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lets-try-some-writing · 6 months ago

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In your professional opinion: what would be some Cybertronian Superstitions? Like do the miners hit the entrance of mines after someone dies inside it to help free their sparks from their tomb? Do people not say Unicron’s name after dark for fear it’ll summon him? Is there a name(s) that you can’t say inside the Iacon Hall Of Records or else you’ll be cursed with bad luck????

Please feel free to go hog wild with this.

Oh boy I LOVE the idea of that sort of thing. Honestly, I can see all sorts of little superstitions existing due to mythos and history.

Miners make it a point to never leave their tools unattended. They take them everywhere. To recharge, to fuel, even to get repairs. As for why they do this? There is a certain belief that the tools carry a bit of the luck and wisdom of those who held them previously. And since most tools are handed down from one fallen miner to the next, miners treat their tools with reverence. Many have carried the same pick, and each has left their mark. It cannot be disregarded.

Additionally, miners refuse to enter a deep tunnel system without whistling down it first. The habit has been long since made null and void by tunneling improvements, but there are stories of miners getting lost in the dark, before they adapted to it. Many died before their optics were augmented to the low light conditions. Great swaths of miners still believe that the wandering sparks of those lost in the dark linger there, scared and alone. Whistling down the tunnel before entering gives the lost spirits of the dead something to cling to, a guide to the afterlife in a sense.

Gladiators have a particular set of beliefs revolving entirely around the concept of honor. They know that their work is bloody and often cruel, and so they have developed a strange set of beliefs. Every gladiator, before combat, will take a stick or something equally useless, and snap it in half. They will give half of their broken instrument to a trusted comrade and march off to fight. If they return alive, the two pieces are to be put back together and promptly crushed into powder to be cast out upon whichever mech or beast died so that the gladiator could live. A sign of respect. However, if the gladiator were to die, their comrade is obliged to gather up the fallen's half of the instrument and have them run through their funeral rites with the joined object. This is done out of a belief that the dead must be honored, lest they linger in the living realm to haunt those who killed them (in the case of the gladiator surviving) or to stay with the other piece of their spark (in the event the gladiator dies).

Gladiators also have a firm belief that going into battle without paint will inevitably lead to bad luck coming upon them. They take meticulous care of their accenting paint, tracing swirls and jagged lines with delicate touches meant for those of higher castes. Some believe the marks distract enemies. Others say that the marks ward off attacks, letting otherwise lethal combat situations turn in their favor. No one really knows what they do. It is just something that must be done. Failure to go into battle without paint has led to more than a few gladiators meeting their end. Seeing such things has left the rest preferring to not take chances. Megatron himself went into battle without paint one time, and he quickly learned never to do that again when he returned with a brand new scar on his shoulder.

Amongst dock workers, there are various superstitions revolving around cargo in particular. It's bad luck to look at someone's cargo if it has a written letter attached. It doesn't matter what is in the box, it is considered a stain on one's spark to witness the usually rather sappy interactions between those who bother with sending hardcomms. Additionally, dock workers have long since grown to fear any box that comes in solid black. There was exactly one incident where a black box appeared amidst the cargo and disappeared without a trace, taking several other cargo pieces with it. Since then, any black boxes are either thrown right off the truck with a collective agreement that the loss will be signed off as an accident, or said boxes are loaded up with one unfortunate spark to transfer alone. Black boxes being delivered by one mech are often found missing, the driver and the box itself having vanished without a trace. Black boxes are terrifying, and not one dock worker is willing to risk it.

It is also notoriously bad luck among dock workers to deny the youngling with golden optics a ride. They will appear anywhere and at any time without rhyme or reason. When they appear, they never say a word, instead coming up to dock workers and pointing toward whatever transport they are loading up. Dock workers have long since learned to quietly nod and promptly ignore the youngling as they load up alongside the cargo. Interacting with the youngling results in the worker in question befalling some unfortunate end. Ignoring the youngling entirely leads to a similar situation. This superstition began long ago, and many younglings have abused it relentlessly since no one knows what the mysterious youngling from the myth actually looks like aside from their optics.

Low caste mecha as a whole have a strange superstition revolving around the concept of truth. They are notorious for keeping information to themselves, but low caste mecha never ever outwardly or blatantly lie. They are very careful to leave even the smallest grain of truth in their words. Why? Because telling lies brings the whispers of Liege Maximo. What are the whispers? No one is exactly sure. It is an evil omen, one that has led the low castes to develop odd honesty. They don't want to risk Liege's touch, not when he was stated to have been torn apart during the first age for his manipulations.

Low level soldiers hold the belief that giving away their names to one another is bad luck. Since they can all die at any given moment, they find it easier to remain nameless around one another. To them, remaining without a name in the optics of those around them ensures that survivors of battle can move on without fear. Giving a name means binding oneself to another. Their sparks might linger if they are attached, and that could lead to pain for both themselves and their comrades. So to get around this, soldiers don't do the name thing. Instead, every soldier refers to each other through characteristics or words of endearment. "Yellow" for a mech with yellow plating. "Comrade" or "Brother" for a mech they have served with frequently. Anything except a name. It would be cruel to bind the dead to living and the living to the dead.

Soldiers also have a belief that leaving a corpse to rot is incredibly bad luck. It doesn't matter whose corpse it is. It can't be left out. If nothing is salvageable, the spark chamber must be removed and taken to be given proper funeral rites. Not a spark wants to risk and angry spirit lingering because the body was not tended to properly. This belief extends to the point where soldiers will actively tear out their own spark chambers if they know they are going to die (or request others to do it for them). They don't want to linger and haunt those around them, so its best that the core of their frame is guaranteed proper rites.

Flyers of all kinds simply refuse to fly when Luna 1 and 2 are fully aligned. There are a thousand stories telling tales of fliers crashing, being killed, hit by rogue shots, and everything else. They won't risk it, and instead of flying, flyers will instead actively hide from the moons on such occasions. Usually unwilling to be locked in tight spaces, such cycles are the exception. To be seen by the moons is to be hunted. They won't risk it. Additionally, flyers have one particular stretch of Cybertronian landscape they all avoid like the plague. Mecha have been known to go in and never come back out, or if they do return, they are changed. They don't want to mess with that place, not for anything.

Flyers also hold the firm belief that one must keep their optics in perfect condition. They run tests all the time to ensure that their optics function without issue. Some even go so far as to get goggles or visors built into their frames just to protect them. Most chalk this up to a simple desire to not go blind. But flyers think differently. They won't get their optics replaced even if its an option. Why? Because they hold the belief that they carry the optics of a mech who didn't get to soar. Every flyer who has ever lived has had the optics of a grounder who will never get to grace the skies. For flyers, they see their optics as something sacred. They fly not just for themselves, but also for whoever their counterpart is, living or dead. They honor another through their sight, and so they must maintain their vision at all costs. Some call the phenomenon something akin to soulmates. The flyers state that it is the price they pay for their gift of flight.

(Note: Starscream and many of his people do not subscribe to the above thought process. Thundercracker is the only notable exception. Most chalk this up to his love of romance novels.)

Enforcers have many little quirks depending on city, but one they all share is the universal habit of naming their weapon of choice. It is a strange not quite religious belief for them. Whatever the thought process actual is, Enforcers rely heavily on their weapons, and as such, they must appease the weapon itself. They have to bond to it, make it an extension of themselves so that they can move it just as easily as a limb. They go about this through naming, and once named, they never get rid of the weapon in question. Even if its outdated, old, or broken. The weapon stays. If it is obliterated or lost, the Enforcer is obliged to get a copy of their prior weapon for the sake of their continued success. For this reason, most Enforcers fight with inbuilt weapons until they settle on something, and then they buy several copies just in case.

Enforcers will also never actively say "goodbye" to one another. Doing so would imply that there is a possibility of not coming back from the next patrol. So Enforcers simply don't use such language. "Good luck" or "Get those slaggers" are common supplements. Surprisingly, Enforcers only dodge around "goodbye" while on duty. They will casually wave off companions when not on the clock without a care in the world. However, if an Enforcer really does not like someone while on the clock, they will say "goodbye" as their polite version of a middle finger.

It is not exactly a rule, but Archivist as a whole simply do not refer to the Primes by name most of the time. There is a belief that uttering their designations aloud will bring their gaze upon whoever spoke. That can either be good or bad depending on the context, but since Primus's chosen can never really be predicted, most Archivists won't risk it. Instead, if they must say a Prime's name, they will tap a nearby surface a few times to supposedly draw attention away from themselves and hopefully keep the Prime in question from seeing them. It makes no sense, but even Orion Pax kept to the habit. Although some, like Orion, usually worked around this by coming up with slightly different pronunciations of the designations of Primes to hopefully avert their gazes.

Archivists also refuse to read anything relating to relics after a certain time. There is a longstanding belief that doing so can drive a mech mad. Hidden knowledge comes at Primus's chosen joor. Sometimes Archivists will reach grand discoveries at this specific time after delving into records of relics. But more often than not, Archivists have been noted having mental breakdowns, crying, losing their minds, or otherwise going haywire. Medical professionals chalk it up to exhaustion and mania. The Archivists believe it is a warning. They refuse to read about relics during Primus's joor. Obviously, there are some thing between the veil they are not meant to know.

Medics won't come within a ten mile radius of the smelting pits where most of the dead are dealt with. They believe it is a bad omen to linger in places of death, and that the wrath of the deceased can stick to their frames, making other patients lose their lives. This has led medics to make it a habit to remove dead mecha from hospitals as fast as physically possible, handing them off to medical students to carry to the pits. Medical students hardly ever do anything of note with the patients, so the professionals don't feel bad dumping all the potential bad luck on them. The only medics who actively hang around smelting pits are morticians and mecha focused on autopsies. They think lingering around the dead will help them understand the dead. That way, they can better diagnose just what killed a mech. Such medics are usually avoided by the rest who work with the living.

