked up to the table, grabbed a random journal, and took it to his desk to try and get some work done.

He had not yet prepared his quill and ink when he was interrupted yet again.

‘You know,’ the visitor called, ‘that one is from a traveller from Greynest. Came here looking for his brother, never found him. No doubt said brother also perished in the ruins.’

Lemm turned around to see the bug standing in the doorway, having followed him halfway. ‘And how do you know this?’ he asked.

The bug shrugged. ‘I read it.’

Lemm regarded the bug. They didn’t seem to be joking.

‘You mean to tell me,’ Lemm began, slowly, ‘you know this language?’

‘Yes,’ they said nonchalantly. ‘I think I’ve been to Greynest? Must have been a while ago.’

‘Are you a traveller, then?’ Lemm asked. ‘You don’t seem the type.’

As soon as he’d spoken the words, Lemm became aware how utterly ridiculous it was of him to make observations about people. He didn’t like people, he wasn’t interested in people—

The bug laughed. ‘I am, in fact. I have travelled far and wide.’

‘Hmph,’ said Lemm, unsure what else to say. He turned back to his work, looked at the angular shapes carved into the stone, but now it seemed senseless to try and make sense of it when he knew that it was no mystery to the bug standing behind him.

At some point, he looked up and found that he was hungry and the visitor was gone. Oh, well. Time for a meal, then, and afterwards he might be able to find something else to do.

* * *

The next time the tea-drinker returned, they asked for tea and then asked Lemm about the relics, and he was in a favourable enough mood to talk about them. They asked some fairly stupid questions, but it seemed to come out of a genuine interest in the topic, so he indulged them. Plus, he had to admit that he enjoyed having a reliable source of geo. Not that he needed it much for buying relics, these days, but he supposed that his supplies of food – and of tea – would not last indefinitely, and he didn’t particularly fancy having to go back to scavenging, now that there were actual people living in the vicinity again. No, he’d rather find some place where he could buy what he needed fair and square.

The traveller with the headscarf returned, and it was an odd sort of feeling Lemm had about them. Like he actually liked having them in his shop and talking to them. And the perplexing thing was that the bug also seemed to enjoy conversing with Lemm. Which one one hand was absolutely preposterous, on the other … it was a refreshing change.

The bug introduced himself as Quirrel, apprentice to Monomon the Teacher, and Lemm could hardly believe it. Monomon the Teacher, one of the most brilliant minds of Hallownest? It couldn’t be! And yet it was not all too difficult to imagine. He’d seen stranger things in these lands.

Quirrel also was the one who later suggested Lemm officially open the shop as a coffee shop again. Lemm had thrown him out at that and gone back to work.

Now, a short while later, he looked up and Quirrel was back, standing at the counter, watching Lemm silently.

Lemm rose and went to the front, choosing to stare back equally silently. Lemm was good at that. Probably.

‘So,’ Quirrel said at length, his voice still as annoyingly friendly as ever, ‘have you thought about it?’

Lemm kept staring.

Quirrel held up his hands. ‘You need money, you don’t have much else to do, and besides’ – Quirrel shrugged. – ‘people like your tea.’

‘I certainly have enough to do,’ Lemm started. ‘These texts don’t decipher themselves. What’s so funny?’

Quirrel stopped his giggling and said, ‘They sort of do. Have you forgotten who stands before you?’

‘You don’t read all of these languages.’ Really, Quirrel’s ego was getting on Lemm’s nerves.

‘But most of them,’ Quirrel said, shrugging, ‘and most of the Archive’s records are intact. And we do have a nice section on language and writing.’

Lemm was silent for a moment, mostly because he could not think of a good comeback. Quirrel had a point, and Lemm did not like that in the slightest.

‘Let’s make a deal,’ Quirrel said. ‘I help you translate your texts and catalogue your artefacts, and you’ – Quirrel jabbed a finger in Lemm’s direction – ‘you sell your tea officially.’

‘Out of the question.’

‘You’re already doing it.’

‘I am not!’

