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even-disco-baby · 11 months

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COASTAL SHACK — You wake to find yourself lying in your bed, still very much alive.

PAIN THRESHOLD — Barely.

ENDURANCE — Don’t be dramatic. Aside from a headache and dry mouth, you’re fine.

PAIN THRESHOLD — It’s a *bad* headache.

ENDURANCE — You’ve had worse.

Ouch… No thanks, I’m going back to sleep.

[Try to sit up.]

ENDURANCE — You try to push yourself upright, but your head and your heart pound with the effort and your arms feel weak.

…Look, I said you’ve had worse, I didn’t say you should push your luck.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — It’s the blood loss. A common side effect of getting shot.

YOU — Thanks. Very helpful.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — You’re welcome!

PERCEPTION (Hearing) — As you drop back down to the pillow, you hear a familiar sound. A shuffle of nylon.

PAIN THRESHOLD — You force your eyes open just a sliver, squinting. Despite how dim the shack is, that hi-vis orange is unmistakable.

The lieutenant’s jacket is laid over you, the sleeve of it nearly brushing your cheek.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You catch a faint whiff of Taiga Super Special.

+1 MORALE

Oh shit! I’ve always wanted to try it on!

Does that mean he’s out there somewhere *without* it? That mental image is just not right.

I wonder what he keeps in his pockets… [Snoop.]

INTERFACING — Blearily, you reach out and feel for the jacket’s inside pockets. Predictably, most of them are empty. Obviously, the lieutenant didn’t leave any of his essentials behind. His badge and notebook are nowhere to be found. Nor are his Astras.

But…

YOU — But?!

INTERFACING — But in his left breast pocket, you feel something small and flimsy.

PERCEPTION (Touch) — Feels like… photo paper.

YOU — [Pull out the photo.]

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — It’s you.

You, reaching out a hand toward the miracle— the Insulindian Phasmid.

INLAND EMPIRE — No. It said that *you* were the miracle… violent and irrepressible…

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — The phasmid unfolding its impossibly long limbs, its eyes fixed calmly on you, the foam and the sky and your small silhouette, wreathed in sunlight, reaching, reaching…

It’s a great photo.

EMPATHY — In his left breast pocket… The lieutenant keeps it close to his heart…

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You’re awake.”

COMPOSURE — You jump, nearly dropping the photo at Kim’s voice.

HALF LIGHT — He’s caught you red handed.

“I wasn’t snooping! It just, er, fell out of the jacket and I…”

“God, Kim, you scared me…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stands in the doorway in a white tank, his silhouette strange and unfamiliar without the bulk of his jacket around his shoulders. In his hands, jugs of clean water from the well. He sets them down by the door and then comes to sit at the table by the window.

“Sorry,” he says flatly, glancing briefly at the photo in your hands, then away. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death.”

“Like there’s a little guy with a sledgehammer knocking around inside my skull.”

“Okay, I guess. Tired.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm. You’ve been sleeping on and off for a couple of days now… I’m not surprised. You were bound to crash eventually, after everything your body’s been through…”

He glances again at the photo, his expression difficult to read.

EMPATHY — He didn’t mean for you to find it, but he isn’t upset, either. Strangely, he almost looks a little guilty.

“…Thinking about changing careers, Kim? You might not make such a bad cryptozoologist.”

“…Pretty scandalous of you to keep a photo of me. Whatever will they say back at the precinct?”

“…Lena and Morell let you keep the original?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “They did,” he says. And then, somewhat awkwardly, “Sorry. I should have offered to let you have it. It was your discovery, really…”

HALF LIGHT — He’s almost scared to let you take it. He doesn’t realize it, but needs it.

“But it’s *your* photo. You’re the only reason we got a picture.”

“That’s true. Does that mean I can keep it?”

“It’s okay. Something tells me you need it more than I do.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask you to elaborate. Just stares at the little piece of paper in your hands.

COMPOSURE — It stirs something in him. Something he doesn’t know what to name.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You said something about having a vision,” he says suddenly, frowning. “When we encountered it, I mean. Something about the… *khm*… the fate of mankind.”

INLAND EMPIRE — He would not understand, even if you told him…

“I say lots of stuff. For no reason. I was probably just goofing.” [Don’t tell him.]

“…I did. The phasmid spoke to me about it.” [Tell him.]

KIM KITSURAGI — His eyelids flutter, processing your words. “It… *spoke* to you?”

“Um, no, I’m just kidding, Kim. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yes. Those few minutes I was just staring at her, we were actually speaking… She said such beautiful things… Beautiful, but scary, too…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s mouth opens, as if to speak— and then promptly shuts again. His brows knit, lips pursed. He looks at you as if he isn’t quite sure what to make of you.

INLAND EMPIRE — I warned you. He cannot understand…

KIM KITSURAGI — But then his gaze falls back to the photo, and he seems to waver.

“…What did…” He pauses. Swallows. “What did it say…?”

EMPATHY — He is trying not to doubt you like he doubted the miracle held in your very hands.

“She said that our existence must be hell… The fire and the swirling glass and the agonizing awareness… It’s a madness unlike anything else on this planet.”

“She said that she loved me. That she would benefit from our closeness…”

“She said that there really was a Seraseolitic civilization! It’s waiting to be found… right beneath our feet… They really did exist. We just forgot.”

“She said that there was a nearly universal agreement between all other life on the planet that we will be the death of them all. We brought the pale with us… *We* shattered the face of god…”

“She said that we can’t forget anymore… We can’t look away… Or one day, we’ll blink, and find that none of this ever existed. How could that be? I didn’t really understand…”

“She said that the insects are all watching us, in awe of us. That *we* are the miracles… To be able to live like this…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s lips part in surprise. “We?”