Medics have very sensitive servos. There is a longstanding belief that if a medic is to retire or happens to die, he or she must give up their servos to a younger medic in training. This is to pass on skill, at least in theory. It is also a sign that a medic in training is skilled and worthy of note. To take the servos of an old medic is to take on their legacy. Similarly to the miners, medics take honoring those who came before them very seriously. They will go above and beyond to keep their servos in perfect condition so that whoever comes after them can have the vital sensors that come with a medic's servos. Ratchet is one of the few mecha to not have inherited his servos from anyone. He has also never signed up to have anyone get them after he dies. Most take this to mean he never will die. And considering how long Ratchet has lived, a good chunk of the population firmly believe that Ratchet is eternal.

#transformers #maccadam #cybertronian worldbuilding #cybertronian culture #pre war cybertron #transformers headcanon #orion pax #megatron #starscream #ratchet

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polygonal-trees · 3 months ago

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Welcome new Transformers fans!

You might have seen this Don't Make Me Tap The Sign meme floating around. Transformers One has been out for a little while now so I want to expand on it as well as some other TF fandom things.

What does "Transformers doesn't have a set canon" actually mean?

Essentially, every new Transformers story is a reboot. They might draw from or expand on concepts from previous iterations but canonically each continuity family is separate. This means all lore is extremely flexible - origin stories, relationships, even personalities can change wildly between iterations and while some may be better or worse than others, they are all equally canon.

For example: Orion Pax was a dock worker in G1, an archivist in Prime, and a miner in TF One. None of these contradict each other.

Continuities also tend to share ideas without being directly connected. For example Transformers One draws from Transformers Prime in multiple ways (e.g. it features Airachnid) but it is not a prequel to Prime and in fact directly contradicts it. Yes I know there's a guy on xitter claiming tfone is a prequel to the Bay movies but he's wrong.

What is a continuity family?

Most storylines include tie-in novels, comics, video games, and other shows that all share the same canon.

The Aligned Continuity is the most well known. It consists of Transformers Prime, Rescue Bots, Rescue Bots Academy, Robots in Disguise 2015, multiple video games, and some tie-in novels and comics. They are all ostensibly set in the same canon... except the Aligned Continuity is inconsistent so even its lore is loose :')

My point is that while every continuity is separate, some shows are connected.

(Sorry if this is confusing. It is confusing. You get used to it)

What about fanon?

The Transformers franchise is old enough that a lot of fanon has become so pervasive it exists in a sort of nebulous space where it feels like it could be canon or at least become canon once enough fans are working for Hasbro but essentially: oh boy is there a lot of fanon

For example: seeker trines, doorwing speak, the Unicron Singularity and all forms of robot sex (sorry) are fanon, but they appear so often in fanworks that it's easy to get confused (I know I do!)

It's safest to assume something isn't canon unless you've seen it in a show (and even then, it may only be canon to that particular show)

Can I mix-and-match in my own fanworks?

Absolutely! It's very common for creators to set a story in one continuity but transplant a character from another, or use a different backstory, or borrow whole plot points from different canons. Chop up that lore and make a delicious continuity soup.

So why is this important?

It is very, very, very, very, very frustrating to be "corrected" about something that isn't relevant, or to see someone critisize a show based on lore that doesn't apply, or to have a character be called OOC when they're not, etc. I think a lot of fandom slapfights could be avoided if more people understood how loose Transformers canon actually is. Do what you want with your own creations but please be mindful when it comes to interacting with other people's.

This is A Lot

You don't have to know everything about Transformers to be in the fandom and have a good time - if you're only interested in TF One that is perfectly alright, you don't need to watch every show and read every comic and play every game to be considered a fan of something.

But if you want to find out more I recommend checking out the TFWiki - it isn't perfect but it gives a good rundown of most general lore as well as details about specific shows.

That's it from me. I hope this is helpful! It's the sort of thing I would have liked to read when I first joined the fandom haha

#transformers one #tf one #maccadam #long post

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xxbrightshadowxx · 3 months ago

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TF One Shatter Glass Au

Kay so I’ve heard about Shatter Glass before in transformers which is basically of the autobots were evil and decepticons were good(I think? I’m not sure. in the words of my cousin I’m still new to transformers) so I decided to come up with an au for Tfone for it.

Everything would start out the same, everything from the movie would play out, until the attack at the High Guard’s base. Instead of Bee and D-16 being captured it’s Elita and Orion.

D-16 is crushed and is ready to give everything up, he snaps at Bee and laminates that they are doomed and ask how can he do optimistic and naive when he was in a crappier position than he was beforehand. They argue for a while till D-16 kinda admits he’s jealous of orion for being so optimistic and kind even during horrible times. Bee helps him out and shows him to always look for good and tells him this is a chance to improve their lives.(kinda effy on this part)

With the power of persuasion aka, D-16 cannons, they convince the high guard to help them go rescue the others

Meanwhile back at Sentinel’s tower Orion thinks D-16 is dead and is depressed, the evidence is destroyed and he feels like crap. Sentinel mocks them like on the film, and Elita bites back at him which results in Sentinel berating Elita and nearly hurting her till Orion intervenes. Sentinel, tired of Orion being mouthy, takes the( I think it was a drill or a torch?? Can’t remember the name.) and uses it to scratch up his mouth. Orion’s optics turn to yellow

Basically similar thing happens, D-16 gets the miners to help(though is more threatening and uses the high guard to convince them) he freaks out when he sees injured Orion and the same thing happens in the movie except when D tries to shoot Sentinel Orion convinced him not to and D’s optics turn blue. While they walk away, Sentinel tries to stab Orion but D pushes him out of the way and gets stabbed. D and Orion tries to catch him but fails and falls into the well.

Orion turns around and his optics are a bright red and he kills Sentinel, less graphic than D-16 does in the film, a simple execution shot to the head. Meanwhile D-16 is, you guess it, is given the matrix for choosing good even in his darkest moments and sacrificing his life for him.

Orion steal Sentinel’s t cog and changes his designation to Optimus Prime, claiming himself the new ruler. His speech is able to convince several others including Elita, Bee, and several other miners that the only way to become equal they must steal their t cogs back from the ones that ‘wronged them.’ So attack the ones already with t cogs and steal them for their selves.

Megatron comes back and is horrified at what Orion has become but Op knows that’s he’s crossed a line he can’t go back and they fight. Megs wins but can’t kill his friend leaving him to leave. The miners feel in a way betrayed since Megatron told them he could change their future but he wants to keep the bots with t cogs alive. Basically saying he ‘deceptive’ them.(get it?)

The miners, Elita, Bee, and Op leave leaving some miners behind, the high guard, and Megatron behind.

In this au, while good, Megatron is still a bit violent and the decepticons methods are still a bit violent but they do want peace and equality. Most of his journey would be becoming a better leader for his team and for Cybertron. Starscream would still try to surprise him because, yes.

Meanwhile Op is kinda manipulative in this au. He uses his kindness to trick and gain bots trust to make them do whatever he wants. Op wants equality but his ideas to achieve it is fucked up and twisted. Elita, after realizing her entire life and all her effort was for nothing also sorta crashes out and is fully on board with OP’s plan. After Meg’s ‘death’ and seeing his two friends actively prompt their idea of rebuilding Cybertron, Bee kinda goes along with them. He is not as bad or evil as Elita and Op in this au so his optics are either yellow or orange. He’s like the thundercracker of this au.

I might write a fic about this one day. If I do, I’ll post a link here if anyone thinks this is an ok idea?

#transformers #transformers one #tf one #tf one 2024 #tf one au #tf one megatron #tf one spoilers #tf one orion pax #tf one elita #alternate universe #fic idea #shattered glass #shattered glass au

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itsmeemeg-fandomsandfics · 26 days ago

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Like Nothing Matters -

Chapter 1

• ───────────────── •

Rain never meant anything good to those who resided in the Undercity. Eclipsed by the bright and bustling city of progress, those unfortunate enough to be born in the slums were already familiar with the thick and suffocating air that reeked of sulfur and desperation, but that was to be expected. Rain on the other hand always meant more problems to deal with. On Top of the near nonexistent ventilation of the Undercity the sewage system was equally neglected. It didn't take an academy graduate to understand how that might cause a few problems every time the pipes got overworked.

Water slowly dripped from the waterlogged planks that made up the small home's roof into a nearly full pot on the ground. Whatever spare scraps of fabric were laying around had been hung over the cracked window panes in an attempt to keep some of the heat from seeping out into the cold wet streets.

Humming quietly as her mother fluttered about the room with a match in hand, attempting to light the malformed piles of wax that rested on rusted and chipped scraps of metal, Elvie tried not to focus on the storm. It proved to be more difficult than she thought as the wind outside began picking up speed, garbage angrily skittering down the deserted streets as it got swept up by the rage. Cold seeped its way through her clothes and into her bones, the blanket she was wrapped in was too small with calves and toes exposed to the damp room.

“Mom.” Elvie tried to interrupt her mother as she noticed the older woman attempting to light a candle she had just blown out. Her mother paid her no mind as she tossed the burnt out match over her shoulder and went to strike another. Sighing Mavevis shuffled to her feet, arms outstretched to take the items from her moms hands. “Mom, it's- I’ve got it. Go sit down.”

Mom offered no protest as her daughter slowly slid the match box out of her hands. Elvie’s hands didn’t shake like her moms did as she dragged the match down the side of the box. One by one the room grew brighter and warmer.

Elvie watched the match catch fire, the thin, trembling flame casting a dim glow that barely reached the edges of the small room. Her mother's gaze was distant, unfocused, her hands lying limply in her lap as she stared at nothing in particular. Elvie’s heart tightened as she watched the flame flicker, struggling to stay alive, just like the brief moments of clarity her mother sometimes had. She held the match just a little too long, the heat beginning to sting her fingers, but she didn’t pull away.

“Do you know when your father will be home?” Moms voice cuts through the heavy silence with such a simple question, unaware of the weight her words hold.

Words caught in Elvie’s throat as she struggles to compose herself. “He’ll be home soon.” Just like that the same silence settles back down and Elvie can pretend that her world is not crashing down around her.

It had been nearly a month now since the accident in the mines. It was all anyone in the lanes could talk about. The cave in had taken twenty lives, nineteen miners and one enforcer. Dad had died quickly “Painless” one of the enforcers who had broken the news to mom had said, unaware of the eight year old's ears listening in. They had received his last paycheck and a bag of personal items as compensation.

Two days after the accident mom got sick.