‘Yes, you are.’ Quirrel said this with absolute certainty and no anger, and there was a voice at the back of Lemm’s mind that said: You really sort of are. And you could use the help. You don’t like the busywork anyway.

‘All right,’ Lemm grumbled. ‘Deal.’

‘Thank you,’ said Quirrel, audibly grinning.

‘I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?’ Lemm asked under his breath.

‘I don’t think so,’ Quirrel said. ‘I’m curious – what else can you make? Tea alone is a bit boring, don’t you think?’

‘Shut up,’ Lemm said, ‘or I change my mind.’

* * *

Lemm did not change his mind, even though Quirrel didn’t shut up. It had been a while, and Lemm hated to admit it, but he enjoyed doing something different for a change. Customers were now plenty, and Lemm had a menu with more than one item, and his relic collection was no bigger, but more orderly and better understood than it had ever been, thanks to Quirrel’s – and the Archive’s – help.

Another thing that Lemm was not quite ready to admit was that people could be nice. The more he talked to customers, interacted with them, observed them, the more he began to appreciate them. He used to be content in reading historical texts and artefacts, preferring to learn about people that were dead and gone. Living bugs had never really interested him.

Nowadays, however, it seemed that people could be just as interesting to read as anything else. And, as Quirrel entered, greeting him, and he could not help his mood being lifted just by the prospect of learning something new and interesting that Quirrel learnt on his last trip to the Archive, Lemm supposed that sometimes, very rarely … people were something he could enjoy.

------------------------------- By @gardening-clown​

------------------------------- By @buglife​

Lemm was five seconds away from throwing someone through the window.

His shop was now occupied by five bugs of various species, talking, laughing, and sitting around when he could be in the back doing literally anything else. It took weeks of bugs thinking that his relic shop was a coffee one before he simply gave up and made peace with it. At least he got some geo from it to pay adventurers that did come by to sell legit relics. How they mistook his shop for a coffee one, he would have never guess.

All he had was a little brewer that was barely put back together that he scavenged from some random shop, but other bugs seemed to like it, for some strange reason. It wasn’t even good coffee he was making, but they seemed to accept it. After all, who else in this dead kingdom was even selling coffee? He had looted plenty of shops and took as many sacks of beans as he would when he first arrived, and there was no way he could drink them all, so he might as well do something with them.

But he was steadily losing his patience with the amount of bugs around him. They were talking and loitering. Loitering was probably the worst of it all as it made the loner bug feel his shell crawl with the forced social interaction. He just wanted them to leave. He couldn’t stand the feeling of a crowded space, which is why he went to a dead kingdom in the first place.

Hell, he had to take his beloved odds and ends down from the shelves to keep some curious bug from touching them all up with their dirty fingers and breaking something.

He found himself dreading the sound of the bell above his door, and when it rang he wondered if someone else was coming to ask him for some random drink or be an annoying thorn in his side.

To his hidden delight however, it was the little wanderer. They looked like a grub, to be honest, with a black body and a stark white horned shell for a head. The nail on their back seemed to be a little put together the last time he saw them, perhaps they visited the Nailsmith? He never asked for their name, he didn’t want to learn it to avoid attachments, but he found them oddly endearing. They liked to listen to him ramble about his theories on various relics they bring him, so they can’t be too bad. Plus they were quiet and polite, something he was immensely grateful for.

They bounced inside the door and came to a stop, looking at the five other bugs sitting around and chatting. They tilted their head to the side, watching the bugs for a moment before looking at Lemm. They stretched out a stubby arm from under their cloak and pointed at him.

Lemm sighed. Of course, the little Wanderer had been gone for a while, and obviously didn’t know what had become of his beloved shop. He gestured for them to come over, which they did and looked up at him expectantly.

“Bugs keep thinking that this is a coffee shop.” He explained. “So here they are, drinking coffee that I make on a terrible little brewer. I gave up trying to kick them all out all the time, it stopped being worth the effort.”

The little wanderer blinked a few times, looking somewhat confused. They pointed to the cup being held by the beetle on one of Lemm’s chairs and mimed the action of drinking it.

“Yes, that’s coffee they are drinking.” He raised a brow as he looked down at the grub. “Haven’t you ever seen coffee before?”