“Yes. You and me. We’re a miracle, Kim. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes. All of us. Humanity is a miracle. That we persist at all is a testament to that. Don’t you think so?”

KIM KITSURAGI — He does not answer. He does not seem to know how to.

EMPATHY — He wishes that he did.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Your faith is what’s miraculous, detective…

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant leans over and rests his arms on the table, his shoulders hunched and small.

“What else did the phasmid say?”

YOU — “A lot of things.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ve got time.”

EMPATHY — He means it.

YOU — “She said that when we die, the insects… they will bloom from us like banners, raise us up from the ground and carry us into the sky, all in our honor…”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm…” He looks out the window, the light glinting off his glasses and making it hard to see his eyes. “Is that a… comfort to you?”

“Yes. It’s a comfort to know that something is watching. They love us for trying, even when the trying isn’t enough.”

“No. It’s not about comfort. It’s just a fact. We’re horrors, but we survive. Any creature would admire that.”

“No. It’s scary. Is that all that this amounts to? The admiration of *insects?* I don’t know what to think of it.”

“Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. Right now, I just know that I’m not ready to die yet.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He nods silently.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — I’m glad to hear that. Truly.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds like I missed out.” He gives you a wry little smile.

EMPATHY — And yet, deep down, there is a real disappointment that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. He wishes he could have heard her voice.

YOU — [Hold out the photo to him.] “Well… that’s what you’ve got me for, isn’t it?”

INLAND EMPIRE — You were born to detect her, precisely because no one else could.

KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you, then at the photo. Then, he reaches out to take it back from you. He has no pocket to tuck it discreetly into, so he just holds it, his thumb creasing the margins of the paper just slightly.

“I guess so,” he says softly.

VOLITION — *That* is the miracle.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #kimharry #harrykim #however the heck you wanna tag it #sorry more of the dora saga is coming soon i prommy #but i felt like posting this old one i wrote a few months ago #‘’how come they’re at the coastal shack but kim has the photo even tho he’s not around to take a picture of the phasmid in the bad end’’#well you see. i don’t know. 👍

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eldritch-spouse · 2 months

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HI AGAIN. Ever since I found your blog and also sent a totally normal ramble abt cannibalism I've been just. Gently tossing your guys back and forth in my head. You're a wonderful writer and I'm always excited to see you on my dash!!

Gonna throw my hat in as asking an actual question- How would your guys fare if their obsession had a particularly weird or morbid interest? I get the vibes that some of them would most certainly encourage it but I also feel like Vinnel would hit me with a hammer if I panic infodumped about ebola-

[Hellow, glad to see you again! Also, I know you probably just forgot, but "your guys" encompasses way too many characters to talk about at once, so I'll assume you were going for TCE staff.]

Morell especially likes hearing about your cannibalism infodumps. They're actually useful to him, since he's going to be living with you, and he needs to know what he can and can't feed you, as well as a possible child between you. It's actually interesting stuff, he'd like it if you talked about it to his family too, you're a smart piggy. Any other topics are usually met with less enthusiasm (unless kitchen/food related), and he'll ask you to quit it if you start talking too much about mushrooms. Overall, it's nice background noise to work to.

Patches is all about infodumping. In fact, you're subjected to it often too, even if he doesn't always stop to explain basic concepts you'd need to understand his rambling. He'll give you a recorder he has, so he can keep the sound of that boundless enthusiasm in your voice forever. He's much more participative than the others, asking various questions and tossing random scenarios at you that'll prompt you to learn even more. There's a potential he'll get distracted and stop working to just research this with you the whole day.

Gallon loves a weirdo -No offense- Feel free to dump all that morbidity on him, he soaks it up like a sponge (so does Martin, be careful). Although he prefers to let you speak unhindered, only egging you on when it seems you're getting passionately angry about things, there's a chance Gallon may begin his own little tidbit sharing regarding a variety of poisons and toxins. He's selective with what he lets slip, but figures it could interest you.

Santi likes listening to you. Doesn't matter what it's about. There's only one thing he doesn't want you to morbidly talk to him about, anything featuring kids. Other than that, you think a rant about the intricacies of cannibalism's effects will kill his mood? Hah, nice try. He usually doesn't have anything smart to say, but may actually pitch in with some first hand details if you mention something sexual and morbid.

Let's face it, this is going in one of Grimbly's eardrums and out the other. Unless, you can talk like you're in a true crime podcast, then he's all ears. Grimbly typically responds to these interests by bragging to others about how his Mommy's "so smart" and "cultured" and he learns so much with you! You should start a YouTube channel!

Nebul likes to hear what you think is morbid. He'll let you ramble when you've been good enough to earn his attention, or if it allows you to keep obeying him. He has his own morbidities to share with you, as a wraith who has seen the darkest parts of many a mind. Surely, you of all people would be fascinated to know how the brain reacts to very invasive types of trauma only some monsters can inflict...

Vinnel will use this to his advantage during shows. You're placed in dangerous games where the whole goal is for you to explain said morbid concepts to the audience while Vinnel or Jingles try to destabilize you so you'll fall into painful contraptions or get cut/bruised/undressed. Sometimes Vinnel pays attention to your infodumps, other times he openly doesn't, it's a coin toss.

Belo sincerely discourages you from seeking such dark information in your brain. A lesser's mind is like a canvas, and it shouldn't be furnished with such desolate knowledge... If your morbid interests somehow can shine a glimmer of positivity or utility, the angel will be a little more inclined to letting you keep pursuing these topics. Otherwise, Belo actively attempts to distract you.