Although Elvie wasn't really sure if she could accurately say that mom was sick. She didnt cough, or sneeze like sick people did. Every day she had checked her mothers forehead for signs of a fever the same way her parents would to her for a fever but found her mother to be no warmer or colder to herself in comparison. Instead mom acted strangely, the lighting and extinguishing of candles, one of many concerning behaviours. She would blink slowly and stare blankly when Elvie would try to talk to her. The memory loss was getting worse too. It was like her mothers mind had been stuck on loop of the day before dad had died.

Her mother didn’t blink, didn’t even move. She simply stared ahead, lost in whatever place she’d wandered to. Elvie’s heart beat painfully in her chest, her mother’s absence so palpable it filled the entire room. The woman who had once been so full of life, who’d taught her how to tie her shoes and how to hold her head high, was now just a shadow of herself. A shadow that didn’t remember.

Elvie swallowed hard, the tears threatening to spill. She had been holding them back for days, trying to stay strong for her mother, trying to make sense of the strange behavior, of the way she would forget things from one moment to the next, as if time itself was slipping through her fingers. She thought it might be the grief of losing Dad—everyone grieves in different ways, but this wasn’t grief. This was something else, something deeper, something that she didn’t know how to stop.

“I’m gonna go lay down, can you make sure you blow the candles out,” Her mother asked her. Elvie stood still, watching as her mother stumbled toward the bedroom door, her movements slow and awkward, like she was trapped in a body that didn’t quite belong to her anymore.

“Sure mom.” Elvie muttered as she bent down to grab the blanket she had shrugged off earlier. Wrapping the blanket around her small and frail figure Elvie, tired and defeated, shuffled towards the worn out sofa in the centre of the room.

Plopping unceremoniously down onto the cushions she wished the couch would just swallow her whole. Pulling the blanket tighter Elvie shoved her exposed feet as far between the cushions as possible, searching for any extra warmth it could provide. Her eyes stung as tears threatened to spill down hollowed cheeks and past trembling lips.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

Emotions far too complex and heavy for an eight year old to decipher pulled at her heart like spoiled milk. Still she refused to let her tears fall, silently watching the dull and flickering flames until she succumbed to unconsciousness.

Mom was gone by the time she woke up. She had taken the makeshift window covers down and scraped the melted wax off the floor before she had left at least. It was normal for the house to be quiet in the mornings, to go through the motions of readying herself for the day all on her lonesome. Despite its emptiness the house was suffocating.

Trying not to focus on how all of her clothes smelled of mildew, Elvie quickly changed out of yesterday's clothes and into something less slept in. The shirt she slipped on had seen better days, mismatched sleeves that had been sewn to the shirt were now frayed and torn enough that Elvie could slip her thumbs through the cuff. Pants were a similar story, the fabric had been stretched thin over the years of wear and a pair of shorts had quickly been layered over top.

Once she was dressed and her hair had been combed through with bony fingers Elvie called out over her shoulder to the empty house. “I’m going out.” despite knowing there was no response waiting for her.

Walking down the wet and claustrophobic streets of Zaun it was easy to pretend that things were better than they really were. After all Elvie and her mother still had a roof over their head, a wet and rotten one was still better than begging between alleyways. Where people dug through trash cans behind closed shops and would scowl menacingly if your gaze lingered.

Elvie tightened her grip on the strap of her bag as she walked, the weight of it a dull comfort against her side. She had learned to ignore the cold, the dampness seeping through her shoes, the way the rain clung to the grime-coated cobblestones. In Zaun, it was just another part of life. No use in complaining. No one listened anyway.

She passed the narrow, crooked buildings, their facades leaning against each other like old, tired giants. The streets narrowed as she made her way toward the square. It was a bustling part of the city where the narrow streets opened up to a sizable plaza for vendors to sell their wares or you could catch an enforcer or two taking an extended break.

Elvie was a particular fan of the square for the fact that every morning a small group would sing to the passersby for spare change with their makeshift instruments. They weren’t much, but the sound they made was always just enough to draw in a crowd.

Their songs weren’t anything special—nothing that could rival the polished performances in topside grander halls—but to Elvie, it felt like a little slice of warmth in the middle of a cold, harsh world. Their music was raw, unrefined, and full of life in a way that nothing else in the city seemed to be. And sometimes, when she was lucky, they’d play her favorite tune—a simple melody that seemed to wrap around her heart, like the music was speaking directly to her.

As Elvie approached the long dried up fountain in the square the band always played by she was surprised to see that she was early. The girls were still setting up, unsure where to rest their bags where they could remain unsullied by the damp ground. Elvie lingered near the edge of the square, her fingers itching to offer help, but she stayed back. She wasn’t exactly part of the group, not really, even though they all seemed to recognize her. The musicians weren’t picky about who watched them or who gave them a coin or two. But still, there was a distance between them that Elvie couldn’t quite bridge.

She finally stepped forward when the girl with the guitar, noticing her, gave her a small wave, her face lighting up with recognition.

“Hey, kid!” she called, her voice bright but still carrying that quiet energy of someone who was used to performing. "You’re early today. We’re just getting set up. Don’t mind us."

Elvie gave a small smile and shook her head. "No problem," she said softly, glancing around the square, her eyes landing on the fountain. The normally shallow basin filled with dirt and scraps held a concerning amount of sludge that had been brought on by the storm. Sewage scum clung to the ledge. Sometimes, she imagined it as something different, a place where water once flowed freely, where people gathered around in the heat to cool off and throw wishes into the water. But now, it was just another forgotten thing in a city full of them.

Soft notes of a familiar tune pulled Elvie from her groveling as the band began.

“I have my sentence now At last, I know just how you felt I dig my fingers in, expecting more than just the skin”

Without thinking, Elvie stepped onto the ledge of the fountain, as she had done countless times before. Her movements were instinctive now, as familiar as breathing. The music pulsed in her veins, an echo of the rhythm that had driven her body to move.

The crowd around the square was just a backdrop—blurred faces and disinterested murmurs. She’d never been the center of attention, and she didn’t need to be. She was used to this; the fountain ledge was her stage, and the square, a canvas for whatever she needed to express. Every morning, as the band played, she’d climb up there and dance. It was something she had learned to do when the world felt heavy or hollow, a way to shake off the weight and just feel.

Elvie balanced easily on the narrow stone, her feet instinctively finding their footing even as she shifted her weight. She glanced up at the sun, barely peeking over the rooftops, and with a deep breath, she spun. Her arms stretched out wide, the fabric of her clothes fluttering with each movement as she moved faster, faster, her body free and unencumbered. The dance flowed through her like a second language—no thought, no hesitation, just movement and rhythm.

She didn’t need to think about the next step. It was all ingrained, as if the dance lived inside her, guiding her the way a familiar melody does. She’d practiced it enough that it was woven into the very way she moved, like the lyrics of a song she could sing without thinking.

'Cause we're a lot alike In favor, like a motorbike A sailor and a nightingale Dancing in convertibles”

The lyrics were crude, creative and the meaning flew over the young girl's head, still it did not stop her enjoyment.

“And you can hold me, like he held her And I will fuck you like nothing matters And you can hold me, like he held her And I will fuck you like nothing matters”

Someone moved in her peripherals, different from everyone else crowding around the band. A young boy, slightly older in appearance, hobbled along the outskirts of the crowd watching her intently. He used a cane to help him walk and its slow rhythmic tapping on the cobblestone was even more hypnotic than the melodic music filling the air.

Time seemed to slow as Elvie realized the gravity of her distraction. She flailed, arms windmilling in the air as she tried to regain her balance, but there was nothing to grab, nothing to stop her descent. Cold, slimy water splashed around her as she landed in the fountain. The smell of sewage filled her nostrils, choking away any of the light hearted feelings she had lost herself in moments ago. A bitter cough ripped through her throat as the smell grew to be suffocating.

Crawling on her hands and knees to the edge of the fountain Elvie was surprised to see a hand outstretched and waiting for her. At first she figured it must just be one of the band members taking pity on her. It was embarrassing enough that she had fallen, but in front of all these people too. She wanted to bury her head under the water and drown

“Are you okay?” Elvie's shot up surprised by the unfamiliar voice. It was the boy who had distracted her. Up close she could see the moles that adorned his face and the gold of his eyes that seemed to glow even in this dreary place. His clothes were simple, but there was something about the way he carried himself—like he was somehow above this place, above the grime of Zaun, that even as she watched him shift his weight onto his crutch she was inclined to agree.

“I'm fine.” She reached out, grasping his hand and allowing herself to be pulled back onto her feet. “Thank you.”

“It was no problem.” A thick accent curled around the boy's words that she had not been expecting. “I liked your dancing.”

She had to swallow the surprise in her throat before she could answer. “Thanks,” she muttered, her gaze flicking down at the ground to avoid his watchful eyes. She couldn’t tell if he was just being polite or if he actually meant it. The sincerity in his voice made her doubt that he was just giving empty compliments.

“I’m Viktor by the way.”

“Elvie.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The makeshift bell above the old rusted door chimed at the arrival of a new customer in the shop. From her position in the backroom Elvie could not see who had entered, simply throwing a “I’ll be right with you,” over her shoulder as she put the last of the inventory back where it belonged. Glass vials clicked against each other in protest at her hurried pace.

Patting her hands clean against the material of her apron Elvie made her entrance into the storefront, with a lopsided smile that had charmed so many before. If she was lucky this person would actually purchase something worthwhile and rent wouldn't be overdue, by much at least. “How can I help you?”

The appearance of the man before her had shocked her enough that the surprise in her voice was evident. It wasn't common for men to frequent the shop even less so a topsider. He looked jarringly out of place in his crisp tailored academy uniform, pants perfectly pressed and waistcoat so white it practically glowed in the darkness that was Zaun. If they were anywhere else he might have commanded her respect from his appearance alone.

With much less grace than anticipated the man ripped off the mask he had been wearing to filter the air he breathed. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for a woman. Her name is Elvie. A friend of mine said I could find her here.”

Elvie hesitates, eyeing this topsider with a sharper eye. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and a fair amount of stubble for someone so meticulously groomed, paired with the calloused fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the strap of his mask it was obvious that he was from a lesser house. There was also a certain sense of vulnerability from this stranger, a subtle desperation he had tried to mask with a charming smile.