They shook their head.

“Really now? Hrm…” He wasn’t sure where the little wanderer had come from if they never saw coffee before. It was a fairly common drink besides tea. They must have grew up in a rather isolated place If they never saw it. He decided he might as well explain it, it would be better to do it now than later.

“Coffee is a drink that bugs like to drink to give them energy.” He saw them perk up a bit at the ‘energy’ part. “It’s rather bitter, so some like it with sugar. I like it plain. It keeps me awake when I am working.”

They somehow made a face when he said it was bitter, tilting their head and angling their eye holes to look affronted. Lemm squashed down a laugh at the expression and decided to get to business.

“Anyway, they trade me geo for it, which lets me compensate bugs that get me relics. Do you have any for me today?” He hoped they did, he needed something to brighten up his day.

The wanderer nodded, reaching under their cloak to pull out a black orb. Lemm recognized it immediately to be an arcane egg. He loved working with those. Peeling back each layer revealed new information and new discoveries. He was in fact, still working on the one he got weeks before. He needed to be careful with them, and he reveled in the intense focus and work it needed to discover it’s secrets. His day instantly got better.

“Very nice, I’ll be glad to take that off your hands for the usual price.” The old beetle held out his hand and the wanderer gently placed the egg it in. They held up a hand once it was free and shook their head, pointed to a cup sitting on the counter.

“Ah, you want to trade this for a cup of coffee?” He wasn’t going to say no to that. If the wanderer was okay with it, it was a perfectly reasonable business transaction. His suspicions were confirmed when they nodded and bounced in place, looking as excited as they were able to. “Well I can certainly do that.”

Thankfully, the two bugs occupying the chairs in front of the counter left, leaving behind their dirty cups and a few geo for the mess. They thanked him and he grumped out a ‘have a good day’ as they left, seemingly indifferent to his mood. Oh well, at least it brought down the occupancy to a more manageable level for his social batteries. He pushed the dirty cups out of the way and gestured to an open seat. “Here, sit down and I’ll get you a cup.”

They bounced upwards to take a seat, swinging their legs back and forth as they waited. It didn’t take Lemm long to throw some ground up beans and water into the grinder, watching the brewed coffee pour into a clean cup. He carefully carried the hot cup down and set it in front of the wanderer. “Be careful, it’s very hot. I’ll bring you some sugar, you didn’t seem to like the ‘bitter’ description.”

They nodded and watched as he pushed over a bowl of honey sugar and a spoon. It was the least he could do after they got him another arcane egg.  “There you are, help yourself.”

They bowed their head in thanks and took up the spoon, poking it into the bowl.

“Excuse me,” One of the bugs by the window got up, the one with a bent antenna and holding their empty cup. “Could I get a refill, please?”

Lemm held back a sigh and nodded, taking the cup and heading back to his brewer. He had to smack it a couple times for it to start working again, but in the end he got a passable cup of coffee out of it. He returned just in timed to hear said bug exclaim, “Woah there buddy, you must really like sugar!”

He looked to the wanderer, who had added so much sugar to their cup of coffee, that he could hear the sugar that couldn’t dissolve scrape against the ceramic as it was stirred. It looked like fresh cement, there was only a bit of brown to denote that once, it was indeed a cup of coffee.

He wordlessly handed the other bug their coffee, who took it and retreated back to sit by the window. He was about to say something to the wanderer, when to his horror, their head tilted backwards. A maw of sharp black teeth opened wide, and he watched, astonished, as the mix of sugar and coffee oozed into their mouth and to who knows where. A long black tongue lashed out to get every last bit of sugar out of the cup, before the mouth closed with a quiet click. They must have felt him staring, because they turned to look at him with their fathomless, dark eyes. He stared back, wondering what the hell was actually sitting in front of him.

They then bounced in place and gave him a thumbs up. They made a shape of a heart with their hands, a way that they say ‘thank you’. They seemed rather happy.

“Um…you’re welcome?” He managed, after he gathered his composure again.