Sybastian doesn't understand about 80% of what you're about to tell him, but he has all the time in the world to sit and listen to his favorite person spit words. He's not verbally communicative during these episodes, but he may clap depending on how impressive the information is, and he remembers things you say enough to sometimes present you with paraphernalia vaguely related to the topics of your morbid interests.

Fank-e is a good bet because he can add onto your information in real time, or correct small detail you may get them wrong. He's generally happy to give you links to more information sources and try to match your level of knowledge, uncaring of how dark the subject theme may be.

If there's one thing you can infodump to Krulu about, it would be diseases. Plagues and ailments of several types are his specialty, the chances of him imparting bits of knowledge you absolutely should not possess on this matter are high. Another thing you may infodump to him about is corvids. It gets him in very favorable moods, surprisingly.

#Morell oc #Gallon oc #Belo oc #Patches oc #Nebul oc #Sybastian oc #Vinnel oc #Santi oc #Grimbly oc #Fank-e oc #Krulu oc #hi-im-lugh

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i-heart-hxh · 4 months

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Is Killua friends with Kurapika and Leorio? Or are they just acquaintances? I feel as if Killua only cares about Gon the most.

Hello!

To get the obvious out of the way first, yes, Gon is clearly Killua's priority and primary focus, and the one he gravitates towards from the beginning. I'd even say that through most of the Hunter Exam, Killua does just see Leorio and Kurapika as acquaintances/Gon's friends rather than his own, and at that point he doesn't particularly care what happens to them. He's quite dismissive towards them initially.

I think this begins to change in the scene where Leorio tells Killua that Gon is already his friend (when Killua is up against Illumi at the end of the Hunter Exam). That assurance surely meant a lot to Killua, even if he wasn't able to express it at that time. It's even arguable Killua killing Bodoro may have been at least somewhat for Leorio's benefit, in a twisted way. (Though at the time of course Killua wasn't mentally well, so it's hard to say for sure whether he was thinking clearly enough to even consider that aspect or not.)

I think it also meant a great deal to him that Leorio and Kurapika then accompanied Gon to retrieve Killua from the Zoldyck Manor. In the scene where he's reunited with them (and Gon), Killua hesitates before saying Kurapika's name and gets Leorio's name wrong, but I think he might have just been messing around with them (especially Leorio), because that's a very Killua kind of thing to do. :p Even if he didn't fully commit their names to memory at that point, I'm sure it still meant a lot that they came for him.

We actually see Killua showing that he cares about both Kurapika and Leorio multiple times throughout the series. Here's just a few examples:

Being actively mad that Kurapika won't consider he and Gon friends/equals in Yorknew. His main objective at this point may have been funds for Greed Island for Gon via collecting bounties on the Phantom Troupe, but I do think he's legitimately frustrated about this regardless.

He's quite reluctant about it (largely because of the danger it puts Gon in), but even after the bounty has been rescinded for the Phantom Troupe, Killua does agree to help with Kurapika's mission--and ultimately even offers that he would accept Kurapika giving him a nen restriction along with Gon and Leorio.

It's somewhat vague, but there's this scene with Senritsu as well that sticks out to me. The original Japanese dialogue where "Oh yeah?" goes is more like a "Is that so?" from Senritsu. Look at her knowing smile, she's well aware this isn't true.

In Greed Island, Killua goes through the effort to leave Greed Island (a process that takes a few hours) in order to warn Kurapika that Chrollo's nen restriction might be removed by a nen exorcist. He doesn't love Kurapika's response, but it's telling he was willing to do that, and even went about bringing it up and doing it himself rather than expecting Gon to deal with it.

In Election Arc, Killua was prepared to put trust in Leorio as far as making arrangements to heal Gon. Ultimately Morel takes over this role because he has the connections and temperament to help with this more easily, but I still think there's meaning in Killua being willing to include Leorio in this plan and the sensitive information that comes with it, especially when the stakes are as high as they could possibly be for Killua (Gon's life and Alluka/Nanika's safety).

Killua talks to Kurapika over the phone at some point prior to the Succession War arc, and Killua recommends contacting Bisky as a colleague, and he even gives Kurapika tips on buttering her up.

Killua's attitude towards Kurapika and Leorio is indicative in general of his opening up as a person throughout the series. His affection towards both of them isn't straightforward most of the time, it's more nuanced than his adoration for Gon or his later friendships with Ikalgo and even Palm, but rather it's something that gradually builds as he changes and spends more time around them.

I do think he's fond of them and cares about them at this point in the series, and he considers them both friends and allies. I hope in the future we'll get to see more main four (and Killua with Kurapika and Leorio, individually or together) interactions. I actually think Killua's relationship with both of them is especially fun to observe because his friendship with them has been more complex. He can be a bit prickly and bratty towards them at times, but ultimately his care for them and trust in them shines through nonetheless.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #killua #kurapika #leorio #asks #my posts #anonymous #long post #meta

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sunderingstars · 4 months

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ging can say “he wasn’t trying to sacrifice himself for you” all he wants, but i still find it such a reductive view of kite’s decision. everyone seems to have their own ideas following what happened: morel attributes it to a hunter’s self-serving curiosity, ging attributes it to crazy slots’ special setting, gon attributes it to a nebulous reason that’s always his own fault. others look at a dead man from the outside in, but where is kite’s account? where is kite’s agency? buried with his bones, lost in some half-forgotten purgatory?