Still one could never be too careful.

“Who's asking?” Subtly her fingers reached for the broom resting against the register, just in case.

“My names Jayce. Back in Piltover I have this partner- Viktor and we’re working on-”

“You know Viktor?" The broom fell from her grasp, clattering on the ground as she cut this Jayce person before her off. It had been years since she had last seen Viktor and now this topsider is asking for her. Either the bastard had gotten himself in deep waters or- “Is he okay?”

Jayce chuckles and the briefest twinge of irritation pulses through the vein in her forehead. “He's the one who sent me! Guess I should have led with that huh?”

“Definitely.”

“Anyway, Viktor and I are working on something incredible- Hextech. Harnessing magic through science and using it to improve everyday life. And while I’ve been studying the arcane for a while now I don't fully understand it.”

“And you think I do?

“Viktor seems to think so.

Jayce reaches for something in his pocket and hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He hurriedly drops a bracelet with a raw gem resting in the leather and well as a piece of paper folded an excessive amount of times on the counter. Hurriedly she snatches the bracelet, inspecting the stone while Jayce begins to unfold the note.

Elvie has to stifle the surprise that washed over her as she inspected the bracelet. This was no ordinary gemstone but a rune. Of all things to be brought to her, here in the undercity.

Jayce sighed as he spread the full piece of paper before her Blueprints of some kind. “We have a month to get our machine working and prove to the sponsors that it was worth investing in.”

“This would…” She trailed off as the words on the paper swam through her head as she looked at the blueprints for a water purifier prototype. She could see Viktors influence on the design, from the notes hastily scribbled over the actual design to the deep knowledge of the undercity.

“Change lives?” Jayce finished for her. His fingers traced over the design before his gaze shot up to stare straight into hers. "Viktor and I... we've been pushing the boundaries of what we can do with Hextech," Jayce began, his voice carrying the weight of the challenge. "But there’s something we’re missing—something we can’t quite grasp. This... this purifier could be more than just a machine. If we can tap into the magic behind it, we could change everything." He glanced at her, his expression earnest. "But we’re not getting the results we need. We need someone who understands the arcane side of things. We need someone who can guide us in blending magic with science."

Her laugh was sharp, almost incredulous. She folded her arms, leaning back slightly as she fixed Jayce with a skeptical look. “You’re asking me to teach you magic? Sorry to disappoint but I’m no mage Jayce.”

Jayce leaned forward, his voice quiet but insistent. "Not magic exactly. More like... guide us on how to harness it." He gestured toward the blueprints between them, his finger tracing the intricate designs etched into the page. "Viktor and I have managed to stabilize the crystals. They’re not exploding anymore. But understanding how to use that power? That’s the part we can’t figure out. Yet."

She arched a brow, her expression softening just enough to show a flicker of curiosity. "And you think I can?"

Jayce straightened, meeting her gaze with unwavering confidence. "I trust Viktor. And Viktor trusts you. That’s good enough for me."

“How do you know Viktor?” She asks before she can stop herself.

Jayce pauses, his brow creasing as he inhales a deep breath and carefully chooses his next words. “He saved my life.”

Elvie stands still, her eyes locked on Jayce as his words hang in the air. There’s an unspoken heaviness to the moment, and though Jayce’s sincerity is clear, there’s something unsaid that lingers between them. She can sense it, a subtle hesitation in the way he’s avoiding the full picture.

"So, Viktor saved your life," Elvie repeats, her voice quiet, but edged with concern. "And now you trust him with this?" She looks at the blueprints, the designs that could revolutionize the world

“Enough that I’m trusting you with this too.”

Wide eyed she looked back down at the blueprints before looking back to Jayce, repeating the motion several times as she digested the truth behind this stranger's words. Viktor had sent Jayce down to the undercity for her. Despite the brilliant brain in his skull he still needed her help. Just like when they were younger.

She blinked hard, as if to clear the fog of disbelief clouding her thoughts. Then her expression shifted—hesitation melting into something closer to resolve. The blueprint in her hands trembled, either from her nerves or the sheer weight of what it represented.

"You're serious," she whispered, the question more rhetorical than anything. Her gaze bore into Jayce's, searching for cracks in his conviction but finding none.

"I am," Jayce said, his tone steady. "Viktor wouldn’t have sent me if he didn’t believe you were the only one who could help us pull this off. We don’t have anyone else who understands the arcane and is willing to help us.”

“So I’d be what?” She clicked her tongue almost teasingly. “An informant? You come down here to the slums every couple of weeks with a new problem for me to fix?” Leaning forward Elvie was close enough that she could see the beads of sweat on Jayces neck from the uncomfortably close proximity.

“N-no,” Jayce stuttered and Elvie smiled smugly. “You’d be an official partner. Name on the patents and everything. There's just one little caveat.”

“Oh?” Well she hadn't been expecting that.

“You’d be required to relocate to Piltover.”

“So you mean to tell me you came all the way down here to convince little ol me to move topside and help you boys out with your science experiments. Not only that but I’m assuming you don't have much backing from the council, so I’d be upheaving my life for the slim chance we actually pull this off.”

The silence that hung over the apothecary was heavy, broken only by the faint creak of floorboards and the muted clink of glass jars as a draft shifted the shelves. Jayce stood rooted in place, staring at Elvie, his jaw slightly open. The dim, amber light of the shop cast long shadows across the rows of dried herbs, tinctures, and elixirs that surrounded them, giving the space a quiet intimacy—and a suffocating weight.

Elvie didn’t flinch under his gaze. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her stance unyielding as she leaned against the worn counter. The faint scent of bitterroot and lavender lingered in the air, but even that seemed to bow under the tension between them.

“You're right.” Said Jayce, having finally found his voice. “I’m asking you to take a huge risk. To leave everything that you've built for yourself down here all for a possibility. But I’ve been working on these plans almost my whole life and I know it can work.”

Quirking an eyebrow at the tall man she could feel the familiar curve of her lips as a smile broke out across her face. “What I do here is just a bandaid on a bullet hole. It only goes so far.” Confused Jayce leaned back. “I’d be a fool to throw away an opportunity like this.”

“Does that mean?” Unable to contain his excitement Jayce was practically glowing.

“But let’s get one thing straight, Topside. If this blows up in our faces, I’m not going down alone. You’d better hope we can give your council friends a damn good reason to keep us around.”

Jayce grinned, extending a hand. “Deal.”

Elvie eyed his hand warily before shaking it briefly. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t,” he said, the quiet confidence in his voice filling the apothecary like a spark in the dark.

• ───────────────── •

#arcane #viktor arcane #vi arcane #arcane fanfic #viktor fanfic #viktor x oc #Viktor arcane fanfic #arcane jayce #jayce talis

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quibbs126 · 2 months ago

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Okay, so I think I have some more ideas for that Transformers au, since that was all my brain let me think about during the second half of my shift

It’s mostly just about Megatron and also the Decepticon cause

Okay so first off, I think if I want to make things the way I do, I’m gonna say that the Decepticons are genuinely fighting for equality for Cybertronians, while the Autobots are fighting to maintain the status quo. It’s not necessarily to say all Autobots want inequality, and some are fighting in hopes to build a better future through more peaceful means, but a lot of them don’t really recognize that the system is or was that bad. And there are still bad Decepticons, either those just wanting to cause mayhem or are just looking for a way to better their own status, but a large portion are fighting for change in Cybertronian government

Part of what makes the Autobots the generally dominant force in this conflict is that they’ve got a lot of propaganda going for them and against the Decepticons, including that being why they’re called “Decepticons”. Not everything said about the Decepticons is untrue, they are willing to do less than savory things to achieve their goals if necessary, but the idea that the Decepticons are evil deceivers is largely propaganda

I think in my head, I want the war to be portrayed as an actual civil war and revolution. When we hear about them in history, yeah there seems to be a relatively obvious good and bad looking back, like with the American Revolution and the Patriots and Loyalists, but in the moment, when they happened, neither side was entirely good or bad, and there’s reasons as to why people stuck to one side or the other, because they were people, not entities with a singular shared ideal

The French Revolution might be a more accurate comparison to the Cybertronian civil war, but also I grew up in America so the AR is my big frame of reference and I don’t know much about the FR other than it being semi inspired by the American one and having a lot of execution. But you get what I’m saying regardless

But also if we want the idea of the Decepticons being “evil”, well you gotta probably add some propaganda to explain why that’s how they’re depicted

Optimus is someone who just wants peace and is genuinely a good person, but he was also raised on Autobot propaganda and was never in a position in life where he would have particularly suffered the system (though he probably did still have hardships, I just don’t know what). Throughout this story he learns to see the truth of the matter more

Meanwhile, back to Megatron, the person I meant to be talking about

Okay so I’m thinking that he’s from a colony or city that was at the bottom rung of Cybertronian society, though I haven’t decided particularly what his job was. It might have been a miner and/or gladiator (I’m debating gladiator to have that be a reason he’s high up in rank), but maybe I should do something else

But anyways, I haven’t worked out the kinks in his backstory, but his birthplace was under control of the Autobots, and he became emboldened by the ideals of the Decepticons and their leader (who at this point I might just make Galvatron), and ended up leading an uprising alongside his fellow bots to overthrow the corrupt leadership in their home, and being successful in this attempt. The Autobots were planning to launch a counterattack to reclaim the area, but the Decepticons caught wind of the uprising and managed to get there first, leading to the place becoming Decepticon territory and being under their protection

While not everyone involved decided to join the Decepticon rebellion afterwards, plenty being content to just have their freedom, Megatron decided to join with them afterwards, wanting to bring their cause to even more places amongst the galaxy

Megatron was a powerful bot, and one with a lot of guts and courage, and he has some skill in leading other bots, which led to him becoming a Decepticon commander. He’s also extremely loyal to those who’ve earned his respect

However his main flaw is that he is deeply emotional, and as such has a tendency to let his emotions overtake his logic and common sense, and that’s when he tends to fail and make the wrong decisions. This tends to particularly be a problem because his main emotion is anger