They sat still for a moment, seeming to ponder on what they had just consumed. He figured that they were probably trying to figure out if they liked it or not. He doubt they even managed to taste the coffee from the sheer amount of sugar in that cup.

Then, to his horror, they began to vibrate. At first it was a few twitches, and then it steadily became more and more severe, until they were a literal blur. The chair rattled under the stress and the bugs that remained in the shop turned to look at the commotion.

It was then, Lemm realized he fucked up.

They suddenly dashed away, slamming into the shop door with such force that it caved outwards. There was only the short sound of shattering glass and the scream of metal before it flew off it’s hinges and rattled down the hallway. He could hear the hurried pitter-patter of the wanderer’s tiny feet, now fast enough to blur into one continuous sound, race down the hall and out of sight and hearing.

He just stood there, looking at the wreckage of his shop door, wondering where the hell is he going to get a replacement, if there even was a replacement. He looked at the three shocked bugs, standing and looking at the wreckage, and then he got himself an idea.

“Hey fellas,” He said, as he turned and looked at the bugs next to the window. “How would you all like some free coffee if you find me a door?”

------------------------------- By @radical-mudkips​

------------------------------- By @unregisteredcookie​

Lemm's 'shop' was empty.

Actually, no, that… that wasn't right. Lemm's shop wasn't a shop in the first place--it was a haven for relics and ancient knick-knacks, and the shelves were filled to overflowing with stone tablets and peculiar eggs that held unimaginable information. Not that Lemm was ever able to crack into the eggs' shells, but he knew--he knew there was more treasured information sleeping beneath. If only he were able to open it up without risking that information being damaged.

And that wasn't right, either. The shop being empty, that was. Right now, the shelves were empty, but that was less because of the absence of relics and more because they were all stowed away in the back room to be sorted. He had a notebook he was combing over, quill in hand as he scribbled out little bits of information that might relate to one another.

'Might', because Lemm wasn't really from Hallownest. So he didn't know for sure whether this smooth L-shaped contraption was a door handle or a piece to a lost work of art.

It was while Lemm was scribbling about in this journal bound in parchment (hand-made and flimsy, using the paper he found around the area that was clean and allowed to dry) that he heard it: The distant clattering of the elevator. There were about seven options he could think of off of the top of his head, each more dreaded than the last. It could be that scarcely-seen Nailsmith who seemed to know more about the history of this ruin than he let on. It could be the peculiar little silent bug that stared up at him now and again, the one that sometimes passed by with a relic to sell. It could be that talkative windbag, droning on and on in his droning voice, so grating and persistent that Lemm struggled to ignore him. He was probably the worst.

Lemm stopped writing, tilted his head, and listened for the telltale sound. The rattling stopped, and all that he heard for a while was silence. And then.

Ding.

He sighed, getting to his feet. A customer it was, then. How delightful. Here's hoping that the customer wasn't 'Zote the Mighty'.

He had a small moment of dread when he saw the horn, a critical blow of dismay that tempted him to retreat back into the back room and pretend to be out for a walk, but then he saw the second horn and breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, it wasn't the Zote person after all. It was… them. The other little one.

They looked up at him as he approached the register and looked down at them. Their eyes were vacant as ever, face impossibly unreadable. Lemm doubted that he'd ever get used to it.

Lemm liked this little bug, if for no other reason than they were quiet, kept their hands to themself, and brought him relics to purchase. They were the only one willing to sell these relics, and they were the only reason Lemm often said what he said next.

"Cup of coffee, or looking to sell?"

He never had much company in this place until the Nailsmith (Lemm never caught his name, never bothered asking, really) first came in looking for materials for his smithing. Almost took one of Lemm's Pale Idols from under his beard while he was noting in his journal. After the initial yelling that followed and a cup of coffee, the Nailsmith apologized by paying for the cup. And he did it again. And again. Until the mapmaker came in, saw, and bought a cup himself. Until the hooded pillbug came in, hummed, and bought one for himself. And then--

Well. And then he had a coffee shop.

Lemm wished he could say that he hated it, and he did, at first. But over time, he found the company rather pleasant. Besides, the geo paid for this little bug's relic collection well enough, so he wasn't complaining.