but it isn’t. it was there when he saw pitou coming, when he stayed behind to buy the kids more time, when he chose to spend those precious few seconds warning gon & killua to run instead of trying to protect himself.

ging can talk about sacrifice all he wants, but he wasn’t there when kite lost an arm. he wasn’t there when his student was stripped of more than his head or his body but his mind, then suffered a fate arguably worse than death. if ging was right and crazy slots did possess some sort of reincarnation ability, kite sacrificed more than his life. he sacrificed his will. his control. his agency.

and for ging, notorious absent parent, to pretend he knows the true nature of kite’s mind in that moment is incredibly presumptuous. he may be good at reading people, but he’s so divorced from the idea of caring for his son that he can’t imagine someone else possibly, possibly doing it in his stead. it shows. and i simply do not believe kite is the self-serving stereotype ging makes him out to be. if actions speak louder than words, then kite had been screaming. he had always been screaming.

#⌞ ✧ super.nova ⌝#⌞ ༄ cosmic.wind: hxh ⌝#wheww i had to get that off my chest #anyways ging is cool & all i just think he’s wrong in this instance #i am not taking his word as fact #(though i do believe what he said about crazy slots)#hxh #hunter x hunter #kite hxh #kite hunter x hunter #kite #hxh kite #ging hxh #ging freecss #gon freecss #gon hxh #chimera ant arc #kiteposting

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rebeccathenaturalist · 6 months

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The above link includes articles on lost mushroom hunters in the Pacific Northwest over the past ten years. Many of these people were found deceased, and others were very lucky to have been found alive.

One of the things I really emphasize with foraging is safety, and not just the danger of picking something poisonous. While some people come into this practice with a realistic idea of the risks involved, others have....well, let's just call it a romanticized idea of foraging. They're not wrong in that it can be a fun, fulfilling activity that gets you all kinds of tasty things. But you have to be able to also navigate what can go wrong.

This is especially true for foragers who decide to go off-trail. I see this especially with people looking for mushrooms, because the lure of potential huge flushes of chanterelles, morels, and the like frequently leads people to head out onto public land in areas without marked trails. Sure, these locations are less heavily traveled and so it's more likely you'll stumble across a patch that no one else has gotten to yet. But--you're also more likely to get lost.

I personally tend to not go off-trail because I know for a fact that my sense of direction is abysmal (I've managed to convince myself I was lost on an out-and-back trail more than once.) But if I did, here's what I would do to mitigate the chances of getting lost:

--Take a GPS unit. These make finding your way back a lot easier, especially if you're able to drop pins as you go along or even digitally mark your trail.

--Take a map and compass and know how to use them: GPS isn't perfect, especially if signal is sketchy, and if your battery dies, well, there you go. So a topographic map and a compass make a good backup--if you know how to use them. Many urban areas in the U.S. have orienteering clubs, and failing that there's always YouTube.

--Take biodegradable flagging tape and tie bits of it to branches along the way. Then follow that path back when you're done, taking the tape with you as you go. If you miss one or two, they'll break down pretty quickly. DON'T leave the tape up on purpose to keep the trail to your patch of mushrooms or berries, though; not only are you adding plastic to the local environment, but you're leaving a trail for anyone who finds it.

--Take a friend! If something happens to one of you, the other can go for help. Or, if you're like me, only go off-trail with someone who's much better at orienteering than you are.

#foraging #mushroom foraging #mushroom hunting #foraging safety #nature #outdoors #mushrooms #fungi #fungus #berries #wild foods #berry picking #safety first #orienteering #hiking

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road-kill-eater · 4 months

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i love seeing your mushroom adventures! as someone also up in the PNW, do you have any tips or resources to start mushroom hunting?

facebook groups are your best friend for becoming confident in your ID skills. having access to hundreds of people who have been hunting for years to the point where they can easily glance at a mushroom and tell whether or not its an edible species is priceless. whenever i find a new edible for the first time i always make a post to confirm it as such, though that doesnt really happen anymore since ive found nearly every commonly hunted mushroom on this side of the cascades.

all that the rain promises and more is a good book to have, the info is concise and tailored for this specific region. when in doubt eat a little bit of a mushroom then see how you feel the next day, certain species are prone to giving upset stomachs to certain people, make sure you cook everything thoroughly. most of this applies to any wild foraging so if youre familiar with that then fungi are nothing special, there are very few species that will outright kill you, most will just make you sick. stay away from gilled mushrooms to start unless youre very thorough in your identification.

if youre new to foraging in general then you have to learn plant identification. trees and shrubs are often indicator species, doug fir and salal is the go to for chants, but dont let chants be your primary target. get up above 3,000 feet and youll find porcini and hedgehogs and hericium abietis in the true fir and pines. yellowfoot chants are an often overlooked species that make up for their small size with how common and numerous they are. pay attention to your altitude, and go on trails with less traffic, especially since mushroom hunting is becoming sort of 'trendy'. hike out farther than those noobs and youll find plenty. even if you dont find mushrooms theres always something else. if it looks like a blueberry and tastes like a blueberry its probably a blueberry, or a huckleberry. fireweed can be gathered for tea. if you are up in the alpine lakes and its not too late in the season pick some glacier/avalanche lily leaves. bald faced hornets are worse than bears. 2 weeks after the first good fall rain is usually sufficient. i dont bother with morels they may as well be faeries to me. throw russulas at trees so they explode. sell any reishi you find to crystal girls

have fun! be safe!