This is exactly why Starscream ends up getting assigned to Megatron as his second in command; Starscream may not be the most upstanding bot, but he’s very shrewd and very flexible with his circumstances, always looking for a way to come out on top, not letting grudges and emotions get in the way of things. Couple that with his extensive military experience and he was considered a good fit for Megatron, with the idea the two could even each other out

Speaking of Starscream, I’m flirting with the idea he may have at one point been an Autobot, but eventually switched sides alongside his squadron, but that’s neither here nor there

Anyways back to Megatron, he tends to judge people based on their character and direct actions rather than their skills and accomplishments. It’s not to say he can’t work with someone who’s highly skilled but an asshole, he just won’t like them

You’d think this means he’d be able to make peace with the Autobot squadron relatively quickly, but he has a deep hatred for Autobots (probably backstory related but again I don’t know the specifics) that tends to override that idea of judging by their character. Over time he also learns to let this hatred of the Autobots go, particularly because of Optimus as he sees the bot is genuinely good and wants to do what’s right

Also with that, I’m thinking he and Optimus have no prior connection, only meeting now at the time of the story. They probably knew of each other, but had no prior personal relationship

So basically they get enemies to lovers instead of the divorce arc. Well I mean, I’m not sure if they end up together, maybe one or both of them have other people they date. But you get what I mean

And yeah, I think that’s about it. I should probably go do homework now in all honesty

#I feel like this was a lot shorter in my head #though to be fair spoken words take a lot less time to convey info than written ones so #it’s spoken in my head at least #still don’t know how to draw these guys #but maybe one day #have no clue what to do for Optimus yet #or any of the Autobots tbh #all I can think is taking out Bumblebee because why not #he’s in basically everything anyways #transformers #transformers au #megatron #starscream #optimus prime #story idea

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gumnut-logic · 2 months ago

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“What the hell were you thinking?!” Virgil ducked a fist aimed at his head, grabbed the guy around the belly and flipped him face-first into a wall.

“I dunno! Maybe I wasn’t?” Gordon darted out of the way of his own opponent’s fist.

Virgil grabbed a woman’s dropped scarf from a nearby table, his fingers brushing against broken glass. He shook the material and more glass tinkled to the equally strewn floor. The man in his other hand writhed and attempted to kick him in the shins with the heel of his boot. Virgil just shoved him harder into the wall.

Twisted scarf made excellent restraints, particularly when looped into a chair which was conveniently bolted to the floor.

It was a bar. It was supposed to be a quiet night with Gordon. A couple of brothers shooting the breeze after a hard day at work. It wasn’t often they got to sit down for a moment, have a meal and just talk.

There had been a false alarm. A reported mine collapse that hadn’t been as serious as suspected and after three earlier rescues in that day, Virgil had called a halt and invited Gordon out for dinner.

His fish brother had looked at him somewhat strangely for all of two seconds and then enthusiastically accepted.

Stashing Two at the nearest GDF base, donning casual clothes, they’d borrowed a car, driven into town, and after a couple of personal errands, found a decent looking bar and ordered steak and a couple of beers.

It had been really good. It wasn’t often that they got time to just relax and enjoy each other’s company.

The alcohol had been minimal as technically they were still on call. Gordon had a quite long and persuasive discussion with John as to whether he should drop down and join them.

John politely declined.

Gordon threatened his tribble collection.

John threatened a fish tank or two.

Gordon threatened a telescope.

John threatened to tell Penelope about Gordon’s fangirly underwear collection.

Virgil stepped in before Gordon exploded.

As it was, the couple one table over were staring over their shoulders at the two guys apparently arguing with their collars.

John was wrestled into a promise of some downtime day after next and asked to tally it up with the rest of the brothers as a family get together.

All was good and well and enjoyable.

Until they walked into the bar.

It wasn’t a rough bar. In fact, it showed signs of families visiting during the day and had a few older folks out the back playing the slot machines.

But every community had this type and every community had to handle their bullshit.

Five of them in total. Two of them decided to harass a woman sitting by herself at the bar. Gordon happened to be ordering some mineral water to follow up on their beers at the time and, of course, he stepped in.

And this was the result.

Of course, the entire situation split the bar into three camps – the Tracy side, the annoyance side, and the innocent bystanders who just wanted a quiet meal at the pub.

Virgil had a foot each in the first and last camps.

But he was a Tracy and a guy built even bigger than Virgil loomed over Gordon with all the signs of intending to smush his brother.

While Gordon was quite capable of wiping the floor clean with the guy’s head, Virgil hadn’t been comfortable with the four others paying far too much attention to the matter.

So, he had swallowed the last of his beer and, putting the glass down, wandered over to stand beside his shorter brother.

Now, Virgil wasn’t particularly tall, but where Gordon’s swimmer’s strength was mostly hidden by his shirt, Virgil’s heavy lifting strength most certainly wasn’t.

The loomer eyed Virgil with a little more respect, but unfortunately the man’s height must have outpaced his IQ, because he didn’t back down.

He had far too much confidence in his buddies.

Loomer threw a punch and Gordon educated him in WASP fighting techniques.

It was a very short lesson.

Virgil took on the four who didn’t like that.

God bless his wonderful sister for all that training, sans coffee at five in the morning or not.

Gordon finished off Loomer and took on two of the guys Virgil had been dancing with.

From then on it had been dodge and attempt to restrain. Virgil had no interest in causing injury, he just wanted to contain the idiots.

They didn’t seem to want to comply.

So, there were bruises and broken furniture.

Virgil felt sorry for the bar owner. No doubt Tracy money would be fixing a few things. Scott was not going to be impressed.

Virgil walked up behind a guy who had thought it would be fun to team up with Gordon’s opponent in a semi-coordinated attack. He didn’t bother hitting the man, he just grabbed an arm and yanked. Spinning him around he used another convenient wall to bring his attack to a very abrupt halt.

The man’s language was explicit and quite offensive.

“Okay, now break it up.” Several police officers walked into the bar.

Gordon’s opponent was already on the floor. The aquanaut held both of his hands up and backed up to show he was no threat.

Virgil had to keep a hold of his still profane antagonist, so he was only able to hold up one hand.

A gun clicked. “Let the man go.”

A frown and Virgil did as he was asked, holding up his remaining hand.

Foul Mouth spun around and before the police officer could react, planted his fist in Virgil’s cheek bone.

“Hey!” And there were suddenly police everywhere. Hands grabbed Virgil as he attempted to shake the stars from his eyesight.

Goddamn, that hurt.

“We’re the victims here. He’s my brother, let him go!”

Blinking, he tried to straighten, but his arms were wrenched behind his back and handcuffed.

His head spun.

“Do you have any idea of who we are?!”

Gordon, shut up or we’ll be on the networks within minutes.

Then Scott would be really pissed.

Virgil wilted in the grip of the men holding him.

His brother was going to be apoplectic.

-o-o-o-

Reactions

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #nuttyfic reblog

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satohqbanana · 3 months ago

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Arcanium Series Magic Worldbuilding Excerpts

"Types of magic" won in the worldbuilding poll, so let's have something about the types of magic... plus a few extra tidbits. Again, fair warning that some of this information can get scrapped or revised as I complete Arcanium, but this are the most stable ideas I am running along with for now.

Fun fact: Some of these are actually from the game WIP. You would've read it in the game in a basement's library!

Excerpt from Magic 101 Volume 1, "Magic and the World":

The world is made possible by two principles: the corporeal and the magical. The corporeal gives the magical a physical body, while the magical is the force that drives the corporeal.

Magic needs a physical conduit to be used in the mortal realm. For most mages, harnessing their power with their own body is enough. Mages are born with a spiritual force and a spiritual resistance strong enough to cast or repel magic forces.

Trivia: It is also widely accepted that the mortal body possesses innate control over magic. If not, most mortals would've succumbed to magic poisoning in the mere presence of a mage or a magical object!

Excerpt from Magic 101 Volume 2, "Laws and Theories of Magic":

The Theory of Force Segregation states that one power will always be weaker than a second power and stronger than a third power. This theory divides the forces of magic into two: the cycle of elemental forces and the cycle of light forces and dark forces.

The elemental forces are as follows:

Foliage, the force of plant matter.

Flame, the force of fire and warmth.

Fluid, the force of wind and water.

Flashbolt, the force of lightning.

Fillstone, the force of earth and minerals.

The light forces and dark forces are both divided into three types. Light forces include Motion, Energy, and Radiance. Dark forces include Silence, Curse, and Shadow. One cannot be without the other, and neither force is stronger than the other.

Excerpt from Magic 101 Volume 3, "How to Use Magic":

Users of magic are generally called "mages". Mages are allowed to go by any equivalent titles, and mages can gather as many monikers as they wish.

There are many different types of mages based on their affinity, proficiency, and ability.

The most common types are the elemental mages, light mages, and dark mages, who control various magic forces as indicated in Volume 2. It is also typical of an elemental mage to have offense-type magic, a light mage to have restoration-type magic, and a dark mage to have support-type magic.

There are also types of mages based on their use of magic, such as material mages and biotic mages.

Material mages can manipulate magic to specifically influence non-living objects. They often enchant weapons or charms.

Biotic mages who can manipulate living objects. Glamourers and shapeshifters fall in this category.

Rarer types include the omnimagi, the extochants, and the ambivals.

Omnimagi can wield most if not all forms of magic. For them, learning magic is almost as natural as breathing.

Extochants can control and redirect others' magic, but never their own. Most extochants are unaware of their own power and can potentially live through their lives not knowing they are mages.

Ambivals can harness the internal magic of both their own and others'. Such potential is equally incredible and dangerous.

Excerpt from Healing Magic Vol. 1, "Basics of Magic and Ailments":

Magic poisoning is an ailment brought about by overexposure to magic. Researchers have theorized that external magic can disrupt one's internal magic, especially if it exerts enough spirit force for one's spirit resistance to completely break down.

Magic poisoning has a high fatality rate. Survivors are recorded to suffer nasty black, vein-like scars over their body. These scars cannot be surgically or magically removed. Magic poisoning is more likely to occur in places brimming with magic power, such as the Chromatic Mountains that surround Kaleidopolis.

Healers and researchers have developed different ways to treat magic poisoning and prevent it from spreading. However, an individual who has survived magical poisoning before is likely to suffer twice the next time it occurs.