So. Did they want a cup of coffee, or did they want to sell their relics? Lemm didn't get an answer. Instead, they looked around at the empty shelves for a moment before turning their empty eyes back onto him, tilting their head to the side slightly.

It took Lemm a moment.

"Oh, I moved the relics into the back room," he said. "I've been needing to work on sorting them out and writing notes about them. Never would I have thought that I would have so many to study."

Satisfied, they reached into the confines of their cloak. Lemm leaned forward a little, watching as they rummaged about for a moment, heart skipping a beat as he pondered what sort of relic they were going to sell this time.

And then they withdrew their small hand, reached up, and dropped a fist full of geo onto the counter.

Lemm blinked and stared at the geo for a moment. Something wispy and thin clung to them, and when he picked it up and opened the register, it was sticky. Was this webbing? Lemm wasn't aware of there being any spiders in Hallownest, aside from maybe that red-cloaked bug he saw very rarely flitting about outside his window.

So. No relics today. Fine, at least he'd have more money to buy another one later.

"One coffee coming up," he murmured, rummaging around behind the counter. Underneath the register was where he kept the coffee pot, which he refrained from moving just so he could be prepared if a 'customer' came by. He busied himself with it for a few moments, filling the filter and checking the water, before clicking the button and letting it steep. Granted, he didn't know what kind of coffee they'd drink, but they didn't make it clear anyway, so he doubted that it mattered.

Besides. They seemed a little preoccupied by something else at the moment. After a few minutes, the coffee was finished, and Lemm poured them a cup. He chose a caramel-like flavor, because they seemed about the size of a child and a little bit of sweetness never hurt anyone. Lemm reached over the counter and held it out to them, which they took in their hands and stared down at for a moment. Lemm was about ready to head back into the back when it happened. A crack. It almost sounded like something breaking, but when he turned to look behind himself at the small knight, they still stood there. Another crack, one that made his fur stand on end and his body stiffen, and Lemm caught the glimpse of something sharp and white shifting beneath the bottom of their mask.

A mouth?

They tilted their head back. A jaw opened. Many layers of teeth glimmered in the dim light, cracking as they did so, the noise chilling him through his chitin and making his hemolymph freeze. Lemm stood there, stock still, as they lifted the cup up to their face, jaw extending outwards to drink it, and then-- --they set the scalding hot coffee in their mouth, cup and all, closed it, and crunched.

Lemm had never seen a bug eat a cup of coffee before. He could still hear the crunch, crunch, crunching, muffled and quiet and growing quieter, noise sounding like a particularly crunchy tiktik being eaten.

Lemm shuddered. When the knight looked back at him, he turned around quickly and went into the back room.

Okay. Suddenly they weren't the second most welcome sight for sore eyes. Suddenly Lemm wished that it was that talking, yapping Zote fellow who came in instead.

------------------------------- By @doodle-chris​

------------------------------- By @payasita​

There was no shortage of open real estate as far as the City of Tears was concerned. But that certainly didn't make every option an equally viable living space.

First, Lemm wanted something enclosed away from the rain, and insulated enough to stave off the humidity. That discounted anything open to the outside, as he wouldn't risk his relics to even the threat of exposure. A leaking roof dripping down onto crumbling tablets or fragile spider silk could devastate hundreds of years worth of history, so that also discounted any room without a few protective floors above it.

Next, it had to be out of the way of any and all shambling husks and infected critters. They weren't the brightest of creatures, so a room only accessible by elevator was ideal. He'd never seen anything plague-cursed have enough wherewithal to operate one, and the noise of it would give him plenty warning of visitors otherwise.

Lastly, he wanted someplace with plenty of shelf space. He needed little in the way of actual living space, so long as he had ample storage room set up in such a way that things could easily be organized.

All of these qualities described, in his opinion, the ideal relic storage and research dwelling. And in the end, he was lucky enough to find it.

Unearthing the previous tenant's belongings informed him that it also, apparently, described the ideal setup for a small café. On his first day in his new residence, he'd uncovered an antique coffee machine and a few other ancient tools, kept miraculously free of rust and wear. The room's conditions must be far better than he thought.