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57sfinest · 1 year

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something i’ve been thinking about is the intersection of racism & fascism with conspiracy theories/pseudoscience and the supernatural in disco elysium. it’s a well-documented phenomenon irl and i think the game is very good at easing you into the “levels” of how these things are inherently related.

on the surface you have the racist lorry driver, who literally has “racist” in his epithet and is the most out-and-proud racist-fascist you could possibly meet, and measurehead, another open racist and fascist whose nickname is given to him by his belief in phrenology. here we see these people as pretty much cartoonishly racist and very vocal about *why* they believe these things: it all comes down to pseudoscience. these are people who have been convinced that racism is just a fact, justified by science that others are just too “soft” to recognize. we all know about measurehead and his phrenology and such but the RLD also espouses pseudoscience to justify his racism:

and, in addition to this “supporting” his racist beliefs, on top of this he believes in conspiracy theories like an immigrant *Invasion* and an anti-Occidental (anti-white) “cultural victory”, which sounds suspiciously like real-life “white eradication” conspiracy theories:

okay, this is some obviously deeply racist and fascist shit. but it’s not just this. measurehead goes beyond this and believes in other conspiracy theories unrelated to race supremacy, like his thing with semen retention, which is also a real-life conspiracy thing:

i’ll tie this all up at the end, so let’s move on to the next layer. gary is explicitly identified as a cryptofascist by his epithet. a cryptofascist, for those unfamiliar, is someone whose beliefs and ideals align with fascism but who doesn’t openly identify as such because they’re aware of the social unacceptability of it. if you play the fascist route, you’ll have to play as a cryptofascist in order to maintain positive relationships with NPCs and not take constant morale damage from saying fascist things. gary also says blatantly racist things, and here’s where it gets a little deeper than RLD and measurehead: the very basics of what he says are factually true-- that seol exports microtechnology, for example, which ties them to a lot of global governments-- but these actual facts have been spun by fear and *conspiracy theory* into a load of racist bullshit:

and you can actually see in that half light line at the bottom how the fear leverages belief in this stuff! you can argue against gary this whole time and still, an appeal to *fear* can start to slip in through the cracks. gary opens with facts and logic, devolves into fear and conspiracy spinning, and we get another layer of how racist rhetoric and belief spreads. then, to add another layer to the fear angle, you have plaisance. it’s not fear of immigrants with her, though. she’s afraid of this curse-- the supernatural-- that she thinks will be responsible for ending her business, and in her fear she turned to racist caricature and stereotypes:

it’s not the same as the direct “you’re seolite, fuck you” that RLD directs at kim or the “non-occidentals are inferior” he and measurehead parrot or “immigrants are trying to take over the world” that they and gary all buy into. it’s a far more insidious thing: this is something she takes as fact, so deeply that she doesn’t even *question* it. these nonwhite people are special mystical people with magic and that’s just how it is! while it’s not quite conspiracy theory, it’s supernatural, which functions the same as conspiracy when you talk about how racism is rooted in some fundamental disconnect from reality. and this brings us to our final subject, lena. lena comes in from the same angle, a belief in the supernatural (cryptozoology) that ultimately results in racism. (the juxtaposition of cryptozoology/cryptofascism with morell and gary was not an accident!) she seems like a regular sweet old lady who likes cryptids, until you’re randomly slapped across the face with this:

she believes that seolites are a different *species*, and that’s just a fact to her. you point out the racism and she just doubles down-- no, she’s not trying to be offensive, it can be a good thing actually! that’s just nature, just like the cryptids she loves! it’s just fact! and we see this echoed by plaisance and even gary, where they’ll say something deeply racist and follow it up with “but [x group] is very intelligent/crafty/etc as well!” as though saying this somehow cancels out the racism (when in actuality, these “good traits” are part of what they use to fearmonger about these “other” groups they’re so afraid of).

in general this group of characters serves really well to demonstrate how people who are out of touch with reality in other ways (conspiracy, magic, the supernatural, and some extreme forms of spiritualism) are frequently deeply racist as well, and some of them aren’t even aware or doing it intentionally. it really just comes with the territory, and some people choose to lean into it while others aren’t even aware of it, which is why the process of recognition and unlearning is so important when considering the latter population.

#i see lots of people surprised by lena but i don't think i've ever seen anyone acknowledge what plaisance says #i'm set to do an internship with a linguistics team studying conspiracy theory so i was thinking about this in the game #and wanted to compile a post #because i think the interplay of the racists & their *paranatural* beliefs was a good way of addressing these things #while having limited space in the narrative to actually work with it #this isn't fully comprehensive i know but i think i have the basics covered #unfortunately seol is handled very badly by the writers in general though and i've talked about that before #the racism shit goes all the way down #kiwipost #disco elysium #disco elysium meta #gen meta

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elvthron · 30 days

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What I love the most about Etruscan culture is probably the funerary tradition and their necropolis that can be found in various trails in the Tuscia. These places are often so silent and peaceful that is a true joy to spend some time among them.

I’m sure I can’t explain how really these necropolis have a strong “liminal place energy” (I told you I can’t explain it with my words…)

This one I’m posting in particular is the Cavone’s necropolis:

Located along the slope overlooking the Treja river, the necropolis was crossed by the ancient city that led to Falerii Veteres (Civita Castellana).

The funeral site was used from the beginning of the 8th century BC. until the 3rd century BC.

Archaeologists have found wells dug into the tuff, stone or wooden sarcophagi and chamber tombs built during the last period of stay in the necropolis.

My (uselessly included) sweaty face after reaching the hill where the necropolis is situated.