Miscellaneous clippings on alchemy from various reputable journals and accounts:

Alchemy is considered a counterpart of magic, but they coexist for a reason. Alchemy is a form of contractual magic, wherein a user, called an alchemist, opens a rune gate to communicate with the pantheons of gods to buy a magic spell.

Alchemy is the safer alternative to magic. One simply uses an especially-crafted alchemical scroll, and alchemical recipes in general have a 0.05% chance of failing. In the case of failure, the payment and the ingredients will simply disappear and the user will not be affected.

Alchemy is similar to cooking. One needs a few materials, called ingredients, to create an object or to summon an ability. Payments are often made using coins, jewels, and in some cases, even rare artifacts. It is sacrificing what you have to gain what you desire.

Alchemy helps the world restore gems in mines, place treasure boxes in remote areas, and hide away artifacts often thought to be long-lost… or at least that's how I think of it. I mean, where else would the gods and demigods take those things to???

Arcanium Masterpost || Current Tag List: Feel free to ask to be tagged!

General Tags:

@philosophika, @amaiguri, @thecomfywriter, @wyked-ao3, @kingragnarok-writes

Mention Tags:

@paeliae-occasionally for the magic worldbuilding tidbits

#worldbuilding #writeblr #amwriting #fantasy #fantasy writing #fantasy worldbuilding #writing #magic #magic worldbuilding #writing community #satoh writes #satoh's worldbuilding #arcanium series

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yakuzacanons · 10 months ago

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hey! Hope you're doing well, love ur blog sm it gives me life

Wanted to ask, do you think the guys have some hobbie? Would they be more likely to introduce their hobby to their S/O or could it be the other way around (the S/O easily introducing them into a hobby)? Thanks beforehand!

OOhhh this is a fun one, sorry it took so long to get back to ya btw. Giving u a big hug. Bit of a long post so sit tight and enjoy!

Kazuma Kiryu

Is working out a hobby? Seriously though, he likes working out and fishing. Not very likely to introduce his hobby to you unless you already express interest in it but is down to try whatever hobby you have as long as it's not something too crazy like climbing Mt. Everest.

Majima Goro

Honestly, he likes singing. It doesn't even have to be public, like karaoke. A lot of the time, you'll find him coming up with his own jingle by himself, minding his own business. Definitely more easily influenced by his S/O's hobbies than the other way around.

Saejima Taiga

Generally speaking, he's an outdoorsman. Likes hiking, camping, fishing, and hunting. Would love to do a camping trip with you but only if you want. Equally likely to introduce a hobby of his to you as you might introduce one to him.

Akiyama Shun

If taking a nap was a hobby, he would say that's his favorite activity. In reality, he has no particular favorite hobby but he does spend a lot of free time doing volunteer work for the homeless. Honestly, whatever your hobby is, he's down to try since he doesn't have one of his own to really offer you.

Tanimura Masayoshi

He likes learning how to cook and bake. That or trying the newest and weirdest flavor of snack he can find. Generally a really explorative guy and will try just about anyting you suggest.

Ryuji Goda

Has a particular interest in traditional ceremonies, especially tea ceremonies. Just fond of tea brewing in general. Also has an interest in coffee brewing but that's more out of him needing caffeine in the morning than an actual love for coffee, unlike his genuine love of tea. Would never force a hobby on you. Also not likely to be influenced himself; he barely has time for the one hobby he does have.

Nishikiyama Akira

To put it simply, he likes learning about pretty things. Like expanding his knowledge of fashion and jewelry, more so in how its made or where certain fabrics come from. Also kind of interested in gemstones and minerals but can never remember all the names. It's more of a passing fancy for him, sort of like knowing random trivia or facts, so he doesn't take it too seriously.

Daigo Dojima

If he ever DOES get the time to indulge in a hobby, it's typically something artistic. He would never go so far as to say he has any talent but he's tried his hand at piano and painting. For when he doesn't have time, you'll catch him folding tiny origami cranes at his desk. Actually pretty good at doing that but he never knows what to do with them when he's done.

Mine Yoshitaka

Does a lot of kickboxing and boxing when he's by himself. Will neither try to influence you with his hobbies nor is he easily influenced by your hobbies. Mostly just lovingly and curiously watches you while you're invested in your hobbies; he's more interested in observing than participating.

Tatsuo Shinada

Is baseball too obvious for him? Even if it is, it's the truth. Most of the time, you'll catch him doing something baseball related because that's most of what he knows and it's fairly affordable. Passing interest in photography too but only just in passing.

Ichiban Kasuga

Likes riding a bike or going fishing. Going on walks is also a good option for him. More likely to be influenced by his S/O's hobbies than the other way around. Always down to try something new, for better or for worse.

Yu Nanba

He doesn't personally consider this a hobby but he's actually quite skilled at sewing! Maybe it's just a natural extension of knowing how to do stitches as a nurse. Also more likely to try a hobby because of his S/O than influence their hobbies himself.

Adachi Koichi

Likes reading true crime novels and learning about cars. He doesn't own a car himself but he likes to learn about vintage models or go to car shows if he can. Neither hobbies are particularly serious for him though and more of a passing interest. Will try just about any hobby you present to him but be warned, he can be a little clumsy.

Tianyou Zhao

He spends almost all of his down time exploring something food related. Loves to come up with his own recipes and experimenting with old recipes. Also does a fair bit of tai chi on his days off. Just be aware, if you're dating, you ARE going to be his taste tester.

Joon-Gi Han

It sounds funny but he likes to read or watch random shit for the hell of it. Watches lots of video essays and then spits out everything he learned from it like a fountain. Also really good at making little model airplanes and figurines, although he kind of forgets to clean up after himself sometimes.

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tanuki-kimono · 1 year ago

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Hello! I love your blog bc it helps me a lot with writing and crafting. Thank you so much for making it!

Are there any patterns that deal with poison? Either in the pattern or in the dyeing process?

Even if there's not I'm glad you and this blog exist 💗

(anon continues) Poison in the dyeing process, like when green dresses were dyed with copper arsenite and it was extremely deadly.

Or a pattern of someone being poisoned, like a historical/folktale.

_______________________________________

Thank you for your kind words <3 I tried to keep things organized but the subject is huge so my of the top of my head answer is going in many directions. I hope you'll still find what you need :3

I'll briefly cover here dyes and (pigments), poison motifs, real life and supernatural poisonings. Buckle up we've got a long post ahead!

____ ABOUT DYE

Tbh I had to think for a moment because I don't recall major "poison" stories linked to dyes in Japan, be it fictionous or real (yet that doesn't mean none ever happened, especially considering Japan's history of industrial poisonings...).

Most gruesome details in the fabric industries I know of are about the horrific life & work conditions of female laborers in spinning mill manufactures (as in many countries, Japan industrialization process was ghastly...).

If potters and dyers had excellent practical knowledge, chemistry as a science officially started kind of late in Japan as it was not a local interest, and as rangaku (study of Western knowledge) often favored other subjects like medicine or warfare.

So, until the introduction of aniline dyes (not textile related, but this article about the use of synthetic dyes in ukiyoe printing is super interesting), Japanese worked with "natural" dyes, like ai (indigo) which was the most used during Edo period.

As with any ingredient, being natural doesn't equal safety. Some mixtures could be quite potent/foul, and process could be dangerous. Plants and minerals base ingredients could be toxic (cinnabar and orpiments were then used as paint pigments, and lead could be found in make up), as were mordants used to set colors.

If you want to easily overview which ingredients were used to create colors, I recommand browsing [Irocore] which presents colors with explanation in English in their database (pick a color then scroll down).

Not related to poison, but ai (indigo) is traditionally prepared in aigame/enormous floor set jars I find utterly terrifying:

I don't know if this tidbit can help you, but some dyes and mordants actually damage the fabric overtime, leaving them brittle (silk desintegrates after a while which is a huge issue in textile conservation).

____ POISON MOTIFS

Concerning "poison" themed patterns, none would be actually used traditionally on a kimono or an obi beside novelty items ^^;

For example, many plants can be toxic, but I don't see them set as pattern for this property - they'd rather refer to a poem, be a symbol of the passing of seasons etc. Fuji (wisteria) can be quite harmful, yet it's a beloved traditional motif in Japan.

You have much more chances to find pattern with kujaku (peacock) which are thought to be impervious to poison in Buddhism, than say venomous mukade (centipede) or the horrific ômukade (a youkai I covered in a folktale).

Snakes like the habu and mamushi are dangerous, but if used as pattern snakes are most often auspicious and linked to rain dragons or goddess Benzaiten.

If you squint hard, toxic fugu could count as poison pattern, but such a seasonal delicacy as a motif would mostly underline wealth (as those fishes are pretty expensive as they are prepared by specialized chefs), a kind of carpe diem spirit, or just a fun pattern because fugu balloon shape is cute ;)

____ POISON MURDERS

Poisoning was certainly a thing is Japan since ancient times (see kodoku sorcery). Poisons were for example used in some fishing techniques.

I am pretty sure some kuge and buke were disposed of this way - even thought poison was seen as a coward weapon (hence why its supposed to be only used by shinobi/ninja - even if this "fact" is opened to a lot of discussions!).

During Edo period, such murders made up the news and penny dreadful-like illustrated books favored by city dwellers in need of a fright. But those stories didn't pass to posterity beside cheap ukiyoe plates, and were never as popular as some shinjû (double suicides) or ghost revenges like poor poisoned and murdered Oiwa's:

____ SUPERNATURAL POISONINGS

If your poison is both physical and metaphorical illbeing, mushi could be your guys ^^ This term actually covers everything small and crawling, from real worms and insects, to anything inside one's body causing distress - be it a parasite, an unknown illness, an overboard emotion, a curse etc. If you've read/seen Mushishi you've got what I mean:

In fact any illness-causing being could count as poison-bringer. Hôsôkami (smallpox demon) was truly feared by all before vaccination was introduced in Japan.

Finally, continuing the supernatural poisoning trail, best girl is probably legendary fox witch Tamamo no Mae who among other terrible deeds made emperor Konoe fall sick with poisonous miasma (some version of the story attributes the disease to another monster, the nue). I covered a similar murderous kitsune folktale here.