He'd dusted his findings off and set them back up on the counter, having quickly deduced where they'd once been put to use through old nicks and rings left on the shellwood by years of service. Lemm had felt a small swell of pride at finding this small bit of the city's history, and began a set of notes on his theories about this tower complex and its surrounding culture from everything he found around. Perhaps the whole place had been a shopping centre.

On the second day, he pried open the crates in the back room, and they had spilled forth bags upon bags of beans and teas. There were so many of them that he was able to rationalize cutting one open and examining its contents without much guilt. The beans were coffee, that much was obvious at a glance.

Biological samples weren't exactly his area of expertise, but smell and texture alone all but convinced him that they'd been perfectly preserved in their airtight prisons, well dried and perfectly edible.

Most likely.

For the sake of research, and because the bag was already open, he put them through the machine. He committed some time to studying the machine beforehand, as he was afraid mishandling it may destroy it. But an hour of trying to figure the damn thing out was frustrating enough that he finally reasoned that if he did break it, he could at least take it apart and examine its insides for anything interesting. Lemm was a relic keeper, not a tinker. So he winged it with a bit of rainwater and the beans, and got wet beans and hot murky water all over the counter to show for it. He figured out the grinder and filter after his second attempt, and by the third, he had a mug of fresh coffee to show for his efforts. The scent that filled his shop and the outside corridor must have been nothing Hallownest had experienced in centuries. Lemm had little taste for the stuff himself, but in his experimentation he'd gone and made a whole pot. So he supposed he needed to acquire a taste for it rather quickly.

Luckily for his health, that turned out to be unnecessary. The smell, perhaps amplified in the ever-present petrichor, quickly attracted guests of the still-living variety. There turned out to be far more travelers and treasure hunters bumping around this old city than he'd initially expected, prone to tucking himself away in solitude as he was. Introverted or no, he happily gave the coffee away rather than waste it or risk giving himself a coronary. There were even a great deal of disposable mugs stacked away that just made it all the more convenient.

Just over the course of an hour, Lemm was graced with a fair amount of odd characters intruding on his doorstep. There was a surly fellow wielding a metal shield of some foreign make, who announced his intentions towards finding and conquering Hallownest's old colosseum. He was convinced it was still in operation somewhere. Lemm decided that if it was, the place was more than likely not populated with the sorts of honorable warriors this poor bastard was looking to prove himself against, but he kept his thoughts to himself and sent the boy off with a steaming cup of acrid bean water. Next came another traveller who gave off a more scholarly air than the first had, and who carried a more conventional weapon at his hip. The pill bug certainly acted more like a student than a warrior, all bright-eyed and curious and talkative. But no doubt he must know how to use that nail of his to have survived this far down and still be so cheerful. His stay wasn't entirely unpleasant; the two actually talked a short while about Hallownest's history and their shared learnings. The bug even tried to insist on paying, but Lemm was adamant that his reliquary wasn't a damn breakfast nook, thank you, keep your geo. But if he really wanted to pay, Lemm would certainly take any interesting artifact or trinket the bug happened to pick up on his travels. They eventually came to an agreement: A journal pilfered from a shrine somewhere in Greenpath for an extra cup for the road. Lemm's next visitor was, of all things, a cartographer. This one was far too involved in his work for much conversation, which was fine by Lemm. But he did manage to barter a cup for a map of the city. It was incomplete and bare of any landmarks, much to Lemm's disappointment. Finally, an odd little wanderer walked in almost soundlessly. They did not speak to Lemm, nor did they give any indication that they were here for any specific reason. But they had acquired an old city crest and a King's idol on their path, and Lemm had a more typical exchange of geo for relics with them. And then because it was the last of the coffee in the still warm pot, and because the little wanderer did not refuse, he sent them off with a cup on their way out. Thankful to be rid of all the blasted coffee and done with the uptick in social interaction, he then washed the pot and continued with his normal studies. It was nice and quiet, now.