Extra: morels!! 🍄❤️

#me #witch #pagan #nature #witchy #magic #magick #hedge witch #etruscan #etruschi #ancient #witchblr #green witch #nature lovers #trail #personal #witchcraft

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smashalltheguitars · 8 months

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if mcr was mushrooms which mushrooms would they be

Gerard: funeral bell. striking, breathtaking, dramatic, and will kill you.

Ray: golden chanterelle. you wish you could be this good.

Mikey: true morel. he just is

Frank: false parasol. pops up everywhere and will kill you .

#roan shut your up

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teeth-cable · 11 months

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I don't know if SpindleHorse has a PR team or what but all the tweets from the crew complaining about how people can't criticize the show or think it's bad because "it's not for them" is really embarrassing. I get it, it doesn't feel good for people to criticize an EP you worked hard on and had to wait a year to release because of legal reasons but you can't tell people they can't criticize your show because you don't like the criticism. It comes across as unprofessional and you have a fragile ego because a show you treat and tell other is deep and professional is getting the same treatment as all the other professional animated adult shows like South Park, Morel Orel, and Bojack Horseman.

When a show gets popular, there will alway be people who hate it or have criticism and that's not a bad thing, it's just normal. Sure, it's a bummer, the majority of people didn't like an EP but it happens. Every TV shows has an EP, people and fans consider universally bad. A lackluster reception to one EP won't ruin the show and if you noticed the criticism for your show getting bigger, the main subject of criticism being the writing for characters and world building, then you should take a step back and think why people are critiquing instead of defaulting to "all criticism are from haters" mindset, because that isn't true.

#꧁rambles꧂#spindlehorse criticism #spindlehorse critical #vivizepop criticism #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel #helluva boss

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ourrootsgodeep · 1 year

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i would not ask, and neither would you

aemond x witch!reader

tags: smut smutty smut smut, minors go away, ooc aemond probably, pining, hands brushing against each other, this could alternately be titled autistic bitches in love, the reader is implied to worship the old gods but you can interpret it however you want, not proofread we die like vaemond

a/n: i’ve been insanely busy and this is so late but this was very inspired by a dragon without wings by @rottingviserys which is one of my favorite fics ever so definitely go read that!!

that fucking dragon had crushed all of her morels, she thought crossly.

the rare, delicious mushrooms were difficult enough to find as it was, and when the huge dragon had fallen from the sky, it had fallen right onto the patch she’d been cultivating for a year.

humming in annoyance, the witch walked over to the huge beast. definitely dead. huge fucker. big as a castle. still, maybe she could use its blood or teeth or hide for something useful.

she stepped close to its head, poking the scaled flesh gingerly. still warm. the witch walked in a circle around it, carefully inspecting the saddle. vhagar, it read on the side. wasn’t that the one eyed prince’s dragon? oh well. that saddle’s still good leather. ooh, a pretty piece of beadwork in the targaryen colors. those would fetch a pretty penny. ooh, is that a boot? if the other one is still there, that could buy a sapling for an apple tree or two. or a new dress,or a few skeins of fabric.

she reached up, undoing the buckles with careful hands before she froze, inhaling deeply in shock at what was still strapped into the saddle. the other boot was definitely still there. as well as the legs, torso, arms, and head attached to them. the head of aemond targaryen, the kinslayer, the one-eyed, and public enemy number one. as well as a pretty nasty sword wound through the shoulder.

shit.

———

she was just finishing labeling her new bottles of dragon’s blood when he awoke.

his white hair was damp with sweat from the humidity from the coming storm, his sapphire eye gleaming in the dim light from the fire. “good morning, your highness,” she said softly. “how did you sleep?”

“where am i?” he asked groggily. he sat up suddenly, straight-backed and glaring, then cried out at the pain in his shoulder and back.

the witch stood up quickly and rushed to check on his shoulder, clicking her tongue in dismay. “you’ll rip your stitches, highness,” she said softly. true enough, the tiniest bit of blood was beginning to seep through the soft cloth bandage. she began to unwrap it gently, trying not to hurt him.

he grit his teeth and she could see his violet eye moving, taking in her little cottage. she had him lying on the meager guest bed, at the wall nearest the fire in her little kitchen. he could see the door to what he assumed was her bedroom in the corner, with strange signs inscribed over the doorways. there were herbs hanging in bundles from the ceiling, strange bottles in shelves on the walls, stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books. it looked… comfortable at least. if shabby and cluttered could be considered comfortable.

“are you a witch?” he asked suddenly.

the woman paused for a moment before nodding.

his face contorted in what she could only assume was fear confusion. he threw his shoulder from her hand and cried out at the pain, the blood flowing quickly now. he collapsed back against the bed, face contorted in pain, but still fumbled for the small knife she had been using to cut the bandages. he held it clumsily in his left hand, pointing it at her in shaking fingers. “get away, heathen,” he spat. “i’ve had enough of your kind, i won’t suffer you anymore.”

the witch scoffed. “ah, yes, my lord. please, i humbly beg your pardon for rescuing you from being suffocated under your gargantuan dead dragon, dragging you a mile and a half to my home, and using my precious time and resources to save the life of a man who not a year ago burned huge swathes of the place i have lived for five years. it was very inconsiderate of me.”

“i don’t need you to tell me what’s right and wrong, witch,” he sneered. “i heard enough of the lies your kind tell with…” his face contorted in what she couldn’t be sure was pain or rage. as angry as he made her, the witch pitied him. she hated seeing people in pain. even him.

so she sat down on the floor beside his bed. he looked down at her in confusion, but seemed to be slightly less threatened by her. he lowered the knife, but still gripped it tight. “what are you doing?” he asked, his voice guarded.