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torchship-rpg · 1 year ago

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Dev Diary 10 - Martians & Spacers

Hello cosmonauts! Today we’re going to go into some more detail on human identities (don’t worry, we’ll get to aliens soon enough). Torchship development is progressing behind the scenes, albeit a bit slowly (the last two weeks especially have been hellish), and in particular we’re working on a revision of some of our core systems in a way that hopefully we can touch on in our next dev diary.

Until then, let’s wrap up the Sol-based human identities today.

Spacers

It’s safe to say that humanity in Torchship are a bunch of space cadets, and an awful lot of them were eager to live in space the moment the opportunity arose. The result is that, in the year 2169, there are entire cities floating free in the Sol system, and thousands of small stations for mining, processing, and refining the near-limitless resources of the asteroid belt and Oort cloud.

Spacers live in much-reduced gravity to the Earth norm; 0.35g is the ‘standard’, originally because of mechanical limitations in the construction of stations and now simply their norm. This means they’re recommended the ‘Freefaller’ trait, just like Lunars. They are also recommended the Radiation Hardened trait, representing modifications and pre-emptive treatment to cope with living outside of a planet’s magnetosphere and atmosphere. This gives you inbuilt reduction against radiation damage in exchange for slower passive healing due to the metabolic cost of those redundancies.

Spacers are divided into two broad categories; Habitat Spacers and Deep Spacers. As the name implies, ‘Habbers’ live in the many purpose-built space habitats which orbit Earth and, to a lesser degree, the other planets in the Sol system. These habitats are enormous technological wonders and a vital step in the space-based economy of the Solar Union, containing the light manufacturing facilities which turn the resources of Luna, the outer system, and beyond into consumer goods. They also help route the people and resources flowing to and from Earth, ensuring the colonies get fed and Earth reaps the benefits of large-scale industry without the environmental cost.

Habbers might live in space, but their day-to-day isn’t much different from their Terran cousins. Their habitats are huge, massive cities with equally large green areas. Standout habitats include L5 Hab, home of Star Patrol HQ and Academy, L4 ‘Guest Star’, the former headquarters of the PLA’s astromilitary and current HQ of Star Force, and Destination Station, the orbital anchor for Earth’s space elevator.

Habbers, especially L4 and L5 citizens, made up a disproportionate amount of Solar Patrol members back in the day, so they get recommended the ‘Veteran’ Trait, scoring you reduced Stress in combat and bonus Security/Tactical certs in exchange for a lowered total Stress threshold. The strong presence of both the play market and shipping bureaucracy come with the Entrepreneur trait; you’re a better negotiator than average because you’re used to these kinds of transactions, but take Stress from both offering the Union’s Credits in negotiation and from the Union being in debt, as you have a much better handle on what it might mean for people when the Union’s economic systems are strained.

By contrast, Deep Spacers don’t live in cushy habs. No, these crusty cosmonauts make their living out in the farthest reaches of the Sol system, mining ice from Saturn’s rings, breaking up distant asteroids, and sending the bounty back on slow orbits. Not long ago, before the FTL drive was invented, this was the farthest you could get from the authority of the Union; most Deep Spacers are anarchists of various sorts who very much prefer their little self-contained communities to the stifling oversight and endless democratic procedure of Earth, who eschew the ration credit and play market for gift economies and black markets of their own devising. Their relationship with Earth never has to get deeper than minerals for biologicals, and most of them prefer it that way.

Still, Deep Spacers are the rock-solid core of the Patrol, because a lifetime on stations and rockets give them unparalleled instincts for the job. They are recommended the same Claustrophile trait as Mazedwelling Lunars and the same Communal Spirit trait as Urban Terrans, meaning they’re great working in a team or on EVA. They also pick up languages quickly with Polyglot, because many of their stations are extremely multicultural, and it's not uncommon for deep spacers to speak five or more languages, plus whatever pidgins are used at their trade posts.

Finally, both types of Spacers are recommended two traits which make them beloved by Star Patrol. Voidborn gives a bonus to patching hulls in exchange for added Stress when the vehicle is low on Supply, representing both their lifetime of decompression drills and their deep awareness of how thin the margins are in space. They are also recommended the Well-Connected trait to always have friends in the Patrol wherever they go, because for many Spacers, this is the family business!

As a final note, Spacers get a unique third sub-identity, the Daedalus Children, which is mostly a way of showing players that they’re free to go wild with the Trait choices even if they’re playing with humans. The Daedalus Children are a small group of artificial, silicon-based human duplicates created by the sapient supercomputer running Sagan Station, orbiting the distant planet Minerva 500 AU away from the sun. They have a psychic connection to the Daedalus computer (who they affectionately call their ‘Daed’) through the Patron Being trait.

This gonzo addition makes it clear that this is a big, strange, somewhat silly world, and you should feel free to make your blorbo whatever you want, and damn the canon!

Martians

Let’s go down the gravity well again and meet the Martians. Mars is well on its way to being humanity’s second homeworld by 2169, the result of a near-obsessive colonisation and terraforming effort through the 21st century. More or less the moment fusion engines made it viable, humans were throwing comets into the poles and setting up artificial magnetospheres, excited by the possibility of using their new high-energy toys to create a livable planet in less than a century.

Unfortunately, though perhaps not surprisingly, their maths were somewhat off. Mars is lingering in a low oxygen state, and has too many people and too much infrastructure now to try any of the big flashy high-energy terraforming anymore. Instead, it’ll be slow centuries of cultivating an artificial biosphere before Terrans can breathe unaided on the surface; despite the rapidly spreading greenery and brand new oceans, Mars’s current average surface oxygen level rivals the peak of Mount Everest.

Undeterred, the Martians turned to genetic engineering so their children could play outside. The result is that Martians get recommended the Hypoxic Conditioning trait, which gives them total immunity to low oxygen conditions and a shocking ten minutes of normal activity in total oxygen deprivation. In exchange, they take a penalty to their physical capabilities, reflecting the metabolic changes and the fact they’ve all ended up a good eight centimetres shorter than they would be without the modifications.

Martians also get recommended the Driven and Lone Wolf traits, neurological consequences of this engineering; these traits combine to mean that Martians work best when they’re alone and hyperfocusing on a single task. This may or may not be familiar to some of you, which is very much intentional; Martians are a not so subtle fantastical allegory for neurodivergence.

The two major Martian sub-identities are The Red Frontier and The Dome Cities. The Red Frontier represents what is often thought of as the archetypical Martian lifestyle, even if it’s slowly being displaced; small groups of people living in bunker-like bases deep in the vast Martian wilderness, tending to the massive fleet of agriculture, survey, construction, and maintenance drones which are both building infrastructure and tending the genetically-engineered biosphere of Mars. This job gets them recommended the Machine Minded trait, which eliminates the penalty normally taken when working remotely with machines in exchange for one to social interaction in person.

Mars’ fragile ecology manifests as a strange sort of tundra, with spindly evergreen trees, hardy lichen, and a variety of engineered animals. A lot of work has to be done to keep it all going, especially because insects can’t survive the oxygen-poor environment, which makes pollination difficult. Martians get recommended the appropriate Environmental Adaptation trait for this tundra; they know all about survival in cold, dry environments.

Finally, if you wanted to play one of those terraforming drones instead, that’s always a viable option; we dropped Machine Life in there as a reminder!

The dwellers of the Dome Cities are part of Mars’ high tech industry. Because of the gravity well in the way, Mars doesn’t export much in the way of material goods. Instead, it uses the concentration of expertise needed for terraforming and drone management to make cutting-edge software and media for the rest of the Union, and the cities are where this takes place. Martian cities are much more high-tech than their Earth counterparts, with lots of automated systems designed either to make up for the smaller population, or simply because Martians are already used to making robots do as much work as possible; Machine-Minded is unsurprisingly also recommended here.

Because Mars is a world of specialists, where being the best at your One Thing is a strong cultural value, the Prodigy trait is recommended for citizens of the Dome Cities, allowing them to pick three certs as Focuses and advance them faster, at the cost of advancing the others slower. Finally, the greater reliance on automation sees the Prosthetics trait recommended, representing both the greater reliance on mechanical parts over regrown tissue in medicine and the fact Martians aren’t adverse to a bit of computerised self-improvement.

Digital Elysium

Just like Spacers, Martians have a third, highly-specific sub-identity. Where Daedalus Children are a gonzo departure from the setting’s norm, the citizens of Elysium City instead are instead deeply rooted in the history of the setting. Remember how we said the Star Union isn’t a utopia? Well, this is one of the major ways it has failed, and a resolution is one of the things that can emerge over the course of the campaign.

Forty years prior to the modern day, a group of Cybernetic Democrats calling themselves the Lab Rats hatched the brilliant scheme to all move to one of the brand-new Martian cities together and use their newfound political majority to set up one of their predictive networks, peacefully starting the cybernetic revolution on a new world. They built themselves an automated city, possessed by a ghost of convenience which always knew exactly what you needed, always had a train ready when you reached the station, and always had a task you wanted to do ready to go every time you looked at your smart watch. It was efficient, seamless, responsive, and incredibly alienating, replacing any real sense of community with quest markers in your smart glasses.

When vital colonists tried to leave the city, the algorithm predicted the majority wouldn’t like that, and it locked the doors to stop them. Then the Solar Guard showed up to the ‘hostage situation’. Nobody listened to one another, both sides refused to understand what was going on. The Solar Guard rolled in tanks, and the algorithm helped the Lab Rats ambush them. After a month of brutal street to street fighting, the first war on another world, the Solar Guard retreated, and bombed the city with jumpjets until the terrified defenders lost hope. Once the majority no longer wanted to fight, the algorithm dutifully switched off.

Forty years later, Elysium City is still under military occupation. It was supposed to be brief, but the neighbouring cities who now have the controlling vote keep extending it whenever violence flares up, and each extension radicalises a new generation of Elysium citizens. Both sides are incredibly unpopular with a majority who just want peace and a greater Union who find it all monstrous, but the systems of the Solar Union are paralyzed by their own democratic checks and balances, leaving the city in a horrible limbo.