But then the next morning, the pill bug returned. And he was surprised (and clearly disappointed) to see the coffee pot empty. It was a shame, he'd said. For he'd gone and found himself another journal, and considered a relic he couldn't use for a hot morning's drink to be a fine deal indeed. Lemm was inclined to agree, for how it saved him his geo in case of a more potentially significant find down the line. He turned the machine back on at once at the prospect. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to brew just one cup, and was still rightfully intimidated by the old, fussy contraption, and not inclined to mess with what worked. So he made another full pot, and talked shop.

The pill bug wasn't the only one to return that day. The would-be gladiator came back, still not having found his destination, and had the gall to just expect another drink. After the deal he'd just made, Lemm was feeling markedly less generous than he had been the day before, and informed his nasally guest that he'd have to barter something old and interesting for it.

The ant grumbled and left, but returned a few minutes later with a guardsman's crest. He'd apparently seen old treasures all over the place, but had found it beneath him to go and pick them up." A warrior has no need to weigh himself down with baubles," he'd sneered over his cup. Lemm privately thought that the plague-crazed beasts who were doubtlessly running the colosseum now would soon show this haughty kid what they cared for his warrior’s creed in due time, so he said nothing.

The silent wanderer came later. This time when they held up an ancient journal, they made no move to take the geo held out to them. They only stared at Lemm, with their little mask so perfectly unmoving he could easily think them a sudden corpse. Then his hand drifted towards the pot, and the creature set the journal down on the counter.

"...News of a relic keeper bartering goods for coffee has already spread among your lot, then? I suppose even wanderers must have a rumor mill," Lemm talked to himself while pouring their cup. Predictably, they padded away without an answer, drink in hand. Lemm would soon learn how right he was.

- The coming days were more lucrative than his business had ever been. All the travellers he'd met before all came back with various oddities found around Hallownest, as did anyone new. Though not everyone quite understood what constituted a relic, and Lemm had to turn down more than a few shiny rocks and petrified lake detritus. But they all got the routine down soon enough. And, well, Lemm did have an extraordinary amount of coffee that'd just go to waste for another thousand years otherwise, so, may as well.

The pill bug, Quirrel, came to be his best "customer", though Lemm would be twice damned before he ever said the word aloud. Either way, Quirrel often stayed long enough just chatting to warrant a second cup.

"I ought to have you bring double the treasure," Lemm griped once while handing that second cup over. Quirrel's response was a good natured laugh.

"Perhaps elsewhere, that'd be fair. Coffee was a luxury in some lands, and remains so to this day, but by my understanding it was quite in abundance here. Though I couldn't tell you where in the world they must have been growing it," he mused. Lemm raised a brow, wondering once again where in gods' names this bug was educated. But as asking would be an invitation to hear his life story, Lemm deferred.

"Is that right?" he asked instead, "I don't care for the stuff myself, luxury or no." "Really? Not an uncommon opinion, I suppose. I picked it up as a habit at one point... Though, I couldn't tell you when, now that I think of it," Quirrel trailed off, adjusting the oversized mask over his head. Lemm found it an odd choice of protection from the rain, though he supposed it was better than nothing. He only shrugged, "I hear many students do make a habit of caffeine. Your sorts can never get enough hours out of the day."

Quirrel stared at him for a brief moment, and then huffed a laugh again. "Student? You mistake me, sir. I've only ever been a traveller for as long as I can remember."

Lemm didn't bother to mask his surprise, and Quirrel's eyes crinkled. "You're right on that second part, though. So much to see, and never enough time." He took a sip.

-

The mapmaker came back one day with an order for two drinks. He had no relics, but offered an extra inkwell and quill instead. Lemm found equipment for keeping good notes was lucky to come by, and reluctantly made the trade, much to the old bug's gratitude.

"Thank you, the second is for my wife running our shop surface-side. It was her suggestion you might want materials for your research."

Lemm cleared his throat, blustering slightly under his beard.

"Ahh. Hm. I can appreciate that, then."

"Oh, on that note, have you any sugar you can add in for her?" The bug peered over Lemm’s shoulder, which rankled him for some reason.