“sitting down,” the witch responded. “wild animals are less threatened by you when you make yourself less threatening. i thought the same might work for you. your judgment seems to be clouded, probably by pain and mental disturbance. mental trauma and physical trauma, as it were. when humans are traumatized and on guard, their more animalistic instincts sometimes cloud their logical judgment.”

he blinked. “you are a very strange woman.”

she nodded matter-of-factly. “i know. i’m not a bad one, though. and i would like to rebandage your arm, please.”

he looked at her oddly for a long moment, his face unreadable. the silence was only broken by the first patterings of rain against the thatched roof of her cottage. he finally nodded.

she started to get up quickly, then remembered how on edge he was and started to move slower, making sure he could see where her hands were or what she was reaching for in the cabinets. he was quiet, watching her intently with his piercing violet eye. “what is your name?” he asked after a moment. his voice was surprisingly quiet.

the witch hesitated for a moment before responding. “y/n.”

———

“you do know the old saying about sleep being the best nurse?” the witch said in a groggy voice, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand.

aemond was sitting straight up, staring at the wall in the dark. “i can’t.”

“it’s been three weeks since you came here, highness, and you have barely slept at all.” the witch sighed and lit a candle, setting it on the small table and sitting down on the rickety chair. she nodded in his direction. “would you like to talk?”

he blinked at her. “no.”

she nodded again pensively. “tea, then?”

he frowned at her. “you are quite the strangest person in the world.”

“that isn’t an answer.”

he groaned and lay back down on the bed. “yes, fine. tea.”

the witch hummed softly in response, rising and lighting a fire in the dying hearth. aemond watched her as she moved through the house, she was pretty, he thought. for a witch.

“may i ask you something?” her voice cut through the slight fog of his thoughts.

he blinked. “fine. ask away.”

“what is your favorite color?”

“…what?”

she turned back around, pulling two mugs from the shelf and setting them on the table. she measured tea leaves from a jar as she spoke. “favorite color. a color that you prefer over every other color?”

he scowled. “i know what a favorite color is. children have favorite colors.”

“not just children. mine, for example, is orange.”

aemond smiled, somewhat to himself. “orange?”

“mm. like autumn leaves.”

he inhaled the steaming, fragrant scent of the tea as she poured the water over it. she pushed a cup over to him and he gladly took it, getting up and sitting across from her at the table. “why do you ask?” he said, taking his first sip and looking across the table at her with intense eyes.

“i’m making clothes for you, since your old ones are filthy and torn and burned. i thought they should be personal to you. at least a little.”

“hm.” he took another drink, feeling the heat warm him from the inside out. “i expected you to ask about alys. or my family.”

“i will never ask. you will tell me when you are ready. even if you are never ready, i don’t mind.”

he looked at her for a long moment, watching the firelight dance across her features. she wasn’t a cold, glamorous beauty like alys, certainly, but she had a feeling about her that made him feel at ease. pretty and warm. like firelight.

“blue,” he answered after a long moment. “my favorite color is blue.”

———

you’ll be glad of the cloak later, y/n had said.

she had been right, of course, but aemond was loath to admit it.

it had been six months now since y/n had found him, and as unsettling as the fact was for him to admit, he enjoyed her company greatly. she was amusing, and kind, and respectful. she sang as she worked some days, while he did the little he could to help around the house, and he swore sometimes the birds stopped to listen. he was fascinated by her every move, her sewing that she showed him in the evenings, the baking of bread in the mornings, the way her thighs and hips moved and flexed when she walked or knelt before the trees she worshiped, the peeks of her body he could see when she bent over and he could see down her dress. she wore mostly loose, light clothing, so she could move around, but sometimes, in the rains, or on hot, damp days, her clothes would stick to the shape of her, and he could almost imagine what she-.

he wrapped the deep blue fabric tighter around him and tried to focus on his prayers. “father, give me the strength to-.”

“what on earth are you doing?” his singular eye snapped open. the object of his musings was standing there with a basket of mushrooms on her hip, looking at him curiously. “you do know that that it is about to rain?”

the neckline of her loose cotton dress had slipped down, and he could see the curve of her shoulder and the hollow of her collarbone. he grunted a response. “i do.”

“and yet you are out here, kneeling against a rock?”

he shuffled his knees slightly. “praying.”

she snickered. “how pious, to sit in the damp and muck, to get dirt on your clothes. tell me, prince, do your gods require you to put mud in your septs as well, that you may kneel in a way that is more pleasing to them?”

he scoffed. “no. the septs are made to be holy places.”

she hummed softly. “so then, this is not a holy place?”

“unholy things happen here all the time.” y/n smirked slightly and he swore under his breath. “wait, fuck, no, you know that’s not what i meant-.”

“no, no, you already said it. you can’t go back now.”

he groaned audibly. “you are insufferable.”

“and unholy, it would seem.” y/n shifted the basket on her hip, walking over to stand next to him, smiling mischievously down at him. “tell me, prince, what have i done that is so sinful?”

“other than practice witchcraft and idolatry?”

“those are both bad points. my gods might say you are practicing witchcraft and idolatry just the same. both of us would be right, and therefore neither of us would be.”

“you are annoyingly intelligent.” he stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees, his still-healing arm protesting at the movement. she noticed him wince and touched his arm in concern, pushing back his shirt and inspecting the scar. aemond could feel her breath on his shoulder, the soft touches of her fingertips along the ragged skin. the first drops of rain started to fall on the two of them, and a drop fell on y/n’s face, running down her nose and into the corner of her perfectly kissable- no. that was a terrible idea.