If you want to be from Elysium, you get recommended a whole pile of traits reflecting the extreme circumstance. Vengeful and Fretful are two recommended Traits representing the understandable anger and anxiety which come from living in a city where drone bombing still happens with regularity. Prodigy reflects how Elysium City is the single largest concentration of computer science geniuses in the entire Union, due to the fact that none of them are allowed to leave. Dark History can represent in equal parts being a member of the Lab Rats or the Sol Guard, both staggeringly unpopular organisations to everyone else in the Union.

Finally, Patron Being represents how, despite the best efforts of generations of computer engineers, the self-replicating Network still lingers deep in the electronic bones of Elysium, waiting for the day that a majority want it back. Hackers and technomancers both claim they have made contact with the Network, and this trait can represent your dedication to bringing it back.

#torchship ttrpg #torchship #ttrpg #dev diary #rpg

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wuxiaphoenix · 4 months ago

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Worldbuilding: Dragon Fall

So... what if, instead of either “a blight upon the land” or an ordinary (if huge) creature’s death, what if the demise of a dragon was more like a whale fall in the ocean deeps? A massive bonanza of nutrients (and magic) that attracts whole communities of odd organisms, persisting for decades, sometimes most of a century, until the last shred of bone and marrow is gone?

The critters that show up and flourish on whale falls generally also exist in other deepwater communities. You may be familiar with the deep-sea vent communities around black smokers, where water is under such tremendous pressure that it’s still boiling liquid at over 400 F, and life keeps a toehold by a food chain based on archaea that synthesize food out of sulfur compounds. You may be less familiar with cold seeps, where hydrocarbon-rich liquid seeps out of the earth’s crust and archaea set up a similar food chain, with just less heat. Or places where a deep freshwater-saltwater interface provide a handy chemical gradient for chemolithoautotrophs to grow and feed food chains.

(Yes, I swear it’s a word. Organisms that can synthesize their own cellular energy - autotroph = “self-feeding” - just as a plant does from sunlight. Only they’re using a breakdown of chemicals like sulfur and minerals; hence litho, from stone.)

Critters from all of these communities show up and thrive at whale falls. Something similar should happen with dragon falls. Though the critters, and possibly plants if the dragon falls on land or shallow water, should be... unusual.

Elementals are some of the first creatures that come to mind. D&D dragons are all aligned with one of the four classical Greek elements; Air, Earth, Water, or Fire. Elementals tend to turn up in places strong in their element. An undine in a waterfall, an earth elemental in a landslide, a salamander in a volcano, an air elemental in a storm or on a gusting mountaintop. The death-site or body of a great wyrm might be equally attractive to beings that need elemental energy.

Some of those beings might well be intelligent. Wizards and sorcerers going out of their way to acquire exotic components by any means necessary is pretty much a fantasy staple by now. And quite a few of them wouldn’t care if the parts rightfully belonged to someone else. Or if they were hazardous. That’s a problem for untrained mages; they’re far too learned to make such mistakes!

(This is why D&D partitions Intelligence and Wisdom as different stats. Intelligence says “what a shiny idea!” Wisdom is what checks whether or not the Shiny will swat you flatter than a poisoned pancake.)

It would be interesting if killing the dragon was only the first step. Then you’d have to figure out what to do with the body, what kind of scavengers are likely to show up, what plants will be affected, whether or not it’s better to disperse the remains over a large area or leave them in one concentrated lump to quarantine....

All that, and dealing with the inevitable intelligent scavengers, out to make a killing (ahem) selling Genuine Dragon Bits at the local shady auction. Or the darkweb, if it’s urban fantasy. I wouldn’t envy the FBI that headache!

#creative writing #worldbuilding

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odinsblog · 11 months ago

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US Bitcoin Miners Use as Much Electricity as Everyone in Utah

Bitcoin miners in the US are consuming the same amount of electricity as the entire state of Utah, among others, according to a new analysis by the US Energy Information Administration. And that’s considered the low end of the range of use.

Electricity usage from mining operations represents 0.6% to 2.3% of all the country’s demand in 2023, according to the report released Thursday. It is the first time EIA has shared an estimate. The mining activity has generated mounting concerns from policymakers and electric grid planners about straining the grid during periods of peak demand, energy costs and energy-related carbon dioxide emissions.

“This estimate of U.S. electricity demand supporting cryptocurrency mining would equal annual demand ranging from more than three million to more than six million homes,” the report said.

While mining began in the US a decade ago, an influx of crypto mining companies have relocated from China after that country banned the industry in May 2021. Over the last three years, a flurry of large-scale miners have gone public in the US, setting up operations in some of the most energy-rich states such as Texas and New York.

(continue reading)

#politics #crypotcurrency #crypto bros #bitcoin #cryptocurrency mining #environment #power consumption #bitcon

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thebrightgreen · 1 year ago

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Gnomes: A Masculine Role Model?

Upon occasion on the internet, I see people searching for good, healthym non-toxic male role models. Such searches often yield a variety of different figures, real and fictional. However, I have yet to see the objects of my own field of study mentioned in such discussions, and so I wish to put them forward: I believe gnomes to be good examples of healthy masculinity.

When elaborating upon this, I will be using the terms 'masculine' and 'masculinity' rather than 'man' or 'male'. The reasoning is obvious, not all gnomes are male or men. Rather, I believe it is traditional gnomeic cultural markers which can provide the fine example of a healthy form of masculinity for any human who wishes to pursue such an ideal.

As I have mentioned in previous posts, my theory regarding gnomes is that, for them, existence and culture are one and the same. If an earth spirit did not wish to embody the cultural archetype of the gnome to some degree, it would not take the form of a gnome. Thus, for a gnome to exist physically is for it to partake in gnomish culture.

With this in mind, let us consider the archetypal gnome.

[Above: John Bauer, Swedish Folk Tales Illustrations]

I believe the cornerstone and foundation of 'gnomishness' to be respect. Respect for nature, respect for others, respect for themselves. Existence as a gnome is to respect corporeality and all other physical things. Respect for existence itself. The boundaries between forms, their shapes and limits, what can and cannot be done by one shape to another shape. To get more specific, I see gnomish respect as a matter of autonomy. Gnomes are often depicted as individualists, they live on their own terms. Yes, the gnomes' shared culture means that their lives will often superficially look similar but this does not mean that they aren't still living on their own individual terms. A gnome respects itself and it's wants and needs. It also equally respects others. It's all about respect, above and beneath all other things. This is the most admirable of the gnomes' traits.

Other traits strongly associated with gnomes are resourcefulness and tenacity. Gnomes are often defined by their labour, by their work. Gnomes are inherently tied to the earth, usually to guard and maintain it. They were often depicted as deep folk bearing the tools and garb of miners in times of old. Nowadays they are more typically depicted as gardeners, though this is no less a tie to the earth nor a lesser occupation for them. They were consistently spoken of as great craftsmen and have evolved in more recent pop culture as being depicted as brilliant tinkerers, inventers and scientists. A departure from their roots, perhaps, but still a depiction which unifies their culture under a profession. In truth, it does not matter what work a gnome will find for itself - it will find work, as a gnome finds beauty in its labours, for it's toil is self-directed and a product of passion. Gnomes are often taken to crafts and the arts as well as conventional forms of labour. To a gnome, taking the time to compose a song or paint a picture is no less important. It is all part of constructing their lives. This is a gnomeic cultural trait. Gnomes choose to exist because existing is interesting and fun and a challenge compared to being an incorporeal spirit of the earth. Gnomes are small creatures in a big world and they work hard to make a place for themselves in it because they love the world and they love themselves. They work hard, they play hard.

This ties in well to another notable trait of gnomekind. Strength. Gnomes are strong and hardy. This is hardly surprising considering what they are and what they contend with. To a gnome, a fox or dog or common house cat are vast and powerful kaiju to be feared in a way a human would fear encountering a T-Rex. But admiring the trait of strength is less about strength itself and more about the reason behind the pursuit of strength. This is the greater and more noble pursuit of fulfilment. Gnomes do not coast through life without examining themselves, what they want and what they stand for. This takes strength, not just of form but of character. So, to build a life, one must build strength, explore who they are, their drives, their thoughts and their feelings. It is a hard thing to do, I admire those who are able to communicate with themselves so eloquently.

[Above: Jakub Rozalski, Forbidden Fruit]

When these traits are considered and viewed together, the view of gnomes becomes one of rugged cowboys, frontier homesteaders, romantic poets and proletarian labourers all rolled into one, rather than simply as rosy-cheeked lawn ornaments. With this said, gnomes are rosy-cheeked, good natured and whimsical! Gnomes are individualists, yes, but they are gregarious and form strong bonds of community and friendship! Just as no man is an island, neither is a gnome. To be a gnome is to love life, another unifying trait which underlines all of the others.

So, here we have some good, key gnomish cultural traits. Not all of them, but prominent examples.

Before I conclude, I will address a potential elephant in the room. All of these traits are not exclusive to masculinity, men or maleness. Anyone can embody and uphold ideals such as respect, tenacity, strength, and so on. I have no desire to try and enforce any gender roles nor to try and dictate how anyone should live their lives, please do not take this post to indicate as such.

I do not believe that these traits are inherently masculine on their own. Rather, when I think of masculinity and try to reason what it even is, I believe it is more about sets of traits, taken together, which can help to define it, rather than the individual qualities themselves. The whole being greater than the sum of the parts, one might say. I think the specific traits of gnomish culture mentioned form a picture of what healthy masculinity can look like when combined. Not the only kind of masculinity, by any stretch, but a form of it!

I do hope this makes good sense and seems well reasoned. I am a gnomologist and not a sociologist. Gender studies are not quite my forte! But gnomes have always struck me as good role models and I do think that they can be viewed specifically through the lens of masculinity quite aptly also. I think if we chose to live life as gnomes do - full of respect, wonder and joy - then it may be the key to a heartier, healthier, happier life. So, if you or any in your life are wondering how best to be a modern man, consider gnomes as a fine example.

As always, I welcome peoples' notes and opinions, wisdom comes when we share our thoughts.

#gnomes #gnome posting #gnomeposting #gnomology #the bright green #ecognomics #role model #masculinity #gender #Respect #Tenacity #Resourcefulness #Strength #fulfilment #Jakub Rozalski #John Bauer

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