"...I did find a jar back here somewhere, I think." Though he couldn't promise it was good. Could sugar go bad? It still just looked like white sand.

"Thank you. ...Err, actually, is that a box of tea on the shelf, there?"

Lemm paused in his rummaging, and looked back at the open storeroom door. The room now made a good home for his relics, though he never bothered unpacking the open crates.

"...It is," he eyed the bug neutrally.

"Ah. Iselda enjoys her coffee, though I quite prefer a good cup of tea myself. ...Erm, if it isn't too much trouble, of course," the bug grinned politely over folded hands.

Lemm, to his credit, did not sigh. There was indeed a kettle back there, too. And at least he knew how to brew tea without making an entire day's worth of it.

He brought up the jar of sugar, and leveled the bug with a grumpy look.

"Fine. But next time, you bring relics."

The cartographer acquiesced immediately, and that was the point where Lemm realized he'd invited them both to expect a "next time".

-

The silent wanderer came back again, on the tail of a group of treasure hunters who came in and left up the elevator. Shortly after, there was the sound of struggle above them.

This had become commonplace. Anyone who showed up had to contend with the violent husks above and beyond the shop, and some were more prepared to deal with the dangers of Hallownest than others. Lemm only poured the wanderer's cup in bored silence, tuning out the thumping and shouts above. "You know this stuff stunts your growth, right?" Lemm asked flatly. The wanderer only ever stared.

"Dehydrates you, too. You active types probably ought to stick to water. Imagine having to deal with the horrors of rotting sentries and whatnot with a diuretic sloshing about in you." Unbothered, they leaned forward and took their cup in both hands, still staring up while he spoke. Lemm honestly had no idea if they even understood him, and considered the possibility that their muteness was compounded by a language barrier. But they at least always made the effort to appear attentive.

There was a thundering crash above them that made Lemm flinch, and then a silence that kept him tense. The voices started up once again after a few seconds, and the sound of footsteps hurrying away as fast as they could. By his guess, his last customers had just had a very close encounter with a belfly. He'd likely not be seeing them again.

He turned his attention back down to the wanderer with a sigh.

"...Let me see what you have, then."

The tiny thing set their cup carefully down by their feet, and fished a genuine void egg from the depths of their grubby cloak. Lemm was struck with the brief impulse to give them the entire coffee machine for it.

-

There was a new visitor one morning, just as Lemm brewed the pot for his regulars. He rarely got anyone so very early, and was guiltily nursing his own cup of acrid sugary heart disease before anyone would be around to see. Alright, so he'd acquired the taste for it. It was hardly unreasonable with how much time he spent around the smell, and it helped him make up for lost time studying his relics later in the night. Perfectly understandable, and so he definitely did not freeze mid sip like he was caught in a crime when the door opened unexpectedly. The red-clad stranger who walked in wore a wicked-sharp needle slung across her back, and fixed him with an even sharper gaze.

"...I hear you sell tea." Her voice was quiet enough, but cut clear without the normal hesitant lilt of a question.

Lemm slowly put down his mug, and the soft thunk it made against the countertop sounded awfully loud in the morning lull.

"...I don't sell anything. I buy," he insisted.

The altogether frightening lass glanced between him, the full coffee pot, and the kettle sat next to a stack of assorted loose leaf teas. Then back at him.

He grunted, hiding an inane flush of indignation behind another swig of his drink.

"...I seek artifacts. Relics of this place's past, and anything that may help me understand it, for geo. ...Or for a cuppa, for those who'd rather." He shifted behind the counter, nearly trailing off into a mumble. But at this point, there wasn’t much use in fighting his reputation.

The girl just scrutinized him until she seemed to come to a decision. She then turned and left without saying anything else, opting to hop down the elevator shaft rather than waste a moment calling the lift.

Lemm rolled his eyes and gulped down the dregs of his coffee, vaguely annoyed. By this point, he was used to the rude and half feral sorts of vagabonds that only came by out of curiosity. At least she was quick about leaving.

All the better for him, as far as he was concerned. He doubted such a young thing would have anything of note to share with Hallownest's foremost historian.