“we should get inside.” she brushed a raindrop from her hair, and before he could stop himself, he reached up and pushed the offending strands behind her ear.

she froze, looking up at him, her lips slightly parted. in her own mind, she admired the arch of his nose, the intense, deep violet of his eye. he was so, so close, close enough to-.

“yes.” he cleared his throat. “yes, inside.” he started to follow her before halting suddenly. “y/n?”

she turned to him. “yes.”

aemond took a deep breath. “alys. she put a love spell on me.she stole away years of my life, she… i only realized it the day i almost- well. the day i met you. it’s why i didn’t like them. witches.”

she nodded in understanding, then tilted her head. “and now?”

aemond blinked. “now what?”

“do you like them now?”

he looked at her, taking in the way her hair curled in the damp of the rain. “i like some of them.”

———

their clothes were steaming slightly in the heat of the fire. the rain had soaked through them on their way back home, and aemond had immediately lit a fire in the hearth. it felt good, to him: to be able to do something for her. y/n did most things, he mused. she had taken him in when she didn’t have to, risking her own life to save his. right now, she was kneeling in front of the fire, contemplating the flames.

tension was thick in the air. both of them seemed far too aware of what had nearly transpired in the rain, as the secretive glances and brushes of hands had built up over the months. both of them were aware that they needed to change out of their soaking wet clothes, but neither seemed to want to move, frozen next to each other and staring into the heat. until y/n’s hand flexed slightly, almost imperceptibly, linking her little finger with aemond’s.

something in him snapped at the touch, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her mouth and pulling away abruptly. they looked at each other for a long moment, cheeks flaming, before y/n reached up, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling his lips down to meet her own. it wasn’t a gentle kiss, rather rough and passionate, filled with things he wanted to say to her, but could not articulate. instead, his hands made their way up her sides, grasping at the soft flesh and pulling moans from her lips. she gripped his shirt tightly, tugging the damp fabric eagerly in her rush to get it off.

he pushed her away, panting slightly, and pulled his shirt off slowly, watching her reaction. y/n’s eyes traced the pattern of the scars from the wounds she had stitched together those months ago. she walked forward and brushed the raised skin with gentle fingertips before leaning down and pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone, right at the apex of the scar.

aemond tilted his head back at the touch of her lips and exhaled, eye fluttering shut. y/n made her way back up his neck, leaving soft pink marks in her wake. aemond opened his eye, taking her in again, before turning her gently with a touch to her shoulder and beginning to unlace her dress. he bit gently at the junction of her shoulder and neck as the dress fell from her body, before laving over the mark with his tongue. he stepped back, taking in her newly-naked body. he raised his eyebrow slightly. “nothing underneath?”

y/n shook her head, cheeks flaming and lips swollen. “it’s been too hot before now.”

aemond’s pupil dilated. “you mean, you’ve been walking around with nothing underneath your gown all day?”

y/n laughed sheepishly, ducking her head down to avoid his hungry gaze. “i’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

he crossed the space between them in one long stride and took her face in his hand, kissing her roughly while palming the flesh of her tits, eliciting a moan from her lips. she took his hand in hers and brought it down to the apex of her thighs, guiding his fingers to her clit and moaning softly when they made contact with the swollen flesh. he stroked the nub gently at first, testing her reactions, then circling it roughly. in return, she hesitantly brushed her fingers over the prominent tent in his trousers. at his encouraging groan, she gripped him tighter, feeling the thick length in her hand. he took her hand and guided it inside his pants, groaning deeply into her mouth when she gripped him and began to stroke him gently, then harder, her hand already lubricated with the precum dripping from his tip.

aemond pushed her gently backwards, walking her into her bedroom, not bothering to disconnect their lips. he quickly registered that he had never been in her room before y/n’s knees hit the bed and they buckled, pulling him on top of her in a tangle of limbs and lips. he vaguely felt y/n’s hands tugging his trousers down over his hips and gripping his cock again, stroking it before guiding it to her entrance. he pushed in slowly, his shoulders tensing with the effort of staying gentle for her.

y/n pressed soft kisses to aemond’s face, peppering them around the eye patch he still hadn’t removed. he frowned slightly, thinking she meant to take it off, but she shook her head. “no,” she whispered. “not ‘til you’re ready.”

he kissed her again in gratitude and began to move within her, relishing in the feeling of the tight, wet heat of her cunt. y/n smiled into his mouth, clenching around him when he hit a particular place inside her that made her tilt her head back into his hand and moan his name into his shoulder. he smiled into her hair before groaning when she began to thrust her hips back up into his, meeting his thrusts beat for beat. y/n reached down between their bodies and began to circle her clit harshly, crying out in pleasure and coming hard when he thrust particularly deep, gushing around him and spurring him into his own orgasm. he groaned her name into her shoulder, spilling deep inside her and resting his head on her chest. y/n chuckled softly, running her hands through his silver hair. he pressed a chaste kiss to her breast as he came down from his high, before looking back up at her. “thank you,” he said quietly.

y/n laughed again. “what on earth for?”

“everything. saving me. this. thank you.”

she hummed softly in response. “are you sure you’re not too bothered about owing your life to a witch?” she teased gently.

“somehow i think i’ll manage.” he rolled off of her and slid up on the bed, pulling her into his chest. “what happened with vhagar’s body?” he asked after a moment.

“nothing. it’s about three miles away from here. she was a bit too big for me to bury by myself.”

“ah.” he ran his fingers over her shoulder and hesitated. “could we go and see her? i never really got to say goodbye.”

“mm. i’ll take you tomorrow.”

#hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #hotd #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader

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